Chapter 1
The King of Stormwind sat pensively and tensely across the golden lion engraved wooden table from his very important, invited guest and her mix of human and elven councilors. His long, dark brown hair had been washed, conditioned with some softening potion, well combed, and tied back into a ponytail fashionably by the royal barber. The Light knew he couldn't do it half as well for himself. For the occasion, he forewent his intimidating eagle and lion plate armor and wore instead blue, white, and gold robes more befitting statecraft than warcraft.
If he were to be honest, however, the armor chafed him less than the robes and finery. Somehow he didn't feel comfortable without his great elven blade Shalamayne at his back. But some battles had to be fought with words, and no fences could be mended with swords. And there were many fences which needed to be mended. Decades worth.
It had been a long, long time since any of the northern elven folk had been welcome in what was no longer the sole remaining human kingdom of Azeroth. But these were different times, and this was no ordinary elf woman sitting in the azure and gold decorated council chambers of Stormwind Keep.
Her long, fair skinned tapered ears came up through slits in the blue hood and cloak of what were the high elven rangers once upon a time. Indeed, once upon a time, she had been their general, a hero by every account who had sacrificed her life on the field of battle for her people, only to have her noble death stolen from her and twisted into some hellish nightmare by a demon who had stolen the light blessed form of the man who had been his foster brother.
But now her fair, flawless skin was restored from the deathly, corpse-like gray. Her golden blond hair was radiant with the light of the sun. And her light blue eyes radiated with the innate life and magic of her people. In spite of himself, he could not help but look at her and drink in her elegant, graceful beauty like a thirsty man cold, clear water.
No, Varian Wrynn thought, no ordinary elf woman at all.
The delegation of humans and Sindorei, over fifty strong, from Lordaeron had come from the northern lands by his invitation as a single people aboard a small fleet of three Sindorei destroyer craft which bore a single standard of red, gold, and purple as well as the sigils of truce and negotiation. This new standard depicted a great bird of fire like those he had heard of from far off lands rising from its own ashes.
For these people, who had undergone such a dramatic fall and resurrection by still unknown, powerful magics it seemed fitting. It had been several months since the still obscure events had transpired in Northrend to bring about such a transformation on both the people and the lands of the northeastern continent of their world. They had been allies long ago when he was a boy, before the plague had devastated the northern kingdoms and brought about the monstrosities of the scourge. And now, he believed, it was time for the former Alliance allies to put aside their differences like they had in the past to rebuild those human and elven lands and fight their common enemies.
At least that was what the king of Stormwind had hoped for.
The Lady had been silent since she had entered the room, her own face still partially obscured under her hood, allowing her advisers and companions to exchange the require pleasantries. Instead she took the time to study the room, the guards and royal advisers, and of course the human warrior king himself.
Having been a pit fighter himself in another lifetime, he knew when he was being sized up by an opponent looking for his weaknesses.
No, this wouldn't go at all as he had originally envisioned.
"Forsaken." She let the word drop and fall to the floor as though a heavy metal ball striking cement. Though spoken almost quietly, it rang throughout the white stone and azure blue curtained chamber.
It was the first word he had heard her utter since her arrival. "Forsaken" had been the name her people had taken as undead monsters and horrors who had managed to free themselves from the demon driven Lich King and former prince of Lordaeron.
The steely look in the regal, beautiful elf woman's eyes told King Varian Wrynn that it would definitely not be the conversation he had hoped for. He had envisioned Stormwind assisting the north to return it to its former glory. But the Lady's eyes obliterated any hope of that notion.
"Abandoned." She then added. The cold steel never left her eyes. "Our entire people, elves and humans alike abandoned by their kin and supposed 'allies' because of the plague, because we were diseased. Our rights to our own lands revoked. A 'holy crusade' waged against us. Men and women, human and elf alike whether alive or undead hunted by those who were supposed to be our own flesh and blood."
Anger burned in those blue eyes he couldn't look away from. It was an anger of a monarch responsible for the lives of a nation, and whose people had been grossly offended. He knew that look very well. It was one he had seen in his own scarred reflection in the mirror more than once.
Varian Wrynn had no answer to her charges as she appeared to wait for one. How could he? To be fair, he himself had not been in direct command of Stormwind or the Alliance due to circumstances beyond his control. The decisions which had been made regarding the undead inhabitants of the northern kingdom had rested in the hands of the council of nobles and military commanders who saw only Scourge.
"Do you speak for your own people only? Or for the humans of Lordaeron as well, Lady?" He finally asked.
She put her gauntleted hands on the table. Each finger of the sapphire and gold armored gloves terminated in a golden metal, razor sharp claw.
"The Royal Family of Silvermoon is dead. Prince Kael'thas' followers have all answered for their foolishness. The Royal Families of Lordaeron and Stromgarde no longer exist in any capacity. Both elven and human kingdoms have sworn their allegiance to my rule." She returned. "So let there be no misunderstanding. I speak for all the people of Lordaeron and Quel'Thalas, Varian Wrynn, elf and human alike as their sovereign queen." She emphasized each word of her statement and let the implications of it hang in the air.
"I doubt the Gilnean refugees would support that statement, your majesty." The king of Stormwind returned, his voice edged with sarcasm.
He had a special relationship with and respect for the Gilneans after their own kindness in helping him reconcile his two very different natures. He had hoped to eventually bring King Greymane into these discussions… after he had ascertained the position of the former "Forsaken".
The Lady's face hardened even further at the verbal slap.
"What I did, I did for the continued existence of my people. I will not apologize to you or anyone for that." She retorted, her eyes dark and hard as obsidium.
She then folded her clawed hands on the table politely and said sweetly like poisoned candy, "I did not come here to argue with you about the past, your majesty." She let those words roll off her own tongue with the same tone Varian himself had used. "I came to set to conditions of our truce."
Truce? Like so many others, he had assumed there would be a radical shift in power under the new circumstances the world of Azeroth found itself in.
"Conditions of our truce?" King Wrynn asked. "Exactly what do you mean?"
"The Kingdoms of Stormwind, Ironforge, and the Kaldorei will not cross the Thandol Span into Lordaeron. All of your Alliance forces will retreat south back into their native lands. All humans of Lordaeron who wish to go with them are free to do so, though I do not believe many will. We will keep our border at this crossing and will not seek to cross south. Do not attempt to violate our lands or take them from us again." Her demands were concise and to the point.
"Now wait just a minute," Varian's temper began to flare, "You're going to need help to rebuild. You'll need seed, and equipment. You'll need trading partners. Damn woman, if nothing else you'll need breeding stock to rebuild your people, and I don't mean the animals to be frank. And don't you think families will want to be reunited after so long?"
There was also the matter of Stormwind's own homeless population which had congregated in the province of Westfall. The truth was, he had a mind to encourage many of them to move north to provide them a fresh start and the north with a larger human presence than was already there. That discussion appeared to be postponed indefinitely.
"Oh?" She asked, her voice going cold. "And where were they for the last few decades when we truly needed them?"
"You were all walking corpses!" His voice raised. "How in the name of the Light did you expect us to react?"
He began to regret leaving his sword out of the room.
She sat back in her chair, steepled her clawed hands, and smiled. But it was not a warm smile. It brought the icy chill of death to Varian's spine even as he couldn't bring himself to look away.
"We have allies and help enough, fear not, on all of your points. There were some in this world who not only did not abandon us, but actively sought to help us. Thunderbluff and Orgrimmar have proven themselves our friends time and again." She told him.
The human king couldn't believe what he was hearing. Humans willingly siding with the Horde along with the elves?
Her tone then became more pragmatic and warmed ever so slightly. "However, you are correct. We have a nation to rebuild and refit for our new situation. As you put so bluntly, we have children to produce, crops to grow, and villages to restore across Lordaeron if we are to continue. We merely ask that you leave us alone, and we will give you the same courtesy, regardless of what the warchief in Orgrimmar demands." She then told him matter of factly. "They have been our friends, but they will not be our masters any more than you will."
"Garrosh Hellscream would not be pleased to hear you say such things." Varian observed.
"I do not care what that lumbering green oaf in Orgrimmar thinks." The Lady retorted just a little harshly, and then her voice resumed a more diplomatic tone. "I will speak with him when the time comes."
So there is to be a major shift in power in the world, then. He thought to himself. Just not the one anyone was expecting.
"So then nothing has really changed between us?" He asked.
"On the contrary," she replied, "you no longer appear to have a reason to want us truly dead. I would say much has changed. Whether or not we feel the same way will depend much on your adherence to our terms."
"So that's it then? Why did you come here, your majesty?" He asked her, though he gave her the title with more respect.
"To let you know where we stand, your majesty. We will not be for you or the Alliance, but if you leave us alone, we will not be against you either." She told him.
He nodded his understanding. A part of him could even respect her position.
And then she added, almost as an afterthought, "Oh, and you needn't be concerned about our supply of plague canisters. They are safe and secure in the belly of the Undercity. I certainly wouldn't want any of them to make their way down here and be unleashed on your people. It would be terrible if your kingdom had to experience the same nightmare that we did, don't you think?"
King Varian Wrynn's eyebrows raised as he understood her meaning loud and clear. He own advisers behind him began to murmur and whisper behind him with alarmed looks on their faces. They had understood as well.
"There was no need to threaten us, your majesty." He retorted.
"Did I?" She asked innocently, though her eyes told another story. "I don't recall doing so, but if you say so..."
Varian sat back in his blue padded seat trying to compose himself at the woman's audacity. He felt he was doing an extraordinary job of containing himself at the demon elf woman's audacity. However, he knew what their plague could do. And he knew she didn't make idle threats. Hillsboro was proof of that. Finally, he sighed in exasperation, letting out a deep breath he didn't realize he was holding in.
"Then we have nothing further to discuss, I see." He responded tersely.
"I'm glad we understand one another." The Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, Queen of a United Lordaeron, told him. "I hope we continue to see our way so clearly on such matters of state."
"Indeed." He replied, wondering if the elf woman's dead heart really had restarted.
Behind his queen, Lord Commander Arete stood in his black plate armor stroking his new growth of raven colored facial hair with equally new flesh and blood fingers. He remained silent as the two monarchs "negotiated", as did the rest of his queen's entourage which had accompanied her into the council chamber.
He shared his queen's sentiments, as he knew the rest of their people did. They did not need Stormwind or any other "Alliance" nation to thrive. They had survived death itself and been reborn. What more than that could the fates throw at them?
And then she mentioned the plague canisters.
It shouldn't have disturbed him. He felt the not so subtle threat shouldn't have disturbed him. It wouldn't have disturbed him months ago, before the rebirth. He would have dropped the canisters over Stormwind with relish had she ordered it then.
But now such a thought disturbed him greatly. It caused a sick feeling within his stomach, and a pain in his heart at the thought.
Would I really carry out such an order as this on them and their children?
He had seen many children since leaving the Lordaeron ship at Stormwind's dock. They were laughing and playing either with each other or with other, human adults. It had been the first time he had seen any living children at all for a long, long time. They were the guarantee of a future, and if their own people were to survive, they would have to produce many, many of their own, sowing the seeds of their own future.
The King of Stormwind graciously invited his queen and her entourage to stay in quarters prepared for them in the Keep. He sensed no ill intent in the man, only a weariness, and a new wariness for them. Though he could not say the same for the look in the eyes of King Wrynn's own advisors.
His queen declined the offer with an equal graciousness, choosing instead for them to return to their own quarters aboard the ships that brought them there. Under the circumstances, it was likely the wiser course of action.
As his queen rose to leave, he and the others fell in line behind her. He held no fear for her safety here. His queen was formidable in battle herself. Indeed, he would still not wish to be the one to challenge her in battle, not would he wish it on anyone else.
Upon their return to the ship, he requested to speak with her out of the hearing of the others in her cabin. It was a request that she patiently granted, though he could see the weariness in her own face and limbs. None of them were used to the mortal necessities of rest yet. It was something of a necessary annoyance.
His queen's cabin was spartan. In her undeath she chose few luxuries for herself, and she appeared to see no need for them now either. There was only a bunk with a feather mattress and accompanying bedding. A table with scrolls, charts, and books sat bolted to the floor across from the bed. And not much else adorned her quarters. He wondered if her chambers in the Undercity remained as spartan as this while her new private quarters were undergoing repair in Lordaeron's ruins on the surface. This had been one significant change with her rebirth. She wanted to be closer to the sun and the fresh air almost constantly now.
"What is it you wish to speak to me about, Lord Commander?" She asked. Her tone was still regal, but much warmer than the one which she used with the King of Stormwind. Her eyes were more welcoming and open to him.
He almost did not wish to bring it up, but he couldn't reconcile it within himself.
"My queen, you know I would not question your decisions or your orders." He began.
"And yet?" She asked.
"I find myself… disturbed by the threat you made. Before the rebirth I would have not thought twice about using the plague on our enemies, but now… Would you really give such an order upon these people? Upon… Upon the children we have seen today?" His own voice faltered uncharacteristically.
The hardened look returned to her eyes for just a moment, and then disappeared to be replaced by a searching.
"I am sorry my queen..." He began to retract his question.
"Don't be." She told him. "It is a fair question. I hope my answer is equally fair. Yes, I would give such an order if, and only if, Stormwind chooses to ignore our conditions. Since you have been honest with me, Arete, I will be honest with you. I have no desire to kill children, or subject them to the plague any more than you do. And I do not forget that launching the canisters at our enemies potentially exposes our own people to the plague once again. We have no need for such recourse to continue our race any longer. Instead we must produce more children, not less; elf, human, and combinations of both if we are to survive. But we cannot focus on that if we must continuously defend our sovereignty against the incursions of the south. We have been slaves of the Scourge. We have been under the thumb of the Horde. And we have been betrayed and abandoned by these..." She gestured towards the direction of the city. "No more. We will be enslaved or beholden to no one any longer. The continued existence, and threat, of the plague canisters ensures this."
Her beautifully wrought face then took on a much warmer, and more familiar expression with him. "Does this answer your question to your satisfaction, Lord Commander?"
The Death Knight nodded, seeing her logic. "Yes, my queen. I understand better now. Thank you for your patience with me."
He gave a respectful bow towards her and made to leave her presence when she addressed him again.
"I have not given you leave yet to go, Lord Commander." She stopped him.
"Is there something more you require of me, your majesty?" He asked, confused.
"Not yet, but perhaps in the future." She replied, somewhat cryptically.
Indeed, her own expression seemed somewhat confused as though she wasn't sure herself why she stopped him.
"My queen?" He asked, his own face somewhat confused.
Her eyes averted from his as she seemed to be trying to focus her own thoughts. There was an uncomfortable pause and then she looked at him again, her confidence and regal grace restored. She appeared to be studying him, though for what reason he couldn't say.
"We must all produce children if we are to truly rebuild, Lord Commander. All of us. Consider this." She finally told him.
"Yes, my queen." He replied, not certain of what she was trying to tell him.
After another uncomfortable minute, she then dismissed him. "You may go, Lord Commander."
He bowed again and left her cabin trying to sort through the strange, non-conversation he had held at the end with his monarch.