(AN: I feel like I should have said at the beginning that I don't own Warcraft or any of the characters and situations from it; they're all by Blizzard. Oh well, now that I have...let's have another chapter, shall we?)

(This is also one of my first non-explicit and generally non-violent fics. I will only use one four-letter word since I'm trying to keep it from getting too bad. Hope that you all enjoy it)

Chapter 2

If any doubt remained in Melissa's mind about the truth and efficacy of the Light, they were most certainly dispelled once she arrived at Summer's Rest. She did not have to search long to find Xingwei Marshpaw, an old Pandaren acquaintance of hers from her time in this land. Years ago, she had confided in her some of her own story. The Pandaren found it intriguing, but was not wholly moved by her defense of the Alliance. Now, however, things had changed. After the Legion invaded Pandaria, the Pandaren's ancient tradition of non-involvement in the affairs of Azeroth ended: apparently it was no longer possible for them to criticize the Alliance and the Horde from their soft, cushy arm-chairs once the Burning shadow was cast over their lost continent.

Melissa found Xing standing over a large steamer, doing the one thing that they both could appreciate: cooking. Melissa waved her down and the Pandaren momentarily left the steamer and walked over to Melissa to give her a huge bear-hug. Not her usual behavior, yes, but some things had changed.

"It's so good to see you again, Redmane," Xingwei greeted. "When I heard about the Broken Shore, I feared the worst. Then all these demons appeared in Pandaria and I was truly worried! Thank the Jade Serpent that there are warriors fighting these demons, and that you're alive and well! Oh, but you're still so skinny! Just wait until these dumplings have finished steaming, I'll serve you some."

Melissa chuckled. It seemed that little had changed, and even the threat of invasion by the Legion hadn't taken the edge of the healthy appetite of the Pandaren (though it had made her hug her, which was an unusual gesture among Pandaren).

"Actually, I'm here for you and your cooking skills," Melissa said.

"Oh?"

"Yes," Melissa continued. "Well, you see, I'm having a lot of people over at our house in Stormwind for Winter's Veil, and there's not enough cooks to make all the food that we'll be eating. I know you're not from the Wandering Isle, and therefore have no strong desire to leave Pandaria, but I really need..."

"Say no more," Xing replied, holding up her paw. "I will most gladly help with your cooking. I consider it an honor that you'd ask me to cook for you and your family and friends."

"Thank you, Xing," Melissa returned.

"Also," Xing added. "I would very much like to know more about this Winter's Veil. We don't really have a winter in the interior of Pandaria; only up in the Kun-Lai Mountains is there ever snow. And your customs are still very strange to us."

"Perfect," Melissa said. "It'll be your first Winter's Veil."

"I would very much like that," Xing said.

"Excellent," Melissa smiled. "Now, then, about those dumplings. I'll wait here until you've finished them, then maybe once you're done, we can head on to Stormwind and get started with the cooking."

"Oh, nonsense," Xing returned. "If we cook together, we can get these dumplings done faster. You are learned in the Way of the Steamer, yes? Come, help me with these dumplings, then we can go to Stormwind together."

Somewhere in Andorhal, however, things were neither merry nor bright. What was left of the Argent Crusade that hadn't been wiped out at the Broken Shore were still entrenched in their battle against the Forsaken to retake northern Lordaeron. Soon there would be war in Azeroth again, and the long years of planning to retake the Kingdom of Lordaeron for the Alliance would come to fruition. But for now, there were still those who fought on their ancient battle, regardless of the coming of the Legion or of Winter's Veil.

Yet even in their hearts, they knew of the coming seasonal holiday and would celebrate it in their own way.

For Florenica Cross, however, there was no time for celebrating. The House of Vander, to which she belonged to as a little girl, had been wiped out during the Great Fire of Stormwind. Randalmar Cross, who had taken her into his home and treated her like a daughter, had disappeared several years ago to join the pirates of the South Sea. As for herself, SI:7 did not make much in the way of a family. They had her back in the most dangerous missions that she had undertaken throughout Azeroth, but they technically didn't exist. They had no attachments or connections outside of the organization, and therefore she was working to protect the Alliance even during Winter's Veil.

But even now, as she flitted between the ruined houses of Andorhal, in the portion that belonged to the Forsaken, she longed for something else; something better. She stopped inside an abandoned house in the ruined section to think. She still vaguely remembered life with her old family, and the Winter's Veil parties the House of Vander would throw; always very lavish, they had been a rather wealthy family. Truly, though she lived life on the run all the year long and was often on the SI:7's secret service, she had never grown out of that life. She missed having family, someone to come home to and spend time with on Winter's Veil.

Suddenly her sharp hearing caught the sound of something approaching from behind her; in this part of Andorhal, it was without a doubt one of the Forsaken. Swiftly she removed a knife from her belt and threw it at the sound. It struck the wall just inches away from a Forsaken assassin dressed in black.

"Still quick on your toes," the assassin replied. "Always liked that about you."

"Shouldn't you be robbing a grave somewhere, Mardenholde?" Florenica retorted. "Or threatening little children?"

"Tempting, but I'm on the Dark Lady's service," said the assassin; Hannah Mardenholde. "And that means killing you."

"If you can catch me, that is," Florenica retorted. She threw a small smoke bomb on the floor, then swiftly leaped from the table in the house up onto the rafters above.

"And what are you doing in my house?" Mardenholde asked.

"Your house?" Florenica returned, leaping to another rafter just as soon as she saw the undead below look towards where she had been. "Nobody's lived here since the plague ravaged these lands in the Third War."

"Where do you think I came from, huh?" Mardenholde retorted. With one gloved hand, she reached for the knife that was stuck in the boards of the wall. "You dropped something." With one swift motion, she pulled the knife from the wall and threw it towards Florenica. The human agent seized the knife just moments before it struck her face.

"Close, but not close enough," Florenica said, returning the knife to her belt.

"I'm not going to ask you again," Mardenholde growled. "Get out of my house or I'll stop playing our little game and kill you."

"Oh, so now you're going to try to kill me?" Florenica quipped. "And when you threw the knife in my face, you were just playing?"

"I knew you'd catch it," Mardenholde retorted. "But this time, there won't be any trying."

"Let me show you what 'not trying' looks like," Florenica stated. She descended from the rafters with a swing, both feet landing squarely on Mardenholde's chest, throwing her onto her back. She hopped back onto her feet, drew one of her long knives, and held it to Mardenholde's neck. But even as she placed her knife at the undead's throat, the Forsaken assassin had her knife at Florenica's throat.

"That's not trying for you," she retorted.

"Kill me, then," Mardenholde said. "Grant me the sweet release of death."

For the first time since she had began this rivalry with Mardenholde, Florenica froze. It would be right and just to end the existence of this monstrosity. The Forsaken were no different than the Scourge. She even wanted it! But a new thought came into her heart that she hadn't thought of before until now.

"Any other day, I'd take you up on that offer," Florenica answered. "But it's Winter's Veil, and I'm feeling sentimental." She removed her dagger from Mardenholde's neck and rose to her feet.

"Too bad for you," Mardenholde said. But Florenica guessed that her arch-enemy would do just that and redrew her dagger and brandished it to fend off the assassin.

"Dammit, you said you lived here before!" Florenica retorted. "That means you were human once. Don't you remember what it was like, being human?"

"I should kill you for that," Mardenholde hissed.

"But you won't, will you?" Florenica stated. "You were human once, weren't you? You remember what it was like, to have a family, to have friends. You remember having Winter's Veil parties before, didn't you? For so many years, you and I have been fighting; just for once, just for laughs, let's not kill each other, huh?"

The undead hesitated, her dagger shaking in her trembling hand.

"How do I know this isn't a trick?" she asked. "How do I know you won't just stab me in the back once I lower my knife?"

"Because I'm not like you," Florenica replied. "Because it's Winter's Veil and I have no one to spend it with. Granted, you're not exactly my first choice, but you're all I have."

Mardenholde began to lower her dagger, but then returned it back to pointing at Florenica. "Alright, then. I'll agree to a truce because it's Winter's Veil. But once it's over, it's open season again."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Florenica answered.

Mardenholde awkwardly lowered her dagger. "So, what do we do?"

"Well, we can't exactly have a feast here," Florenica said.

"And I wouldn't want one even if we could," said Mardenholde. "I don't eat your kind of food."

"But you do eat, don't you?"

"Human flesh," Mardenholde replied. "I don't think you'd have the stomach for long pork."

"Do you drink?" Florenica asked.

"A little," Mardenholde answered.

"Well," Florenica said, her lips pressed into a smile while her tongue rolled around the inside of her mouth. "There'll be a Winter's Veil celebration up at Hearthglen. They should have some eggnog over there."

"Good," Mardenholde said. "Stay here until I get back. If you're not here, the truce is off." With that, the undead disappeared out the door before Florenica could even say "We could just ask."

I can't believe I just did that, Florenica thought to herself. I just told my arch-enemy how to steal from the Argent Crusade.

(AN: It was pushing the boundaries with that last part a bit. I mean, Mardenholde - and the undead for that matter - aren't exactly kid-friendly. But I think we get to see a glimpse of this undead assassin at her best. I wonder how anyone will think of Florenica [one of my brother's alts: a human rogue]. She's not as straight-laced as Melissa, nor as amoral as Mardenholde. She was formerly the daughter of a rich family and so has a bratty, sarcastic streak, as you could see with her interaction with Mardenholde. The idea of having these two call a Christmas truce came from the Christmas truce of World War I - because 2017 is the 100th anniversary of the end of WWI, and because that was brought back to my mind with the Doctor Who Christmas special [i'm actually interested in where the 13th Doctor will go])

(I might just wrap up this fic-let in one big third chapter that will show everyone all together and having fun for Winter's Veil.)