The captain informs us that it will be close to midnight when we dock in Stormwind's harbor, and asks if we would prefer spending the night aboard the ship or going up to the castle immediately. The harbor is lighted enough, he says, that a night docking isn't dangerous. Anduin decides that it would be best to move us all inside the keep's walls with a minimum of fuss, and thus it is that in the first hour of the day, we pull into Stormwind Harbor after a week at sea. The crew swarm around the ship getting her docked, then a sharp whistle pierces the air and the lights are extinguished, leaving us in the intermittent illumination of the lighthouse. Half a dozen of Anduin's guards disembark first to sweep the docks for any dangers, followed by another six. Anduin and Golthak and I are next, with my guards clustered on the deck waiting to follow.
Given the darkness of the dock and the twelve Royal Guard who had preceded us, I am understandably startled when a figure in a dark, hooded cloak suddenly lunges out of a pool of shadow towards Anduin. The assailant must not have seen me, or my looming protector. I lunge just as quickly, using his momentum against him as I grab a fistful of cloak and jerk him around with my left hand, even as my right speeds out of the night to land, open-palmed, against his bare cheek as the hood falls back.
Varian looks at me in shock and I stare back at him, equally stunned.
"Taretha!" he exclaims, ugly face splitting into a broad grin. "You came!"
His obvious delight does nothing to ease my taut nerves, and in fact makes me angrier. I slap him again, this time with my left hand, which had been held in rigid anticipation of smashing into his nose. "How dare you?" I hiss, seething. "How dare you make me think you're some low-life wharf rat attacking your own son! What kind of gentleman skulks around after midnight and lunges out at young boys? What kind of king leaves his keep at night, without guards?"
I'm fairly vibrating with fury, and he looks to be in shock again, but the aborted outrage softens into an odd sort of relaxed amusement. "It's good to see you, too," he says dryly. "May I escort you to Stormwind Keep? It's a lovely night for a stroll."
"Do I have a choice?"
"In this instance, not particularly."
He raises one hand and gestures, and the twelve guards move back out of the shadows and into formation with the other twelve, who have disembarked along with Golthak's men while I was berating their king. While the troops are getting into position, Varian drops to one knee and gives Anduin the tight, fierce hug my assault had delayed.
"Let's move out, men," he calls in a no-nonsense voice as he stands up.
The column marches through the silent streets up to the gates of the keep. I am equally silent, still fuming, and my escort says nothing, but Anduin and his father chat in low voices about the trip. This is a side of Varian I haven't seen: calm, happy, affectionate. It's clear that he loves his son. Knowing him, however, he had to have planned this, as well. So, he thinks he can lure me into letting my guard down by being a loving father to his son? No, he's too cunning for a ploy this simple, and he knows it will take more than that for him to worm his way into my good graces. At least, I hope this is a ploy. I don't want to believe that this is a genuine display with no ulterior motive, a tactical surrender. I maintain my stony silence as we march through the castle, as Anduin hugs his father and runs off to his rooms, as I am shown to my rooms. A small barracks for my escort is part of it, which tells me this is an ambassador's suite. At the door to my sitting room, he pauses.
"Was there something else, your Majesty?" I ask coldly.
He ignores the barb, a thoughtful look on his scarred face. "Why did you slap me?" Two rough fingers gently probe the red mark on one cheek, and he winces. "What I mean is: why didn't you clock me one?"
My smile is brittle. "I'm just a woman, your Majesty. I hit like a girl."
He frowns; my venom must have gotten through at last. "I think I liked it better when you used 'my lord' as an insult."
"Apologies, my lord. It is my duty to respect the wishes of my gracious host while I am a guest."
"I guess that's better," he says sourly. "Now, don't expect me to believe that you didn't punch me out of a lack of strength, because I got a taste of exactly how strong you are." He touches his left cheek and hisses slightly. "What would you have done if I had been someone else?"
Instead of answering, I raise my left hand and slowly extend it, heel-first, fingers held rigidly out of the way, towards the battered shape of his nose. When his eyes widen in recognition, I let the hand fall to my side again before he gets any ideas.
"My lady, I am very glad that my hood fell back and I most sincerely apologize for my rash actions. You have my word, I will not do that again."
Again I favor him with a brittle smile and sharply mocking tone. "You forget, my lord, that I am not a lady."
"Not for long, I hope," he says quietly, and somehow that vulnerable look is back in his eyes.
"If you will excuse me, my lord, it has been a long and tiring day, and I wish to retire for what remains of the night." I ignore the hurt expression on his face at my chilly tone.
"Of course. My apologies for keeping you from your rest. Sleep well, Taretha."
And with that he sweeps me a formal bow, turns, and strides briskly off.