The Moonblade family all sat around the family dinner table that night, making small talk, just as the night before, to keep distracting the awkward subject of Galen's guest.
"How is my dress coming along, Lavena?" Melluna inquired.
"Very well." The only white-haired family member replied, flashing a smile. "I want you to come by and try it on. I'd like to make some alterations, and make sure I'm on the right track."
"I am so looking forward to the midsummer festival," Melluna smiled around the table. "I'm also glad that we all are going to be together. Mother will be pleased, and she will be there, too. In spirit."
"I remember her wanting white roses and mostly white decorations," Isla chimed in.
"Your mother said how much she loved the color," their father nodded his head, as he brought a goblet of wine to his lips.
"The forest is so full of color, she kept saying how she didn't want her decorations to distract from the beauty of the grounds." Melluna remembered. She looked over at the only two family members that ate in complete silence. Darine, still angered by Galen's actions, kept shooting shriveling glares at her brother. Galen was ignoring them, but he was also ignoring everyone else.
His mind was farther from the kitchen, upstairs and in the guest room where Marcail was. Her first day in his home hadn't gone how he wanted it to. He wanted her to follow him around, to keep a close watch. He hoped that she would want to be close to him because of their familiarity, but that was not happening. His male pride had been slightly wounded when she wouldn't speak to him after they shared the intimate act the night before. He had hoped she would come back to slake his own burning desire, as the sample he got last night did nothing to encourage patience. Usually with women, he had the luxury of waiting. He could wait for however long it took for the female to make up her mind, after all, he could entice another into his bed while waiting. That thought did not seem as appealing as it did a month ago.
He could already tell, if he went to a tavern, he would be comparing every little detail of his partner to the blood elf in his captivity. The sighs, the moans, the way she had molded to his hand. He saw the look of pure lust in her eyes, and she enjoyed what he was doing to her. If only she didn't keep running off whenever she came to her senses. If only Lavena had just stayed in bed last night, he could have kept the blood elf with him longer. He held back a grimace as his orbs at his groin tightened. This was just perfect.
"Galen?" Melluna's voice distracted him from his silent agony.
"What?" He barked out as his sister winced in return. Suddenly, he felt lower than dirt. "I'm sorry, I have a headache," his lie gritted out of his clenched teeth as he tried to relax his shoulders.
"I will make you some tea after dinner," Isla volunteered.
"Thank you, Isla. What were you saying, Mel?"
"I just wanted to ask if you needed any help in getting ready for the festival. With it being a little less than a week away, I was hoping you could get your suit cleaned." The young druid suggested.
"It's fine, it's not like I've been wearing it frequently during this past year." He sighed.
"Well," Darine finally spoke up, "I'm more concerned about the sin'dorei sitting upstairs in the guest room. What in hellfire are we supposed to do with her?"
"Darine," Tanavar warned his eldest daughter. "I will not have any more fighting in this house."
"What do you suppose we do with her, father?"
"Your brother has graciously volunteered to find a solution for this problem." The blind warrior turned his head to where he knew his son was sitting. Tanavar gave a gentle nod.
"Sure," Galen's voice reeked with sarcasm. "While I'm at it, I think I'll get us our immortality back, and find a genie lamp in Tanaris. Maybe I'll wish to become a dragon."
"Galen!" An appalled gasp came from Darine as she couldn't believe how her elder brother had just spoken to their father.
"I'll figure it out," Galen growled, as he pushed himself from the dinner table and stalked off into the backyard. The glow of the lanterns guided a path into the forest, and he followed it. Taking him to the only place he could get away from everyone and think.
.
Marcail tossed and turned in the large bed, trying to find a comfortable position to fall asleep. She hoped the darkness of the room could help her sleep, but the glow from the lanterns outside were bothering her. She was thankful for the food in her belly that Lavena brought to her again, but she knew she was hiding. At some point, she would have to face Galen again. She just wished she had more time to think about what to say, but everything she acted out in her head sounded dumb. She smacked her palm against her forehead as she wished she were more experienced in this department, but all her adult life she was under her parent's thumb. So how was she supposed to meet men?
Nellan was the first male she had ever kissed. It had been quick and awkward. They had been in his family's country home, in the library, when he had shown her books he had discovered all over Azeroth on elven history. He had pulled one from his selection, and let her skim over the first chapter. Except, when she let her eyes gaze over the first few pages, she had become pretty absorbed in the material. While they were standing there, she had seen from her peripheral vision that he had gotten closer, and moved his face lower to hers. When she looked up from the text, his features softened.
"You are quite pretty," he had said. Instantly, she had blushed. Then, he reached out and cupped her face up to his, and lowered his lips to hers. She couldn't breathe, because she couldn't believe that the moment had taken such a strange turn. But when their lips were together she felt numb, like her whole body had gone into an ice block. When Nellan felt that she wasn't kissing him back, he gently let her go.
"I'm sorry, that was innappropriate." He said, drawing back.
"No, it's okay." She tried to hide her embarrassment. What is wrong with you?! She had demanded of herself. Most blood elf women would happily jump at the opportunity to marry someone like Nellan. Powerful, rich, and in high social standing, she would never want for anything. So why had her heart frozen over when he kissed her?
Now, after receiving Galen's kisses, she knew her relationship with Nellan would never be the same. Galen had awakened something inside her. She threw herself to turn over, and wrapped the blankets around her. She finally fell asleep just as the sky outside started to turn light.
.
After breakfast that morning, Galen found himself composing his ransom letter for Marcail's return in the study. He had paid a rogue to take it deep into Eversong Woods and nail it to a tree on the Lightbringer's country estate. The tree he picked was the first tree visible on the road to the house, so everyone would see it.
Yet, when he found himself composing the letter, he had trouble making his list of demands. He knew exactly what he wanted, but he had difficulty expressing it in the right words. He was fluent in Thalassian, but he wanted to make the right insults to go with his actions. He stared at the pages and jotted down a few things, before finally giving up and folding up the parchment in half. He tucked it in a book on his father's shelf and headed outside into the forest, where he went the night before. He didn't realize how hard it was to compose a ransom letter.
.
The mage woke up with a tray sitting beside her bed with assorted fruits and some hot cereal and honey. She hadn't heard Lavena entering her room. She hoped that she hadn't slept the day away again. She devoured her food, and then finally gathered up her courage to leave the room.
Marcail fluffed down her dark blue satin skirts as she descended the spiral staircase. The material was so fluid it seemed to take flight whenever the slightest movement was made. On her way down, she almost collided into Lavena, who was bringing up folded bolts of bright red and orange silk.
"Oh, excuse me," the blood elf pushed her back against the wall to make way. The priestess's eyes smiled through her owl tattoos as she spoke.
"Just the blood elf I was looking for!" She said, as she handed some of the material off into Marcail's arms. The smaller elf had no other option but to take the silk, else it fell to the stairs.
"Why were you looking for me?"
"Follow me, I have something to show you." Her eyes playfully danced away from the mage, and she climbed the stairs. Marcail shrugged to herself and acquiesced, as she followed the priestess back upstairs and into her room.
The multiple mannequins that had been naked were suddenly dressed with beautiful gowns. Colors splashing of spring grass, rich wine, icy turquoise, and pure white adorned the room. The grassy green dress was tapered off at the hips and was cropped to the knees. It looked like it would twirl with the wearer at every opportunity. The deep maroon gown was full-skirted, with a squared top and sleeves right above the elbow. Tiny golden beads were sewn in a pattern on black velvet trim along the edges of the gown. The light blue dress had a long mermaid skirt, and it had a butterfly-hem at the bottom, with a small train following it behind. A matching color of lace had been sewn on the trim. Then, there was a halter-style white gown with almost the whole back cut out. There was also a slit cut from the ankles to mid-thigh on the left side. Marcail approached it, tentatively fingering the tiny pearls on the soft material.
"That one is Darine's." Lavena explained. The blood elf dropped her hand as if she were caressing a giant dead slug. "This is what I wanted you to see," the night elf explained as she dumped the silk on the bed and opened a large wardrobe.
Pulling a crimson red dress from inside, she triumphantly smiled as she held it out for the blood elf to see. The material looked old, but well taken care of, like someone wore it a thousand years ago, but the material had never faded or grown stiff. The dress itself was strapless, and tapered off at the waist. It was plain, but every time the light caught it, the fabric seemed to glow in different shades of orange and yellow. Like flames.
"Oh," Marcail put her own bundle of silk aside and approached the dress. She couldn't stop herself from running her fingers along the fabric. "What material is this? I've never seen something so fine, even in the Dalaran shops."
"It is enchanted mageweave cloth." Lavena explained. "This dress was made back when tailors knew how to work the fabric, embedding every weave with a slight amount of mana." She put the dress over her shoulder as she went to the shorter green dress and removed it from the mannequin. She returned the green dress into the wardrobe and placed the red gown over the figure. The tailor stood back to admire the dress in the sun.
"It's beautiful, Lavena," the blood elf interrupted, as the flickering red still caught her eye. "But why are you showing this to me?"
"Well, I was hoping that you would wear one of my creations to the upcoming Midsummer Ball that my family is hosting."
"You're kidding."
"I most certainly am not! Why, all of my sisters are wearing my own designs, but as I was finishing the last one, I suddenly had the idea to alter this dress. It was too late, though, for me to try and start on my project with the event approaching so fast."
"So it's easier for you to start on it now? Isn't the ball like a few days away?" The priestess nodded happily.
"It's actually two days away, so I really get to put my skills to the test." She clapped excitedly, "please tell me you will say yes! You just have to make an appearance, you won't have to stay long."
"And how exactly am I supposed to just flounce through a social gathering with fifty night elves standing around? They all will kill me on sight." She sighed, the idea was so ludicrous, why in all that was light and holy was she suggesting this?
"Actually it will be closer to a hundred people. And it will only be mostly night elves. There will be a few Draenei in attendance. I don't know if they will be armed, but many of them are just high ranking officials in Darnassian society."
"Oh! That's so much better. Aren't I still the enemy?"
"Do you wish to be?" Lavena asked. Marcail almost knew how to answer that question, but when met with the genuine look of the priestess's kind eyes made her choke on her words. "I understand, we are meant to hate each other. I, for one, haven't felt anything evil or malicious inside of you."
The mage pursed her lips, wanting to warn her of getting too close. Kael'Thas would exploit that if given a chance, and Marcail would be in the backseat of it all, watching. The reminder of him stung her chest, as she recoiled in fear, spinning away from the night elf. I will make you regret becoming friends with them. A horrid voice echoed in her mind and she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth and praying that she hadn't said that out loud.
"Marcail?" She asked, approaching her and raising a hand to touch her shoulder. "Are you alright?"
"I'm sorry, Lavena." The mage quickly spun around, meeting her gaze. "I just remembered I had something important to tell Galen. Do you know where he is?"
"Why yes, he should be in his workshop. If you follow the first path on the right, you should find it. The lanterns will guide you there." She turned and almost ran away. She hurled a thank you over her shoulder, but doubted that the priestess would have heard it.
She had to get out of there and reach Galen. He promised to kill her if the prince took over. Anywhere was better than standing next to Kael'Thas's next victim. It hurts, doesn't it? A voice inside her head whispered to her, as she ran faster down the stairs, narrowly escaping a fall, and tore out of the front door. She ran to her right, veering off into the forest, as she ducked into the shade and protection of the thick trees. Hopeful that they hid her properly from the eyes of the house, she grabbed hold of a thinner, younger tree and threw herself against it. Sobs shook through her, as she tried to clench her teeth together to try and pull herself back together. She hugged herself against the tree, panting and fighting viciously with herself. Looking up at the leaves she saw them begin to spin. Squeezing her eyes shut, Marcail tried to fight the panic with intensity and force.
Stay out of my head, stay out of my head, she chanted to herself. She used most of her strength to cling to the trunk of the tree, as the rough bark and hardness dug into her skin. If she grew weaker, she wouldn't have as much strength to fight him, but if she didn't fight him-
"Then I'm just as at fault." She ground out. "I can fight this! I won't give in!" Hugging the tree, she kept all her muscles clenched as she waited to hear his voice again. She stood, searching her mind for any signs that Kael'Thas was in there. When she was pretty sure she had control again, she released the breath that she didn't know she was holding. Once she caught her breath, she started to release her death grip on the tree trunk. Turning around, she thrust her back into the sturdy wood, and sank down to her seat. This battle was really getting more intense, she had never heard his voice while she was awake before. Dipping her head in between her knees and clasping her hands together, she prayed to the Light for strength.
"Please let me die if he breaks through." She sighed, releasing her head and slumping it against the tree. She slowed her breathing, trying to calm herself down. It was harder for him to break through when she was calm. Right?
After a few moments of peace, she heard the feint clanging of metal. Looking up to see where the sound was coming from. The forest echoed the sound, making it seem like it came from all directions. Marcail picked herself up, and followed the small path of stones and lanterns deeper in the forest. In just a few steps, she saw a clearing, with a solid stone cottage. Piles of metal were strewn about the yard, and a large, bellowing chimney was spewing smoke into the air. Odd, to make a fire that hot in the middle of summer.
She approached the strange home and went to the open double doors. Looking inside, there was Galen. He was facing her, but concentrating on his work. He had on a large linen shirt and leather pants, and sweat moistened down the front of his shirt. He was working on hammering metal on an anvil, his forge glowing hot behind him. As if he sensed her presence, he looked up from his work right into her eyes.
"Hey," he said, coolly, giving a half smile. He went back to give the final pounds into his work before he dropped it in a bucket of water. It sizzled and the smell of the steam wafted toward her. It was a strange smell, one of burnt bread that had caught on fire, and blended with a bitter, metallic smell. The warrior wiped his hands on a small linen towel placed on a table next to the anvil. Tossing it aside, he turned his attention to the blood elf.
"Now why have you wandered into these woods, all alone?" He asked. "You could have been killed, easily, by guards or monsters."
She stiffened as he said 'monsters'. She doubted that he viewed guards and night elves to be monsters themselves, like she did. With the exception of Lavena. Had the priestess been born Sin'Dorei, they would have been friends.
"I can manage," she said, squaring her shoulders and taking her hand from the door frame.
"It looks like you did," the night elf approached her, calmly. "You know, you took off the other night, without so much as a word to me."
"What of it?" He came closer, and though she was tempted to back away, she stood her ground.
"I want you to come to me more often." He said as he stopped right in front of her, their bodies inches apart.
"You don't command me," she said, her voice losing ferocity as her heart pounded into her chest. The smell of leather, iron, a light sweat, and rosemary surrounded her. Sweet Sunwell, she said to herself, as she felt herself melt a little in Galen's masculine smell.
"On the contrary, my little mage, I do. You're in enemy territory, with little hope of survival without me." Her gaze drifted down to his chest, where she knew the necklace lay with her magic. Was she crazy, or was she feeling her magic pulling her closer?
"Now, what brings you here?"
"I-" she stuttered, as he reached forward and grabbed a lock of her hair, twirling it in his fingers. "I-I was just out for a walk. I wanted to know the grounds better." She said, dumbly. He leaned into her and deeply inhaled the smell of her hair and skin at her neck. She stopped breathing.
"You came to the right place then, Princess." He stepped back, with a slight playful gaze. "Allow me to be your guide of your new royal palace." She narrowed her eyes, clearly not as amused with his nickname.
"I think I can find my way around," she tried to pull away when his words stopped her dead in her tracks.
"Did he seek in your dreams recently?" He asked as he released her hair. She swallowed.
"Not exactly." She replied, uncomfortably, as she shifted..
"What's 'not exactly' mean?"
"I might have heard him in my thoughts moments ago, but I was so-" she altered her words to keep her from sounding weak. "Not one hundred percent in control."
"You look like you are, now."
"Yeah. I guess," she sounded dubious.
"You'll be safe with me," he said, sounding so surely convinced. She raised an eyebrow in distrust. "Remember, I promised I would look after you."
"You are supposed to kill me if I can't bring myself back." She pointed out, and he nodded, as if he were simply agreeing with her. He would likely do what he wanted anyway. Marcail sighed.
"Come," he held his arm out, "you will find that I can be a perfect gentlemen for royalty." His eyes danced playfully. She crossed her arms, wishing to strike his grin off of his face.
"Sweet Sunwell, I'll agree to this, but only if you drop this act. I am no princess." She glared.
"Whatever you say," he returned a bigger grin, catching her arm and almost dragging her out of his blacksmith's workshop.
.
Galen promised a tour of the estate, but what he didn't mention was how large the estate really was. Their first stop was Isla's garden, where she worked in a light linen dress, pulling weeds from her large plot of land. Everything was planted in neat rows and brightly colored fruits and vegetables sprung from the dusky purple soil. She smiled at them, and tipping her straw hat that human farmers wore in the sun. She stepped away from her garden and approached them.
"Hello there," she smiled. "What are you both doing out here?" Marcail heard that as, 'What is she doing out of her cage?'
"I was just showing our guest the grounds of our beautiful home." The warrior flashed a roguish smile. Isla nodded, and instantly returned to destroying the weeds in her garden.
"Please tell our guest that she is welcome," she said over her shoulder, in a matter-of-fact way. The blood elf knitted her brows in confusion. She turned to Galen who smiled and shrugged.
"What do you need of me?" The blood elf asked. Isla stopped pulling weeds, turned around and put her hands on her hips.
"I need nothing. You can do what you wish."
She explained to Marcail what she grew in her garden, and that most of what they ate came from her garden. When the blood elf asked if she had anyone to help her, Isla shook her head, and explained that she loved tending to the garden herself. She welcomed Marcail to come with her and learn whenever she wanted. She thanked the druid, and Galen pulled her away to their next stop on the tour.
They came to the practice ring that she saw Galen in her first night there, and quietly observed Darine's practice. Tall dummies stood next to the wall of the house, and the finely graveled ring was groomed neatly to the edges. When the female warrior caught a glimpse of her audience, she quickly put her training into full gear, showing no weakness in front of the enemy. When Marcail wanted to leave, Galen told her to wait. He watched his sister for a couple of minutes, and then started pointing out flaws in her form, and admonished her that she needed more practice. Darine turned beet red from her otherwise blue complexion, but applied her elder brother's tips into her practice. They walked away from the practice ring, heading towards the large, stone backyard.
"I think she feels threatened by you," Galen chuckled to himself, lightly amused at Darine's performance.
"I don't care," the blood elf replied, trying to sound as disinterested as possible.
They walked into the sprawling courtyard, made of staggered large stones and grass growing between them. Almost a perfect square was formed, and a few young night elves she didn't recognize were setting up whiskey barrels of different sizes and stone lanterns around the courtyard. Clustering them together at different points, and planting white flowers into the barrels. A few of them saw Marcail and either glared or ogled at her until she glared back. She pulled away from Galen and stalked off towards the lake before the warrior caught up with her.
"I want to go home, Galen." She huffed, as she walked along the shoreline of the lake, away from the house.
"You will," he replied.
"When?" She demanded, still trying to get away from all the night elves in the courtyard.
"Soon," he said, though he knew he wasn't being entirely truthful. He still had yet to send his ransom letter, or even finish it for that matter. Marcail gave him a disbelieving glance, and she turned from the dock, and tried to head deeper into the woods. Galen followed her, as she walked toward a worn path into the woods. They walked a little bit further and Marcail saw something beyond the trees. She tilted her head and steadied her path. As the trees parted for the clearing, she saw a small, stone building with a chimney. Smoke steadily escalated from the stone stack, and Marcail turned to Galen.
"Another smithy?" She asked the warrior. He tried to hide his half grin and then shook his head. She walked toward the door and pushed it open. A moonwell rested inside, with tall stone pillars holding up the arch. The glow of nature's magic beckoned the mage.
"It's actually a bath house," Galen tried to explain as she walked toward the edge of the water.
"But there's magic here."
"Of course, it's still a moonwell."
"Why would you bathe in such a powerful place?"
"It's not just for bathing. We all come here to think and heal ourselves during hard times."
She nodded, remembering her time in the bathtub in her room when the water was steaming hot. She could control the temperature with just a wave of her fingers underwater. She liked soaking in the warmth and being left alone with her thoughts. She could reflect on the day's events and prepare for the next day as her muscles soaked in the heat.
"The water also has healing properties," the warrior added. The mage continued to stare into the entrancing glow protruding from the water. Small bubbles of magic danced in the steam, escaping from the pool. The mage knelt at the water's edge and dipped her hand in. Small pulses of magic, pure and gentle, tingled at her fingertips.
"It feels so natural."
"That's because it is." Galen explained, crouching beside her. She stared into the water, until he put his hand on her shoulder. "Marcail?"
"What?" She jerked herself away from the pull of magic. Don't let yourself heal up too much! She forced herself to keep Kael'Thas at bay.
"Are you okay to be here?" He asked. She nodded.
"I won't let him win," she encouraged, knowing exactly what he meant. His face relaxed, and rubbed her back, trying to soothe her.
"I know, Marcail. I know you won't." He tried to comfort her. She shied away from his touch, and looked away from him. Galen suddenly felt awkward. He scolded himself, for he hadn't felt embarrassed around females in such a long time. "I want you to know, you are welcome here at any time. There is a wooden latch on the door, for privacy."
"Thanks," she said, rising from the moonwell. "I think I'd like to see the lake once more."
"Do you want company?" He offered.
"No," she shook her head. "But thank you," she turned away from him and pushed the heavy wooden door open, leaving the night elf alone in the bathhouse.
.
Sarah was abrubtly woken by the sound of an awful scratching noise coming from behind her. She became vaguely aware of the pain in her lower back, her cheek and her rear. She blinked her eyes open a few times, before remembering where she was. She was in the attic of The Slaughtered Lamb, and she had fallen asleep on a book in front of her. The scratching noise continued, and she forced her head from the table and forced her stiff body to move so she could observe the noise.
A mouse was gnawing on a floorboard, making a tiny hole in the wood. Sarah cursed the inferiority of the animal, and the state of the Inn. As she turned to devour the being with a shadowbolt, she hesitated, noting that the color of the rodent was a glowing red. The glow pulsated, like coals from a hearth. She stood, and looked closer. The mouse looked up from it's gnawing to stare back at the human.
Then, it released a demonic squeaking noise that Sarah winced at. She destroyed the animal, immediately. Demons could possess almost anything, but this was a little ridiculous. She started to turn back to her book, when another glow caught the corner of her eye. She walked toward the hole, and bent down over it, peering into the floorboards. A very faint white light echoed from the floor. Sarah pulled a loose board up, and stretched her arm into the hiding spot. Her hands clasped around a shard of something sharp. It felt like glass in her hands, and she pulled it to the surface to get a better look at it. Upon closer inspection, the item looked like a shard of glass, but reflected prismatic colors in the light, catching it and spraying the colors on the walls. She stared at it for a few moments, before deciding to place the shard in her pocket and continuing her studies. Perhaps she would take this item to Darrick after she put her books away.
.
After staying in the bathhouse for a few moments and trying to plan his next mover, Galen gave up and gathered his collection of swords from the house to take to his workshop. They needed sharpening and polishing, and now was as good a time as any. He hoisted the bag over his shoulder and walked to the smith.
He sat down in his usual chair, in front of the sharpening wheel. He pumped the pedal with his foot, causing the wheel to spin. He pushed his sword to the stone, and a burst of sparks erupted from the metal as the sound of grinding steel filled his ears. It made him sigh, and roll his head, loosening his neck. The sound of a blade against the sharpening block made him concentrate on something simple. It brought back his sanity for a short amount of time.
That time was interrupted with a knock on the door frame of his workshop.
"Hello, Galen," Keina said, smiling as he looked up from his work. She walked over to him, and he returned the friendly smile. He rose from his seat and they embraced each other. Keina's eyes watered as she breathed in the smell of metal polish and soap. She missed his smell. He stepped away from her, and grinned.
"You look like you're doing well." He said.
"I am," she beamed. "I came to see how you were fairing. I ran into Darine in town yesterday and she said you were home. Just in time for the midsummer festival!"
Galen groaned at two things. One, he was not looking forward to the midsummer festival, and two he knew his eldest sister wished Keina and he would start a relationship. He decided not to mention the latter to save himself from embarrassment.
"I am trembling with excitement," he words dripping with sarcasm.
"You should be, it's your family's turn to host. You should get some interesting performers to liven things up from last year when the Sagethorn's hosted from their home in Darnassas. It was also quite crowded."
"I have left the planning to my sisters. They have been talking about our turn to host the festival for years." He sat back down in his chair, and gestured for her to have a seat on one of the tables nearby. "Perhaps you should speak with them."
"Oh, I have," she nodded, hoisting herself up on a table and gently seating herself. "I received a letter from Ironforge. The twins have inquired about payment, but as you know, they will wait forever, if they have to. You have such a way with them."
"Oh, I don't know about that."
"Well, I haven't heard from you since we last saw each other in Ironforge," she chirped. "I have been concerned as to what happened." She lowered her voice, "and if you got to exchange our prisoner. Have you fought with her fiance at all? Did you get your rematch?" Galen's jaw tightened, and the muscles in his neck constricted, returning his attention back to inspect his blade.
"Not exactly. I haven't had much time to settle in, my family jumped on me with the festival." He explained.
"So where is she?"
"She's around. Probably in her room upstairs, or talking with Lavena in her room." He shrugged, as he pumped the pedal again.
"Wait," Keina felt her heart drop through her stomach and burst as it hit the ground beneath her. "What? She's here?"
"Yeah, where else could I have taken her?" Galen said as if it were the most obvious fact of basic knowledge. The rogue had to pick her jaw up off the floor, as she tried to gather her composure.
"She will be killed here, for sure."
"No, I've made sure of it."
"Galen, this is bad. Not just for her safety, but think about your reputation! Your family's reputation!"
"My family guarded Nordrassil for tens of thousands of years, Keina." His eyebrows lowered as he gave her a warning glance. "That is nothing to be forgotten. I can do as I please. I am not endangering anyone with her being here." He then looked away, uncertain.
"You really think that?" Keina mocked. "How can you say that after that mess she left in Ironforge?" Galen removed his sword from the sharpening wheel and stopped pumping.
"You knew?" He looked over at her in disbelief. "How did you find out?"
"I just did. I thought it was suspicious when there was a random 'explosion' that took out half of Tinkertown. Granted there are explosions there, but the gnomes aren't known for genocide when they mess up their experiments."
"She won't hurt anyone here."
"How can you be so sure?" The rogue demanded.
"Because I will kill her myself if she does." The male night elf glared with his amber eyes. Keina guiltily felt a bubble of hope surface her emotions, as she stared back at the warrior. He looked so determined, his grip on his sword flexing his muscles. His masculine features on his face enhanced his glare. His prominent brow bone and chin gave him the fierceness that she found most men lacked. Galen scanned her body with his eyes, only to meet her silver stare with a softened look. Her heart fluttered in her chest, as she felt herself blushing a little.
"Marcail and I have already spoken about the danger of that happening." He then turned his attention back to his sword.
"Why did you give her the jewel back in the first place?"
"I didn't," he said, as he stopped pedaling. "She was controlled by another being from the spirit realm. He forced her to kill and siphon mana, and if I hadn't stepped in and stopped her, I don't know how many more lives she could have taken." The rogue paled.
"She can use her magic without the jewel?"
"It was a strange circumstance, I doubt it will be repeated."
"You are so naïve to let it go on like this," Keina's hands went to her hips as she glared at Galen. "If she already got free once, who's to say it won't happen again?"
"Like I told you, I'll kill her if it comes to that."
"You can't protect her, Galen." She crossed her arms over her body. "She doesn't deserve it." The warrior ignored her and went back to his work. Keina continued to stand there, and tried to speak again when the noise of the blade sharpening grew louder as Galen pushed his sword harder against the grinding wheel. It was obvious that he had ended the conversation. The rogue felt the frustration growing, but knew there was no point in trying to talk to him anymore. She scoffed and stormed out of the shed.
Galen's amber gaze followed the rogue's retreat. She had struck a nerve when she suggested that he was trying to protect Marcail. What made him even angrier was that Keina believed that the mage didn't deserve it. He was growing frustrated at everyone's distrust with Marcail. There was something worth protecting in her, or else he wouldn't have brought her to his home.
.
In the time it took for a water droplet to fall from a leaf, the midsummer ball was upon them. A mere few days felt like a few minutes to Marcail. She had found a niche, in the most odd situation ever.
Marcail put her sapphire-colored thread in her mouth and pulled it out through her lips. She carefully held up the sewing needle to the sunlight and meticulously pushed the thread through the tiny hole. Once she successfully threaded her needle, she took hold of the crème silk cloth in an embroidery hoop, and started the pattern of flowers that Lavena taught her.
"You know, you confuse me a great deal," the priestess spoke, as she stood by her mannequin, stitching the sleeves on Melluna's dress.
"Why is that?" The mage glanced up from her work, to see Lavena concentrating on her stitches.
"You seem so fierce at times, but then you back down when I would expect you to continue fighting."
"So? What's your point?"
"I just hope you don't lose your fire when you really need it." The priestess offered. The mage fell silent, as she quickly busied herself with the needle and thread. As the silence fell between them, Lavena's mouth went straight and she returned to her work.
"I'm very grateful for the work you've poured into the dress, but I can't go to the party." Marcail confessed.
"What?" The priestess stopped her stitches and looked up from her work. "I thought you agreed-"
"I said I would think about it." She murmured, "and I am very sorry, but I just can't do it." The priestess looked a little sad, but then she turned back to her work.
"Very well. I don't want to pressure you into anything," Lavena said.
.
After the last finishing touches were sewn on the dresses, Marcail thought she earned a rest. One that would extend until late in the evening, when Lavena would bring her the red dress and ask her to come down and show it off. However, she was pretty sure she didn't want to go anywhere near the party. She collapsed on the bed, and without changing her clothes she crawled into her bed and pulled the coverlet over herself and sighed. She closed her eyes and let herself ease into relaxtion. A knock on the door abruptly interrupted her. She peeked an eye open and saw the warrior letting himself into the room.
"Oh yeah, I wasn't trying to sleep at all. Please come in." She grumbled under her breath.
"What was that?" The warrior's face was sullen.
"I said, 'why are you here', Galen?" Marcail flustered, growing annoyed at him staring at her. She turned around and buried her head back into the pillow.
"I have a request for you."
"Whatever it is, the answer is no," she shot back. She heard quick, stomping footsteps coming closer to her, and she began to turn her head when a large hand clapped down on her shoulder and squeezed hard, jerking her from the bed to face him. She felt her heart leap into her throat with a small shock of fear and a load of surprise. The warrior bent over her form, propping one arm beside her and the other still holding her shoulder.
"You are not to speak to me that way. You are a prisoner, and don't you forget it." He snarled. She blanched and clenched her teeth, as the pain in her shoulder spread throughout her body while under the tight, iron grip of the night elf. She swallowed, but stuck her chin out, just a bit, in her own defiance.
"Fine," she looked into his fiery gaze, as she gritted her teeth. His grip loosened a bit, and his shoulders relaxed.
"Now, as I was saying. I want you to make an appearance tonight." Her jaw dropped. Had he gone insane? "Don't look at me like that, you heard me right. I want you to attend the midsummer ball, my sister said she tailored a dress special for you. You will act with the decorum and poise that I know is in there somewhere, Marcail." She could only hang her jaw in complete shock in response, because her vocal cords had somehow fallen into her stomach. She swallowed hard, and began to speak.
"Galen, this idea is so ludicrous. Why in holy hell would you parade me around a bunch of night elves who want to kill me?"
"I want you to see that my people aren't all what you think they are. I think this will be an experience for you."
"I won't do it."
"You will." He reprimanded. "Don't even think you can defy me." He threatened, shaking a finger at her. His grip tightened even more on her shoulder and she cried out in pain, jerking herself away from him.
"Fine!" She yelled out, cradling her arm. "I'll go, just leave me be!" She glared at him with the intensity that would have shriveled Illidan.
"Good girl," he shot a smug grin at her, before leaving the room in triumph. The mage watched as the door closed behind him before she hurled a pillow at the door.