Well! Somehow we've managed to come to the third last chapter in this particular tale. I do, however, have a sequel in the works if anyone would be interested in reading it – just let me know! In the meantime, however, I hope you enjoy the concluding chapters of Lion's Vengeance as much as I've enjoyed writing them.
Varian
Three days after his argument with Auriana, Varian found himself taking lunch with Anduin. He'd been ill-tempered and sullen since she'd left, and it appeared Anduin had finally had enough of his father's moodiness. In an attempt to cheer his father up, Anduin had insisted that they take an early lunch. The golden-haired prince was canny enough not to ask what was wrong, instead trying to distract his father with lively conversation and terrible jokes. It had worked, to a degree, but Varian found his thoughts tended to stray to Auriana if unoccupied for any length of time. He'd gone to write her countless times, but his stubborn pride and uncertainty inevitably got in the way. At night, she dominated his dreams, and he'd woken up in a hot sweat more than once... not that he intended to mention any of this to Anduin.
Instead, they had discussed a variety of other topics, including Anduin's rapidly progressing studies in the priesthood. Varian had just finished the last bite of his lunch when there came a knock at his chamber door.
"Come in," he called, exchanging a curious look with Anduin.
A slight brunette messenger entered the room, her uniform neatly pressed.
"Sorry to interrupt, my Lords. I have an urgent message from Lieutenant Thorn," the courier said, handing him a formal military missive.
Thorn? Varian wondered.
He knew Auriana was likely still angry at him, but he hadn't thought she'd resort to sending messages through her second in command. He broke the seal in frustration, only to have a chill run down his spine as he read the note:
Your Majesty -
Commander Fenwild led an assault force against Grommashar this morning.
I thought you ought to know.
"Damn," he breathed.
Anduin looked up from his meal in concern, his blue eyes wide.
"Father?" he asked curiously. "Is everything alright?"
"It's fine," Varian said firmly, turning back to the messenger. "Thank you for delivering this, you can go now."
The courier saluted him smartly and made a quick exit. Varian scratched his chin thoughtfully, staring down at Lieutenant Thorn's missive. Anduin was still looking at him intently, and Varian realised he wasn't going to get much past his alarmingly perceptive son.
"Lunarfall launched an assault on Grommashar this morning," Varian explained apprehensively.
"Your commander friend is hunting Garrosh," Anduin deduced. "Is that wise? I thought you were unable to send more troops to Draenor?"
"I wasn't… it doesn't seem to have stopped her, however," Varian observed wryly.
Stubborn, stubborn woman, he thought silently.
"Would there be time to stop the attack?"
"No. The note wasn't very specific about times, but I would imagine they're fighting as we speak."
Varian ran a hand through his hair pensively.
"Besides which…" he continued. "I don't really have any grounds to interfere. For the most part, Lunarfall is an autonomous command. Auri… the Commander hasn't violated any standing orders, and she is well within the bounds of her authority to order an assault on Grommashar. It's just… reckless."
"I never thought I'd see the day that you, of all people, counselled caution, " Anduin quipped lightly, raising an eyebrow.
He hastily stifled a smile as Varian glowered.
"Sorry. You'll forgive me my teasing, Father. Can she win?" he asked, changing the topic.
"I don't know," Varian said. "That's what worries me."
He'd seen the numbers, and they weren't in favour of the Alliance, but he also knew Auriana was both a clever strategist and a fearsome front-line soldier. If anyone had a chance of bringing Garrosh Hellscream to justice, it was her.
"I hope so," he added quietly, as if saying the words might make all the difference.
By late afternoon, there had still been no news from Draenor. Varian now sat broodingly upon his throne, tapping his foot in agitation. Genn Greymane sat at his side, shooting not-so-covert looks Varian's way while he pretended to work on trade report. Anduin was reading quietly to Varian's right. Neither of them had said a word, but he knew they'd chosen to flank him in support, and he appreciated it.
His argument with Auriana seemed so silly now. All that mattered was that she came back alive. She was strong, and smart, but she was up against the might of the formidable Warsong clan. All it would take was one stray spell or a carefully placed arrow, and he'd never see her again. He silently cursed his inability to have pursued her after their kiss, and he resolved to rectify the situation when - if - she returned safely home.
It was late afternoon when Varian finally heard news of the siege. There was a sudden commotion at the entrance to the throne room, as the guards pulled up a messenger wearing Lunarfall livery. Varian sat bolt upright, and motioned for the guards to let him pass.
"Your Majesty!" the messenger called out as he approached. "Forgive the intrusion, but I come from Draenor bearing word of the assault on Grommashar."
"Go on," Varian said quickly.
"Grommashar was assaulted earlier this morning. The attack was successful, but we suffered heavy casualties, and we do not have enough healers to treat our wounded in Lunarfall and Stormshield. Vindicator Yrel respectfully requests that Stormwind be made available as a haven for the most severely injured."
Yrel? Varian wondered.
If the draenei vindicator was giving orders, then that meant they hadn't come from Auriana. And that meant… Varian felt his heart stop, but he forced himself to remain calm. He had to be a king first, and a man second.
"Whatever is needed, Stormwind will provide," he said firmly, rising to his feet. "Are the wounded ready for transportation?"
"We have mages in Stormshield ready to open a portal to the city on your word. Is there are a particular place they should send the wounded, Your Majesty?"
"They'll best be located in the courtyard of Stormwind Cathedral. Can your mages send them there directly?"
"I'm certain they can, Your Majesty," the messenger said, bowing hurriedly. "With your permission, my Lord, I'd best get back to Stormshield and relay the information."
"Yes, of course. Thank you for bearing this message," Varian said sincerely.
The young messenger bowed gratefully, but wasted no further time. He practically sprinted back to the portal room from whence he'd come. Varian motioned to his guards.
"Send word to the Cathedral, and have all available healers report there as well. Tell them to prepare to receive wounded immediately. I'll be there myself momentarily," he said.
The guards sprang into action without pause, moving swiftly to comply with the orders of their king. Genn Greymane had risen to his feet, as had Anduin.
"I'll send my personal healers to help, Varian," Greymane said, his bushy grey brows furrowed in concern.
"Thank you, Genn," Varian said quietly.
Greymane nodded, and walked away swiftly to make his own preparations.
"Father…" Anduin started.
Varian turned to his son. The young prince fairly radiated nervous energy, but his bright blue eyes were steady.
"Do you think it's bad?" Anduin asked worriedly.
"I suppose we'll find out. I hope not, but we should prepare for the worst."
Anduin stood up straighter, determination written in his posture.
"I want to help," he said.
Varian considered the request carefully. He had no idea what he'd be exposing Anduin to if he let the boy come. He still wanted to protect Anduin from the worst of what the world could offer, but he had to think of his people, too, and there was no denying his son's skill. Not even a couple of years ago, Varian would have ordered Anduin away, and they would have found themselves in a bitter argument. Although Varian still feared for his son's well being, he could not continue to deny the man Anduin was becoming, nor what he had to offer the Alliance.
"Very well," he said finally. "Come with me."
Anduin opened his mouth, and then shut it abruptly when he realised his father was not arguing with him. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't protest his own good fortune as he followed Varian out of the keep.
They arrived at the Stormwind Cathedral to find it in uproar. Over a hundred people had been crammed into the courtyard, and most of them were severely wounded. There were a large number of healers already hard at work, and the courtyard was quite literally aglow with the light of various healing magics.
A great cry went up from the conscious soldiers as Varian and Anduin entered.
"King Varian!"
"Stormwind!"
"Prince Anduin!"
"For the Alliance!"
Their shouts heartened Varian greatly as he took stock of the situation. From what he could see, there were many wounded, but fortunately it appeared there had been few deaths. He turned to comment to Anduin, but his son had vanished from his side. Varian looked about with some alarm, but soon spotted a bright flash of golden hair that could only be his son. Anduin was already hard at work on a dwarf warrior, his hands surrounded by the soft golden radiance of the Light.
Varian largely tried to stay out of the way, instead offering soldiers his thanks and comfort where he could. His real purpose, however, was to seek Auriana amongst the wounded. He prayed he wouldn't find her here, among the worst of it, but he knew that if there had been a battle, she would have been right in the middle. A second later, he realised it might be better if she were here, for at least it meant she wasn't dead.
His heart stopped in his chest when he finally saw her, covered in dark, sticky blood. It was practically everywhere, all over her arms and chest, and down the left side of her face. She was still walking, somehow, leading a stocky chestnut horse through the crowd. He saw she had draped a young human soldier across the animal's back, and was leading the horse carefully towards a group of healers.
Their eyes met across the courtyard. Varian found himself speechless, his breath catching in his throat. It took everything he had not to run to her and pull her close, but he knew he couldn't. More than anything, he wanted to know how badly she was injured.
The question must have been written on his face, for she shook her head hard, and gave a significant glance at the unconscious soldier on the horse. It was then that Varian noticed that the young soldier was missing a limb. It had been severed clean at the shoulder, and someone had hastily bandaged the ruined mess that had once been the soldier's sword arm. Varian breathed a sigh of relief as he realised that most of the blood staining Auriana's robes must have belonged to the soldier. The sick, terrified feeling in his stomach lessened somewhat at the realisation. While Varian hurt for the injured soldier, he was guiltily relieved that it had not been Auriana who had suffered such a fate.
Varian forced himself to walk calmly, though he put himself on an intercept course with Auriana. Although she was still walking, he could see her leaning slightly against the horse as she led the beast and its injured burden towards a hard-working human priest. The blonde woman's eyes widened as she saw the extent of the damage to the young soldier, and she immediately moved to take him from the back of the horse. Auriana touched a gentle hand to the soldier's cheek, and whispered something to the healer.
The moment she backed away, Varian pulled her to his side, gripping her wrist tightly. He was gratified to feel her racing pulse beneath his fingers. It was far too fast, but at least it was there, at least he could feel the blood flowing through her veins, and at least she was safe with him.
"What happened?" he asked her quietly.
He kept his voice low, not wishing to agitate the wounded men and women, nor the healers who worked so diligently upon them.
"We captured Grommashar," she said shortly.
As she spoke, she raised a hand to wipe her eyes. Varian noted that the blood on her face must have been her own, stemming from a nasty cut above her left eye. He couldn't see any further injury, but it was hard to tell amongst all the dried blood. Her eyes were also red, as if she'd been crying. Every protective bone in his body ached, wanting to pull her into a close embrace.
"Garrosh?" Varian asked instead, knowing what it would have meant to her to have failed to secure the warchief's head.
"Dead," she whispered.
Varian had never heard a single word spoken with more feeling. In her voice and in her eyes, he found pain and triumph, fear and savage exaltation, and some dark, frightening emotion that he couldn't place. Varian himself felt an unexpected surge of triumph at Hellscream's demise.
"He died by Thrall's hand," she continued flatly.
"Thrall?" Varian exclaimed, genuinely surprised.
Despite the power he knew the former warchief possessed, he had never quite believed Thrall would have the stomach to end Garrosh himself. While Garrosh was Thrall's own monster in many ways, the two orcs had formerly been friends. Varian found himself reluctantly impressed by the shaman's actions, though they had come far too late.
"It was… it was… brutal," Auriana said. "Even with all that Garrosh was… I'm not sure anyone deserved to die like that."
She looked about at the chaos all around them, and he was surprised to see hot tears welling in her eyes. She gestured to the wounded Alliance soldiers.
"This is just the worst of it. There are many more who suffered injuries, though not as severe. They were evacuated to Lunarfall and Stormshield. Only a few dead, fortunately. We were lucky," she said dully.
Her pulse fluttered haphazardly beneath his fingers as she spoke, and Varian noticed her words had started to slur.
"Grommashar was hard won, but we were victorious," she said vaguely, more to herself than Varian.
Her eyes were intense, but her voice wavered as the enormity of the situation finally overcame her. Her right leg buckled, and Varian lunged forward to catch her before she hit the ground. She collapsed in his arms, her head lolling uselessly against his chest.
"Anduin!"
Varian cried out for his son, hoping to catch the young priest's attention. If Auriana needed medical aid, he'd make damn sure she was attended by the best. Hearing the urgency in his father's voice, Anduin rushed over. The young prince's face was strained, but Varian knew Anduin was exactly where he wanted to be.
Anduin's quick fingers gently examined the mage slumped in his father's arms.
"Gut wound," he diagnosed. "Did she say anything?"
"Not a word," Varian said. "We were discussing the assault. I thought… I thought the blood belonged to the soldier she dragged here. She looked fine, I didn't think to ask..."
"Get her inside, we're keeping the worst in there," Anduin commanded. "I won't lie, Father, it's bad."
The crown prince suddenly looked much older, and his words held a power that Varian hoped he would carry to the throne when he one day became King. Varian complied with his son's orders immediately, striding for the Cathedral with Auriana in his arms. She was light as a feather, and Varian moved her with little effort.
Once inside, Varian laid Auriana carefully on a hastily prepared stretcher. Anduin threw himself into his task immediately, ripping apart her robes so that he had space to work. The wound was surprisingly deep and ragged, and Varian grimaced as he glimpsed the raw, exposed muscle of her abdomen.
"Can I do anything? I should… will she be alright?" Varian asked, hovering awkwardly above his son.
"Father, with respect… be quiet," Anduin said firmly, his brows knit in intense concentration. "If I can't focus, she is going to die."
Varian stepped back immediately.
"Foolish mage. What, did she just wander around, bleeding out for an hour?" Anduin muttered to himself as he prayed to the Light. "She's lost so much blood, far more than she should have..."
"She must've been running on pure adrenaline," Varian commented, but Anduin didn't seem to have heard.
Varian paced back and forth as his son worked. Anduin murmured quiet prayers to the Light, casting spell after spell as he tried to stabilise the young commander. Varian frowned in concern as Anduin began to breathe heavily.
"Anduin," he said gently, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "Are you alright?"
"I'm sorry, I'm losing her. I just… I just need to try harder," Anduin said, his voice strained. "Please, just let me work."
Varian withdrew his hand, and instead sat down on Auriana's other side. He might not be able to help his son, or his commander, but he wouldn't leave them alone. He felt utterly helpless, a strange feeling for such a capable and accomplished man. Idly, he reached out and grasped Auriana's hand. Her skin was ice cold and clammy, and her pale skin was now bone white. Varian added his own silent prayer to the Light as his son worked. He might not be a priest, nor a religious man, but he figured that every little bit helped.
The sky outside had darkened to a rich purple twilight by the time Anduin sat back and let the Light fade from his hands.
"She'll live," the prince said wearily. "Though I'll need to keep an eye on her for the next few days."
He looked up, as if only noticing just now that his father was there. Anduin looked pointedly from Varian's face to his iron grip on Auriana's hand, but made no further comment.
"I can have guest quarters prepared for her in the Keep. You can look in on her tomorrow, but right now you need to rest," Varian said, releasing Auriana's hand and placing it carefully by her side.
"I can help more people," Anduin protested lamely.
"Anduin, you're exhausted. You saved her life, and now you need to see to your own needs," Varian said firmly.
He expected further protest, but to his surprise Anduin nodded and placed his head in his hands. Varian motioned for a guard to convey Auriana's stretcher back to the Keep, and watched on as she was carefully lifted. For a second, Varian was torn. He wanted to escort Auriana's unconscious body back to the keep himself, but he also had a responsibility to his stubborn, weary child. He decided to sit down next to Anduin, placing a steadying hand on his son's back.
"You did well today," he said proudly, his voice cracking with emotion. "Thank you for saving her."
Anduin looked up at him with a tired, grateful smile.
"The Light makes all things possible," he said sagely, his face serene as he gently rested his head against Varian's strong shoulder.