Only One Azshara

Azshara grunted as she pushed the spade deep into the rich red soil. Since the death of her mate, it seemed like her life had been filled with nothing but work. Work and screaming at her three younglings. Things had been harder when her three children were smaller, when they were too young to help her on the farm. Now they were older, they were able to pull up vegetables and feed the chickens, lifting some of her burden.

Azshara knew she deserved better than this. She knew she was special. There was only one Azshara.

Neltharion had made Azshara very happy. He had been a strong and handsome night elf male and a loving father to his children. His death at the hands of a wolf from the forest had put an end to their brief happiness. Yet even in their domestic bliss, Azshara had never really been content. She knew that she ought to have more in her life than just a happy family.

Her golden eyes had been the sign of great potential. When she was younger, she had been given the chance to study druidic magic, but she had never had the patience to master it and had fallen in love instead. Yet those golden eyes still pointed to her potential for greatness.

She knew she was different from the night elf women in the nearby village. She joined in their conversations about what the queen was wearing or who the crown prince might marry. Those subjects interested Azshara. But she had no interest in their talk of how to please their mates or the accomplishments of their children. It seemed to her that the village women never thought deeply about life as she did. They never thought about possibilities, about how the world could be so much better than it was. They laughed when she talked about a world free from imperfection, a world without poverty or sorrow or hardship.

Azshara stood apart from other night elves physically. Not only were her eyes golden, but her skin had a peculiar blue tone and her hair was silver. Her parents had told her she was the most beautiful night elf in Kalimdor. Her mate had said the same thing. She knew the females in the village were all jealous of her beauty. She was better than them socially too. Her grandfather had been a highborne night elf who had fallen into misfortune. Her father had told her that she was distantly related to the royal family. In another lifetime, she might have been queen of the Kaldorei.


Azshara had dreamed all her life of being queen. Had she been queen, she would have lounged around on a luxurious couch for much of the night. She would have had musicians to entertain her and dancing girls to perform for her.

Her hands would not have been rough and her nails would be long, as befitted a noble lady. Her bare feet would not have been dry, calloused and stained with mud, but soft and smooth from walking on cool marble floors.

Azshara often imagined the clothes she would wear had she been queen. One day she would wear a semi-transparent silk gown, another day she would wear a sleek white dress, trimmed with pink and gold, split at the side to reveal her shapely leg. She would always have to have plenty of flesh on display. She smiled at the thought of how she would have made her courtiers sick with desire.

She imagined the jewels she would wear. Gold jewels with gaudy pink stones. She would wear bracelets on her ankles and on her thigh too. On her head, she would wear a gorgeous gold tiara.

If she had been queen, her people would love her. They would worship and adore her, as her parents had done, as her husband had. She would be the cherished heart of the people. They would sing songs in her praise, as they sang to Elune. In return, she would rule them with justice and with kindness. She would be wise and magnificent.

No doubt, as queen she would have mastered the sorcerous arts that she had never had chance to learn. She would be a great and powerful sorceress. She would use her magic for the benefit of her people. She would rid the world of unfairness and imperfection. There would be no females like her, who had to slave all day to feed her children. All would be cared for.

Azshara believed that the king and queen of Kalmidor were wise and good, yet she was convinced things could be better. She knew there were so many night elves like her who lived hard and sad lives. Surely, with all the power and magic of the Well of Eternity, the night elves could build a better world? A world where wolves did not rob females of their mates; where night elf females did not have to go without fine clothes. Azshara would have given the Kaldorei such a world. She would have used all her magic, all the magic of her people to change and shape the world into a better form. She would have been more a goddess than a queen!


The sobbing of a night elf child took Azshara out of her daydream. She looked up to see Revidan, a neighbouring farmer carrying her youngest daughter.

"Your daughter hurt herself playing just outside my place. She twisted her ankle, the poor thing," said Revidan. "You really should keep more of an eye on your little ones, Azshara."

As she took her daughter in her arms, Azshara cursed herself for her failure to be more attentive, though she would certainly be chiding her two older children for not looking after their little sister. Why did these childen always have to get into trouble?

"You know there is a celebration coming up in the village, Azshara?" said Revidan. "We're all celebrating the happy news about the marriage of the crown prince. He's marrying a highborne lady, name of Vashj. Seems we shall have a new queen one day."