A Struggle

Choices, Choices.... Magdalia tossed and turned in her bunk in Shattrath City on the Aldor Rise. She would flip to one side, let out a sigh, just to turn over and open her eyes to check the amount of daylight visible. After fighting with herself, trying to sleep for over an hour, she laid on her back, frustrated, staring up at the ceiling. She looked around the darkened room of the inn and tried to map out her surroundings before she moved. She climbed slowly out of the bed, trying to not wake anyone. She was rogue, so she was able to move well in the darkness and shadow, but at this point, her exhaustion made it hard to use the slightest bit of stealth.

She wrapped her cloak around herself as she walked out of the inn and onto the rise. She walked quietly to the edge and sat down, staring over the city. Her hair was disheveled so she tried to straighten it with her hands as she looked down at the city below her and listened to sounds of the night and the fountains constantly trickling water around behind her. She pulled her hair back and tied it back so that her pale face was visible and the multiple points of moonlight reflected on it. Her expression was confused but saddened at the same time. Her eyes caught sight of her hands and the stains of blood and how rough they had become over the past months disgusted her.

She looked up and gazed at the sky - the sky she found so beautiful and so terrifying at the same time. She did not long to return home to the forest of Elwynn because the sky was always so difficult to gaze at there. As she studied the features of the sky of Shattrath, her eyes began to glisten with tears. Ever since the last Sunday she had been the same, felt the same, and not been able to sleep. She played it out in her head for the thousandth time:

**********

She arrived at the Virtue Date Auction, very excited to be back in the guild and happy to see all her old friends again. She was also nervous of the possibility that she would find Lance there.

Lance, her husband, had written to her a little more than a week before, telling her that he felt they had drifted apart and it would be better to just "call it quits". At least, that's how the letter sounded to her. After receiving this letter, she was very distraught, not knowing how to respond. She decided not to write back because she was too angry with him to do so, and too desperate to see him again before they could ever say goodbye. She used her connections and found out that her husband was now a member of a guild that she had once been a member of: Virtue. She had followed the Shadowsong family there, but left when Najila (her good friend and financier) moved on to a place where she was more useful.

Sure enough, there he was, her husband. She glared for a moment but allowed her anger to cool. She ran off to the bank to grab something nicer to wear than her pants she had been wearing in battle. She quickly changed into her lovely black dress that fell just right over her curves. She gazed around the room and try to find someone who could tell her who all was going up for auction. The moment she was about to ask, someone else did. There were many fine members and officers of Virtue going up for auction, including Lance. Her mind raced with the possibilities. She could bid on him, and win the date with him and finally, she would have a chance to talk to him and he would have no choice but to join her.

Unable to handle the stress of the situation, she began to drink, as she usually did. She reached into her bag that hung at her side and eyed the amount of money she had and then pulled out her flask of grog and took a swig. As each contestant stepped onto the stage, she would listen to what they had to offer and she would bid what she could afford, still saving enough to hopefully win Lance. She drank in between each one and between each bid. She was completely and utterly drunk. She had not won anyone so far and Lance was up. The bids rose very quickly and she was singing the song she made up for grog when she cleared her throat before shouting out a bid just higher than the last bidder. Suddenly, the bids stopped. Her heart leaped, she was going to win. She heard the auctioneer say that she had won and she could barely contain herself (but she did). She smirked at Lance but said nothing. After the auction ended, he asked if she had the time for the date right then. She told him "Yes," and they both traveled to Shattrath City.

She kept the conversation between them very "professional." She had won him for three hours and he came with the prize of twenty healing potions to use in battle. The potions were just a bonus; it felt so good to be beside him once more. It was just he and she and it felt so right. He helped her with some things she needed to complete and then he asked, "Well, what would you like to do for the next hour and a half?"

At this point, they were at the inn in Telaar and she only thought for a second and then found the nearest spot to sit down. "I want to sit and talk." Shock and other hidden emotions swept across his face. He was not interested in talking inside the inn, for what reason, she didn't know. They found a place atop a hill just outside the inn and talked for a long while.

The exact words between them escape her, but they were angry at some points, sad the next, and then angry again. The conversation ended as he mounted his gryphon and shouted back something like, "Take the time to think about it, if you love me or not, and when you decide, let me know."

**************

She hated the thought that she now had to decide if she loved her husband or not. Truth-be-told, she did not know. When Lance reached the Outlands, the communication between them shortened to the point that they were only writing letters. The time that each of them had did not add up to meeting face to face, and if they did, it was awkward and rushed. She did not know if she loved him, because she felt like she did not know him anymore. She had grown up so much since she reached the Outlands and she looked at him differently because she was different. She'd had so many more experiences, though it did not seem to mature her at all.

Her eyes filled with tears as she gazed upwards and remembered all her fond memories with Lance. She thought back on the first time they met, the first promises they made to each other, the fun that they had, and the vows they made on their wedding day. It all seemed like a dream at this point. Something that happened so long ago was now just a hazy thought in the back of her mind. She whispered to herself in the night, "If I really loved him, I would not be crying over the memories like I would never have them again, I would be giggling about all the future possibilities."

"

She grunted at herself and blinked hard to get the tears out of her eyes. "How could he think that giving up was the only way to deal with this problem? How could he...after all we've been through? Wait...is it the memories I miss, or is it him? I cannot understand my own thoughts and feelings. What is love, anyway? I was so happy to see him, and even when I was fighting with him, I wanted nothing more than to touch him." She sighs, remembering her tone happier, "Oh that kiss I stole, and I think that changed everything inside me. He gave in, it was only for a moment, but he gave into it. He liked it as much as I, if not more."

She bit her lip as her mind raced through these possibilities. She wiped the tears from her face with her rough hands and flinched a little as they scratched her skin. She shook her head and adjusted so that her cloak was more tightly wrapped around her. She looked over both shoulders to reassure herself that she was completely alone as she talked to herself.

"He said that he still loved me, and he wanted me, but only if he was the only one I loved and devoted myself to. Wasn't that what our vows were all about? I mean, I don't blame him...I know that there is no way for him to know or tell that I still love him or even care for him with the way I've been treating him and the lack of contact I have made. I hate my need for defending myself! He was becoming distant, so I pulled all the way back, and now I don't know where to go from here..."

She started tapping one fist on her forehead as she muttered, calling herself names. She felt ridiculous that she even had to think about it. She had made her vows, she had put the effort into it. She just had to return to that. She had to remember what it was like to be with him, to kiss him, to hold him, and know that being in his arms was the safest place in the world. Her arrogance had gotten in the way of her love for her husband. How could she have been so blind?

She kicked back her heels, hitting the side of the wall that stood so tall in this city. She finally allowed a smile to creep onto her face as she saw the slightest light coming from the horizon as daylight was on its way. She adjusted herself and let go of her cloak to stand up. She shivered and quickly replaced the cloak as she turned back towards the inn. Her smile grew as she approached the mailbox and pulled a piece of paper from her bag to write a letter to him. She told him when she was available next and asked for his response. She slipped it into the mailbox quickly and bit her lip to keep from giggling with joy as she headed back to bed to finally be able to rest in peace.

As he flew away from her, he clenched his fists around the reins of his gryphon. He felt infuriated by his circumstances, by his mixed feelings of bitterness and affection. It left a bad taste in his mouth, like sagefish stirred in with underspore pod. He knew how he felt. He had always known how he felt for her. He remembered when they'd met, and the many things they had done and accomplished. The memory of when he'd started out in Westfall felt closer in time than it truly was. He remembered when it was she that was assisting him, helping him fend off the Defias mercenaries. But now, he felt an affectionate responsibility to her, an obligation, both as a Paladin of Light, and as a citizen of the Alliance, to protect her. Granted...his feelings of attraction and love had influenced his potentially overzealous desire to keep her free of harm and trapped tight in the grasp of safety.

As he traveled over Halaa, he remembered the last time he'd spent time with her. He hadn't been able to see her for so long, and as he reminisced about fighting for the Timbermaw Hold, for their allegiance and favor, he had felt his heart soar with the possibility of reliving those memories, but this time, he would be with the one he loved. But soon after arriving, he recalled, Najila's husband had shown up. It wasn't that he held a dislike for him, for the night elves, or even for druids. He had just wanted to spend time with Magdalia and...be close to her, be alone with her. Was it so much to ask for one night, for an hour, alone with his wife? But apparently, it was, because instead of helping Magdalia eliminate the Winterfall tribe members, he found himself competing for slaughter against Najila's husband. It was a serious blow to his ego that Magdalia felt that he would be unable to fend off the tribe members and help her eliminate them without the power of Elune or nature, or the power of a druid. He knew that many of Tragenn's abilities and skills made him a better asset to Magdalia's goals in Winterspring, but that didn't make the pill any easier to swallow.

He remembered how his bitterness and resent had grown like an open, infected wound, eating at him from within. He had wanted to be alone with her, helping her, not competing for slaughter, and oddly enough...for his wife's attention. The grudge he held against druids was trivial and ulterior at best. Over the course of his life, he had been swindled and conned by druids of both the Alliance...and of the Horde. For a long time he had stubbornly held the belief, that any druid of any race was not to be trusted, with a thorium fist. He didn't have such a short-sighted perspective or belief now, but that bitterness, the bitterness of being outdone, of being unable to measure up, felt inflamed and exacerbated that night. It had happened before. There were times, that he only vaguely recalled, when the night elves had been better at protecting and assisting her than he knew he could ever hope to be. With Magdalia drifting away from him, and his heart filled with bitterness, he had written her that night. He'd stopped, on his flight back to the spawning glen, to write her. He didn't feel any longer that her heart belonged to him, and only to him, that her affections were his and his alone. He had finally overcome the denial and embraced the realization that Magdalia's affection and love for the night elves was not something he could overcome. He did not want to only be a part of her life, and he did not want her to be merely a fraction of his own.

She had been his everything. Virtually nothing had come before her. His priorities had always been blinded by his affection for her, and he remember that he had even left others in the lairs of true evil, in dungeons, if only to just be with her for a moment. Now, so much later, his perspectives had shifted. He felt an obligation to the Aldor, to the Naaru, and to the expedition and the Sha'tar. He did not want a fraction or a part. He wanted it all. If he was going to be in her life and see her and be around her, he knew he would not be able to bear it if her love for him, her affections, seemed to waiver and vacillate. It was not a gray issue for him. Love, had never been gray. It was black or white. Either she loved him, as she had so long ago, or her feelings of love and affection had been worn away or taken, be it by time, by distance...perhaps the very Light itself had felt apt to catalyze this change of heart, for whatever reason it saw fit. He did not know. What he did know, was he would not sacrifice his happiness and his new priorities for a woman who would not be willing to do the same for him. For a woman...who no longer loved him. He would not wait around for her to figure out if she loved him or if she loved...someone else. He wouldn't stand by and watch her gaze fall on another individual and desperately petition for her attention and love as he watched her slip farther and farther away. He'd given her a task. "Make a decision: do you love me? or not..."

As his gryphon touched down in the spawning glen, he felt a new feeling of motivation. The giants in the glen were an enemy to Sporregar. He felt no remorse in unleashing his bitterness, his frustration, his hate, his enmity, on the beasts and creature of the glen. As he cut through, collecting herbs and more worthless objects, he felt his powers imbued by embracing the feelings he now felt overcome with. He would wait for her word, for her decision. But it would be a long time before he would be able to leave the glen and make it to a mailbox and receive her response...

Another day during Brewfest, Magdalia sits at the bar, listening and watching the festivities. She has lost count of how many times she heard the nearby drunk dwarfs yell, "Here's looking at me bum!" She smirks to herself after hearing it again and goes back to her souvenir stein in front of her. She looks down into the liquid seeing a small reflection of herself, and her smirk fades. She inhales the aroma of the brew and then puts the stein to her lips and finishes drinking what was left. As she passes the stein back to the bartender to be refilled, she slumps in her chair rather saddened, wishing Lance were there.

Her speech is slurred due to the fact she has had way too much drink for it to only be about noon. She doesn't talk out loud, but she definitely hears her own words ringing in her head as she passes over her thoughts.

"I still can't believe that it's fixed. I couldn't be happier. Finally, Lance and I are back together, as it should be, and there is no more doubt between us. True, he does make a point of saying that my actions will speak louder than my words, but I know I can prove how much I really do love him with my every waking moment. I just want so badly to be near him. Even though everything is fixed between us, I still never see him. I don't want us to drift again, so I am clinging to him. I wonder if he's been annoyed by how many letters I have stuffed in the mailbox for him. I miss him so much..."

She looks around as her stein is handed back to her, sloshing on the bar. She peers over the crowd of people, hoping to see a familiar face, but there isn't one. She takes sips of her brew as she continues going over her thoughts.

"How wonderful it is to be married...to know that he will always be there for me. I mean, not every rogue has their own warrior of the Light looking out for them. I know that if I ever got in any trouble at all, Lance would be there to make sure I was safe. Oh...I had almost forgotten the time that the Bloodsail Buccaneers found me and stripped me of all possessions. How embarrassing...having to find some linen cloth to cover myself until I could get to Stormwind. Lance found me hiding in a bush with nothing but some cloth draped over me. He was so wonderful and comforting...brought me food, water, and potions to get my spirit up. He even bought some clothes for me to wear until I could get all my stuff back. I think it was even he who helped me get back on that ship, kill their captain, and go through to cargo to find my possessions."

She was gulping the brew down by now and losing her balance on the chair she was sitting on. She finished the stein and made sure it was empty before finding a place for it in her bags. While looking through the bags, she came across her various notes on some paper she had made about her tasks she had been given. "So many things to do in Terrokar forest and I don't think I'm strong enough to handle all of them on my own." She sorted them out on the table between which ones she could handle and which ones she could not. The pile of achievable tasks was far smaller. She bit her lip and hiccuped at the same time. After sitting there blinking for a moment, waiting for the stars to fade from her eyes, she stared back at the blurry pages.

"If only Lance and I could have time to go through these..."

Lance frowned as the dark, stormy expanse of Netherstorm loomed before him. He groaned inwardly. He hadn't come back to this place until now, and for good reason. While it was the only place to find Netherbloom, other than the auction house, he generally didn't have much need for it. As long as he had mana to spare, he could call on the power of the Light to save his life and regenerate his health. He didn't need life-giving, healing potions. But, he had promised Mags a full stack of such healing potions, and he had never been one to go back on his word. Because of the vicious landscapes, he glided low over the cracked, dead land beneath him to expedite his search for each bloom, one after another.

Oh how he missed Mags. He wished that he could have been with her. He felt his feelings renewed, his desire for her presence like the most pleasant disease, like falling back into relapse. Even his desire to enter Karazhan, and earn favor with the factions of outland, were pushed to the back of his mind, seconded with his narrowed foresight. He wanted to return to Terrokar and the Zangarmarsh and help her grow stronger. He knew that his ability to assist her progression was limited, the same way he knew helping a creature hatch from its egg, only deprived it of the strength it gained through overcoming the experience unaided. He wanted so desperately to help her, but the strength he had found in reaching his peak now seemed to prevent him from having the one thing, the only thing, that he found himself wanting.