Chapter 13: Seven Stages

Addy was numb.

She sat on the porch of the cheese shop until the owner chased her away with a broom the next morning. Addy didn't even feel the sharp stinging of the wood on her arms as she walked away, her hands shaking slightly as she did so.

She wandered around the early morning city. The normal hustle and bustle signalling the start of a new day had been replaced by an eerie calm and a low morning fog coming in from the sea. The fog seeped into her brain and she walked around in a daze for hours.

Eventually exhaustion crept into her bones and she had enough sense to not pass out in the middle of the street. She made her way back to the Mage District and found the Slaughtered Lamb. Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered that she was supposed to work today, but she didn't care. She walked into her bedroom and collapsed onto her bed.

She dreamt of green fire.

The next day the survivors of the second attack entered the city.

Addy rushed through the crowds, her heart racing. Her eyes scanned the survivors, looking for the familiar Westfall tabard and the shoulder length salt and pepper hair of the leader. As people walked past Addy felt her chest getting tighter and tighter. There weren't very many survivors, and even less were walking. Most were loaded into the back of carts with bloodies bandages and missing limbs.

She tried to find someone, anyone, that she recognized. But she didn't know any of them. None of them knew her.

She felt her breathing quicken as the last of the group went past. There must be more people. There had to be. Last time a large amount of them stayed in Goldshire, so the others must be there - Gryan had to be there.

Or maybe she just hadn't seen him. She might have missed him.

She gripped her hand into her dress, trying to stop them from shaking. No, she must've just missed him. He probably needed to go speak with the King, just like last time. Maybe he came in by Gryphon or had come in with an earlier group that she had missed.

Yes. That must be it.

But she felt the numbness coming back. She didn't know what to do now. Should she stay here, go back to her small apartment, go to the keep...

She was shaking, and her eyes were filling up with frustrated tears. Everything was too loud and people were too close and all she wanted to do was collapse to the ground in a ball and force the world out of her mind. Her chest was tight and she thought she might throw up.

"Girl."

Addy ignored the voice. She knew it was talking to her. But she didn't want to talk to anyone.

"Miss Fairchild."

Addy winced, slowly turning around to see whoever it was that was speaking to her, wanting to yell at them to go away. But when she got a good look at who was speaking.

She sniffed, suddenly aware of wetness on her cheeks, "Mr. Tim?"

The creepy thin old man who owned the Slaughtered Lamb was standing behind her, looking at her with his usual emotionless expression. "Are you alright?"

Addy nodded, but her bottom lip started to wobble uncontrollably and she was afraid it was the least convincing lie she'd ever told. Angry with herself she reached up and wiped of any tears that had leaked out of her eyes. She was being stupid. Gryan was fine.

"Come on." Mr Tim nodded his head, "There's nothing left to see here."

Addy nodded. She knew that was true. If Gryan was here, then he was busy. Sitting there waiting for him wouldn't contribute to anything.

She let Mr. Tim lead her back to the Slaughtered Lamb. He was being uncharacteristically kind. It wasn't that he was usually mean or rude, but neither had he seemed particularly interested in her. She didn't even realize he knew her name.

When they got back to the Slaughtered Lamb she thought she might head to her room, but instead Mr. Tim took her to the bar and sat her down on one of the rickety bar stools. He reached behind the counter and pulled out a glass bottle with amber liquid. Instead of pouring glasses he handed the bottle to her, pulling out a glass of his own.

"I can't afford this." Addy grumbled.

Mr. Tim snorted, "It's terrible. Drink up."

Addy wanted to argue, but her hands had a mind of their own and she ripped the top of taking a large swing of the liquid. Immediately she yanked it from her mouth and choked, "That's vile!"

"Told you."

Addy wrinkled her nose, but despite the taste took another drink, cringing as she swallowed it. It didn't take long for the warmth from the alcohol to warm her stomach and tingling to run to the tips of her fingertips. Her hand stopped shaking and her near hysteria as replaced by the numbness again.

Addy looked sideways at Mr. Tim who drank beside her silently, "Sorry I wasn't at work."

He snorted, looking around the empty bar, "Closed."

"Oh."

They continued in their silence, and Addy found it much more comfortable than she would have thought. Mr. Tim was a strange man, but he was nice enough, and he didn't try to make her talk about things she didn't want to talk about. So he was alright in her book.

They stayed there until the sun dropped below the horizon.

Mr Tim kept her busy over the next few days, not allowing her to stop for even a moment to think. She scrubbed the floors, tables and walls. Repainted the sign, stitches ripped table clothes and curtains. She scrubbed every dish in the place to an inch of its life, dusted the entire building (minus the secret basement, which was still off limits), and polished every reflective surface until it shined. The pub had probably never looked better.

But on the third day, everything turned on its head.

Someone walked into the pub, the first person since the second attack on Westfall. Both Addy and Mr Tim looked up, in surprise.

"What can I do for you today?" Mr Tim asked in a strange high pitched rasp that was probably the closest thing he had to a polite tone.

The man was dressed in a blue and gold Stormwind tabard, and held a large helmet with a horsehair plum under his arm. He looked incredibly awkward and Addy was struck by how young he was. He looked to be even younger than her, barely an adult.

"Miss Fairchild?" He looked past Mr. Tim to look at her.

Addy swallowed, her hands starting to shake again. She could feel her heart rate increasing rapidly and she swallowed bile that had risen in her throat, "Yes?"

The young solider pulled out a flat parchment letter from his belt, handing it out to her.

Addy felt her eyes fill with tears as she spotted the black wax seal on the letter. Her bottom lip started to wobble uncontrollably and she quickly reached out for the letter and turned away from him so he wouldn't see if she started to cry.

It could mean anything right? Maybe it's about her farm, or her grandfather. Maybe they finally found her parents remains and were messaging her about that.

"Mr. Gideon?"

Addy didn't know what he was talking about, but then Mr. Tim walked over to the man and took an identical letter from him silently. The man nodded, bowing his head in respect, before turning and leaving.

Addy stood there silently, trying to stop every emotion from erupting from her. But it was too much, and a loud sob escaped her. She put a hand up to her mouth to try and keep it back, but it just kept coming.

Somewhere else in the back of her mind Addy was aware that Mr. Tim had opened his own letter and was reading it silently. But Addy couldn't bring herself to open her letter. she knew what it said. She knew Gryan was dead. She had known for days. She knew that when she opened it it would be a letter from the king, offering condolences for the death of a friends or family member. It would be empty and meaningless and no doubt it would be an exact copy of the thousands of other letters sent out. No doubt the letter in Mr. Tims hand said the same thing.

She felt her legs go wobbly and she collapsed to the floor, holding her hands over her face. She had always been an ugly crier, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to stop herself that this point. The dam had broken.

She didn't know what happened to Mr. Tim. She didn't care. She felt a sharp scream rip itself from her throat and she punched her fist into the wooden floor, not caring as it ripped open her knuckles. Her heart felt like it would explode or rip apart and her mind felt broken as she tried to understand what was happening.

He couldn't be dead. He just couldn't be. Gryan had fought against the Defias and the bloody scourge. He had fought in the first war, the second war and the third war. He was the strongest man she knew - he couldn't be dead.

She wanted to demand to see a body. If there as no body, then he couldn't be dead - but she knew that it wasn't possible. They would have left the dead where they lie as they abandoned the province. If he hadn't managed to escape from the Legion, then he was dead.

Gryan was dead.

He was dead. The man who had taken care of her and had practically raised her during her Grandfathers steep decline, and after he had died. The man who bullied her until she accepted his help and was probably the only reason she hadn't died a long time ago because of her own stupid pride. The man who first discovered her talent with the light and had taken time out of his life to make sure she had basic training, and the man who assured her that she could someday be great. He always assumed that she would be a hero.

But Gryan had been a hero - he was her hero. And he was gone.

And he was never coming back.

The days after the attack had been hectic. After the confirmation that the attacks were indeed done by the Legion the leaders of the Alliance and quickly started communication to create a defence plan of all Alliance lands. His father finally disclosed his communication to Vol'jin and the attacks in Azshara to the rest of the leaders. As expected, both Jaina and Genn had had plenty of words to say about this. While Genn had seemed more upset about being kept out of the loop, Jaina had been furious. Anduin knew his Father despised fighting with her, but Anduin had a feeling that they would be fighting with her a lot more in the days to come. The Alliance and the Horde were going to have to work together to defeat the Legion.

Anduin had a feeling that that was going to be a bit tricker than he had hoped.

More than half of their fighting force had been wiped out in the second invasion, as well as many leading figures including Captain Stoutmantle. Anduin knew the death of the Paladin had hit his father hard - the two of them had been spending hours every day together for months, trying to increase the security of Westfall, all of which seemed to be for naught.

Anduin took his death hard. He took all the deaths hard, especially the massacre at the Northern Garrison.

He had been in charge. He had made the order to vacate the Province. Apparently those in the Northern Garrison, including Captain Stoutmantle, had been trapped as demons approached from the south they had retreated north to try and take ships and escape through the sea - not knowing about the demonic blockade. They had been trapped and the demons, lead by the two Eredar commanders, had made quick work of them.

Anduin tried to go over what he'd been thinking, why he hadn't warned them about the blockade. There weren't any ports on the Northern coast, and there shouldn't have been any ships there. But apparently there had been. Why hadn't he known that? He should know everything going on, especially in lands so close to the city and where an attack had taken place. Had his Father known? Either way he should have warned the men about the blockade. Maybe then they would have known not to go there.

There was a service at the Cathedral for the men and women who had died. There weren't any bodies, it wasn't yet deemed safe enough to go back to Westfall to retrieve the fallen. But judging by the thick black smoke rising over the horizon, Anduin wasn't sure if there would be anything left to retrieve.

Anduin tried to keep his breathing even as he walked with his father through the secret tunnel that connected the Cathedral and the Keep. There were guards all down the hall, and they bowed as they passed them. The hall was completely silent beyond the tapping of their feet on the stone as they walked.

Anduin swallowed. He just had to make an appearance and give his condolences. He didn't have to make a speech, his father would be the one to do so. Even the idea of talking in front of the friends of family of the people he'd failed made him feel sick to his stomach.

Anduin almost ran into his Father's back as the King stopped suddenly in the middle of the hallway.

Anduin frowned at the back of the man in front of him, "Father?"

His father turned around and looked down at him with upturned eyebrows, his eyes swimming with worry, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Anduin lied, nodding his head. His father raised an eyebrow at him and Anduin swallowed, flushing in embarrassment at his Father's ability to make him feel like a chastised child, "No...I'm not."

His father looked up and waved his hand once. All the guards standing near them stepped to attention, and then walked away from them, stopping once they were out of earshot.

Once they were alone his Father looked down at him, "You can talk to me."

Anduin paused, trying to fight the awkwardness in his chest. Years of tension between them had taught him to hide any emotion from his father, after years of trying to impress him, trying to show that he could be as strong as him. But seeing the warmth in his eyes made him feel like he was a child again.

Anduin swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to force down any tears, "It was my fault." His father's face softened as he looked down and Anduin avoided eye contact, "I made the order. I told them to go for the borders, to get to alliance lands, I didn't think..."

"Hey." His father rested his large hands on her shoulders, and Anduin took in a shake breath, cursing himself for allowing his self anger to show. A moment later he felt himself being enveloped by a hug and he startled. HIs father didn't often hug him. He remembered the last time had been after he'd woken up from the incident with the Golden Bell. It had been the only time he had even seen his father shed a tear, holding him tightly like he would never see him again. At the time he had been so surprised that he hadn't been able to bring himself to tell his Father that he'd been crushing him slightly.

But this hug wasn't nearly as crushing and desperate. It was soft, and warm, like a thick blanket on a cold evening. Anduin had grown tall over the years and was now only a few inches shorter than his father, but he still felt enveloped. He buried his head into his fathers shoulder and hugged him back, still trying not to cry.

"You made the right call." HIs father muttered into his hair.

Anduin swallowed, looking over her shoulder, "But people died."

His father hesitated a moment, before pulling away, keeping his hands on his shoulder as he looked down at his son, "Yes...yes, people died."

Anduin swallowed, "But they died because of me. I made the order, I didn't warn them."

His father was silent for a moment before he took a heavy breathe, "Anduin...I've made a lot of orders in my life. And sometimes...sometimes people died because of them. And I imagine in the future I will make more orders that will result in more deaths..." Anduin saw a spark of guilt in his father's eyes that tore at his heart, "There isn't a night that goes by that I don't think about how many people would have lived if I'd let Thrall kill Hellscream that day in Orgrimmar."

Anduin was surprised. He'd never once considered her Father responsible for the deaths caused by Garrosh Hellscream. In fact, looking back on the memory, he had been proud of his father, and it had been the first step towards the mending of their relationship. Garrosh would have met justice at the hands of the Celestials if not for forces that most definitely didn't include his Father.

"You made the right call then." Anduin argued, "You were trying to do the right thing."

"And you were trying to save lives when you made that order." Varian pointed out. Anduin looked down, flushing, "Genn told me how strongly you spoke about it. He was proud of you. I'm proud of you."

Anduin felt his entire face burning red.

His father seemed to notice and chuckled, "You have to remember what your intent was when you made the order. Sometimes mistakes are made, sometimes people die. But when you made that order you saved lives - thousands of lives - of soldiers who did make it out."

Anduin swallowed and nodded, trying not to make eye contact. He still didn't fully believe him. He would never be okay with people getting hurt under his orders. And he never wanted to be okay with it.

The chiming of bells in the background made them both look up. His father looked back at him, "You ready?"

Anduin took in a shaky breathe, nodding his head, and followed his Father towards the Cathedral.

Addy spent days in bed, not eating and only getting up to use the toilet and for the occasional drink of water. Unlike the Golden Keg, where Betsey took care of her while she moped, Mr Tim did no such thing, instead leaving her to sit in her own filth and slowly slip into her own mind.

The only time he spoke was when he poked his head in to mention a service bing held at the cathedral. She hadn't responded to him and he left soon after.

Did she want to go to the service? Not really. She'd rather stay in her room and cry silently. But the more she sat there the more she could hear Gryan's voice in her brain.

"You're just going to sit here?"

"Yes." She said out loud.

"It's pathetic."

"I know." She mumbled, burying her face into her pillow, "I don't care."

"Get up."

"No."

"Addy. Get up."

"I don't want to."

"I swear to the Light. You're going to get up and go to my funereal if I have to drag you there by your damned ear girl!"

Addy sniffled. Yeah that sounded like something he would say. And he would have done it to. He would have been so mad if she didn't go.

She crawled out of bed for the first time in days, wincing at her own stink. She wandered into her water closet and cleaned herself up as best she could, washing her face and pulling the fine stands of her hair out of her face. Looking in he mirror she swallowed tears.

She had dark circles under her eyes, which were red and swollen. Her nose was red too, looking like a giant red bulb on the tip of her face. She sniffled lightly and pressed cold water, trying to make herself look less like a clown. Her hair was a mess, tangled and greasy, half falling out of the elastic which held it out of her face. She wrinkled her nose and put it into a quick braid. She fingered the wrinkled skin on her neck, and sighed hopelessly before grabbing her white scarf and wrapping it around her neck.

She walked outside only to stop at the sight of white flakes falling from the sky. It was snowing.

She held out a hand, catching one of the white snowflakes in her hand, her lip wobbling. Gryan had been so excited for the first snowfall - and now he wouldn't ever see snow again.

She took in a deep breath, trying not to lose her courage as she started the walk to the Cathedral.

She sat at the back of the service, not drawing attention. She sang when everyone sang and listened to the speakers. When the King spoke she found herself uncertain. A part of her wanted to blame him for sending Gryan to Westfall, but a bigger part of her knew that she was being unfair. There wasn't anybody else to blame other than the Legion.

She saw the Prince standing at the front, looking straight ahead with a face so blank that Addy knew it had to be mask. No doubt her face looked similarly.

She remembered the anger she had felt towards him, the embarrassment at the accusation of blackmail, and the humiliation of the charity he had offered her. But now all she could feel when she saw him was apathy. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing about it mattered anymore. So what if he bought her farm? She didn't want it anymore. She didn't think she could ever go back to Westfall, and she wasn't sure she ever wanted to.

When the service ended Addy sat in the back of the Cathedral while everyone walked out, people were crying and other praying, and Addy was silent. Just staring ahead blankly. At the front of the room Father Thompson nodded at her sadly and Addy attempted to give him something more than a blank face, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't do anything.

Once everyone was gone she stumbled to her feet, letting them take her home.

The ground outside was now covered in a thin layer of white, and the snowflakes whipped around her as she walked. She could see her footprints in the snow behind her, which would no doubt be buried by the time that the sun came up the next day.

She found a city bench, not wanting to go home just yet. She sat down, pulling her scarf around herself to keep the cold wind off her skin.

What was she supposed to do now? Her whole long term plan was based around eventually going back home, rebuilding her vinery. But now, what was the point?

Should she stay here? Work with Mr. Tim at the Slaughtered Lamb? It was good money, and she had a home, a bed and food. It wasn't a terrible job.

But it wasn't her home. All she had was her home, her wine, Gryan. But she didn't have any of that anymore. The last person she knew from her time in Westfall was dead. She was the only one left.

She looked up at the sky. She couldn't see the stars, because of the cloud coverage. She smiled lightly to herself as a memory came to mind.

"Mr. Gryan!"

Little five year old Addy was running after then Marshall Gryan Stoutmantle, who was walking through Sentinel Hill. HIs hair had less grey and his eyes less wrinkled and he watched the approached toddler with a look of barely hid annoyance.

"Adeile." He responded. "Where's your grandfather?"

Addy shrugged. He was probably selling the grown up drink that she wasn't allowed to have. He'd told her to sit on a log near the fire and not leave, but she'd quickly grown bored.

Gryan looked aggravated and grunted, rubbing his hand over his face. He held out a single hand for her to take, "Well, come on then."

Addy had taken his hand happily, skipping along as her red pigtails jumped along with her. He brought her into the hill and Addy smiled.

"Mr. Gryan?"

He grunted and Addy took that as a cue to continue.

"What happens when you die?"

"Oh Light." The Paladin groaned, looking upwards, "Ask your Grandfather."

"He won't tell me." Addy pouted, "I asked, cause my mommy and daddy haven't come yet and Grandfather told me it's cause they're dead."

Gryan stopped then, looking down at her. His face was a bit softer than it had been a bit before, "He said that?"

"Well...no." Addy admitted, "He said that everyone back home was dead, but that must mean Mommy and Daddy too, right?"

Gryan's face was sad, and he leant down, kneeling on the stone floor in front of her. He grabbed her hand and looked at her wide bright blue eyes sadly.

"What do you know about the light?" He asked her.

Addy stood up straight, she knew this one, "It's the source of all good in the world. Daddy told me once."

"Yes, I suppose thats one way to put it," He chuckled. "But it's a part of everything and everyone. Some people can use the light-"

"Like you!" Addy cheered.

"Yes, like me." he ruffled her head, "And the truth is that we don't know what happens when you die. But I like to think that you becomes the light. So that the ones we love never truly leave us. So your mommy and daddy will always been right...here." He poked her in her stomach and she giggled madly.

Of course that hadn't been the case. Her parents would have no peace in death. But that didn't mean that it was an outright lie. Maybe people did join the light when they died. Maybe Gryan had.

"Please come back." She whispered, her voice a low croak from disuse. She wiped the wetness from her cheeks, not sure if it was from snow or her tears, "I want you to come back...please come back, I have nobody...no one"

She was openly crying now. She didn't care if anyone saw her. She just wanted him there, to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

"It's my fault" She angrily wiped away her running nose, "I could have been there. I should have been there! It's stupid and if you were here you would smack me around my head and call me an idiot girl. But I should have been there with you.

"And it's my fault I wasn't." She swallowed her tears, shaking her head, "Because you were right. They would never have allowed me into Westfall, because I have no training. And that's my own god damned fault."

She blinked rapidly, sniffing.

"Because Im a proud idiot." She shook her head, "I could have helped you..."

She reached into her dress, pulling out a crumbled parchment that she'd be fiddling with for the last week. The waxy remains of the blue wax seal of the Alliance. It wasn't the letter from the King announcing Gryan's death - she had burned that days ago. No it was the letter that informed her of the purchase of her farm.

"You told me I should take the money," She whispered as she opened the letter, her eyes scanning over the garbled letters. "It was one of the last things you told me. We argued about it. I wish we hadn't argued. I always argue, with everyone. It's a real problem." She chuckled sardonically, "I probably get it from my grandfather. You always argued with him."

She rubbed away the tears and other liquids that were gathering on her face. Her hands were growing numb from the cold and she knew she needed to go back inside before she got sick.

"Damn it." She grumbled, closing the letter and putting it back into her dress.

She huffed, feeling the fight leave her body as she realized what she was going to do. And for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was going somewhere.

She looked up at the sky, into a small patch of stars that was visible between the layers of cloud. Maybe Gryan was up there, watching her, "He's going to be intolerable after this you know."

The stars twinkled and somehow she knew that Gryan was laughing at her.

A/N: Wow you guys, the comments and reviews on this story have been overwhelming. Sorry this update took so long we had a few months of sheer emergency panic at work that I had to deal with but things are starting to cool off a bit so hopefully I can update more often. It doesn't help that I haven't been playing much, I pretty much just do weekly LFR and emissary quests at this point. Maybe I'll actually work to get Addy up to level 110, she's only 101 right now, I pretty much haven't played her since Legion launched cause I'm an awful terrible person.

Thank you guys so much for the lovely reviews. And remember ya'll are free to follow me on my WOW tumblr medvh, where i pretty much just spew out nonsense, but it's all WOW nonsense so...

Until Next Time,

-Ash