AN - As many of you are aware, Braelyn Hawke has been appearing in AMCM74's Echo of the Lion's Roar. Her tale has made me want to write another Braelyn story. But, I do not want to write a sequel to Return to the Keep, and I do not wish to write another Braelyn and Rommath story. When I originally set out to write Watcher in the Keep, Braelyn was meant to fall in love with Lor'themar. I do not remember why I ended up going with Rommath, but I did. I've always kind of wondered what would have happened if I'd stuck with the plan, though. So this will be a Lor'themar/Brae tale. I am aware this might put some people off (how many people is Braelyn going to be with?), but I'm going to write it anyway.

Disclaimer - I only own the plot and the OCs.

Lor'themar Theron hated Shattrath. There was nothing beautiful about the city at all, not like his Silvermoon. The neutral stronghold was as broken as the rest of Outland, and its only redeeming qualities were the gleaming spires of the Scryer's Tier and the remarkable fortitude of the city inhabitants.

He had come only because his people had decided it was time to reconnect more formally with those of their race who had chosen to follow Kael'thas to Outlands before coming to their senses when they realised what their Prince had succumbed to. That, and he was desperate to escape Quel'thalas for a while.

Lor'themar knew that he should have sent Rommath in his place, or at least brought the mage with him, but the Grand Magister was half the reason he wanted to leave Silvermoon so badly in the first place.

He sighed, picking up his mug and grimacing when he saw that it was empty. He slammed it down on the table and waved the barmaid over for some more Dwarven ale. He normally only drank wine, but he wanted to get drunk, and the national beverage of Ironforge seemed the quickest way to get there.

He wanted so badly to forget.

The barmaid brought the ale over, giving Lor'themar a flirtatious wink as she set the mug on the table. He ignored her, even though she was a perfect specimen of Sin'dorei beauty, and she walked off in a huff.

Lor'themar's taste in women ran towards the human these days.

He took a mouthful of ale in an attempt to ward off the onslaught of memories, but it failed. Just like everything else did. He muttered a curse in Thalassian as he thought of the one who was causing him so much pain, without even realising she effected him at all.

When Lor'themar first saw Braelyn Hawke, she was being led into the grand foyer by Halduron Brightwing. She was an absolute mess; hair and skin filthy, and her dress little more than a rag. The second time he laid eyes on her, she looked even worse. Yet on both those occasions, Lor'themar had seen a stubborn spark in her, a fire that intrigued him, and earned her his respect.

The third time he saw her, everything had changed. Lor'themar had been walking to Sunfury Spire when he caught sight of the human hunter walking around the market place with one of the priestesses. Her hair caught the light of the morning sun, and he couldn't tell if it was blonde or a light brown colour. He could see the ocean blue of her eyes as she stared in wonder at the city around her. She seemed captivated by Silvermoon, as he was entranced by her.

Lor'themar had regretted sending the young woman to work for Rommath, wishing he had sent her to his own home instead. But he had no justification for doing so. He had no need for an assistant the way the archmage did.

He had still thought about removing her from Rommath's care. Lor'themar was sure he could think of a reason, and, knowing the Grand Magister's attitude towards humans, he was sure his friend wouldn't complain. He had discarded the idea though; Braelyn had been through so much trauma on her way to his city, the last thing she needed was to have to deal with the attention of a man like him.

Besides, he had no idea what she though about blood elves, and doubted the viability of anything ever coming from his fancy. Cross-faction relationships rarely worked out.

So Lor'themar had waited for the perfect time to address her, but by the time it came around, King Varian had made an offer to repatriate Braelyn, and she had fallen in love with Rommath.

Her relationship with Rommath astounded Lor'themar at first. Rommath hated humans, yet he had stood in the foyer with his arms around Braelyn, holding on to her as if she were about to disappear, and there was doubting her love for the mage. It was evident in the way she looked at him, the way her eyes practically glowed with affection.

Lor'themar learned two things that day; one, he really needed to pay closer attention to what went on in his city, and, two, that he was not above feeling such a petty emotion as jealousy.

He was tempted to send the young woman back to Stormwind out of spite, and told them as much, though framing it in a much nicer way. But he couldn't do it. Rommath was a good friend, and Braelyn... he could not bring himself to upset her.

So Lor'themar gave Braelyn the choice, and he could see in the flashing of her beautiful eyes, what she would chose. He watched as she left hand in hand with Rommath, and had to swallow his ever-increasing bile.

And then Rommath sent her home, anyway.

Lor'themar had never felt so infuriated before, not even when Arthas was laying waste to his beloved homeland. Braelyn had looked furious, too, but had not given anyone a chance to speak to her before leaving with the Argent Crusaders.

Rommath never knew how many times he came close to death in the following weeks.

Lor'themar had dealt with Braelyn's departure the way he dealt with every other disappointment, by accepting it as just another price to pay for being Regent Lord. Leadership required sacrifice, especially when it came to matters of a more personal nature.

At first, dealing with the Alliance, the Kirin Tor, and Hellscream's insanity had kept him too busy to think about the pretty human hunter, but after the siege of Orgrimmar, so many of those distractions fell away with the onset of peace.

Now, every time he closed his eyes, he seemed to see her face, and every human woman with light hair and blue eyes seemed to be her. And his dreams...

The memory of her was driving him mad.

Halduron (gods know how he found about Lor'themar's feelings) suggested taking advantage of the peace to track down Braelyn's whereabouts, pointing out that Aethas was friends with both her and her mother. Lor'themar refused. Did he have any choice? He knew that Rommath still loved her. He wouldn't risk upsetting a friend, especially a friend who wielded so much power, magical and political.

Not for the first time, Lor'themar begrudged his position as Regent Lord and cursed Kael'thas' memory for inflicting it open him.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He closed his eye as he swallowed the last of his ale, practically throwing the mug onto the table. He called for more ale, suggesting that they just bring him the keg.

"Don't you think you've had enough, my lord?" a female voice asked, and Lor'themar froze.

That voice... it couldn't be, not all the way out here.

He opened his eye, tilting his head towards where the voice spoke from. "Light, you torment me even here, when I am like this?" he demanded, and the illusion in front of him gasped in surprise.

She went to speak again, but Lor'themar shushed her by reaching up to place his fingers on her lips. "Don't say anything, illusion. Just let me get drunk, and be miserable."

"I think you already are drunk, my lord," the hallucination said, with a concerned look in her eyes, and waved away the barmaid. "And why do you keep calling me an illusion?"

"Because you are obviously not real," Lor'themar replied, staring at her. He nodded his head to emphasise his point. "There is no way that the real Braelyn Hawke is here with me. She is in the Eastern Kingdoms, no doubt making a life for herself with a far more deserving man than me."

He let his eye drift close again, hoping that the illusion would fade, and he would be left alone in his misery.

"Lor'themar," the voice said, full of worry, "what has happened to you?"

"Light! Spare me this torture!" he moaned. "Why do you taunt me with an illusion of her?"

"Lor'themar... if I were an illusion, could I do this?" the voice asked, and then he jerked in shock as cold water was poured over his head. His eyes flew open to see his torment sitting an empty vase on the table, an apologetic look on its face.

Not an illusion, he thought, narrowing his eye at her. She must be a desire demon cloaked in Braelyn's form. I can make use of that...

Lor'themar reached out an grabbed the demon around the waist with both hands, dragging her onto his lap. He heard her gasp, and then try to get up, but he held firm.

"So, you must be a demon, then," he whispered softly in her ear before kissing the side of her head. "I will make use of you this night, and maybe, just maybe, I will finally be free of this torment."

Lor'themar chuckled as he felt a tremor rack the demon's body.

Braelyn honestly didn't understand how she found herself in these situations. No, scratch that... she did. It was her parents' fault. Every now and again they got tired of whatever their daughter was doing with her life and interfered. The last time it happened, she ended up getting her heart broken in Silvermoon City by the Grand Magister himself.

This time, she ended up in Outland, getting felt up by the drunken Regent Lord of the Sin'dorei, who was under the impression she was either an illusion or some sort of desire demon.

He must have drunk half the bar in order to have forgotten that there's no way the vindicators would allow a desire demon to run arround Shattrath seducing people.

Braelyn had intended to spend the night reading in her room at the End of the World Inn, and had only come down to order some food and a bottle of wine. When she entered the bar, she had seen Lor'themar Theron sprawled out at one the tables, a plethora of ale mugs scattered across the table.

Braelyn was shocked to see him in such a state; when she had lived in Silvermoon, he had always been so formal and gentlemanly. Now he was well on the way to being drunk, and even the presence of his blood knight guard could not dissuade her from approaching him with concern, especially when she noticed he was unarmed and not wearing armor.

How could his guard allow this? she'd thought. Even a half-decent rogue could shank him in this state.

So Braelyn had approached him to make sure he was okay, remembering the kindness and respect he had always shown her during her stay in his city. Only to find out that he thought she was an illusion and then a desire demon.

When he told her that she was tormenting him, she was shocked, and the thought that she was the reason for his current state almost broke her heart.

The Lor'themar had pulled her onto his lap and started to kiss her. She was so surprised she could do little but sit there in shock. She looked over to one of his blood knights, silently asking for assistance, but the woman looked away. Damn loyal bastards.

She felt another shiver run down her spine as Lor'themar slipped his hand under her shirt. He certainly knew his way around the female form.

She pulled back as far as he would let her, and placed her hands on his chest. "Lor'themar, we can't do this," she said, trying to even out her breathing and her voice. His fingers tickled lightly across her stomach. She sucked in her breath sharply and he chuckled.

"Yes we can, little demon," he purred against her ear, then resumed the seductive assault on her neck.

You certainly can! a mischievous voice in the back of Braelyn's mind whispered. Just think what fine revenge this would be against Rommath. Pay his betrayal back with one of your own.

Braelyn again tried to pull back, wishing there were other people in the bar besides the blood knights to call on. The staff were no use, they'd side with Lor'themar as he was higher ranked than she was.

She couldn't sleep with Lor'themar just to get back at Rommath. She wasn't that vindictive, and even if she were, the momentary satisfaction wouldn't be worth the regret later on.

Then again, a good one night stand might be what she needed to finally move on from her short-lived affair with Rommath. Wouldn't it be better for that night to be spent with someone she trusted and liked, and whom she knew respected her?

I can't do that to Lor'themar. I can't use him like that.

Braelyn uttered a small cry when the blood elf's head kissed downwards. Soon, she felt him undoing the buttons of her shirt with his teeth. She wound her fingers in his white-blonde hair, pulling his head up.

"Lor'themar," she whispered, "we're in public. This has to stop, now."

Lor'themar smiled at her, and it was so seductive that her knees began to shake. It was a good thing she was already sitting down.

"We can always take this to my room," he said, his fingers once again trailing across her stomach.

Braelyn was so tempted to give into him, and this caused her to hesitate. He took advantage of her pause to run his hand up to her face, tracing her lower lip with his thumb.

"Braelyn, even though it's not really you," he said, and the look on his face was so tortured that she felt his pain right in her heart, "ease my suffering. Let me forget you. Please."

Oh, Light have mercy on us! Braelyn thought before she gave in and kissed him. Lor'themar's lips, soft but demanding, soon dominated her own. He picked her up, holding her tightly against his chest as he made his way to the privacy of his room. He practically threw her down on the bed, and then grinned at her with a look of triumph in his glowing green eye.

It was then Braelyn lost all rational thought.

When Lor'themar woke up, he felt that deep-seated contentment that only came from having spent the night with someone. When he opened his eye, grimacing as the morning light hit him dead on, he found himself alone, and the other side of the bed was cool to the touch.

Did that barmaid actually manage to tempt me? I must have drunk more than I thought.

Lor'themar swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and as he did so, memories began assaulting his sluggish brain. He tensed when he remembered that the woman hadn't been the barmaid. His fingers flexed of their own accord as he remembered the feel of Braelyn sitting on his lap, the feel of her skin beneath his hands, the way her hair smelled as it draped across his face.

He groaned. It had all been a dream then, a product of his tormented mind. He buried his face in his hands, almost wishing he had accepted what the barmaid had been offering. A nameless one night stand would have been preferable to the dream memories he know had to deal with.

When Lor'themar had settled his thoughts, he raised his head. He caught sight of something small laying on the rug, glinting in the sunlight. Curious, he stood and then walked over to pick it up.

It was a woman's ring. A collection of small amethysts set in a band of gold filigree.

Lor'themar froze, still crouched on the floor. He recognized this ring. It belonged to Braelyn. He remembered her telling Rommath that it belonged to her grandmother and that she never took it off.

Lor'themar was so blindsided by the revelation that he had spent the night with Braelyn Hawke, really spent the night with her, that we was unable to move. When the shock wore off, he rushed around the room, dressing as fast as he could.

He threw the door open, shouting for one of his guards. "How long ago did Braelyn leave?" he demanded.

"About 30 minutes ago, my lord," the man replied.

I have to move quickly! Lor'themar thought. He knew that Braelyn would probably try to run rather than stay and address what had happened between them last night, and if she left the city, he'd lose her.

He'd be damned before he let her turn this into a simple one night stand.

"We head for the portal keepers," he told the guard as he strode down the hallway, slipping Braelyn's ring into a leather pouch attached to his belt. In his mind, he thought of all the things he wanted to say to her to convince her to stay with him. He was so preoccupied that he barely paid any attention to the people he passed on their way to the Terrace of Light.

The Alliance portal keeper was not going to answer his questions, and Lor'themar actually lost his temper, yelling at the woman until Lady Liadrin and Khadgar intervened.

He'd missed Braelyn by ten minutes.

AN - normally I don't write more than one story at a time, but this idea hit me this morning and wouldn't leave me alone until I started writing. Don't worry, I will still be working on Light Among the Shadows. The next chapter for that should be posted tomorrow sometime. This story is not as planned out as my others, and will be shorter, I think.

Next Chapter: Braelyn learns that every action has its consequences, and Lor'themar decides to track down his runaway lover.