I'm sure that every Warcraft fan is aware of the ideological differences between night elves and blood elves, and why they hate each other for it. The high elves however, form an interesting niche between the two. Wielders of arcane magic with a dark history, yet have a certain nobility that blood elves lack.

It's been stated that blood elves occasionally 'recruit' high elves to join their ranks, the latter doing so either willingly or unwillingly. This is a portrayal of one such recruitment, with ideological differences expressed. A night elf vs. blood elf scenario would be predictable. A high elf and blood elf though…

Note that I don't own WOW or BC, so there may be a few discrepancies. And yes, much of this is based on 'Brave New World.' I found that its themes fitted in with the ideological differences quite well.

Disclaimer: Blizzard owns Warcraft and all its characters.

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Denial

Chapter 1: War of the Words

There was a saying that the patience of elves was like that of a glacier-it wore away slowly, almost unnoticeably, yet if expired, would come crashing down with the force of a mountain. Down in the depths of Tempest Keep, probably a dungeon, Shahra Dreamsinger couldn't help but marvel at the irony of such a statement, not only in regards to her current situation, but also in regards to that of her race. The glacier of her patience (and sanity for that matter) was wearing away faster than one would expect, yet the crashing down of it would do no damage to anyone apart from herself. Yet another high elf, a Quel'dorei, had sunk lower. Neither term could honestly be applied in the current circumstances.

Time was not so much a factor on Draenor, or Outland as it was more commonly known, as there was no real passing of day or night to mark it, at least as far as Shahra could see. Its sky remained the same ruddy orange as it had been when she first entered through the Dark Portal. If there was indeed a cycle of day and night she hadn't remained conscious long enough to see it. How could she have been, when from almost the very moment she'd entered the blasted world, she'd been beset by fel orcs, demons and "tainted kin?"

Curiosity was something that humans, with their short life spans, usually embraced but in this new age of discovery, it wasn't uncommon for members of other races to answer the call as well. Shahra had been one of them, although it had been at a personal level; high elves didn't have any leaders to order them what to do, they could follow their own path.

"And where has such a path led me?" Shahra thought bitterly to herself. "To a blasted land of demons, traitors and no doubt other beings that I'll probably never get to see." A few days ago, she might have considered the last part of that reflection a bad thing. However, first impressions had left their mark and any interest that Shahra once had for this land had evaporated and all she wanted to do now was to go home. Of course, 'home' was a word that had rarely featured in high elven vocabulary since the fall of Quel'thalas but "home" was still something that you could make for yourself. Theramore and Stormwind remained appealing options.

Shahra shook off such wistfulness and returned to meditation, or at least attempted to. Tempest Keep seemed to be infused with demonic energy (no doubt due to whatever hell spawned magic her tainted brethren wielded) and to meditate to stem her race's addiction to magic in the presence of such a nexus was neigh impossible. It was even more so when the door to her cell opened.

For Shahra, this was a first. She couldn't remember exactly how long she'd been in here but knew that in that time, the door had never opened more than half a metre, with some blood red hand, probably that of a fel orc, placing a glass of stagnant water (a compound that seemed out of place in this hell hole) and a plate of unrecognisable, almost inedible food.

Seeing her 'visitor', Shahra immediately began to wish that it had stayed that way, for she was viewing that which the blood red hand had been joined to-a fel orc, namely one wielding a double handed battleaxe of equal grotesqueness. Shahra saw what looked like dried blood on its body, but it was hard to make out, given its pigmentation. "Almost makes the violet hue of the night elves appealing," she thought.

"Up," it grunted in a horrible corruption of Thalassian, seemingly exerting great restraint not to carve out her innards with that axe of his. "The master wants to see you."

"Wow, such a beast is capable of speech more intricate than grunts and bellows," Shahra thought to herself. Her faintly glowing blue eyes stared into the fiery red ones of the orc;

"Sorry, but you didn't make yourself clear," Shahra said calmly. "Was that a request or an order?"

"Take a look at my axe, donkey ears, and figure it out for yourself!" the orc bellowed, wanting to use said axe more than ever.

Part of Shahra wanted to continue chiding the orc but the rational part of her brain reminded her that such a course of action was tantamount to suicide. Despite how grim circumstances had been in recent times, Shahra hadn't lost all sense of self preservation.

"Very well, I'm coming," she said, slowly rising to her feet. Trying to ignore the fetid stink that the orc emitted (and failing for the most part), Shahra stepped outside into the stone hallway. "Dark" was the first adjective that came to the elf's mind, perhaps since that same word was often used to describe the future prospects high elven race.

"Move," grunted the orc, his tone of voice not making it necessary for him to utter "or else."

Shahra attempted to do so but found that she couldn't obey the orc's demand; not out of defiance, but simply out of pure inability to do so-the tunnel reeked of demonic magic, something that was a complete anathema to everything that Shahra and the Quel'dorei believed in.

"I…I can't," she whimpered. "It's…it's just so dark…"

"Get moving whelp, or you'll find yourself in the darkness of the Nether!" shouted the orc, pushing her forward. The death threat wasn't lost on the elf as she marched forward, her 'donkey ears' burning with shame.

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The tunnel didn't exactly have light at the end of it, but it was mercifully shorter than Shahra had expected. Interestingly enough, despite passing many cells, all of them seemed to be empty. Shahra was hardly going to ask the orc as to why this was the case, but the question still nagged her. Did Tempest Keep simply not receive many prisoners? Did such prisoners face execution? Were they, by some strange streak of mercy which was in stark contrast to what this land represented, set free?

Still, Shahra knew that she was probably the first high elf that had set foot inside its walls (and hopefully the last) and could therefore be subject to special treatment, good or ill. Regardless, Shahra didn't have time to dwell on the question as she and her captor arrived at a wooden door that was presumably the entrance to their destination, given that it swung open of its own accord as they approached.

Shahra's reaction to its interior was decidedly neutral. On the one hand, it was clearly not another cell, torture chamber or something equally nefarious (or more so, she wouldn't have been surprised). On the other, given that a single wooden desk was present with a chair on each side of it, the room looked like one used for interrogation, especially since the room wasn't completely unoccupied. A male Sin'dorei, probably a mage given his dark cloak and the three green orbs floating around his head, was also present, although his back was turned to them.

"Hail master!" bellowed the orc, hefting his axe over his shoulder. "I have brought the traitorous one."

"I'm in the midst of demon consorting elves and they label me as a traitor!?" Shahra thought bitterly.

"You may leave Tartarus," murmured the elf passively.

"What?" The orc was clearly surprised. "But I thought-…"

"That was an order, redskin. Leave before your stench begins to affect me."

The orc, apparently named Tartarus, shot a venomous glare to the blood elf present and one of equal hatred to Shahra. With much restraint however, he managed to turn around and slam the door shut, much to Shahra's relief.

"Leadership is never easy you know," said the blood elf, his back still turned to Shahra. "Sometimes I wonder if the fel orcs are more trouble than they're worth. Still, one can't consult their own preferences. The choice has been made and I'll abide by it."

"Is choice a luxury available to me?" Shahra whispered. While she'd been glad to see the orc go, being in the same room with a member of her tainted kin hardly struck her as a better set of circumstances.

"I'm afraid not," said the blood elf. He turned around, causing Shahra to stifle a scream. "Given your current set of circumstances, I'm sure you'll understand why."

Shahra did indeed understand. After all, how could choice be available to her when she was in the same room as Prince Kael'thas?

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Much against her wishes, Shahra found herself sitting on one side of a wooden desk, the prince of the Sin'dorei on the other. To the untrained eye, they might have appeared similar, apart from gender. Upon closer inspection however, one would soon appreciate the differences between those of the sun and those of the blood of their fallen.

Both had the blonde hair that was common in their race, but the style was different. Whereas Kael kept his long and sleek, Shahra had her's in a ponytail, a trend that she'd picked up in Stormwind. While the high elf wore a simple grey tunic, the blood elf wore armour the colour of his namesake, a black cloak to top it off. Most distinct though, were their eyes; while the eyes of the Quel'dorei glowed faintly with the colour of Azeroth's sky, the eyes of the Sin'dorei were of a bright acid green.

"So," said Kael eventually after what felt like an eternity of silence, even to an elf such as Shahra. "I understand that you don't think much of the civilisation that I've established on this world.

Shahra let out a loud snort; "Civilisation!? Is that what you call what's on this world of demons and orcs!?"

Kael chuckled; "Don't you think you're being a bit presumptuous? You'd only just stepped out of the dark portal before you were set upon. You've hardly had any time to savour what Outland has to offer."

"And I don't want to," remarked Shahra stubbornly. "And how would you know what I think of your domain anyway?"

"Your eyes," said Kael simply. "Not only are they relics of the past, but they hide nothing. Water is never a good cloak."

"And acid is?"

The prince shrugged; "I can hide and reveal what I want with them."

Silence once again returned to the room. Shahra would have preferred it to remain that way. However, she guessed that Kael was waiting for her to speak her mind. Deciding that she was not going to be intimidated by this treacherous prince, she was happy to do so;

"It's indeed an interesting transformation that you've carried out," said Shahra eventually. "For someone who grew up in the beauty of Silvermoon, Tempest Keep seems to be distinctly lacking in it."

"Of course it is," said Kael simply. "Why would we retain our beauty? It's something of the past."

Shahra was confused; "But isn't beauty a constant in the world? Isn't it something that all civilised races (of course, whether the blood elves were actually civilised was a different matter) have a liking for?"

"Not necessarily," said Kael. "At least not in our society. Beauty by definition is attractive, and was something our ancestors strove for. It's old, a thing of the past." He stared at Shahra with more intensity; "Our concern is in the present."

Shahra stared at him, although with astonishment rather than intensity; "Are you telling me that you're the head of a society of hedonists?"

"Hedonists?" Kael threw his head back and laughed; "Yes, I suppose that's the word you'd use to describe us." He drew back his gaze; "But is that so bad? You may be woefully ignorant of blood elven society on Draenor and back in Silvermoon, but I can assure you that our people are happy. Our beauty is that of pure sensation."

Shahra had to concede that was true; she'd encountered a few blood elves back on Azeroth (never under civil circumstances of course) and they certainly seemed happy enough being magic addicts. Still, Shahra would rather spend an hour of meditation each day to ward her thirst for magic than follow the path of the blood elves.

"So you've sacrificed beauty, namely art and literature for happiness?" asked the high elf. "Sounds rather horrible."

"Of course it does," said Kael simply. "Actual happiness is always squalid when compared to compensations for misery, art and literature being among them. Such things are relics of the past, of when our ancestors had to deal with barbarous trolls and savage humans."

Shahra was beginning to gain insight into Kael's motives, but was determined not to be swayed; "And your people here are happy? Happy enough that they don't require art or literature?"

"Why should they? The blood elves don't exist in denial like you high elves. We embrace our addiction, and enjoy its sensation. A society full of vices perhaps, but ultimately one of happiness. The green glow in Kael's eyes flickered; "A society that I intend to integrate you into."

The blue glow of Shahra's eyes flickered also, although the source in this case was alarm; "What!?" she exclaimed. "You think I'll become a Sin'dorei!? I'll die before I embark

upon the path you and the rest of your bastard kind have! I am-…"

"Overreacting," interrupted Kael. "One might think you were about to have your throat cut. If you had any sense however, you'd be able to see that I'm offering you a gift, namely that of an easier life. No more self denial about your arcane heritage. You ultimately have a choice between happiness and self denial." He stared at the high elf intensely; "For your own sake, I'd recommend the former."

Shahra was not to be swayed; "I am a Quel'dorei," she said, with deep conviction. "I am proud my heritage and will not see it sullied by the embracement of demonic magic."

Kael sighed and remained silent for a few moments; "It's curious," he said eventually; "why you high elves choose to live your lives in a state of denial of what you know to be true. I would have thought Silvermoon's fall would have knocked some sense into you."

"Pardon?" asked Shahra, clearly perplexed.

"I said that it's curious as to why you so called Quel'dorei continue to deny truth. It was our obsession with truth and beauty that led to Silvermoon's fall to the Scourge. We were so obsessed with pursuing them that we failed to see how it had weakened us enough to fall victim to undeath." Kael laughed; "Seriously, what good are compensations for misery going to do you when death itself is reaching for your soul?" Kael continued to chuckle.

"So by embracing happiness and forgoing culture, you think you retained your souls from undeath?" Shahra asked sceptically. "Sounds like you lost them just like the ghosts of our fallen, just in a different way." Her gaze narrowed; "Of course, embracing demons may have also played a part in that."

Kael wasn't backing down; "If you truly believe that, then you've obviously learnt nothing from Silvermoon's fall. The Light let us down. The Light, with its intended virtues, was the ultimate compensation for misery and it still failed."

"Really?" asked Shahra. "Or was it due to those who wielded it? Those like yourself? Those like your Blood Knights." Her loathing of the order was evident.

"The Light doesn't change," said Kael stiffly.

"Creatures do though."

"Of course. We blood elves have undergone such a change."

"A change in the wrong direction though."

Both sets of eyes were now glowing brightly; "What would you truly prefer?" Kael hissed. "To enjoy life, or to suffer in self denial, or perhaps as one of those pathetic forsaken. Such dedication to truth, beauty and religion will never end well. It will only end in suffering."

"Perhaps," said Shahra. "But how can you be sure that you children of blood are not suffering equally, degraded by vices?"

"Providence takes its cue from life," said Kael simply. "We blood elves however, don't' provide such a cue."

"Are you sure?" asked Shahra. "Perhaps the Light has punished you, has accepted your cues and degraded you through happiness?"

"But degrade us from what position? From nomads in the service of the Alliance, commanded by a racist commander who cared nothing for our kind?" Kael's memories of Garithos were clearly still bitter; "We were held back then. But no more. We've achieved freedom in Outland."

Shahra shrugged; "Perhaps. But think about what you've lost in the process." She let out a small chuckle; "I suppose chastity is an alien concept to you."

"Of course it is," said Kael simply. "When happiness is pursued in its purest form, self denial is incompatible with it."

"I thought as much," said Shahra stiffly. "I suppose it's what truly distinguishes high elves from blood elves." She glared at Kael; "A difference that I, for one, am grateful for."

Both elves remained silent, their gazes locked in with each other. What was exchanged between them? Hate? Sympathy? Distrust? Regardless, Kael eventually spoke; "I suppose I'm wasting my time," he said eventually.

"Definitely," said Shahra. You can have what you call happiness. I however, want the worthwhile things of this world. I want chastity. I want poetry. I want art. I want self denial."

"And unhappiness, I take it?" asked Kael. Shahra remained silent for a few seconds. The hours of meditation, the racism from other members of the Alliance. Was it truly worth it? Shahra knew the answer;

"Yes," said the high elf eventually. "Unhappiness is something I'm willing to bear."

Kael shrugged; "You're welcome." Silence once again descended upon them.

"So…can I go back to Azeroth then?" asked Shahra timidly. Since Kael probably had no further use for her, perhaps he'd actually show some morality.

"I'm afraid not," said the prince, his eyes green with malice. Such words must have been taken as a cue, for it was at this point that the door opened and Tartarus walked in, axe at the ready. He leered at Shahra.

'But…why?" Shahra asked, tears beginning to form. She'd sampled the world that Kael could offer, and had no desire to join it. All she wanted to do was to go home. Why would he deny her?"

"The pursuit of happiness requires a degree of utilitarianism." Kael grinned slightly; "Although you deny yourself access to pure magic, your body is still infused with the substance. As such, you will make a good source of energy."

Shahra guessed what was coming; "Plan to siphon it our of me?"

"No, not yet at least." Kael stood and started walking out. "I'll let Tartarus have his fun with you first. It's only fair." Walking out, he closed the door, taking little heed of the screams that started to emanate from within. "Foolish high elf," he murmured.

"Such is the price of denial."

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Although this started out as a oneshot, it suddenly occurred to me how I could make this into a fully fledged story. Whether it remains a oneshot or continues is ultimately up to you readers, although I may still decide against your wishes.

Anyway, R&R if you so desire.