The Keep

They had left the sanctuary of Winterspring, returned to the Horde, returned to battle, returned to the things they once loved and had sacrificed, but it was not the same. Their time in Winterspring had not been the lover’s reconciliation camp Gromth had hoped for, and their return went unnoticed. They were barred from gaining rank in the Horde’s fighting force, elves roamed their cities, and the Dark Portal was once again open.

The world was not as they had left it, for certain, but worse was some things remained unchanged. Gromth and Draeka had never properly dealt with their past and the once furious lovers remained in a state of uncertainly; Draeka loving and loathing him at the same time, the rage in her blood subsided except when she remembered his hands on her neck, and the pleasure he received from her struggles. Worse was his acceptance of his actions, and of the submissiveness she displayed towards him afterwards.

She had been spending more time on her own, fighting, but mainly trying to avoid him and the official sounding words they spewed at each other, trying to avoid the issues that constantly weighed on Draeka’s mind. The tension between the two was obvious and she had no idea what she could possibly do to get her childhood friend back. As a boy, she could have easily come to love him on her own. As a man, he had made sure that it was not a choice not to love him.

Draeka growls as the orc’s magic burns into her flesh, causing it to crackle and peel before the priest’s holy magics caressed her skin, its warmth healing the damage and preventing more. She lets out a large grunt as she digs her sword into the warlock’s belly, slicing up as her mace crashes into his skull, felling him to the ground. Running her finger over the freshly healed skin, she’ hrmed’, nodding to the Troll in approval.

Laying in a pool of blood at the warrior’s feet was an anonymous servant of one of the seemingly endless evils of Draenor. She kicks at his side, wiping her blade on the scarlet tabard she proudly wore, looking at her companion and gesturing for them to carry on to their next target.

Mere days ago, they had sworn a pact to one another, working side by side to fell whatever crossed their path. Since Draeka had convinced Gromth to halt their investigations into the Tusks, she joined their cause; she had felt better; more supported and stronger. She had, in fact, found a friend, their natural abilities the perfect compliment to one another.

Slowly, she opened up to him as they fought, explaining of her history with Gromth, the mighty woman finally being able to tell someone what she had bottled for so many years.

With another loud grunt, Draeka swings her sword at the Eredar before them. He ducks, a large howl escaping his lips before he quickly begins shouting an incantation. Furious, Draeka snarls, her mace thwapping his knee. Falling to the ground, he desperately calls for the help of the fel-elements who came, angry, and swarming her priest.

Roaring with rage, Draeka turns and with mace and sword she bashes and slices the elements as they cry for vengeance. Slowly, she stalks back to the cursed Draenei, who is trying to struggle to his feet. A slight twinge of fear in his eyes, he shakes his head quickly, begging in the Draenei tongue. Draeka simply smirks as he she spins, the full force of her turn behind her sword as it cuts into his neck. Slicing through his windpipe, the blade sticks. With a blow of her mace, the head tilts to the side, freeing her blade as the blood gushed, coating her armour in its warm liquid. She removed her helm, her breathing deep and regular, her voice hot with excitement.

“You alright, Doctor?”

He nodded, grinning at her.

“I told ju, Drae, me an’ ju can take on anyt’in’ together,” he smiled happily, his voice relaxed. “I love watching ju fight.”

Draeka chucked at him, nodding. “I like you watchin’ my back,” she smiles, casually inspecting the room as she spoke, poking around for some paper the Eredar was said to have.

He did indeed like Draeka; a woman able to fend for herself, yet required and desired his aid, they complimented each other well. Over the weeks they had spent fighting together, as they got to know one another, both of them knew they worked well together, complimenting one another not only in skill, but in personality.

“Why don’t ju jus’ leave ‘im? ‘e don’t deserve you anyways,” he speaks seriously as they rest in Shadowmoon, watching the Black Temple in the distance.

“It’s complicated,” she shrugs, “I’m still attached to him. Still love him in ways.”

The large Troll beside her shrugs his broad shoulders, reaching for her hand and holding it in his. “Well, d’en, ju don’t ‘ave to leave ‘im, but ju don’t ‘ave to be his neither. Be ‘appy, on your own. Make ‘im realize what ‘e lost.”

“Ain’t so easy, Doctor. Ain’t ever been with no one but him.”

The Troll’s mouth gaping open a little as he stares at her, eyeing her toned, green body. “Drae, ju killin’ me here.”

She chuckles and shrugs, squeezing his hand.

“I like you, ya know. Let’s get back to work.”

He smiles at her back as she walks away, nodding. “I like ju too, Drae.”