I stand on the grand balcony overlooking Stormwind's bustling core, my long, silky black hair fluttering in the gentle breeze. My dark violet eyes survey the city below, seeing only pawns in my grand game. They know me as Lady Katrana Prestor, the elegant noblewoman and advisor to the king, clad in a rich burgundy dress adorned with shimmering jewels. They do not see the dragon lurking beneath, the malice hidden behind my perfect façade.

"Lady Prestor, your presence is always a delight," the courtier bows before me, his eyes lingering on my form. Pathetic. Another simpleton swayed by beauty.

I smile warmly, though it never reaches my eyes. "Your flattery is sweet, dear Baron," I purr, my voice smooth. "How fares your dear wife, any improvement on her condition?"

He stammers, surprised by my concern. Perfect. His mind is an open book, ready to be rewritten. As I weave my subtle arcane magic, his will bends like a reed. "She... she is improving, my lady. Thanks to your recommendation of that healer."

"Excellent," I say, dripping with false sincerity. "Health is such a fragile thing. One must take great care to preserve it."

"How can I repay you, my lady?" he asks, sincerity in his eyes.

"Your support in the next council meeting would suffice," I reply smoothly. He nods, suspecting nothing, his mind gently influenced by my magic.

Leaving the baron, I glide through the corridors of Stormwind Keep, each step measured and purposeful, echoing through the grand stone halls. As I approach the throne room, I pause, a satisfied smile curving my lips. My influence is a web, and every thread tightens around my prey.

"Lady Prestor," the guards intone, opening the heavy doors. I stride in, my confidence palpable. Anduin looks up, his innocent eyes meeting mine, full of trust I have carefully cultivated.

"Your Majesty," I begin, my voice authoritative and flattering. "Forgive my intrusion. There are pressing matters that require your attention." My words are a serpent's whisper, coiling around his thoughts.