Reunited

Vantha sat quietly at the bar, sipping mead and making small talk with the bartender. The bar was failry empty except for a gnome couple sitting in the corner, pawing and groping wildly at one another. Vantha sighed as she reminisced about her last love, Draden. His voice still echoed in her head along with memories of his kisses and his touch. She still loved him and sometimes her heart would ache for his return, but he was never coming back. Draden had fallen into the grips of the Undead Scourge and there was no point in obsessing over him anymore. Vantha felt little comfort knowing he was still alive, despite the fact that if they ever met in contested lands, he would try to kill her on sight. The thought of searching for another to take his place was uselss. She had already convinced herself that that kind of love is a once in a lifetime occurrence.

“Will ya be havin’ another?” Gretchen, the Dwarven barmaid, asked.
“Sure, why not?” Vantha pushed her mug towards the edge of the bar.
“How long ya be in town, lady?”
“Just stopping in for some of my favorite mead, then I’m off to Outland for nightmare vine.”
“Ah, alchemeh.” Gretchen nodded her head and smiled. “A time ago, I longed to dabble in the profession of herbin'.” Gretchen sighed. “But it was the desire of meh Dad that I learn the ways of th' blacksmith.”
Gretchen shrugged. “The money is good, that’s fer sure! But, th' work is hard. Once I get th' bar paid off, I’m quittin’ blacksmithin’. It ain’t worth the sweat, tears and pain. My body isn’t getting any younger.”
“Well, if I ever require a blacksmith, I will definitely call upon you, Gretchen. I hope you will do the same if a need for potions ever arises. I will be sure to cut you a deal.” Vantha smiled thoughtfully at the dwarf. It felt good to have a friend here in Ironforge. Vantha had a deep appreciation for Dwarven architecture and their way of life. The women were as tough as the men, yet they had a soft, feminine side and they always had a smile on their faces. The men were jolly and friendly but ready to defend their pride and joy at the drop of a hat if need be; a blunderbuss always in tow as they marched around their beloved Ironforge.


After finishing her last goblet of mead, she bid Gretchen a farewell and went on her way. Stopping by the auction house, she picked up a new bag and some various supplies for her long trip. After paying the auctioneer, she turned around and came face to face with her past. Long before she took Draden as her husband, she had been involved with a Druid named Aerden. Vantha quickly looked away and hurried to the doorway, unsure if it was truly Aerden who she saw. Even if it were a doppleganger, the sight of this Elf brought back painful memories; her heart ached in her chest. Trying to disappear into the crowd, she felt a familiar presence behind her.

“Vantha? Is that you?” A deep voice behind her growled, sending a chill up her spine. Vantha stopped, feeling a lump form in her throat. Pivoting on her hoof, she slowly turned to Aerden. Should I look happy? Sad? Surprised? Nervous? I don’t even know how I feel right now. I want to run. I want to hide…Vantha began to perspire around her hairline and with the hot feeling on her cheeks, she knew she was blushing, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Aerden?” Her voice cracked. When she met his glare, a sharp pain shot through her heart. He no longer was the handsome young elf who swept her off her feet years ago. Standing before her was a haggard, broken man; a glimpse of happiness gleamed in his pain ridden eyes. His weathered lavender skin clung to his high cheekbones and from his right eyebrow to his lower jaw ran a scar. Vantha gasped when she saw the long deep scar running down his face and reached out to touch it. “Aerden, what hap-? I thought you were-”

Aerden caught her hand, gently squeezing it in his before her fingertips reached his face. She clasped his hand, running her finger over the calloused scar that was afflicted upon his middle finger all those years ago. Glancing back into his face, she saw a tear form in the corner of his eye.
“I survived.” Aerden wrapped a long, muscular arm around Vantha’s waist and pulled her close. Vantha threw her arms around him, burying her face into the tall night elf’s chest and began to sob. Feelings of guilt rushed over her as her arms squeezed around him. Aerden pressed his face against her cheek and spoke softly. “I thought that if I ever came in contact with you again you would be happy to see me.”

Vantha stepped away and inhaled deeply, still visibly shaken. “I thought you were dead, Aerden. I-I tried desperately to resurrect you! I depleted my mana supply to try and bring you back, but I finally realized that my efforts were futile! You were gone... or I thought you were.” The guilt made her feel nauseous as she tried to keep eye contact with her former lover. "I am so very happy to see you! But understand my hesitance and shock. The last time I saw you, you were... dead." Her voice trailed off into a whisper.

“Vantha!” Aerden’s voice came across stern as he lowered his face to hers. “I was standing beside you in spirit. I saw that you tried your damnedest to bring me back, but you had no idea of the extent of my internal injuries.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the doorway and onto the steps of the auction house. “Come with me, Vantha. I want to continue our conversation in private.” Aerden looked back in the auction house. “I need to tie up some loose ends. Wait here.”

There, on the steps of the Ironforge auction house, Vantha stood, still in shock. The suprise began to wane, happiness taking its place. The thoughts in her mind took her back to when she first met him and that awful day, years ago... The day she thought she lost him forever.