"And after I walked away from Sylvanas, securing our safety and freedom, your mother and father were married. We then moved to this secluded place away from the worlds ills of war and death to live in peace with you, little Treyal." Wren finished her tale, whispering softly to the contentedly sleeping baby boy in her arms.
Six months after being freed, Wren and Thalos had been blessed with a child. They named the boy Treyal, in loose Thallarisian meaning 'heart of fire'. The babe was comfortably wrapped in a blue blanket, off away in his own dreams. His ears were already beginning to grow more like his fathers, slender and long but his face had more of Wren's human heritage. His eyes were a deep deep turquoise, glowing just like Thalos' but oddly human as well. His hair, although in thin little strands, was golden just as hers.
The former assassin sat in a wicker rocking chair that creaked to a slow tempo as she rocked her son. A warm fire crackled merrily in the hearth defending the small home from the biting winter wind that whistled in the air. All was quiet and peaceful in the small home nestled at the base of the Hinterland cliffs. Rarely did adventurers come to the Hinterlands, and certainly none came so far west at the cliffs base to find their home. The farthest people ever went down the base of the cliff was to the small troll run village of Revantusk.
"Thank the Light he always falls asleep when you tell him that story." Thalos whispered coming up behind Wren. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders planting a tender kiss on her cheek. "I love our son, but one more hour of crying and I would have burst into tears as well."
Wren had to laugh at the all too true statement before meeting Thalos in another kiss. The baby began to stir at the movement, mewling a bit with his tiny legs and fists stretching out. Wren drifted off from kissing her husband in fear the tiny bundle would awake. She gave him an apologetic smile, and Thalos simply nodded in silent understanding. Thalos withdrew quietly, tip toeing to a peg on the wall to retrieve his cloak and mace.
"I am off to Revantusk." He affirmed while throwing on his cloak before strapping the two handed weapon into place across his back. The heaviness of the mace felt good across his back reassuring in its own way. In its own uniqueness the mace was a comfort knowing that while he wielded it he could always protect his son and mate. "I'll be back in a few days with our winter supplies."
"Be safe," Wren whispered losing her smile. She was well aware that Thalos could take care of himself, but to long had she been an assassin who'd relied so much on her survival instincts. She could not help but see more than the natural dangers that could present themselves to her beloved mate.
Thalos halted at the door, his hand just about to turn the handle. He knew he should reply in kind, but knew without a shadow of a doubt any one coming to harm her or their son would find themselves the ones who needed to find safety. Despite Wren's new role as mother, Thalos knew she was still just as deadly, ruthless, and cunning with stealth and daggers as she had been only a short two year ago. In fact, a month after their son was born he had caught her practicing her rogue maneuvers behind the house on hastily made dummies of wood and straw. Instead, he turned to Wren flashing a warm smile of assurance. Turning up the hood of his cloak, he left out into the chilly winds of the Hinterlands.
As the door closed a draft blew in wiping the crackling flames into all directions and making Wren shiver. Wrapping the blanket tighter around Treyal, she rose slowly, praising her silent skills from all those years as an assassin. The babe didn't even know he was being moved until he was placed into his crib. The child gurgled quietly once, and Wren held her breath praying he would not awake. When he settled once more it was all the former assassin could do not to heave a huge sigh of relief. She stood there for a moment staring at the peacefully sleeping half elf. A year ago, if some one had told her she would be living a quiet life in the Hinterlands with an elven husband and her child, she would have called them crazy. But it wasn't crazy; it was wonderful, like her husband and son.
Wren smiled as she stroked a finger across her son's cheek. He was so young and precious, oblivious to the dangerous world outside his home unlike her who learned early and viciously how cruel life was. The former assassin sighed at the thought her lips turning downward. One day, like she, he would learn the truth, but she was determined to stave off that day as long as possible.
Backing away from the crib quietly, Wren grabbed her cloak that had hung on a peg beside Thalos' and wrapped it around herself. With one last check that all was in order and that her son was truly asleep and safely tucked away in bed, Wren opened the door and slid outside.
The full moon shone nearly as bright as dawn, casting all in a lustrous pale glow. What few tress that were around their home swayed with the never ending chill bite of the wind. Huge, yet docile turtles, huddled together for warmth in large clusters, their heads tucked into their shells so that they looked akin to huge silver mounds of earth on the sands. Moon lit water lapped against the sand, its constant soothing crash onto land like a lullaby. Wren leaned against the door; arms crossed watching the waves break upon the shore. A hand brushed a way ward strand of hair from across her face. This here was perfect, and yet…
Her dagger was out in an instant, she turned on the figure that had stealthily walked up grabbing them by the shoulder and pinning them fast to the door which she had just been leaning on. Her face was contorted in rage and fury as she pushed her dagger closer on the intruder's throat.
"I thought I made it clear that last time we saw one another that if you came after me I would fulfill my revenge upon you, Sylvanas." Wren snarled.
The Dark Lady seemed relaxed and calm though her eyes never left the blade. She smirked. "Your prowess and instincts are still top notch I see. Put the dagger away, Wren, I didn't come after you, I came to talk."
The blade pressed further to Sylvanas throat as Wren looked into the Banshee Queens eyes. She saw there was no lie to be had, and slowly withdrew the blade.
"What do you want?" Wren asked, lowering the dagger but not sheathing it.
Sylvanas rubbed her neck, grimacing. "Can we talk inside instead of out in the elements?"
"No." Came the cold immediate response. "I don't want you defiling my home or being in the same room with my son. If you have anything to say speak your piece and be gone, Sylvanas. I won't tolerate your presence for long."
"I came to congratulate you on the new edition to your family." Sylvanas lips upturned into a half smile.
Wren's eyes narrowed dangerously, her jaw became set. "If you so much as think about laying a hand on my son…" The threat hung thickly in the dry air.
"Why so hostile, Wren?" Sylvanas leaning against the door. "I do know what you're capable of and wouldn't dream of laying a hand on your child."
Wren let out a disbelieving, humorless laugh. "Why so hostile?" She echoed, before pointing a finger at Sylvanas. "Maybe it's because the monster who owned me for ten years is standing at the threshold of my home!"
Wren felt all the anger come back. The memories from her years in servitude appeared crystal clear in her mind. Long hours of merciless training, mistreatment, and humiliation all at Sylvanas' cruel hands resurged with furious clarity. The former assassin was beginning to wonder why she hadn't maimed the Dark Lady when she had had the chance, two years ago.
"I'm sorry." Came the sudden, quiet nearly undetectable reply from the Banshee Queen.
"And another thing." Wren began about to completely let her wrath fly into the windy night at her former mistress. She stopped as if hit by lightening, the two words finally registering. Never had she heard Sylvanas ever say those two words in the same sentence. The wrath was momentarily converted into shock and confusion. Wren brows furrowed, she blinked a few times as if not believing what she'd just heard. "You're what?"
Sylvanas shrugged, staring off into the distance at the glassy sea that reflected the moon's luminance. "I know an apology doesn't even come close to making amends for what I did to you. But I just needed to say it anyway. I am sorry for enslaving and mistreating you."
Wren cocked her head slightly to the side. Her dagger dropped from a defensive position. "You came alone in the dead of night to tell me this? Why?"
"Well for starters I finally managed to track you down." Sylvanas chuckled once then sobered to explain. "I never forgot that day, Wren. With the brand coming down upon my face to sear into my flesh, I can still feel the terror grip me when I think of it. I will also never forget the immense surprise I felt when I realized you had spared me a fate I rightly deserved. I expected torture, death, imprisonment, but never mercy. Yet still that is not what affected me so. The words you spoke, I had become the master which I hated." Her words drifted off into silent contemplation before she sighed and continued. "You were right. In more ways than one I had become the master which I hated. I had become the Lich King. I do not want that, Wren I will move heaven and Azeroth to work my way up from that vile pit. So yes, I truly do come here to beg your forgiveness."
Did she really think it that simple? Wren thought still staring at the Banshee Queen in disbelief. After all she had put her through, had Sylvanas really risked life and limb to apologize to a person she knew might actually maim her? In the Undercity, Wren had known Sylvanas better than anyone, she could read her like a book. Looking at her now, Wren detected the surprising sincerity and shame Sylvanas felt.
"I still hate you, Sylvanas. Nothing you could do will ever change that fact. Come here again and I will not be tolerant of your presence. But…" It was Wren's turn to drift into silence. She pondered it over for long minutes before taking in a deep breath. "Apology accepted."
That appeared to be all Sylvanas wanted to hear. She said no more but offered Wren a respectful bow before disappearing into the night. Ever vigilant Wren made sure Sylvanas truly left. It was only after the eerie glow the undead horse hooves produced was no longer visible in the blackness did Wren zip inside her home like hell was on her heels. She practically leapt to Treyal's crib to find the babe still sleeping contentedly totally oblivious to the nights unwanted visitor. Had Sylvanas taken the child, the living dead and all its powers would not have been able to stop Wren's wrath. Heaving a quiet sigh of relief, she made sure all was in order in the home, only to notice a lock box resting on the kitchen table. It was a plain black wooden box, completely unadorned save for the intricate lock that hung upon it. Sylvanas had left it, there was no denying that. That fact made Wren uncomfortable; she did not like knowing the Banshee Queen had found away into their home with out her knowledge even if she hadn't touched her son.
Instead of picking it up, Wren circled the box carefully, her eyes peering for any kind of trick or trap. When she finally decided the all clear, she hastily scooped it up. It had been a long while since she had put her pick locking skills to the test and she was eager to try her hand. Placing it by the wicker rocking chair she rushed to grab her burglar's kit. The burglar's kit was a small leather parcel looking bag. It held 'quiet oil' for rusty hinges and a litany of small picks for all sorts of locks. Placing the kit beside the chair as well, Wren picked her tools carefully and went to work at once. In a heartbeat she would tell anyone, and truthfully, she wouldn't give up her life here for anything. But, sometimes she did find herself missing parts of her old life. The action, the heart pounding thrill of the kill after a successful assassination and the cunning mind games one had to play in order to achieve the end one desired.
It took Wren a good hour, and many a try to finally hear that well known, joyous click as the lock became undone. Slowly, she opened the box, more to caution than drawing out the excitement. What she found took her breath away. Twin daggers rested on a thick bedding of blue silk. The blades had to be dragon fangs for Wren could see no mark of steel or any other sort of ore and they were certainly much to big to be bone. One side was razor thin while the other edge was serrated, perfect for slashing or stabbing. The hilts were made of Pyrite wrapped with thick strips of black leather for added grip. Unbreakable golden filigree connected fang to hilt in the most beautiful of patterns. Gorgeous and efficient, a rogues dream weapons.
Taking them out the box with care, the former assassin did a few stabbing maneuvers and found them the perfect balance. With a smile she briefly imagined herself taking on a foe with these in her grip. A few critical stabs to a major artery and bam!
Just as she was imagining the last finishing move, Treyal let out a whimper of fear. Her mind came back to the humble home, and her child probably having a bad dream. She looked to her hands with a grimace. This was her old life. The assassin, the slave, filled with hate and anger was no more. Wren smiled sadly, giving a faint sigh placing the daggers back in their box and sliding them away. Stealthily she made her way to the crib once more. Treyal had begun to whimper a bit, tears brooking in his closed eyes.
"It's alright, Trey, you are safe." Wren whispered to her son soothing while picking him up.
She stroked the babes head while singing quietly to ease his fears. Even though he couldn't understand her words, her tone was gentle as the waves lapping upon the shore. Taking a seat in the rocking chair once more, she realized she couldn't care less about the magnificent daggers as she rocked her son.
~8~8~
"Wren?" The assassin heard Thalos' voice faintly although laced with concern.
Wren's brows furrowed, she squinted her eyes open to find her mate looking down at he in alarm. Treyal was gurgling and moving about, wanting to be held by his father but still in Wren's sturdy grip it was all in vain. The fire from last night had died to smolders with a few lazy lines of smoke drifting into the chimney. She realized she was still in the rocking chair, and had slept there all night.
"Are you alright?" Thalos asked while scooping his son up from Wren's arms.
The baby boy smiled and blew spit bubbles while vainly attempting to reach his fathers long eyebrows with his tubby hands.
"Yea, I'm fine." Wren yawned rubbing a hand over her face. Last night seemed like a dream but just by looking at the box near the fireplace she knew it hadn't been. She grimaced at the thought. "Sylvanas paid me a little visit though."
Immediately Thalos went from father to paladin. His eyes looked around for trouble, a hand going to the mace strapped across his back.
"No worries, she didn't do anything." Wren soothed her husbands fear with a weak smile.
His eyes, still roving for trouble found the box. He looked to Wren one of his slender eyebrows raised.
"Daggers." Wren explained after reading his silent question. "I think they were a gift in congratulations to the birth of our son." The former assassin paused for a moment before continuing. "I was thinking about it last night, and I want to give them to Treyal when he is of age to learn how to fight."
Both parents had known since birth Treyal would not take much after his father. He might learn a few paladin spells but he hadn't much knack for magic. There was a very great chance he would take after Wren's skills which had already been proven after he had found a way to get out of his crib once without harm.
"You would take a gift from that witch?" Thalos asked incredulous.
"Yes." Wren replied after a long moments of consideration. "In its own way, it's a part of forgiving her."
"Forgiving…" Thalos echoed flabbergasted. Just what had gone on while he was away?
Wren flashed him one of her famous 'don't ask' looks and Thalos halted. He had to remember, Wren knew what she was doing and that her reasons were her own. Giving her an understanding smile, Thalos nodded before turning his attention back to their son. Now the complete center of his fathers attention little Treyal did some serious exploration of his fathers face. Tiny saliva coated fists smacked into Thalos cheeks before a chubby hand gripped his father slender nose. Wren couldn't help but laugh and smile fondly at the pair. Rising she wrapped an arm around Thalos' neck before kissing him tenderly on the cheek.
"I wouldn't give this up for the world itself." Wren revealed in a whisper.
Kissing his mate back, Thalos nodded in agreement as they took a few silent moments alone. Standing in the middle of their living room, mother, father, and son. Wren realized it was truly a wonderful life, not of survival, but of love.
A-N: I am no good at endings, it took me forever to work this out. Thanks to all the people who read and reviewed!