All was weird. The room she slept in was weird. The luxury she received was weird. The city she lived in was weird. The man who was taking care of her was acting weird. The work she was doing for King Greymane, but what was the weirdest of them all was the North.

North of the dwarf city there was a woman. This woman was a rightful queen. She was of an old bloodline. And she was trying to establish her rightful Kingdom. Anita asked her father figure as she was sorting through envelopes late at night with the Forgotten King. She asked "Why is Lady Jaina furious over Ms Menethil's claim to the throne?" He was tired, yet he did not become angry because he accepted the girl's ignorance in the matter. "Do you remember that man who took a blade and made the dead into the living?"

She nodded. Then he explained she was his sister.

Then all the fables, the old wives tales, the stories to keep children away from graveyards, and the sudden acceptance with burning the dead rather than burying them can swarming into her mind.

"She must be stopped," Anita said.

"Why?"

He looked at her coldly. She thought for a moment. "Because she is trying to restore Lordoron and she works with the dead." He took off his spectacle, "there's one thing more evil than raising the dead." He took note of her angry expression. "Vengeance," he exclaimed.

"A small evil for the greater good," she snapped. Greymane stood abruptly causing the wooden chair to scream. "I have done my fair share of vengeance little girl! I do not know what cursed books I have left behind, but stay away from those thoughts and do not let them fester." He scattered the wrest envelopes "That is enough for tonight." he stormed out of the room but glanced back noticing her wicked stare at the burning candle, slowly getting brighter and brighter. Dread filled his soul: "who is she?".

The war had taken its toll. Anita was given coin by dear Gray Maine to fetch food at the marketplace. Even such a simple task was a heavy burden. All the skinny, starved women looked upon her, those broad shoulders, her large hips, and wavy black hair. Non stared for long, her amber eyes were scary, few could withstand them.

The Alliance was a complete laughing stock. With the Fright Elves, Kingdom of Shortwind, and Dogs of Gilneas. The only race seeming to prosper were the blasted dwarves. They even had the audacity to announce themselves as neutral; selling their wonderful metals to whoever it could prosper. Jaina released a storm of ice at the Three Hammer ambassador for having the nerve to come instead of Moira Bronzebeard.

The Whispers became worse. These whispers were not of the dead nor of the living, but the whispers were of ideologies. The whispers were, "perhaps we should abolish our monarchy and replace it with what The Horde was attempting," or "maybe The Alliance should be abolished." Tom, King Greymane's servant, gave his viewpoint one supper, and that was the angriest Anita had seen her father figure. Politics was never talked at the table again, nor was anything related to Reagant Jaina: both positive or negative. Greymane heard enough gossip behind her back, and how she had zero nerve in making decisions. But one day, as Greymane had more whiskey than normal, she heard the man mutter "Jaina was never a good leader."

The man was at a loss. All his life he had known war. But now there was politics, hungry citizens, and a new crave that has ruined many mighty men. The next morning he went to his old friend, bringing with him the hundreds of letters Anita and he were ciphering through every day.

He slammed them on her desk. "I have done as you asked Jaina; sorry I started you. It was a long night." Noticing it was a close friend, all her nobility vanished and she drooped her shoulders. "We all need a break someday," she said.

"I think I've had too many."

"It's been a while since you drank." He slumped in his chair. "Something is not right with her Jaina."

"With who?"

"Anita! who else would it be." Both exchanged formalities. With a long pause staring at the envelopes being vigorously interrupted by the wind coming through an opened window.

"She's getting taller"

"Really?"

"Yes, and what of that visage, you never did tell me." She stood slowly and went to a very small cabinet that muttered some strange words. She placed a large box on her heavy desk. "What is this?"

"I don't know yet, you may have a look." His harry hands graced the hundreds of secret letters. Each of the letters had strange symbols and a certain type of seal with a snarling dragon. Then he heard a pop and a trickle of fluid. He tried to hide his smirk with one of the letters, "more Proudmore wine?"

"No, my mother likes hers too salty." She poured him one as well.

The writing was in glyphs but there seemed to be people communicating. "The numbers are readable, the rest is strange." She took a large sip and almost choked. "I have asked all my mages and none know of this language but there is more." The man had a sense of dread and excitement. "I received more gifts and more incredible instruments - all with that snarling seal. But I cannot worry about it. She's getting older Genn." He tossed the paper away. "Madness, all of it; how was the hearing the other day?" Trying to change the subject.

"I cannot worry about that either." Dread yet again encompassed him, he did not want to hear the next words. "With the kings line destroyed, there has been left a vacant seat. And it seems this city, this Kingdom wants to go back to its ways before a king was seated," she responded. "The oldest poisons kill before a new dawn." Both finished their cups of wine, but he saw that the bottle was empty. "My mother is ill Genn." He bit his lip to relieve the pain. "When will you be setting off?"

"Tomorrow morning," she replied. "And what of these?" He pointed to the piles of mess.

"You are more close to her than me. Whoever it is that keeps lavishing her with gifts will come forth eventually. I don't know. I don't know what you should do."

"I will burn all of it."

"That might be for the best, at least have her live the young years peace." He made one final attempt at deciphering one of the letters.

"On one good note her beloved Nathan will be relieved from duty. The military will be getting much smaller and more personal. He should be arriving at Stormwind."

"And when will this be?" "Within a month."

The next morning as was his custom, Tom, Anita, and his servants ate a lavish breakfast. Well, the silverware was luxurious but the food was bland. Spices being imported was becoming too expensive. It had been a very long time since Anita had a lemon poppy seed muffin.

His eating was getting gruesome and more disgusting. The one thing Anita could never understand was his obsession with sausage. He liked it wrapped in pancakes, diced onto waffles, or padded onto biscuits. Something was worrying him though, and she could not change her eye direction. The chewing, then drinking milk mixed together was too much for her stomach. At least after the slushing he wiped his beard. "Something is amiss, did Jaina already send the letters?" He placed down his milk glass then wiped his brow. "Have I been good to you?" He asked. It was only the two of them at the table now, the others knew the conversation was getting more tense. She looked around the room and up at the chandelier flabbergasted with his question. "Yes, you have given me everything I could want."

"Everything?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you unhappy?" She placed her silverware on her plate. Not one food had been eaten. "I do not know." He folded his hands then stroked his chin contemplating if he should tell her or not. Then he reasoned within himself they would find her eventually. "I never liked being a king. I just wanted to go to the balls and see pretty women." He laughed. "Sometimes our lives are played out before they even begin, and we have no say in the matter. So it is up to us to find what brings us enjoyment. And that little hope can get us through a day." He smiled at her, but she was still staring at her food. Was she even listening? Genn thought his encouragement, his expensive tower, taking her under his wing would bring her enjoyment, but her sadness ran deeper than his. At least he had memories, once had a family and once had a hope. She had nothing to cling to.

The most skilled musician in the Eastern Kingdoms yet could not play. Nor did music bring her fulfillment, what a wonderful talent bringing no joy.

"Jaina is leaving."

Why?" she responded brashly. "Her mother is very sick." Anita sighed, regretting she snapped.

"I am sure you glanced at some of her letters, and Anita, she is greatly thankful you are helping me." "Why does she want me to do this specifically?" He pulled one out of his coat. "Here, did you know these seals were magic?" Now she giggled. "That's why you always asked me to seal them."

"Yes, magic has a strange effect on you. Perhaps one day you may play again…and sing." She read the letter extremely fast. Greymane watched her amber eyes go to and fro.