Author's note: the plotbunny bit me and it got infected. This is what leaked out. In this AU, Taretha left with Thrall the night before the attack on Durnholde. I take no responsibility for this craziness. All characters property of Blizzard Entertainment.

"Excuse me, miss, but you're being followed."

I look behind me and see only Golthak and his men. "Yes, it appears I am," I say dryly to the burly, scarred man in armor it doesn't look like he could afford on his own.

"Are those orcs bothering you?"

Before I can reply, he snarls in very bad orcish, "You! Why you follow pretty lady? You not wanted," and he includes a very crude description.

"Warchief told us to," Golthak replies with a sneer.

The armored man takes a step forward and half-draws his sword.

"Zis hoo-man bothering you, Taretha?" Golthak asks in deliberately bad common, also taking a step forward and putting his hand to his axe. Behind the armored man, I can see four men in Alliance colors suddenly stiffen in preparation for a fight.

"I would appreciate it if you stopped antagonizing my escort, sir."

He stops and looks at me in shock. "Your escort?"

"As Golthak said, the Warchief sent them to follow me for my protection."

A runner comes up and bangs his chest in salute. "You are wanted in the pavilion, Taretha."

I thank him and turn to the scarred man. "If you will excuse me…?"

"Oh, of course," he responds automatically.

Golthak and his men follow as I sweep away, leaving behind the startled king of Stormwind.

Thrall smiles broadly as I enter. "Tari! What do you think of the Tournament grounds?"

I give him a hug and remove my cloak. "Tirion has something up his sleeve, and he wants as big an audience for it as possible. How did the meeting go?"

"Well enough, although I missed your presence." He sighs. "Garrosh is learning, but he's still more volatile than I'd like. What else did you learn in your excursion?"

It's my turn to smile, now. "I had an unexpected bit of luck. Expect the king of Stormwind to pay us a visit later."

Golthak grunts. "That who that was?"

"You didn't see his guards?"

"Saw them, figured he was some other high-up Alliance dog."

"Varian's retainers speak better orcish," I say dryly.

"Mmm. No blood was shed?" Thrall rumbles sternly. I shake my head. "Good."

I go on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "I'm going to go change in anticipation of our visitor."

Golthak starts to follow, my faithful shadow, but Thrall stops him with a look and he waves Nedrim after me instead.

The pavilion doesn't have anything that would make a good sitting room, so it is in the landscaped area behind the pavilion that I am casually biding my time. To give the illusion of privacy, hedges have been planted to form an organic wall that encircles the Horde pavilion. A similar circle of hedges across the grounds is where the Alliance representatives are housed, no doubt. It's not much of a garden, but given the terrain and the time involved, it's lovely. To human senses, we are alone - but I know Thrall would not let the brash king of Stormwind be alone with his sister. There will be a Shadow Hunter or two on the roof, and likely a druid or shaman listening in, as well.

It's not long before the crunch of footsteps heralds the approach of a visitor. He looks more regal now that he's not wearing armor; he's clearly taken the time to wash, put on formal clothes, and comb his hair. He still looks like a brute, but at least he's a clean and civilized brute.

"Taretha?" He has a rather pleasant voice when he's not trying to intimidate people. "Forgive me for calling on you without invitation. I wanted to apologize for earlier." He gives a formal bow. "Please allow me to introduce myself: Varian Wrynn of Stormwind, at your service."

I curtsy politely. "Taretha Foxton of the Frostwolf, late of Durnholde."

His eyebrows knit together. "You claim membership in an orc clan?"

"The Warchief is my brother." My chin raises just the slightest bit, daring him to contest it.

"Your brother? That green-skinned brute?"

"We were fed from the same breast; when he was brought to Durnholde Keep as a baby, my mother wet-nursed him. I saved his life by helping him escape Durnholde so that he could find his people. Then, when he came back to free the orcs in the camps, he took me with him and saved mine. The elders of the Frostwolf clan acknowledged the mutual debt and confirmed it through the ritual of blood-bonding."

Varian frowns. "I fail to see where lives were saved."

I look him straight in the eye. "If Thrall had stayed, Blackmoore would have gotten him killed by throwing him into fights until he couldn't win. Blackmoore knew I helped Thrall escape; if I hadn't left, he would have killed me." One shoulder rises and falls in a shrug. "So I left, and I've been with Thrall's Horde ever since."

"You could have gone to Southshore, or Pyrewood, or any other human city. Why stay with orcs?"

"I spent twenty-five years living with humans, my lord. At first, I was ignored for my gender. Later, the only recognition I got was for my body. Never was I given any credit for having a mind, nor respected for it." The slight flinch tells me that Varian is guilty of the same things, but at least feels guilt for it.

"No doubt the orcs only respect you because you are their Warchief's sister." He hesitates only slightly before those last words.

I shake my head, the two smaller braids at my temples swinging with the motion. "At first, all that got me was tolerated. I had to earn the respect on my own."

Clearly frustrated, Varian tries another angle. "Surely you miss your family."

"I do." I gaze off into the distance, the old pain throbbing in my chest. "Blackmoore killed them when he realized my betrayal."

Silence.

"I'm...sorry for your loss." The way his voice trembles tells me that he genuinely feels sorrow, and that he has suffered personal loss, as well.

"Thank you," I tell him distantly, and the silence changes.

"Do you...ever miss...male companionship?" Varian asks, then apparently thinks better of it. "That is...don't you want a husband?" He's not very good at being subtle.

"Why would I?"

That floors him. I watch in faint amusement as he realizes that I have no need for protection or support past what I already have by virtue of my brother.

"Surely there are...needs...that you are unable to fill, surrounded by orcs." Again, subtlety is not his forte. He hopes fervently that I have not taken an orc to my bed.

"Your Majesty," I begin crisply, and he seems somewhat startled either at my tone or the mode of address, "I was Blackmoore's unwilling mistress for seven years. I have endured the indignities of the bedroom long enough to last me my entire life."

He seems affronted by the rebuff, but then his face darkens with a surprisingly familiar rage.

"I won't ask what he did to you," he hisses between clenched teeth. "Clearly he was no gentleman, regardless of his military rank or breeding."

I have to admit, it is rather touching how furious Varian is on my behalf. "Have no fear, your Majesty, my brother was quite vigorous in avenging my virtue."

He nods and looks away, visibly reining his temper in. I turn away as well and wait for the silence to become less brittle.

"Thrall is - if you'll pardon the expression - a better man than either of us," I say quietly. Behind me, I can hear Varian turn around.

"What do you mean?"

"He was a slave to a cruel master for sixteen years, kept wholly underground for six of them. He was fed scraps and spoiled food. His bed was dirty straw, and his master beat him. Sixteen years, and he never experienced tenderness or affection, never had a friend aside from me. Sixteen years of being called a monster."

"...and?"

I turn to face him, my expression cool and distant. "And he doesn't hate humanity for it."

Varian struggles with his emotions, not meeting my eyes, unable to dispute the unspoken accusation, unwilling to argue with a woman, and most of all having no desire to reveal his unvoiced courtship by protesting my rejection of it. The silence stretches as he searches for some way to extricate himself with his dignity intact. Finally, he looks up at me again and that familiar rage smolders behind his eyes.

"I am not Blackmoore," he growls, clearly attempting to keep a civil tone and not quite managing it.

"Then prove it, your Majesty." While smoother, my tone is no less challenging.

He corrects me with a shake of his head. "Just 'Varian'."

I incline my head in acknowledgment. "Then prove it, Varian."

"I will, and I hope that someday I will change your mind."

"I warn you, it will take time and effort for that."

"I'm willing to wait as long as it takes." The look he gives me now smolders for a different reason. "By your leave, Taretha," he says with a formal bow. I nod, and he strides briskly off.

Golthak falls in step behind me as I enter the building. Whatever interrogation my brother put him through appears to have taken less time than it took me to puncture Varian's ego. My faithful shadow smoothly peels off as I enter Thrall's meeting room and takes his place with the Kor'kron guarding the door. Thrall looks up from his reports as I come in and drags me into a one-armed hug that nearly envelops me.

"What did the king of Stormwind want?"

I roll my eyes and sigh. "The usual. He didn't come out and say it, but he wants to whisk me off to a life of everything I don't want."

Thrall studies me with worried eyes. "Tari. I don't want you to feel you have to stay with me if you find someone you want to be with."

An un-ladylike sound escapes my lips. "I'm not about to rush off with a man who thinks that a few months of slavery entitle him to racial prejudice, that a woman needs a man, and that my little brother is a green-skinned brute."

Thrall smiles, and some of the concern leaves his face. "And if he changes his mind?" he teases.

"Even if he changes his mind, he still has to change mine."

The Kor'kron, Golthak, and Thrall all chuckle at that.

"Oh, Tari. You make diplomacy much more interesting," Thrall says, shaking his head. "I almost hope he does change his mind, just to see how far he's willing to go to win you over."

A broad grin threatens; I stifle it. "The question, dear brother, is where we would find a tailor to properly clothe you for the wedding."

At the look on Thrall's face, I break into peals of laughter. After a moment, he chuckles.

"We'd need to arrange a trade agreement for the cloth alone," he jokes.

"Oh, have it shipped to Theramore, Jaina could use the revenue from a fleet that large."

We joke about exaggerated wedding arrangements for a while before retiring for the night. The sheets are crisp and cool and unfamiliar sounds filter through the walls. As I wait for sleep, I can't help but wonder how far Varian would go in his quest to win my heart.