Braelyn had promised to be the best queen Stormwind ever had, and it was a promise she intended to keep. She had one problem; how was she going to be the best queen ever when she didn't know how to be any kind of queen at all?

She attempted to solve the problem by talking to her husband's chief steward. Dominic was happy to be of service to the young queen, explaining all her royal rights and responsibilities in great detail. According to him, the role of the queen was to act as support for the king. She would receive special guests at the Keep, and act as hostess. She would accompany her husband to parties and other functions hosted by the great families, and hold some of her own. During times of strife, she was to lead fundraising and relief efforts.

And babies, she mustn't forget the babies.

Her main responsibility was to help Varian perpetuate his family line, and to contribute to the gene pool of Stormwind's royal families.

In short; Braelyn was to love her husband, host parties, swan about looking regal, and pop out as many children as Varian wanted. And, if she could do all that while staying in the Keep as much as possible, even better.

Braelyn was horrified. She would have changed her name and moved to Outland if she didn't know that Varian would just come after her and drag her back.

There was no way she was being reduced to a piece of babymaking arm-candy. No way at all. So Braelyn decided to redefine the queen's role. She was quite willing to go to parties. She was quite willing to host parties. She was sure she could manage to look regal while doing so. But she was not going to be locked up in the Keep like some precious jewel, or forced to wait for Varian if she wanted to go anywhere.

She had bodyguards. Let them earn their wages.

As for children... well, she'd always wanted to be a mother, always planned on having a few babies of her own. But that was back when she thought she'd be marrying for love. She still wanted them, but she wouldn't bring innocent children into the world unless they were the result of a loving union, and she sure as hell wouldn't be treating them the way the nobles treated theirs, as if they were pawns in some great game.

Besides, Varian had Anduin, he didn't need another heir. He certainly wasn't acting as if he wanted another child. After their honeymoon, his behaviour towards her had changed somewhat. He still treated her well; still liked to touch her, and hold her as they slept, but he no longer kissed her. Braelyn couldn't blame him, not after what had happened, but she found herself missing them.

But how to go about learning the ropes? How was she to change how things were done? These were the questions that needed answering, so Braelyn did what all good hunters do when they are after prey; she waited, and watched.

Braelyn sailed into in the throne room with a smile on her face, trying to ignore all the people dropping to their knee or curtsying. It was something she doubted she'd ever get used to.

"Good morning, Genn," she greeted the Gilnean monarch before turning to her husband. "Hello, Varian," she said softly, reaching out for his hand.

"My lady," Varian replied, kissing her hand. "What can I do for you this morning?" Braelyn could tell he was surprised. She had never come to visit him without him summoning her before.

"I find myself wanting to know more about how Stormwind is run," she said. "I was hoping you wouldn't mind if I spent some time here with you, watching you work."

Braelyn was honestly touched by the look of delight that crossed Varian's face. "I would never refuse the chance to have my queen by my side," he said, with a brief smile. "What say you, Genn?"

"The more the merrier, my son," Genn replied, "especially if they are someone I can talk hunting with."

"Oh, no!" Varian said with fake horror. "I don't want to get involved in another argument about whether guns are superior to bows."

Braelyn laughed. "Varian, you are aware that as my husband, you have to side with me, right?"

Varian's lips twitched. "Of course," he replied. "I'd be too scared to do otherwise."

There wasn't much time for frivolity after that. Varian was a busy a man, far busier than Braelyn had thought, and people streamed into the Keep constantly. At first she was excited to be caught up in all the activity, but then it became tedious as she learned that not all people came to the King with interesting things to discuss.

Braelyn also discovered that Varian's happiness to have her with him diminished when important matters of state needed to be addressed. He refused to allow her into his study when Mathias Shaw or his admirals and generals came by, leaving her to stand vigil in the throne room. She would be lying if she said the lack of trust didn't hurt.

But she put her time in the throne room to good use, dealing with as many of the petitioners as she could. Most of them were happy to speak with her, once they'd gotten over the shock of being addressed by the queen.

It surprised Braelyn that so many people came to the Keep with matters that bordered on the trivial, or that could be dealt with more effectively by someone other than Varian. And she knew that many more must be writing in.

She resolved to speak to Dominic about it, and perhaps sort through some of the mail herself. She was about to call the steward over when Varian and Genn returned, looking terribly worn down, and almost grey with fatigue.

"Varian," she said, placing a hand on his arm, "what is the matter?"

"There's always trouble somewhere," Varian said. He sounded as exhausted as he looked, and it bothered Braelyn, activating her mothering instincts.

"I have to go," she told her husband, suddenly realising she knew just what to do to help Varian, and Genn, in this situation. It's what her father used to do for her mother. "But I'll be back in an hour."

Without giving Varian a chance to respond, she walked out of the throne room, heading for the depths of the Keep.

Sixty minutes later, Braelyn had one of the maids send word to Varian and Genn to have them meet her in Varian's study. Then, trailed by several upset maids and kitchen hands, she entered the study herself, working quickly to set up her surprise before the two kings arrived.

Braelyn shooed the servants away, only minutes before the men arrived. When they walked in they found a queen who was grinning ear-to-ear, a pot of steaming hot tea, and enough baked goods to feed half the city.

"This is what you were up to?" Varian asked as Genn headed straight for the tea. "You were fetching us afternoon tea?"

"I didn't fetch it, Varian, I made it," Braelyn said proudly. The two kings looked at her, surprised.

"You made us all this?" Genn asked. Braelyn nodded. "Jack Devereaux may be a complete arse, but since he caused you to marry Varian, I may have to forgive him," the Gilnean added, then got stuck into the scones.

"We have staff for this sort of thing, Braelyn," Varian said.

"I know," she replied, "but I needed to do this for you. You look so tired, Varian. Let me look after you. Just a little?" Braelyn raised a hand and brushed a strand of his hair off his face.

Varian looked down at her with some emotion she couldn't quite read. "As you wish," he said.

"Then sit down, and let me get you a plate," she said, then let out a startled squeak as Varian pulled her down with him as he took his seat.

"Varian!" she scolded him. "How am I to get you... "

"We have staff for that too," he laughed, and called for one of the maids.

The next day, Braelyn sat down with Dominic in his study and began going through the mountain of mail sitting on his desk. It had taken the judicious use of royal authority to make the steward cooperate, but as long as she got what she wanted, Braelyn didn't care about hurt feelings.

The mail confirmed Braelyn's fears. Varian was being inundated with complaints that he shouldn't have to deal with; shoddy merchants, corrupt guards, late shipments, the list was endless. Worse still, he was also receiving hate mail. A lot of hate mail. Citizens from all over Azeroth blaming him for the loss of livestock, property, and loved ones.

Braelyn couldn't understand how Varian could bear it. Some of the accusations were heartbreaking, and others so vile she was left with nothing but a fierce protectiveness of her husband after reading them.

Then there were the nobles. Braelyn wouldn't have thought that such privileged people could find so much to complain about, but they did. And it made her angry. They had enough power and wealth to solve their own problems, yet they were bothering her husband, an already overburdened man. A man who had real problems to deal with, such as the safety of their kingdom.

"All right, Dominic," she said after a long sigh, "this all stops right now."

"Excuse me, Your Majesty?" the steward asked.

Braelyn pointed to the pile of mail on his desk. "Find me one letter in there that Varian should rightfully have to deal with," she ordered. Dominic looked resigned.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," he said, "but the King is honour bound to read every bit of mail that arrives, just as he is required to meet the petitioners that come to the Keep."

"Then we need to prevent them from reaching the Keep to begin with," Braelyn said stubbornly.

"Are you suggesting we burn the mail? Hire thugs to deter people from entering the Keep?"

"Of course not!" Braelyn scoffed. "But we need to start redirecting the mail to the people who should actually be handling it; the city guard, the dockmaster, the merchants' guild."

"But, Your Maje..."

"Dominic, you do realise that my suggestion will make your job easier as well?" Braelyn said. She could see Dominic was thinking hard about what she said.

"Very well, Your Highness," he said with a nod, "I will make the changes immediately. But what of the nobles?"

"Let me deal with them, Dominic," Braelyn said grimly. "Most of their complaints aren't serious. They're just seeking to get the kings attention. The nobles just want to stick their noses into Varian's life even more than they already do."

If they want attention, I'll give it to them.

Braelyn thought, as most people did, that the house of nobles was run by the highest ranking noblemen in the city. She was wrong. The real powerbroker was a tiny, middle-aged woman by the name of Lady Lucinda Bellweather.

At first, Braelyn thought that Mathias Shaw was messing with her when he gave her the name and address of the noblewoman, but with one glance at the aristocratic matriarch, Braelyn knew she was meeting with a woman who had a steel spine, and more courage than the average hero. She stood ramrod straight, with impeccably groomed red hair and intelligent hazel eyes that pierced the soul. This was not a woman to underestimate, lie to, or disrespect.

If you did, she'd you chew you up, and spit you out... if you were lucky.

This did not frighten Braelyn, rather it was a relief. People like the Lady respected those who were upfront, and to the point. Braelyn wouldn't have to waste time being diplomatic.

"Your Majesty," Lucinda said, "welcome to my home. Please be seated."

"It's an honour to meet you, Lady Lucinda," Braelyn replied with a curtsy before taking the offered seat. "But, please, call me Braelyn when we are in private. I don't like to stand on formality."

"Yes," Lucinda replied, "the curtsies and bows do get rather tiresome after awhile don't they? I must say that I am pleased to finally meet you. The king has been reluctant to share you with us, it seems."

"He is very protective of me," Braelyn said, "and as we are newly married... "

"Say no more, Braelyn," Lucinda said, waving her hand dismissively. "I can well understand why King Varian does not want you to associate with us, not after all the Lord Devereaux has done."

Braelyn stared at the older woman. She must be powerful indeed to know the truth about her and Jack. She wondered if Lucinda knew the whole truth about her.

"Mathias Shaw was right to send me to you," was all Braelyn said. Lucinda raised an elegant eyebrow.

"And why would he do that?"

"Because I have a problem that I need someone of your influence to help solve," Braelyn said, pulling some letters out of her bag. She handed them to Lucinda.

"What are these?" the Lady asked, but Braelyn just gestured at her to read them. "Letters from the nobles?"

"I prefer to call them pathetic cries for attention from over-entitled brats," Braelyn stated bluntly.

Lucinda gazed at her for so long that Braelyn feared she may have pushed too hard. Then the older woman laughed. A genuine laugh. She wiped a tear from her eye and looked to the queen.

"Oh, how I glad I am you married the king and not that awful Jonathon Devereaux," she said. "You are just the queen we need. Diplomat by nature, but knowing when to stick the boot in."

"My husband is bombarded with these letters every day. Every day. While he struggles keeping the kingdom and the Alliance safe, with people's' lives resting on his decisions, the house of nobles expects him to care about their children's coming out balls and wine-tastings." As Braelyn spoke, she didn't bother hiding her anger, or her disgust. "Instead of doing what they can to aid Varian, they actively seek to make his life harder."

"And what is it you expect me to do?" Lucinda asked, gazing at Braelyn with curiosity.

"Shaw said that you're the real power behind the house of nobles. I want you to exercise that power and tell your fellow nobles to pull their fingers out of their arses and start helping their king instead of demanding they help him."

"And in return?" Lucinda asked. "There is always a price."

"The house wants royal attention," Braelyn repeated, "and I'll give it to them. They want a regal presence at their little parties, then I'll be there. But they will leave my Varian alone."

"The king will not like you doing so."

"I know, but I will find a way to handle him."

Lucinda was silent, deep in thought. "I like you, Braelyn. You're a welcome change to the spolied, idiotic ladies I normally have to put up with. I will do my best to do as you ask."

"Thank you," Braelyn said, her voice full of gratitude. "You don't know how much I appreciate your help."

"We aren't all over-entitled brats, Braelyn," Lucinda said sadly. "Some of us care just as deeply about the real issues facing the kingdom as you do. I was there that day," she added Braelyn when tried to interrupt, "the day Queen Tiffin died. That poor girl, killed in the street like common street trash. I'll never forget the sound the king made when she died in his arms...

"I have never forgotten the role the house of nobles played in her death. If we hadn't treated the stonemasons so appallingly, the riot would not have occurred, and Tiffin would have lived to see her beloved son grow into the fine young man he is today.

"It's why I chose to take control of the house. If I can control them enough to prevent something like that happening again..."

"You will have done Varian a great service," Braelyn finished.

Lucinda nodded. "Before you go, Braelyn, may I ask you for a personal favour?"

"Certainly," Braelyn said.

"I believe your mother is a mage, correct?"

"Yes."

"My daughter, Audrina, wishes to study magic," Lucinda explained. "She is an intelligent girl, just turned fifteen, and I believe she would be a great student. Unfortunately, such academic pursuits are frowned upon in girls of her status."

"You wish my mother to teach her?"

"Yes. I was hoping that I might send her to your mother under the guise of Rina needing to recover from an illness. Nobody would dare question the mother of the queen, especially when she is also an Alliance hero in her own right."

"My mother will be in town on Friday. I will be happy to introduce you," Braelyn replied with a frown. "Is it wise, though, to encourage your daughter if she's not going to be able to become a mage when she completes her training?"

"Oh, no need to worry about that," Lucinda laughed. "When she turns eighteen, Rina is set to inherit an obscene amount of money from her paternal grandmother. I've told her that when that happens, she is to run to Dalaran, and not look back. I don't care about what the other nobles think. My daughter's happiness is all that matters."

"What about her father? Won't he try to stop her?"

"Malcolm died five years ago," Lucinda replied. "Don't be sorry," she added, "the man was a complete boor."

"Well, all right then," Braelyn said, very glad she met this particular noble. "Please join me at the Keep for dinner on Friday, and bring Audrina with you."

"It will be my pleasure."

As she walked back to the Keep, Braelyn couldn't help but grin. She'd made a new friend. And a pretty badass friend at that.

Braelyn returned to the Keep to find it in chaos. Varian had been called away on urgent business, which meant that she was in charge. Genn was doing his best in her absence, but it was clear he needed help.

Good gods, Braelyn thought. The city is in my hands.

Dominic began to bombard her with problems as soon as she walked in but she ignored him. Braelyn had noticed a young boy, no more than eight year's old, sitting on one of the benches. He was dirty, and looked terrified, clutching a small lion to his chest.

"Hello, little one," Braelyn said, kneeling in front of the child, her forest green skirt pooling around her knees. "What brings you here?"

"Your Highness!" the boy squeaked, nerves making his eyes bulge. "Please, you have to help me!"

"What's the matter, Sweetheart?"

"It's Darkshire, Majesty; it's under attack!"

"What?" Braelyn asked. "Who would dare?"

"The forsaken! They brought some of them plague wagons into town. The watch and Mr Caravin's lot managed to get rid of 'em, but then the feral worgen... they came, and killed a whole bunch of people, and Pa said he didn't think they could deal with 'em too. He put me on a gryphon and I got as far as Elwynn before the bird gave out from 'er wounds. I ran the rest o' the way."

The boy started sobbing, and Braelyn hugged him to her chest. "Dominic! Get General Baldwin in here, immediately!" she ordered. "Son, what is your name?"

"Sam, Your Majesty," the boy sniffled, burying into her arms.

"Did you really run here from Elwynn on your own?"

"Uhuh."

"You were very brave, and I'm sure your father is very proud of you," Braelyn crooned softly. "I promise, I'm going to get help for Darkshire, but first I need to take care of you." She turned to find one of her bodyguards.

"Guardsman! Take Sam to the Cathedral of Light. Ask for my cousin, the priestess Odariah. Tell her I want her to take care of Sam, then order all available priests to meet me in the Trade District in forty-five minutes."

"Yes, Your Highness!"

After Sam and the guard left, Braelyn headed to Old Town, looking for a particular rogue. She spotted him by the target dummies. "Hello, Learen," she said, but the gnome ignored her, intent on disemboweling his enemy.

"I said, 'hello, Learen'," she repeated, picking the recalcitrant rogue up by his hair when he still refused to acknowledge her. "Do you know what day it is today?"

"Stab the blood elf day, but I'm stuck here on guard duty," he snapped, waving his fist at her. "Your majesty," he added as a bitter afterthought.

"Nope," Braelyn replied, "it's 'go to Darkshire and stab the feral worgen and perhaps a few forsaken' day. Meet me outside the Auction House in forty minutes, with as many SI: 7 buddies as you can grab. Queen's orders."

"If you insist," Learen replied, heading into headquarters.

After Old Town, Braelyn headed for the Mage's Tower and then the Blue Recluse. She didn't know anyone there, but it didn't matter. A few minutes later, and a group of mages and warlocks were headed for the Trade District.

I guess being Queen has its benefits! she thought as she headed back to the Keep to see the General.

What's the good of being Queen if no one respects my authority! Braelyn snarled to herself as she marched down to the Trade District. General Baldwin had refused to authorise any armed deployment to Darkshire without Varian's approval. It didn't matter that she was the bloody Queen. All that mattered was that she wasn't the king.

Now Braelyn was left to try and figure out a way to get some soldiers into Darkshire before the town fell. Rogues, healers, and ranged damage were great, but they needed mêlée fighters, and tanks to protect them.

Her confidence fell as she rounded the corner and saw the group gathered in front of the Auction House. It was larger than she was expecting, but still... so small, and without some plate wearers, they would be cannon fodder.

Braelyn thought of Lucinda Bellweather. Perhaps her new friend could help... maybe convince the house of nobles to spare some of their private guards or hire some mercenaries.

No. The nobles would milk it for all it was worth, making themselves out to be the saviours of Darkshire. They'd be unbearable in their smugness, and it would only cause more problems for Varian.

She saw Andorien and beckoned him over. "Andorien! I don't know what to do! They won't give me any soldiers without Varian's approval, and I can't send you out without them!" She felt like crying. She was the queen, and she couldn't help her people.

Andorien placed a hand on her shoulder. "Stay calm," he advised. "You will think of something."

Braelyn raised her head, feeling calmer for her friend's presence. Her gaze drifted around the square, settling on a couple of paladins standing by the message board. She stared at them for a second, and then a smile appeared on her face as she realised what she needed to do.

She grabbed Andorien's arm, dragging him over to the fountain. She hopped up on the fountain's edge, holding on to the druid for support. "Brave heroes of the Alliance!" she shouted, but her voice did not carry very far above the noise of the crowd.

Realising what the queen was up to, Andorien coughed and opened his mouth. "All hail the Queen!" he bellowed, and the crowd fell silent. Their eyes drifted towards Braelyn, and with muffled curses, the humans fell to their knees, while members of other races stood respectfully.

"Brave heroes of the Alliance," Braelyn repeated, staring into the crowd, "the town of Darkshire, in Duskwood is currently under attack by the feral worgen and the forsaken." Her confidence grew as she heard people mumbling angrily among the crowd.

"Their resources are stretched thin, and they call on the king, my husband, for aid," she said. "But the Alliance has no resources to spare, not in time to save our brothers and sisters. I call on you now, I beg of you now; lend me your arms, your swords, and your shields! Go to Darkshire, and show them that the people of Stormwind, of the Exodar, Darnassus, Ironforge, and Gnomeregan stand with them! Prove to them that the Alliance stands together, that we protect our own."

Braelyn paused, pleased to see that the crowd were responding to her positively. People were cheering her, waving their weapons above their heads. But would they help her?

"Brave heroes; I ask you this; will you help me? Will you aid your queen?"

The answer was a resounding, "YES!" So loud was the response, and such was the enthusiasm that Braelyn had trouble organising the attack. Finally, though, a plan was made, and the impromptu army departed through portals, tanks in the lead.

But she wasn't finished.

"Guardsman! Head to Goldshire; tell all the duelists there that if they want a fight, then Darkshire is the place to be."

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

She smiled tiredly, proud of what she'd accomplished, and, for the first time since her wedding, happy to be Queen Braelyn.

AN - this chapter is a monster! But I am really happy with it, and even got it out on time. Learen, god bless his hateful little gnomish socks, belongs to Amcm74. Go show her some love. And what do we think of Queen Braelyn? I'm proud of Lucinda. I wanted to show that not all nobles are complete douches, as well as upset the normal power/gender roles.

Next Chapter: Varian returns home and discovers what his little star has been up to in his absence. And, hold on to your hats, because the first marital spat is on its way.