** DOUBLE AWARD WINNER IN THE PROSE FICTION AWARDS 2017**
Imagine finding yourself in Azeroth for real, a parallel universe of the game World of Warcraft and knowing of certain events about to occur. What would you do? Who would you trust? And would...
Dedicated to Sara@Finfychan allowing me to use some of her marvellous inspiration and to Raidriar93 for making me see the error of my ways.
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Night fall came and went, as did dawn, then noon. She had remained awake since watching him walk towards the Violet Citadel. What the hell needed doing all this time? He was coming back wasn't he? Wasn't he?
As the day moved on, painfully slow, she accepted the obvious. The Archmage was engaged in something which required his full attention. But logic did not help abate her irritation at having been left alone - and for so long. Adding her annoyance into the mix of having had no sleep, the continual dose of embarrassment lingering from earlier, and irresponsibly draining the wine he'd opened and four more bottles she'd found after ... well, she was pissed in more ways than one. How dare he dump me here! In his little batchelor pad! She finally passed out on the couch near the balcony window.
When she woke, some hours later, she was chilled from having no cover over her. It was light outside and by the sounds of it, or, to be more accurate, lack of, it was quite early. Her head was pounding, her stomach felt like it had been punched and kicked; such was the dull ache of way too much wine and no food. Common sense would have told her to eat, but then again, the trouble with common sense was it never was very common. She groaned.
Once she got her bearings, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Staggering a little she made her way through to the bed chamber. Empty. "So," she muttered, "he didn't bother coming back at all!" It didn't help when it registered this was the start of day two in Dalaran. If she didn't feel so ill, she would be furious, but that just took way too much effort for now.
A soft click from the other room grabbed her attention. She backed out of the bed chamber and peered round the edge of the wall. There, sitting in front of the main door was a basket, brimming with food and - god forbid - more wine. She was sure it had not been there when she'd moved through the room. She tried to shift quickly towards the door to see if she could catch whoever delivered it. Clumsily, her feet tangled in a throw from one of the chairs and she fell over. She met the floor with a dull thud and the throw landed in soft folds beside her.
