Woohoo, thank you for my reviews. I am glad to see there are people out there who like the Anduin and Sylvanas pairing or at least my writing style.

The first three chapters are going to be around the 5k mark and that is solely due to I do not want to add too many scenes in the first few chapters in case the content becomes watered down or drags on. My philosophy with writing is slow-burn, I do not want to have four or five scenes just for the sake of a long chapter if it means what I write has no meaning to it. I will not make a chapter long or publish a chapter just to publish.

I am also looking for a beta-reader. If any of you want to beta let me know. Or if you got ideas message me, I am open to ideas. Also, if you are going to follow my story please review. Reviews lets us who write know you are enjoying what we are publishing. Or if you do not like it or got ideas etc.

I do have the first four chapters thought out in my head. So I should be able to update once a week. My aim is to not abandon this story, so if I take a little longer than a week to publish a chapter it just means I am not happy with the final draft.

Any who, here is chapter 2.

Chapter two:

Anduin Wrynn had to refrain from sighing, or rubbing his brow in frustration. Over the last thirty minutes he had been staring down at the map of the Eastern Kingdoms while he listened to the lectures and demands of his council. He had given up trying to reason with his council. All week he had to fend off demands that he execute the Banshee queen immediately. Funny, he was the High King, and his decisions were final, and yet he felt like he was not being taken seriously.

I guess they truly don't respect me, if it were my father they wouldn't be so bold to make demands.

Irritably, he couldn't help the insecurity and insignificance that threatened to swallow him up. He wasn't naïve, he knew Jaina Proudmoore, Genn Greymane, and Tyrande Whisperwind didn't respect his title or he as a ruler. It hurt him that they would much prefer his father's rule over his. After all, in their eyes Varian could do no wrong: at least that is how he felt. He understood he was the youngest in the room: the least war-seasoned amongst the veterans. But, he had hoped his youth would not be an obstacle in trying to rule his kingdom and lead the Alliance.

Shaking his head softly, his fingers dug into the edge of the map-table when Tyrande barked out her demand for the fifth time today. Her accents grated his nerves, the animalistic looking woman was near frothing at her mouth like a dog with rabies. The way her lips curled, revealing teeth that looked more like fangs then teeth. Anduin couldn't help but shudder, he was always unnerved by the Night Elf people, not because of their connection to nature or the hues of their skin, but because of all the races in the alliance they were the most stand offish and xenophobic.

"She needs to be executed today your Highness"

Silver eyes stared at stormy blue, a battle of wills being fought between the Kaldorei Matriarch and the King of Stormwind. As intimidating as Tyrande was, and as imposing as Jaina and Genn were. None of them could measure up to the intensity of his father. His constant war of words, and battle of attrition between the father and son was the stuff of legends amongst the castle staff. Tyrande would not cowl him like a sheep being herded.

Pushing off the table, the young king squared his shoulders as he let out a slow breath. "You are in my city, under my roof, under my laws. You, all of you named me the High King of the Alliance." He spoke slowly with intent, his eyes sweeping from the tall bluish hued woman to Jaina, then to Genn. He made sure he kept his focus lingering on each leader just long enough to get his point across; that he was in charge.

"The Warchief will not be executed today, or tomorrow or this week. Executing her would only invite the Horde's fury. They outnumber us since Darnassus fell, if they were to launch a full invasion here we would be hard pressed to resist. No, while we have her as our prisoner we for once have a foothold in this unwanted war."

A growl from Genn drew Anduin Wrynn's attention, the fury upon the older man's was as clear as the sun was shining outside. "If we execute her, the Horde will be weakened without a leader. We should strike now."

Anduin nodded. "Yes, they would be, but only for a short while. My father taught me that it is better to deal with an enemy that you know well, then to deal with an enemy that you have no knowledge of."

Jaina tilted her head, and hummed thoughtfully. "You have a point there my King. We know how Sylvanas's mind works to an extent. But, we also know a lot of the Horde distrust the Forsaken. If we kill the Banshee Queen it could cause chaos in their ranks."

"Aye, Lady Proudmoore is correct." Genn agreed." Without their leader the Forsaken could potentially be ostracised from the Horde, a civil war could erupt."

They just do not understand, we should be seeking for a peaceful end to the war instead of annihilation of a people.

Anduin's patience was often misconstrued as being endless, that he was immune to bouts of anger or rage, emotions his father often displayed like a sword on a mantle. He was getting mad, his eyes flickered with controlled emotion, he was grateful he had sent Prophet Velen, Lady Moirra and Lord Bronzebeard out to secure the warfront in the Arathi Hinterlands. He doubted he could resist the demands' of six leaders, he was having a hard enough time arguing his point to three.

Collecting the saliva in his mouth with his tongue, Anduin shook his head. "My order is final. I appreciate, and I respect the travesties committed to each of you and your people. But I am the leader of the Alliance, you placed your trust in me to lead us all, I ask you to keep that faith. I have my reasons for keeping her alive. Now, if you will excuse me our meeting here is over."

The young king didn't wait for a response, he was already making his way to the castle's main hallway. Stress drove him to walk at a brisk pace, wanting to get away from those who looked down upon him because of his age. He ignored the bows and greetings of the castle attendants as he scurried out of the castle. His mind kept replaying the battle between he and Saurfang that led into his capture of the infamous Windrunner.

Anduin was hailed as a hero for defeating Saurfang, and was then lauded as a legend for his capture of the legendary echo of Arthas's cruelty. His men had stared in disbelief as he had carried her unconscious body from the mage quarters to the Stockades, all the while ordering one of his guard to fetch a physician. The doctor had concluded she had a minor concussion which was why she was unconscious.

Only when he was satisfied that the forever ageless Ranger would be okay did he have her feet shackled, and locked into her cell. He ordered that she be treated with the respect her title decreed, and if there was any issue that he be notified immediately. That was a week ago, and yet he hadn't set foot in the stockades. He was glad she had awakened later that evening, and so far she had not caused any commotion which Anduin was still trying to figure out of it was a good thing or not. His torment over what do with her had also kept him at bay, as part of him was still angry at her for her actions on the Broken-shore resulted in his dad's death.

Coming to his destination, a small garden that he tended to behind the castle, it was his place to go when he needed to think. It lacked privacy, but only his chancellor and Paladin trainer Turalyon, Alleria, or Matthias Shaw were to disturb him when he was in his sanctuary.

"What would you have done father? What methods would you have engaged to end the war?" he asked to the heavens above. It was a fine summer day, with only a cloud or two dotting the great blue canvass above. Despite his question, it was someone else whose voice he heard.

"Is that a rhetorical question my liege?"

Startled, Anduin nearly yelped in surprise at the sudden appearance of his Chancellor. He flicked his head toward the pathway with a questioning look.

"I called to you when I spotted you leaving your meeting, you must not have heard me in your hasty exit." The high exarch clarified.

Anduin weakly smiled. "I am sorry M'lord. I was caught up in my thoughts. Is there something you need of me Lord Turalyon?

A grey brow rose in question. "I think you have answered my question already Sire. Your meeting went that well huh." He exclaimed worriedly as he examined the downtrodden visage of his King.

Just thinking about the accusing, and questioning looks his council fixated him with caused the young man to sigh, walking over to a lone stone bench the Golden-haired Lion collapsed from his exhaustion. Instead of answering, the high King stared at a rose that wasn't quite in full bloom, its stem just a bit shorter than the rest. He wondered if that single rose felt miniscule amongst the large roses, did it feel like it had to compensate in some way? Did it care it was inferior? Is this how Gnomes and Goblins felt when dealing with the larger races?

When Anduin didn't respond, and glumly stared at the rosebush, a comforting heavy hand was laid upon his left shoulder. The older Knight knew Anduin well, having become his Paladin trainer, and made Chancellor meant he often spent a lot of time with the young man. As such, he had quickly learned how to read his protégé. Turalyon knew Anduin would speak when he felt ready to.

And he was proven right for it didn't take long for the young King to speak. "They think I am a fool, and distrust my decision." He explained weakly, and a tad irritably as he felt itchy due to the heavy blue and gold royal tunic and trousers he wore: uncomfortable garbs on the coolest of days.

The heaviness the accompanied Anduin's usually silken baritone made the older man frown. He didn't need to be told whom drew the negativity from his King, he already knew who attended the council meeting which he could not attend has he had to deal with other issues on his Lord's behest.

"They question your decision to show leniency to my Sister in law yes?" Turalyon asked softly.

Anduin let out a chuckle. "Aye. How did you guess?"

Turalyon grinned, happy to hear a slight lifting of the young man's tone. "Sylvanas is still alive, it doesn't take a genius to figure out what the council meeting was about. That, and their bitching all weak has nearly driven me nuts, I cannot fathom how you have endured their old-woman nagging. So why do their opinions disturb you?"

Silence again sunk its tendrils over the garden, only the sounds of song birds singing kept total silence from taking over as the younger Paladin thought how to best answer. He knew why he was feeling the way he did, which was part of his dilemma. The answer made him feel slightly childish and immature, and yet a part of him also felt resentment and anger that he was being questioned which immediately led to guilt. Only dictators and warlords felt their word was absolute.

Garrosh Hellscream was a prime example of what would happen to those he thought were questioning his authority.

"I am not my father. I do not have his strength or mind for strategy. I am constantly reminded of what actions my father would take. I just." Anduin sighed and his voice trailed off under the dejection he was feeling.

Ah, a complexity issue. Now he understood the young man's plight. Turalyon couldn't remember much about his own parents, but he at least understood how it was to walk in the shadow of another. He himself felt overshadowed by Uther the Ligthbringer, not in terms of deeds, but because how could one match up to such a revered hero? In that aspect, he could empathise with his King for Varian Wrynn was greatly cherished by the Alliance.

"Anduin, may I speak freely?"

A blonde brow rose up as the youth in question looked to the weathered face of the older Knight. Only Turalyon, his wife and Veleera ever used his first name with nil titles attached. Only the three knew him so well enough to be so bold to do so. It was a welcomed refresher, he hated being called by the many titles a monarch had, Sire, M'King, or my king or lord, or liege made him feel like an object, and not a person. He often wondered if his father had felt the same?

Taking the silence as permission to speak, the older man cast his golden hues skyward in thought. "You are not your father, that is pretty much a given. But, that does not make you a lesser man or ruler than he. As good as your father was as a leader, he was a flawed man from what I know of him. "I have come to believe that he often made his decisions based upon his own prejudices."

A sigh rumbled from the younger's chest. "So you think I should listen to my war-council?" he felt a bit disheartened to think even his own Chancellor thought he was wrong.

"Shite-no." Turalyon exclaimed as he lowered his eyes to the golden haired monarch, his face crinkling as he shook his head. Anduin's eyebrows nearly vanished into his hair they rose so high, it was rare that his mentor swore. If he wasn't so glum he would have snickered like a little child hearing the word 'fart or poop'.

"Lad, why do you think they want my sister in law's head on a spike so badly?"

The young man opened his mouth to reply, but he paused and slowly closed his jaws and his brow furrowed. The obvious answer was sitting on his tongue, ready to be loosed like an arrow. However, the young King felt there was more to the question than so simple of a response. Tilting his head down, he scratched his stubble-lined jaw as he repeated the question. He replayed the weeks' events, the council meeting, how everyone spoke to him, demanded of him all week had worn away his patience, their anger fuelled faces and voices made his brow furrow deeper.

They were all angry at him and his decision, their disbelief and outrage made him realise how much emotion the woman of their debate drew from even the most veteran of individuals. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, his voice rumbled with a questioning tint.

"They hate Lady Windrunner because they have all suffered because of her or the Horde. Lord Genn lost his son and his people suffered because of her, Lady Tyrande's home was burned to the ground as well as their sacred tree. And, Lady Jaina's home was blown up due to the Horde, and Sylvanas has earned her ire on account of being the Horde's leader, and her retreat on the Broken Shore. "

Turalyon beamed with pride, he nodded his head in admiration for the young man, who, many counted his youth against him.

"Aye lad, their minds are clouded with emotion, which inhibits their ability to make or give wise council. Remember what I taught you when you came to me to learn to be taught how to be a Paladin?"

Anduin nodded, he pointed to his head with his left index finger. "I must learn to use this before anything else."

"Yes." His mentor nodded. "The heart and mind are best utilized together, only a fool listens to one and ignores the other. So tell me, ignoring all else and my own relationship with my sister in law, why is she not dead?"

"I want peace. I want to end the bloodshed that our peoples have endured. If I execute her, the war would not end, they would want revenge. And thus the cycle of war will continue."

The older knight closed his eyes as he crossed his arms over his breastplate and nodded. "That answer is the reason I accepted to train you and to follow you. I never knew your father, but from what I was told he hated the Horde, he would welcome war if it meant ending their existence. That belief goes against our very teachings, your teachings lad. We are knights, we protect the weak, we fight evil at its doorsteps, if war comes we will fight, but it is only to protect and defend."

Standing up, the armour the elder knight wore groaned in protest as he stretched. "I will leave you to your thoughts Sire, but I leave you with this. To want peace without war is a challenging road that many have failed. But, unless you try you will never know what you can achieve." Clapping the young man on the shoulder, Anduin thanked his mentor before he was left alone in his garden, the woman who caused such turmoil amongst his ranks being at the forethought of his mind.

On the spur of the moment, the King of Stormwind stood up and made his way to the Stockades..

VVV

The Stockades, a prison that was as damp, dark and unpleasant as Undercity: A horrid place that was heavily guarded. Having a prison was an odd concept to him, he was used to either immediate execution, or Mak'gora. The human way was a sharp contrast to all he had been taught. In fact, being taken prisoner himself was a stain to his honour, to die on the battlefield was the greatest honour his kind could hope for.

His shackles made him feel like a dog, a reminder of how the Alliance viewed his species, dishonourable beasts that only enjoyed war, and destruction. While part of that was true, Orcs did thrive for combat as they were a warrior species. They were far from being un-intelligent canon-fodder.

Varok exhaled slowly, since his defeat by the Lion-cub and being taken prisoner, he had lost track of time. His only inkling to the time of day was in the meals they brought him, eggs for breakfast, usually a simple stew for lunch and a meat of sorts for dinner. Not bad food, but definitely not the succulent taste of a roasted pig on a spit.

Thinking about the Boy-cub and how he fought made his brow furrow. The boy lacked skill to be sure, but he had to give the armour clad boy credit for standing up to him by himself. That sort of courage deserved to be acknowledged, even though it was sheer luck that cost him his defeat, a slip on his part really. Arrogance was not his forte, but the Boy took him by surprise, displaying a skill those damned Paladins' used. He had thought the child was a priest, a man of cloth that lacked any form of martial talent.

His foolishness cost him a fight he should have won, as it was clear that the boy-king was only a novice with a sword. But, even Varok could admit the child was strong, had anyone else felt his strength would have suffered a broken bone or two. His limited respect of the boy did not act like a balm to the disgrace he felt.

The sound of people speaking drew the Orc warrior from his musings, his common tongue was broken, learned and limited to the Forsaken who still used their old human language. However, he knew what the word 'King meant' and he knew the boy's name which was being spoken rather frantically intrigued him enough that he raised his head to his cell door.

Only a moment passed when the royal-dressed cub in question appear in front of his cell, ever looking like the King he proclaimed to be. Next two him were two guards, armed to the teeth, Varok snorted in amusement, those two guards he doubt would pose much of a challenge to him.

"Unlock the door, and leave us. If I need you I will call for you."

Anduin looked straight at the hulking warrior for a moment, then slowly the prison-door groaned like an old man rising out of bed as it was opened. Varok stayed seated his back against the wall. Even in his seated position he was larger than the human, a fact that Anduin must have realised when his eyes travelled over the Orc's mass.

Neither spoke right away, which Saurfang was quite happy with. He was in no real mood to deal with the boy who defeated him by sheer luck. The veteran warrior could see his enemy's lips twist and pucker in a manner when one is about to speak or trying to think of what to say. He wondered what the Human leader was thinking.

Anduin studied the Orc for a moment, he didn't appear harmed by his Judgement spell at all, a mixture of being miffed and impressed upon him. The lack of injury was a testament to the Orc's strength that had to be admired. Figuring his health was a good means to break the silence when it became clear that Varok was not going to talk unless spoken to.

"I am glad to see you are unharmed from our battle." The young King finally spoke slowly as not to butcher his enunciation of each word, he knew the Orcish language but rarely used it.

A brow shot up, a curious gleam pooling in those black orbs at the human's ability to speak his language. He hadn't realised he the young man spoke Orc when they conversed before their quick fight. The thrill and exhilaration of the battle tended to take precedence over what language someone was conversing in. Furthermore, he was curious as the Human King sounded relieved that he had not been injured. Saurfang snorted in contempt.

"Your pathetic attack would not have ended me. Do not gloat boy, it was by luck that you bested me boy."

The Overlord wasn't quite sure why he had felt the need admonish the young man's victory over him. Maybe his pride was too hurt to admit that he had been bested by sheer luck.

"Aye, Lord Saurfang. I am surprised myself actually, I did not expect to come out of that fight alive. Admittedly it has not been long since I have changed my path to the more melee focused aspect of the Light. If it helps any, I still hurt from where you hit me and dented my breastplate."

The scowl from the Orc wiped the grin from the young Kings face. Anduin had hoped his jovial approach to the Orc would have diluted any hostility. The reproach from the chained-warrior was anything, but kind.

"Tch, I would prefer to have split your skull into two boy, do not waste my time human, what do you want?"

The threat drove his blue eyes to stare at the large chains and cuffs that bound the feet and ankles of the much larger male. The young King wondered if the Orc could snap those chains, or rip the bars of his prison out of place. He would need to have the Stockades checked for any weaknesses.

Glancing to his left, spotting a crack in the wall, he wondered if the Orc did that. "Tell me about yourself, about your culture." Anduin asked, and redirected his focus upon his chained-captive. He was intrigued not just by Varok, but by the Orcs as a whole. Sure, he knew of them through his books, what the Alliance thought of them and his own few interactions of them. What he had conjured in his mind was an ugly painting painted with hateful colours and shades.

Surely though, there had to be some good qualities in the tusked race from Draenor. After all, he knew Jaina had an Alliance with Thrall in the past, and if the rumour mill was to be believed, a brief affair too with the powerful Shaman. Plus, it was well known that Jaina did not fight the Orcs, or aid her father when they killed the former Admiral. So, surely there had to be some redeeming qualities for her to not aid her progenitor. Finally, all the races had congregated together when the Burning Legion invaded and had coexisted peacefully.

And, if all else were to be ignored, the Forsaken had priests, both Holy aligned and Disciplined trained healers. Same with Blood-elves too, they had Paladins and priests, so surely there had to be more to the Horde then what the Alliance believed. Odd, he just realised not a word had been mentioned about the mighty Orc in all of his meetings, perhaps he was not as important? Or, perhaps he was forgotten under the shadow that their other prisoner cast. Because now he had lost all interest in wanting to see Sylvanas, at least for now.

Offering a friendly smile, he shook his nervousness away as he figured showing any form of hesitation would only earn the Proud Warrior's scorn.

"To understand you, your kind, and the Horde better."

The chains around those large wrists, and calves rattled as Varok stood up, and took a couple steps toward the young King. For his part, Anduin was terrified, he now appreciated just how big Varok was, a giant amongst his own kind that could easily crush him like a pimple or grape. Slowly, those storm blue orbs of the king rose from looking at the browned broad chest and gazed upward into the tusked face of the warrior he barely defeated.

In prisoner in question exhaled deeply, making sure his breath would wash over the pale features of the human boy. A show of intimidation if there ever was one, but, to Saurfang's amazement: The fear in the human's eyes did not extend to his ligaments. He stood his ground, made no subtle movement that could be construed as a readiness to attack. If he wasn't so angry at having been captured, he would have smirked.

"There is nothing for you to understand. Now leave me be."

A frown twisted Anduin's face, he couldn't hold back the disappointment that he felt. Slowly he nodded, letting out a deep sigh acquiesced and bid the Orc a farewell. Opening the iron-bar door, just as he shut it and as the guards came to lock the door. The Human king, with his back turned he turned his head to the left.

"Lord Varok Saurfang. I am not too arrogant to accept that I defeated you based on any skill I may or may not have. I got lucky in our fight, I truly do mean that I did not defeat you."

As Anduin left the Stockades, he didn't see Varok's small tugging of his lips or the murmured words of intrigue and mild appreciation that the older warrior spoke.

VVVV

It was night out, the moon well ascended into the night sky by the time he had made it to his room. He had never felt so drained as he did tonight, not even the battle a week ago taxed him as much. All but collapsing onto the edge of his bed, the young Human King stared at the red carpet on his floor. His mind raced a mile a minute, every endeavour he had made today had been met with roadblocks. From his War-council's demands, to Varok all but ignoring his want to understand the Horde better.

Anduin unlaced his boots and removed his socks, he tossed them aside uncaring where the landed. The wear and tear he felt upon his body and mind pulled him down onto the mattress, arms sprawling to his sides like a giant T.

"What a day." He sighed tiredly to the stone roof above. "A council breathing down my neck. Another war raging on, and two prisoners who I have no idea what to do with." He muttered sadly.

"I cannot answer that Anduin, but you have my thanks for what you haven't done to my sister."

The powerful, but soft dulcets of his High Ranger snapped his body into a seated position. Anduin blinked, a little caught off guard at not having heard the Rin'dorei leader who was also his Ranger-captain enter his room.

"What is it with you and your husband sneaking up on me today?" he grizzled, the older woman smirked, she already knew of the talk between her mate and her King.

"Well, in fairness you forgot to close your door." She teased. Anduin huffed as he closed his eyes and shook his head softly. He didn't hear the Windrunner Ranger approach, his eyes snapped open when two lithe, but strong arms encircled him, Alleria kissed the side of his head much like a mother or sister would do.

His cheeks bloomed like a red rose in spring, his body went rigid, and remained as such even when she had moved away from him. "Wha? What was that for m'lady?" he stammered like a school boy talking to their secret crush. The young King was not accustomed to being hugged or kissed or touched in any manner by the fairer sex. Yes, he was fully attracted to the female species, but almost all women he talked to curtsied around any attempt he made to engage them. A curse his title and position placed upon him.

The corner of the Void Elf's lips curved upward, she indeed saw his blush. She felt quite proud of herself for causing such a reaction from the young man she admired and cared about. She knew first-hand how shy he was, especially when it came to talking to women. If she had not been so in love with her Paladin, she may have in another life made a pass at the handsome young man in front of her.

"Because, thanks to you my sister lives. My husband told me of your desire for peace. I just came to warn you that my sister is a proud stubborn woman, the most stubborn of all of us Windrunners."

Glancing toward the large window, Alleria hummed thoughtfully. "She likes eggs, and bacon. She also enjoys reading poetry and about heroic warriors." She grinned, and ruffled the young man's blonde curls before turning to the door. "I also wanted to check up to make sure you were okay, and to let you know next time you square off with your war-council Turalyon and I will be there to aid you."

The blonde haired man frowned as he watched the Ranger shut his door and leave. An odd encounter to be sure, and yet, he felt his lips curve upward as ideas of how to maybe approach Sylvanas Windrunner came to mind. It didn't take long for him to remove his clothes and dress in his night-clothes. "Good night mother, good night father." He murmured to the dark of the night as sleep finally claimed the Young King.

Woot, chapter two is done. I hope all of you enjoyed it, and I know this chapter is not long, I could have added another scene but I felt it would drag on too warily if I did so.

Any ways, until next time.