Disclaimer: The world of Azeroth and its characters belong entirely to Blizzard Entertainment. I am merely a visitor here.

Harlee's the name. Healing's the game.

The little gnome repeated this mantra over and over in her mind as she boarded the ship that would take her from Ironforge to Northrend. From the shores of the icy cold world, she would take a goblin zeppelin to the magical city of Dalaran, which she'd heard about her entire life, but had never actually been to.

Her parents weren't really supportive of her move, thinking that she could work at home instead of having to go to the other end of the world where the Scourge could strike at her at any moment. The fact that she would be miles up in the air didn't deter them from their thought of scourged dragons coming down from the sky to kill everyone.

"Honestly, you'd think that living in Ironforge was the safest thing one could do!" she muttered to herself.

She'd been assigned a small cabin for the duration of the trip, which would last quite some time, considering how far they had to go. She wasn't the only female on board, but she was the only gnome who was making her way to Dalaran on that particular day, and so, she had the cabin all to herself.

She didn't mind. It was all the better to study by.

She took one of her books out of her bag, hoisting it on the table and hopping up on the chair. She wasn't even three feet tall, and so, it was sometimes difficult for her to navigate the furniture set aside for Big People, as she called them fondly.

The trip was uneventful, which she was happy about. She was able to study to her heart's content, and worked on her healing spells when one of the crew members got hurt.

The day before they were scheduled to land, Harlee did something a little crazy. Her hair was blonde, but she'd always wanted to do something fun with it, which her parents had never allowed, even though she hung out with gnomes who had green and pink hair.

So she washed her hair, put it into two pigtails, and dyed the ends of the pigtails: one black, and the other red.

"That's certainly different!" commented the man she had healed. "But I like it, it looks good on you, Harlee!"

"Thank you!" she said to him as she put her things together to get ready for the descent into Dalaran.

It was beautiful, of course. Harlee had never seen a city so steeped in magical energy. There were countless towers, tipped with purple and gold, and beautiful trees and flowers that flourished magically despite the frosty weather outside the city walls.

"It's breathtaking," she whispered.

"You've never been to Dalaran before, have you?" asked the captain. "You'll see, you're going to love it here. Everyone does."

Of course, looking a little beyond the city, Harlee could see the snowcapped mountains that bordered Icecrown, and the idea that she was this close to the dreaded Scourge really scared her.

Nothing's going to happen to you, she said to herself.

A couple of hours later, she had disembarked and was being taken on a small tour of the city, from Krasus' Landing to the Dalaran Clinic, where she would be working.

She already had a fully furnished room located across the street from the clinic, which was the perfect size for her. She loved it immediately, and the first thing she did when she settled down was lie down on the feather-soft bed and take a long nap.

She was awoken by a priest a few hours later, who had come to enquire about her room.

"I trust you're finding everything to your liking?" he asked, introducing himself as High Priest Reven.

"Yes, thank you!" she told him. "It's a lovely room, and it has a great view of the clinic."

He smiled at her. Tall for a human, he stood more than three and a half feet higher than her, but he had kind brown eyes and a black goatee around a mouth that always seemed to have something playful to say.

"I would be happy to take you on a tour of the clinic before you start tomorrow. We could have dinner together too, in case you have any questions."

Harlee nodded, and gladly went with him, having changed into more formal black and white robes.

Their first stop was at the First Aid Station, which was located just inside the clinic.

"This is where you will go if there's an emergency outside the clinic and you need to take supplies with you. It's permanently stocked with field medical supplies, and replenished every week to make sure we never run out of anything."

Harlee made a note of this, and followed him to his next destination.

There were four floors to the clinic, and two towers that topped the building. The northern tower was the surgical tower, where everyone who needed surgery was taken and kept in the recovery ward. It was the most serious area of the clinic, although the recovery ward was jaunty by comparison, with bright yellow walls and leafy green plants.

The southern tower was the psychiatric tower, for patients who had suffered traumatic psychic events. "And with the Scourge, we have plenty of those," said Reven.

The four floors of the clinic were reserved for various other areas: the first floor was the emergency ward, which included short-term stays and was decorated with various healing motifs, from druids to paladins.

The second floor was reserved for Poison Studies. It was where everyone went if they had been poisoned in any way, shape or form. There were eight patients there when Harlee arrived, and she found that it was the norm. There was always someone dealing with poison at the clinic, no matter what.

The third floor was for long-term illnesses and injuries, things that could be cured, but would take a long time. It was where patients stayed if they were admitted for more than two weeks at the clinic. It was homier there, with a library and an entertainment area where visiting travelers came to have fun with the patients who could have fun.

The fourth and final floor was the gloomiest of all, and was reserved for fatal illnesses. Anybody going there had to have full protective spells on them at all times, as well as protective gear.

The Plague of Undeath was there, and the people who had it were kept in isolation, away from physical contact, but they were never alone. Behind the thick glass walls, healers sat and talked them through the difficult times ahead, giving them the best food they could find, and books, if they were in any conditions to read. Some of them told stories to the patients.

"You obviously have to deal with the Plague a lot," said Harlee quietly.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Isn't it dangerous to other patients to keep them on the fourth floor? Shouldn't they be in one of the towers?"

"They pose no threat to the rest of the clinic. As you saw, there are three sets of doors one has to reach to come here, and a corridor. This area is well protected."

Harlee nodded, having wondered when she'd looked at the clinic from her room why the fourth floor had almost looked like a ziggurat of sorts, seeming to have been placed on top of the building as an afterthought.

She began working the next day, and found her job pleasant. She was kept in the emergency ward, as her mentors noticed that she worked quickly in a crisis. People liked her, and enjoyed the fact that she baked chocolate chip cookies for both the patients and the healers.

"I should have started working here years ago," she said to Reven one day.

"Why didn't you?"

"Because my parents wanted me to stay home and keep studying in Ironforge. It's not that I didn't want to stay there, but I wanted to do something more with myself than be a priest in the mountains of Dun Morogh."

She had been working in Dalaran for five months when an emergency came in that really touched her.

Two children, who had been held in Scholomance, of all places came in with their parents, Rhonin Redbeard and Vereesa Windrunner. And, to my intense surprise, an undead elven woman that she had heard of, but never seen before: Sylvanas Windrunner, and a slender girl in her arms.

The girl seemed to be in pretty bad shape. Harlee immediately began to work on her, while Sylvanas sat there, motionless except for her eyes, which darted back and forth from the elven girl to her.

It was obvious to anybody watching that Sylvanas cared for this girl, and as Harlee worked on her, it dawned on her. This was Faith Everstone.

Her story had been heard in all corners of the Eastern Kingdoms, tied with Sylvanas'.

The two of them had been very close, as far as she had heard, sharing a love unlike any other. Harlee had thought that the stories had exaggerated everything, but, apparently, it hadn't been the case. Her heart broke when she saw how attentive the Banshee Queen was to Faith. Apparently, undeath hadn't diminished her affections for the girl.

"She's going to be just fine," she said to Sylvanas that evening. Faith was sleeping peacefully, tucked against the queen's arm and holding her hand.

Sylvanas only nodded. "She nearly…"

"But she didn't. She's all right. She'll get out of here in a few days, and you'll be able to take her home." Normally, Harlee would have physically comforted a family member or a friend, patting their hand or offering them a cup of tea, but she couldn't do that with Sylvanas. The only thing she could do was stand close by in case Faith needed anything.

But Harlee could tell that the only thing Faith needed was Sylvanas by her side. It was good to know that love could still cure most ills in the world.

"I wish I could find a love like that," she told Reven a couple of days later. He had been looking tired lately, and his hair had begun to be streaked with gray, despite the fact that he was quite young.

"You've never had anybody?"

"Not as devoted as that," she said, nodding towards Faith and Sylvanas. The queen was lying down with Faith, holding her close while Vereesa's twin boys sat at the foot of the bed, playing together.

"It's funny. Everyone says that she's a mean old witch, now that she's dead. But it doesn't seem that way when you look at her, does it?"

Harlee smiled, "I think that if we were to bring the people responsible for hurting Faith here, we'd really see her banshee side." She sat down, sipping some raspberry-flavored tea. "I had someone close to me, once. His name was Ivin Rustcog, and I guess he was a fool, but I cared about him very much."

"What happened?"

"Not much, really. He kissed me once, and it was weird, but we didn't get a chance to do anything else. He went off on an adventure one day, and never came back. I don't know if he's alive or dead, although I suppose he either found a new place to live, or died on the road."

"I'm sorry, Harlee."

She shrugged, "It happens to the best of us, doesn't it?"

"Is that why you decided to come here? To get away from that?"

"Mostly to get away from my parents, who think that I should have gotten over Ivin really quickly, because we hadn't been together that long. They don't know that I use to write his name in the margins of my book when I studied."

Reven smiled, "Maybe you'll see him again."

I looked at Faith and Sylvanas. "Maybe."

The next day dawned bright and clear. Sylvanas had a meeting to attend, and so left Faith for most of the day. Giving me a chance to speak to her.

She was very grateful to be in Dalaran, and that everyone was all right.

"I suppose it could have gone a lot worse for us."

"Indeed it could have. But you were lucky to make it through."

"She came back for me. I didn't think she would."

"From what I've observed, there was no way she would have left you in there to die on your own."

"I guess not." She looked down and blushed a little.

"You really love her, don't you?"

Faith nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek, "She's my everything."

"And she knows it."

Another nod. "You don't think it's weird for the two of us to…"

"Not at all. One of my best friends has been in a relationship with her girlfriend for a decade. She says that she wouldn't trade it for the world. The way I see it, when someone has a love like that, they never let it go, whether that love is male or female."

"Sylvanas and I wouldn't have been able to get married when she was alive. Our parents wouldn't have let us. One day, her father sat down with me and told me that it wouldn't do for Sylvanas, as Ranger-General, to marry a girl."

Harlee looked at Faith, feeling sorry for her all of a sudden. To love someone and know that the relationship would never progress to marriage must have been torture for her.

"Does she know this?"

Faith shook her head slowly, sniffling, "No. At least, I don't think so, because I've never told her. But I guess her parents talked to her too, or maybe mine did, I don't know."

"Your parents talked to me," said Sylvanas, materializing from behind a column and startling Faith so much that Harlee grinned. "They told me the same thing my father told you, more or less."

Harlee excused herself, guessing that the two women needed to talk, but they didn't. When she next saw them, Sylvanas was reading and Faith was curled up against her, her arms around her waist. Sylvanas' hand gently rested against Faith's side.

They looked like they belonged together, and Harlee sighed wistfully, wishing that, someday, she'd be able to find someone who completed her the way Faith and Sylvanas completed each other.

The End