On the surface, Randall Garret was just another Stormwind Guard, different from the mass of identically clad lawkeepers only because he stood watch in the throne room of Stormwind Keep. Yes, there was a certain distinction in being one of the King's guards while he was at home; they were generally considered a cut above the rest. That didn't mean they weren't still the nameless, guy-in-the-corner to just about everybody outside of the Guard. In fact, Randall would be surprised if the King even knew his name. This did not bother him, though. Not at all. The anonymity gave Randall the ability to observe those around him, and to see and hear things that the rest of the city's population could only dream about being privvy to, like when Samuelson was revealed to be a Cultist. That was a very entertaining day.

Besides, it wasn't as if he didn't know that he was more than just a walking, talking meatshield for the Royal Family.

No, Randall Garret was the complete opposite of ordinary. He was a member of a select and very mysterious group called the Agents of the Light. He wasn't exactly sure what they were or how they came to be, but he knew beyond doubt that they were more than the mundane citizens they shared their lives with. They were all races and all genders, all classes and all creeds. They served the Light, but were not priests or paladins. They worked to bring the Light to those who needed it the most, and had abilities that other servants of the church could only dream about.

They also had a tendency to meddle in the lives of regular mortals in order to achieve their goals and, to be honest, alleviate boredom. Boredom like the kind Randall was now experiencing.

With a mischievous smile, the not-your-average-guard, looked around for a new victim to help, his eyes drawn to the young hunter that walked past without sparing him a glance. She looked tired and apprehensive, and rather reluctant to be where she was.

Yes, thought Randall, she looks like she could use a little of the Light's guidance.

Braelyn Hawke sighed in frustration as one of the King's advisors placed himself in front of her with a frown of disapproval. It was bad enough she'd had to leave Growly, her beloved bear, outside and hand over her weapons to the guards before coming inside, but now she had to put up with Mr Judgemental as well. She could tell that the man thought she was too bedraggled to be waltzing into Stormwind Keep and asking to see the King, and Braelyn knew he was probably right. But she'd made the mistake of riding through Goldshire, and good luck doing that and avoiding being challenged to a duel by the numerous 'heroes of the Alliance' that hung about the small town like flies instead of making themselves useful elsewhere. Normally, she'd just brush them off and ignore the taunting, but this time, rogues had been involved.

Braeyn hated rogues. They were sneaky and disreputable, and entirely too self-confident. There was no way she would ever walk away from a duel with a rogue... she had some pride, after all. And she was generally pretty good at dealing with them too, unless they ganked her. This time, however, the rogue had actually been half as good as she thought she was, which meant Braelyn had a bit of a fight on her hands. She still won, but had to work for it, and was dirty and sweaty at the end of the fight. She then also lacked the time to go clean herself up.

Self-consciously, Braelyn reached up and tightened her pony-tail, then straightened her leather armour. The advisor's frown seemed to deepen.

"Can I help you, Miss?" He asked.

"My parents asked me to bring a letter to the King, sir," Braelyn replied with all the politeness she could muster.

"And who are your parents, to be writing to the King?"

Braelyn bristled. How dare this man treat her as if she worthless just because she wasn't prancing around in a dress like a Stormwind noble woman. "Their names are Ellysan and Jasper Hawke," she snapped, and was gratified to see the advisor's eyes light up in startled recognition. Her parents had served the Alliance for many years before her father retired when she was about five years old. Her mother had only hung up her tabard five years ago. They were well-regarded among the Alliance for their honourable and brave conduct, and respected, even by their enemies. "My name is Braelyn," she added, almost childlishly.

"I see," Mr Judgmental said, polite now that she had proven she wasn't a measly peasant. Braelyn wanted to slap him. "The King is very busy today, I'd suggest giving the letter to me, and I will make sure His Majesty reads it as soon as he possibly can." He held out a hand that had obviously never seen a day's hard work and looked at Braelyn expectantly.

"I'm afraid not," Braelyn replied, "my parents specifically told me to put it into the King's hand myself." She experienced a brief flicker of bitchy satisfaction as the advisor grimaced in annoyance before sighing.

"Very well, miss," he said, "take a seat over by the wall while I inform the King of your arrival. You might be waiting for an extended period of time. His Majesty has a lot of things on his plate right now."

Braelyn nodded and the advisor turned and walked to where the King was deep in conversation with an older man she assumed was Genn Greymane of Gilneas, and a dwarf that she thought might be one of the one of the Dwarven council. As she took her seat, she saw the King's annoyance at being interrupted by his advisor. After a minute, he shot Braelyn a quick glance, then returned to his conversation. That was friendly, she thought. She had only seem the King in passing, once or twice at most, and he was always seemed so angry, cold, and stern. Braelyn had a much more positive opionion of his son, Anduin, who seemed to have inherited his mother's warmth and compassion, as well as her looks.

As the time passed, Braelyn closed her dark blue eyes, and wondered what her parents had thought so damn important that they'd sent their daughter to the capital barely a week after she'd returned from the Outland. To be honest, she suspected shenanigans were afoot. They had dreams for their daughter, ambitions. Dreams that involved a career in the King's army, before settling down and popping out a few grandkids for them. All her life, Braelyn had heard how they expected her to follow in their footsteps, and had seen their disappointment when she had shown no inclination to do so, even by her current age of 23. While upset that she could not seem to please them, she was also frustrated by their inibility to see how she was happy being free to serve who she thought needed the help, and not who the Alliance thought needed to be helped. She did not want to take part in the endless cycle of racism, petty grudges over things that happened eons ago, and violent retribution, that characterised the conflict between Horde and Alliance.

Braelyn shook her head to clear her thoughts. There was no point in dwelling upon such things. She noticed that one of the guards was staring at her intently. He was middle-aged, with the most intense eyes she had ever seen. It was uncomfortable to be gazed at like that, not to mention rude, and she was about to say something to the man, when she heard her name being called.

"Miss Hawke?" The king's advisor said. "The King will see you now." He guided Braelyn to where the king stood, the dwarf gone, but the other human remaining.

"Your Highness," Braelyn said, before dropping into a curtsy. Varian Wrynn nodded his head and shook her hand. He had a very firm grip.

"Miss Hawke," he said, "may I introduce King Greymane of Gilneas? Genn, this is Braelyn Hawke, the daughter of two of my finest soldiers." Once again, Braelyn curtsied, feeling herself wobble slightly as she did so. The Gilnean king was polite enough to ignore Braelyn's embarrassment, greeting her with a polite handshake before excusing himself.

"I believe you have a letter for me?" the king inquired.

"Yes, sir," Braelyn replied and dug the missive from her back pocket. As she handed it over, Braelyn winced as she noticed how the parchment was a lot less crisp and white as it had been when given to her. Damn rogues, she thought. Luckily, the king did not seem bothered.

Braelyn watched anxiously as the King read her parent's words. He frowned briefly, then burst into laughter, a loud, brash sound that echoed around the stone walls, and drew the attention of everyone in the room. "My King?" Braelyn asked. The king looked at her and smiled. His eyes radiated amusement, and for a moment, the anger he carried was banished.

"I think you had better read this, Miss Hawke," he said, and handed the letter to her. With mounting apprehension, Braelyn cast her eyes over her father's familiar hand. As she read, her apprension turned to anger. Her hands shook, and she had to bite her lip, hard, to stop herself from cursing her family into oblivion.

"Those... those... " Braelyn stuttered.

"Most loyal and loving people?" the King supplied with a grin. Braelyn looked at him angrily.

I will not forgive my parent's for this. Never.

AN - I hope this chapter was enjoyable. It can be hard to set the stage without boring everyone to tears. I have been playing WoW since vanilla, with a break of several years in between x[acs. My main is a Belf hunter. Her name is not Braelyn, but it's something similar. Reviews are always appreciated.