Note: The interrogation scene at the beginning is new.
Chapter Six: A Lady's Touch
Sorn stood and knocked over his chair when Sunthraze made the confession after days of insisting he was innocent, every single time he was interrogated. Two palace guards were positioned by the door. They came forward, but Sorn raised a hand for them to relent.
"This… lie, it will not be tolerated. Send for our best priest. Better yet, send me a skilled shadowpriest."
"Fine. But you'll only waste more time when I know how to get around a mind vision spell." Sunthraze shrugged, "Every good spy does, isn't that why we didn't start out that way?"
Sorn came around the edge of the table. Sunthraze sat there, looking more like a criminal than when they first picked him up. His clothes ripped, his hair not even combed through with his fingers… and a very offensive tattoo in Trollish that Sorn was beginning to fully see and translate for himself…
Sunthraze put his hands, in chains, on the table. He leaned over them.
"Sit up straight. I want to hear you lie to me again, one last time, before I send you straight to the executioner's."
"With no trial?"
"Say it!"
"Celestia realized that I was out of the way in the country, that I could be relied on since she knows my family well, and that I needed the extra money. So I copied the letters, I listened in on conversations if I could… I did set up that envelope, to look opened, just so you would come down to the Garrison and I could listen in and hear the result." Sunthraze could summon the most amazing facial expressions. Now, his eyes were particularly bright, his smirk specifically sardonic, "Why else would someone leave a slit open envelope in the diplomat's bag like that?"
Sorn shook his head, but Sunthraze knew it made more sense than any other theory Sorn might have had. Thankfully, Sorn wasn't so well acquainted with Pyorin who was, in fact, not the best spy in the world, and probably forgot about the ripped envelope.
"I would have known if you were working for the queen!"
"Welp… Clearly, you didn't."
"Why confess this now?"
"I was finally able to make contact with Celestia, through… our network. It took some time. I have full reassurance that you won't be able to do anything against me, and you can't."
"You will not get your hands on… not one more of Kael'thas' letters!"
"That's fair." Sunthraze kept his eyes on the table, when he wasn't totally sure what he should say next, "I mean… you caught me fair and square. Game over. My bad."
"Your… bad?! Young people these days, I swear!"
Sunthraze outstretched his arms, "So. Can I go, yet? There's another adorable redhead, other than myself, that I'd like to catch up with."
Sorn paced, "I am not like the other advisors to the king. I take all this more seriously than death, and I would follow King Anasterian, and Kael'thas, the true Sunstriders, the only men in this kingdom with the power, the breeding, the magic to rule perfectly… I would follow them to hell and back! I will make sure that you go down, Lord Sunthraze, I will cinch your fate one way or some other way! Rest assured, whatever Celestia has… conveyed to you through her sour grapevine…"
"Peh. Sour grapevine. Good one." Sunthraze arced a sarcastic eyebrow, though.
"You, boy, are mine. And mine alone. You will not see the sun again, as far as I'm concerned!" Sorn turned to the guards, "Lock him up. And he gets no more priveleges, no nothing… I hear you've been getting newspapers, circling everything with Kael'thas in it. You do mean him harm. I will prove that."
"Who said that Celestia wants to harm Kael'thas? Maybe she's just… overly interested in her husband's work? She wants something to chat with the king about, other than the obvious, when they hit the sheets at night, know what I mean?" Sunthraze waggled eyebrows.
"Revolutionary! Rebel scum! All of you are the same. Arrogant, ignorant to what is truly at stake, and therefore destructive… I will find every single last one of you and… shoot you all out of cannons! I want him out of my sight!"
They came and got Sunthraze by the arms, moved him to the door.
"I love you too, Sorn. Don't worry, I also intend stay wedged in your gray hair for a good, long time. You'll never forget the name of… Sunthraze the Sly."
But Sunthraze found he liked winding up the old man. And it did sound pretty good, to him. Really slick, in fact. Better than his tattoo.
And if it wasn't so meta, it would have been downright clever.
Later that day, Sorn sat back from the newest letter on his desk and exhaled a long breath. Lady Jaina Proudmoore had an elegant hand, as anyone would expect. And this one had been delivered to him, into his hands, by a personal servant of Jaina's. At first, Sorn was alarmed to see a Human walking briskly toward him. Sorn worried that it might be that inevitable 'Help us with the Plague now or else' message from King Terenas, also signed by High Priestess Tyrande, King Magni Bronzebeared and the Mekkatorque. Palace servants with their heads on straight these days, like Sorn, dreaded that hammer coming down, when Anasterian was getting better and better at ignoring the pleas from Stormwind. And when Anasterian refused to travel there for the Human's convocation to discuss what needed to be done about the Plague, Sylvanas had to practically pull teeth, and favors to be allowed to go in his place. Anasterian still wasn't too pleased about it, since it wasn't his idea, but the Highborne king was also glad for it to be off his shoulders.
But Jaina's latest letter of complaint about Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider was more of a threat. Bottom line: Get the ring off her finger now, or the Highborne could kiss their part in the Alliance goodbye. And with her connections, she might very well do it. The woman was practically the Queen of Lordaeron already. Everyone knew Prince Arthas' intentions toward her. Lord Proudmoore was rumored to be preparing a ship to sail all the way across the Great Sea from Kalimdor, and there wasn't even a wedding date set. It was horrifyingly serious this time.
"A letter to Kael'thas politely asking him to 'cut it out or I tell your father' won't do this time either," Sorn arched his fingers and sighed again, thinking.
He hated to get King Anasterian involved. Some parents were tigers with their children, chasing them toward opportunities, bearing down on them, ensuring they succeeded. Others became lions and fought for their children's sakes until the enemy was in humiliating shreds. Anasterian was neither. He was more of a dragon parent. Touch his son and he turned you to ash. Then again, sometimes Anasterian turned around and turned Kael'thas into ash, too, if he stepped out of line. Mostly, the poor prince's backside. Suffice it to say, Sorn hated above all else to actually get the king involved, when Anasterian was so impossible to control. A very bad college prank could get escalated to an international incident. Dalaran itself may get ripped up out of the ground and flung across the stratosphere, with Anasterian's moods…
" 'Dear Sorn, the [Heartblood of Anthene] has come into my possession after a forced engagement to Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider which amounts to third-account kidnapping…'
Sorn sighed through his nose, "If the prince knew that a man in charge of Highborne security practically laughed at all his misfortunes… It's all profit to them. Gossip for the papers, gossip for the palace spies. Well, we'll deal with that Sunthraze spy very, very soon."
Very stressed, Sorn took the letters, all of the recent ones, and folded them into a leather folio. He got his courage and left his office to at least deal with it properly. The way he had been trained. The way that he must.
Some days, the Sunspire felt immense. As Sorn walked, reds and golds bled into one another. Cream painted walls hummed with so much power latent in every stained glass window, every polished artifact positioned perfectly as one passed by. And through those windows one could see people lingering against the majestic stone, wherever the guards weren't prone to be, because the palace itself was built on such strong leylines, it felt good to just touch it. Anyplace else felt… less. Imagine being inside of such a place. Imagine being raised there, living there your whole life, and told that other places, other people far less blessed, were no good and that they could never, ever aspire to be. Yes, that's it, you see… you would believe it.
Soon after Sorn was admitted into the royal apartments, he saw Queen Celestia Sunstrider coming down the corridor. He swore under his breath. It was so well orchestrated, she could have only timed it.
"Ah, Advisor Sorn. So good of you. I'll take that to him."
"I am happy to oblige, of course, my queen, but I should inform you, it isn't regarding the convocation proceedings."
"It isn't?" though, Celestia wasn't asking Sorn, she was toying with him. Her plump hand was still opened to receive the letter. She thrust it at him again and all the silver bangles around her wrist jingled. Those silver bracelets were prettier than the unhappy stormy energy the woman regularly drummed up. Celestia was attractive, but she was also one of those classic Court of the Sun style ladies who excelled at only practicing the best of virtues, not living them. Beauty, even kindness, could be performed, like an art. The rest of her was all black dragon bones and guile. And there was a dangerous ice mage somewhere beneath all that, too. By heritage, Celestia was a distant Sunstrider anyway. Though the ancestry was at best obscure. Just enough of it to make her a safe bet for Anasterian Sunstrider to marry her… when he finally chose to settle again.
And Sorn was sure that it was a 'settling for' that Anasterian had done. Of course Celestia was glamorous and charming, 'she would have had to have been,' as Celestia liked to put it. And by then, Anasterian was a clever enough man to figure, before it was too late, that his reputation wouldn't stand for him to be an out-and-out lecher forever.
Around the kingdom, sympathy for the king and widower was starting to run out. So he got himself a pretty wife on a reasonable schedule, who incensed him—and more than a decade later, she somehow still incensed the king's passion. Though Sorn liked not to think about that end of things.
Sorn slipped the letter into the leather folio he carried instead. He should not have brought it out in the first place. He was just so anxious about that letter.
"A secret?"
Sorn wouldn't answer her.
"I see. King Anasterian will be upset with me if I see it first. So then, it can only about the other love of his life. Prince Kael'thas?"
Sorn looked at the carpet a moment. Then he looked her in the eye, defiant.
"The other advisors are so much nicer to me, Sorn… they all want something and I make sure they have it. Property, jewels, girls… Boys?"
Sorn flinched at that. "You know that I'm… how dare you—"
Celestia's tone turned impatient, "I swear, the poor prince has two fathers and he doesn't even know it. Though I hear, lately, Kael'thas is in sore need of a very good woman. My spies are always so useful, aren't they? Something about… the Lady Proudmoore? That not going well. And his mother's ring is involved too now, isn't it?"
So you see, Sorn had not been joking in any measure about corrupt Farstriders raiding his office for tidbits to sell to the highest bidder around the empire. Less than an hour ago, that was.
"In need of a good woman… Very clever, my queen. Are you making back up plans?" Sorn intoned as sweetly as Celestia accused him. Fear rushed through him after that slipped out. He felt cold. It was a stupid thing to let happen. Nobody spoke to the queen that way, not even Anasterian tried that. Or, if he did, he always regretted it later, even if privately. Sorn knew. The king confided in him during the rougher times of his marriage. The ones Celestia created, for her revenge. Though, they did like to take revenge on one another.
Celestia smiled, folded hands politely over the sapphire bodice of her gown and slowly strutted up close to him. They could have kissed. Sorn hated that and she knew it.
"Do you know why I never gave his majesty, the king, another heir?"
Sorn kept his mouth shut this time. Though she was laying herself out to another very easy rip in her reputation. Then, Sorn checked himself. No, that was precisely it. Celestia was making herself easy bait, to dare him to do it again and trap him. She'd strung closer friends up for treason before.
"I don't want any child of mine to compete with that Kael'thas. Nor, to endure the love of his father." She then marched away, skirts rustling. Aloud, and overly happy, "So-called love. Easy to give and take. A trade for a trade, that's how it works, Sorn. I gave three hours of it to him easily, just this morning." Her crude announcement now carried down the whole corridor. Anasterian would no doubt hear it too. "Now, I'm going out! I've been given a whole purseful of gold, to go shopping, how kind of him to treat his queen like that." Then, she darkened, " 'Whatever pleases you, Celeste dear, the way you pleased me,' that's what he said. That's just what the king said to me." Then, Celestia slammed her palms into the ornate doors herself and threw them both open, before the stewards or guards could. She turned on him again, made a show of cinching up the bust of her dress in the white sunlight. The sun blasted in from the great palace windows in the hall beyond, "I hope you have something big to barter with for your own wretched cause, old man!" Then, the doors slammed again. Celestia, the blinding sun, all shut out. But her terrible joke remained though.
As good as if she'd slapped him. And Anasterian, too. One shot.
The butler asked Sorn to go into the room, so Sorn assumed Anasterian would be mostly decent. He was not.
Anasterian had an arcane crystal on the table with his finished breakfast. He sort of… fondled it, while his other hand held up the newspaper. The other side of the round table in the royal bedroom had almost a full meal set down. Sorn only had to worry about that for a moment. Clearly, Celestia had been batting him around after Anasterian had insulted her and she abruptly left breakfast, or something like it. Then again, Sorn admonished himself not to assume or to judge the royal family so harshly. As far as he knew, Celestia was just eager to go shopping like she said, or to—
"Sorn, I don't suppose you want to eat after the queen. Though, it's hardly been touched. I just got tired of her voice all of a sudden so I insulted her to make her go." And his voice sounded so kindly about it too.
Nevermind. The Sunstriders would be Sunstriders. Arrogant and difficult till the end. Though also, the strongest of people.
"I think I like her angry, though." Anasterian lowered the newspaper. A very roguish smile on his face, then. "I did marry well. I'm still proud of the decision. She's a fun one to wind up. And she does such an excellent job of taking it out on me in the evenings…" though, Anasterian yawned and gestured in a very ungentlemanly way at the tumbled around bedsheets. It looked like a storm had hit it, unsheathed pillows, curtains thrown back from the bed canopy. "Then again, we did that this morning." He yawned, itched his scalp. "So, your king is having a lovely day so far. I hope you don't spoil it."
Sorn had seat. He wasn't hungry, but he had to sit. He noticed a small glass of brandy by Celestia's meal. He hated anything to do with that woman, but he snatched the glass and knocked it back. He was sure he'd need it.
"Well, I suppose I should put this thing down and make eye contact with you." Anasterian did so. Then, the king grinned and waited while the awkward tension built up. This one was also into games, strategies…Then, Sorn noticed something strange about the king's teeth.
"Do you… have you got… fangs?"
"Yes, finally someone was brave enough to point that out to me. I thought it would be fun, or disturbing. I don't know. So I had them put in for a while."
Sorn raised his eyebrows. Anasterian was a good-looking man, it was painful being in his presence at times. He gestured like it, dressed like it. It was infuriating and it all came naturally to him. Now, suddenly, he wanted to look a bit like some fabled creature of the night, with slightly elongated canines. It wasn't horrid, it was more striking. Another thing about his life he'd done foolishly well. It raised any number of questions. Where did the idea come from? What strange craftsman volunteered for that? Certainly no price was high enough if he failed, and it was a fool's errand to do well, to be sure. And then, whose teeth were those? Some captured Troll's? An imprisoned Night Elf somewhere? Likely, they were ivory, or at least elven, in order to fit and look proportionate… And who was going to stop the Highborne king?
"I'm afraid that Prince Kael'thas, he—"
"Wonderful graduation, wonderful. He beat those Humans at their game, too, didn't he? Excelled in every single subject. Nobody could out-major him. He won all the majors, I was so proud."
It wasn't… exactly how Human universities worked.
"Is that… the point, of specializing? At that level of study. I thought that's what the Humans try to do, at school. Sort of sharpen themselves on just one end of things, not unlike…" Sorn searched for an elegant word for it, but Highborne just can't escape certain prejudices, "…a stick."
"Well, they're doing it wrong. Kael'thas showed them how to do it properly. I'm sure they'll change Dalaran completely now that he's passed through it. They'll have to. Very proud of him. Celestia and I came back through, um, the portal last night. I still find violet portals strange, to use for traveling so far. But the Humans in Dalaran arranged it for us." Then he laughed to himself, "And actually… you'll never believe this. Queen Celestia, she made this horrible joke before I walked in. She told me—" He cracked up very hard, "that it might be some magical assassination attempt by the Humans, so I'd better not step through it, if I was so afraid. Haha! Can you believe that? Can you really believe she said that to me in front of all the guards, all our entourage assembled, all the guests going to Kael'thas' graduation, all that."
Sorn smiled uncomfortably.
"…Gods, she's such a cruel bitch, I love it. And then, of course I had to walk through, to prove her wrong. Wow." Anasterian leaned his forehead in hand, had to cover his face for a moment. "Some days, I can't tell if I've married my enemy or my best friend. Celestia does know just how to unseat me. Maybe… maybe I'll have someone shoot an arrow into the headboard tonight—not while she's in the bed, you see. Just an arrow with a note attached. A little… death-themed love note. And a rose, perhaps, under the sheets. I want her to be afraid, at first. Then later…" Anasterian smiled, then composed himself again, "Anyway, perhaps that's what wound me up this morning. Other than Celestia's horrific sense of humor, I'm so happy for Kael'thas these days. It's not hard to feel… feel like the world is right. When your son is finally doing well."
"Your Majesty—"
"After how he struggled here in Silvermoon, too. Wolves are all around this place. Even Celestia has her spies, I know that. But she's harmless, she just likes to… bite things." Anasterian grinned, felt one of his pointed teeth. Sorn suddenly felt that the two of them had been transported back to university. Into a noisy lockeroom with other young men guffawing at smutty jokes all around.
"There is… a letter, you see. From Lady Jaina, about—"
"Mind you, I told my boy not to worry about that woman. I married Celestia just in time. Kael was too old for that dragoness to imprint on him, and she surely wasn't going to raise him. I'd already done that. Athene and I already had…"
Here, Sorn knew better than to try interrupting again.
"Well, I told Kael'thas that Celestia is not his mother. She's simply… Daddy's toy. That's all. She's just my little amusement. I wind her up and watch her go. Did I already say that?" Anasterian picked up the newspaper again, then he put it back down, folded it. "Weren't you about to tell me something?"
"Yes, I… yes." Sorn straightened up in the chair. He had to do this. After all, Kael'thas was the king's own son, Anasterian deserved to know what was going on, "Well, Kael'thas gave Jaina the ring."
"…Yes?"
Sorn realized immediately what he implied. "She… is only wearing it. The thing is—"
"She's accepted!" Anasterian got up, threw his paper down, then remembered himself and sat, lowered his voice. "This is amazing! So he finally won the girl, he finally got her, did he? Why didn't he write me? But he wrote you? Oh well, doesn't matter. I told him, it'd be… well, unusual to have a Human queen on the throne, but, so what—I'm happy if he's happy. That boy is the joy of my life, I'll break the laws for him and make it so. When is she coming? That's a gorgeous girl too, I've seen her. Clever thing."
"Well, she is… Jaina is still wearing it and she isn't very… well she is um," and then, Sorn was not sure why he lied. Only that he was right to, "She is deciding. What to do next. It isn't exactly an engagement."
Anasterian sank back in his chair. "Well." Then, he warmed into another smile, "Let her, then. The beautiful ring certainly helps, doesn't it? I think that ring is properly enchanted, it's so beautiful. No woman can say no to that ring. Jaina will consider, carefully. And then we will see her prove herself. She'll come to the conclusion that my son is a better villain than Arthas."
"Villain… sir?"
"Well, you know. They're both rogues. They're both tough guys. Kael'thas has spells, Arthas has that damned sword. You know women. It's a bad boy they want. The man who beats out the other one. And Kael'thas, I told him to put his ring right over the little Lordaeron gold one she's already got. Cover it right up. I'm sure he did it that way. Makes a statement. She'll see it in the end. Pretty, pretty girl. Smart too." Anasterian leaned in, "And the other thing about Kael'thas, he's half of his mother. So, yes, he does get a darker, meaner side from me. I do know that about myself. But then, this loving, very kind some of him, the kind I wanted to preserve, keep safe. The part that's been protected while he's in Dalaran, away from the… creatures here in Silvermoon. Yes, Jaina will see him in the end. That he is a very, very good person. My son. A better man than me. I'd run King Terenas through with my own sword first, before I saw my Kael'thas… abused in any way. I would do it, Sorn. I would. I'll not have thousands of years of perfect rule, the Sunstrider line, come to that. You know that I mean it."
"… Well, yes. Politically."
"No. Actually." Anasterian raised eyebrows at Sorn. "Feckless Humans and their feckless, expensive wars. They're all getting what they deserve. And the sooner Kael'thas comes home, out of that mess around Dalaran, the better. I'm sure Lady Jaina will be relieved to escape from that with him. Queen of Lordaeron and all its problems, feh. I hear the people there need boots to stand in the mess they've made of the place. But Silvermoon. May she be forever perfect. Like the front of Celestia's dress."
Anasterian waited. Sorn did not laugh.
"…A land as idyllic as Dath'remar himself first prophesied. King Kael'thas. Queen Jaina. That sounds very good indeed, don't you think so?"
"…Yes."
Sorn rose from the table.
"Is that all?"
Sorn did not expect lying to his king to be a physical pain. He nodded. Sorn peered through it, stinging all through his body, the acute sense that… the horrible realization that… King Anasterian, he could not handle this. He would wreck this. And Celestia disliked Kael'thas. She might just seize upon the opportunity and lead Anasterian further into ruining things with the Humans. Their king was already so firmly set against them.
"You look like me, like you want to, well… cry." Anasterian got up. He clapped him on the back, then hugged Sorn and shook his hand. "I'm going to be a father-in-law. Soon. And then Kael'thas will finally have a—well, I'll say it. A real family. Not just an… aggrieved father, still grieving for his one wife. His real wife. And toying around the rest of his time with the woman who must be called… his queen.
Anasterian nodded slowly, "No, but Kael'thas will be fine as long as he doesn't botch it up. And he won't. This, this is the fight of Kael'thas' life, Sorn. That's what Kael told me and I believe him. I was happy to send that ring of his mother's for him to use. Kael loves that girl so much, I know he does. For the last four years, Jaina was all he could talk about and I let him do it, too. Let him dream. I encouraged that. And then I showed Kael how to be careful. To take a good woman gently. Just as I did with his mother. Now that he's so close, Kael'thas won't lose her."
Sorn nodded.
"Another thing. My lawyers say the Convocation is looking for those… documents. Do you remember the ones we were discussing, just the other day?" Anasterian waited. Sorn wasn't sure, so he failed to answer in time, "The thing is, I'm afraid I won't be able to hand those records over. You see… when they don't exist."
Sorn shifted uncomfortably on his feet.
"They never existed, Sorn."
Once more, eager to end the strange conversation, "Yes, King Anasterian. Your word is all that I need. I'm sure they never did."
"…Good. You may go."
Sorn left. Sorn felt horrible, but he also chose to take that feeling away, with him. Safe from Anasterian himself.
Next, Chief Advisor Sorn knew that he was going to see her. He didn't plan it. He didn't wonder whether he should, or send a messenger first to see if she was available, or still there, or still alive. He had been thinking about Sister Liadrin for a decade. He had been thinking of her every day, and always felt that he should see her, that he should be ashamed that he hadn't done so yet. It always felt like he needed to and that one day, things would come to a head and he would have to. Perhaps because he knew that what the Sunstriders had done to her was so wrong. Or, no…
As the carriage moved through the city, Sorn noticed groups of people standing around, watching the red and gold bunting go up in the royal square. Sorn smiled at what he missed since the last time he'd had a time to stroll through the city. Statues of Kael'thas, now finished, were being painted gold and decorated. All of Silvermoon was excited to receive him back from Dalaran, at long last. It was also something Anasterian decided the royal house needed to do, shift the public's focus to his son, who, despite Kael'thas' shortcomings, was good-looking and very much the legends of Dath'remar in many ways (very skilled with magic and good tempered). Well, he was the easier Sunstrider for people to swallow, these days. Kael'thas turned out to be an excellent distraction from his father's issues with the Convocation of Silvermoon. Silvermoon's own government was racking up everything to philandering to wasting the royal treasury against him…
Sorn held his head, feeling it throb. No, Kael'thas was coming home. He was coming home perfectly safe, and then the power in the kingdom would change hands, easily. When the time was right, was natural for it to. By then, Kael'thas would be ready. For the next few miles, Sorn focused on the soft blue inside of the carriage, slashes of daylight and shadows of leaves, people passing over that as everything rolled on.
Sorn finally pried the curtain back from the carriage window again when the Hawkstriders slowed and he knew, at last, that there was grass under their feet and not cobblestone, inviting shade and not loud sun, boiling the senses. They were fully and truly ensconced in the countryside of Eversong Woods.
Sorn resumed his anxious thoughts after being let out of the carriage, going through the motions of greeting the resident chapel mother who was 'So honored to see him…' and of course he told her the King and Queen were very well, their lives were perfect and they exchanged warm greetings in turn… No, the reason why he felt compelled to come and see Liadrin was… It was because, all along, Lady Liadrin was the only person ever inside the Sunspire, in their whole kingdom, who had been right. A king who cannot act like a king. A queen who failed at queen-ing. A lost prince. And protectors of the realm who spread themselves so far astride her, it was only obvious what they were really doing to her. To the land, its people… its most vulnerable people. And no one, except for Sister Liadrin would believe Sorn, that Prince Kael'thas was among the most vulnerable.
Just because he was a prince did not mean he could not be hurt, he could not suffer, he could not snap. And Sorn feared Kael'thas had snapped. Slowly, ever slowly, ever more aware of his father's madness, the coldness of other people. In a world where no one could question the Sunstriders, Kael'thas coming into power was the one hope for many people who suffered the same. The one way for things to finally get better in Quel'thalas. Yes, Prince Kael'thas was rumored to be arrogant. He was rumored to be mean, like his father. But he could also be a very loving person. Sorn didn't want to look at the future if things continued in the same way, the cruel monarchy and its wayward servants going on, embittering people and embittering Kael'thas most of all. The one meant to receive the great wrecked gift of kingship, while it was bad enough for others and they were only stuck suffering under the weight of it. Kael'thas was going to be the one to hold it over them. And how would Kael'thas do that, if he suffered? Oh, Sorn feared to see how terrible Quel'thalas could truly get.
He sensed, with the acute perception of the chief advisor to a king, that their country would be soon going through some kind of bottleneck and if there was going to be any relief, it had to come on time. The relief needed to be scheduled in early and be addressed properly. Facilitated. And man like him would have to be the one to do the facilitating. How many of King Anasterian's messes had he cleaned up, in advance?
Now, Sorn was at the Convent of the Stars. The last place anybody in the royal family would expect him to be, but it felt right. And the ease one feels, the cool calmness of taking care of a task ahead of schedule, arriving early, this washed over him as their feet clicked softly over pristine, swept marble. The whole place smelled of that particular lemon soap solution, such a fine thing, that the sisters mixed themselves and used… Sorn made himself resume focus on the dire task at hand, though he did admire that there was perfect discipline somewhere in Quel'thalas. He reminded himself that it was righteous, taking the matter up with… her. Within his deepest instincts as Anasterian's chief servant, his confidant, a servant of the whole House of Sunstrider and the kingdom, too. As a Highborne and as a man, Sorn felt assured that this great, though perhaps slightly rebellious… this clean… correctness about the problem, it was essential. He must consult those who knew the situation better than he did in order to get it right, the first time. Take his chance and see the expert. Diagnose and resolve the malady with exactness.
So then, did he believe there was a disease among the powerful ones in Silvermoon? Sorn's lips parted with surprise at that question in his mind. He soon suffocated the thought. Sorn itched his graying moustache, and busied attention at smoothing the edges neatly instead.
Sorn was guided deeper into the convent, past the rooms of cloistered sisters praying to the Light silently. He saw them through the small portholes. Sorn took a few chances while his guide's back was turned, to go up on toes and peek through. The priestesses of the Light were fingering their sparkling orange sun-beads, or kneeling among the roses in the courtyard, trimming buds, being pricked by the thorns and never complaining, not uttering even that.
At last, they went through three sets of heavy locking doors along a cream painted corridor. Yellow and blue light from the stained glass windows glowed on the unremarkable tiled floor. The colors melded into one another to yield ravishing greens, soft purples.
Hers was suddenly a door on their right. Sorn got no warning, he was just sent in. And then, at last, he was standing before the sensible brunette, such a decent woman with an understandable amount of pain and disappointment in her eyes. Joy was there too, a little joy. Sorn felt instantly in her care. Lady Liadrin was alright with revealing to him that, even after everything, she was happy to see him.
"So I see… not everyone disagrees with my 'Diatribe on the Light'." Liadrin's tone, sharp as ever. Like cut glass. Sorn found he often had to be an inoffensive glass bead around royal people. Then again, the Sunstriders hadn't forced him to live in… well… Liadrin did sign on to be a priestess when she was young. And the king would have known that. So, it must have gratified her to a certain extent, to be back with them, even if she was away from palace life.
"It's an asylum for women with opinions." Liadrin seemed to guess his thought.
Sorn moved them past the awkward moment. "Well yes, I've read your landmark publication." He tried not to say that it'd been while the book was still legal. Before it was banned in many libraries. Well, all the libraries. Human, Dwarven and Elven.
Liadrin was seated at a desk in the clean office. He expected it to be her room, with a bed. Sorn looked around the small space again, to check. If not a bed, then perhaps a door to a bedroom? No, nothing like that. Sorn supposed that Sisters of the Light would have known better than to let them have that, as a man and a woman alone together. Then Sorn flushed with excitement at having let his mind go there, and quickly tucked the old warm feelings away.
Liadrin invited him to sit. Her chair was not facing the desk, it was turned slightly, to face the window. And, the door. Instinctively, she was vigilant, watching carefully for everything that could occur after they no doubt sent someone to warn her the king's chief advisor was in the building, put her in this room. Sorn sat in the uncomfortable wooden chair. It was not Celestia's chair or the chair in his hopeless office. It was the humble, rickety chair facing Liadrin's. Sorn found he really liked that.
They had glasses of water, not tea. Liadrin sipped hers. She turned a little and looked out of the window. The colored glass at the very top glowed. They weren't at an angle, in this room, for the sun to 'smear it all over the walls,' as Liadrin jokingly put it.
Sorn said, "The Light makes the most beautiful purple, through the stained glass here… in a shade I've never before seen. I think that's what distracted me all the way through the halls. I didn't even realize we had arrived at your room—ah, this room, I mean."
Liadrin set down her glass. She was dressed simply, in a white linen dress. A blue rope was tied around her waist. Her hair was pinned up beneath a small white cap.
"So… the Sunspire has finally gone to shit."
Sorn laughed. She'd surprised him.
"That is why you're here? I didn't expect you, Sorn. Or, if I did… I always imagined that you'd write first."
For some reason he could not ask himself, Sorn opened the leather folio and handed the document to Liadrin without reservation. When he wouldn't hand it to Celestia, into her claws. When he was terrified how Anasterian would get it in his teeth. Sorn didn't know why. It just seem to be right, to even be her letter, in a way. Perhaps because… perhaps because once, they always shared things like this. When they were friends. When she was Anasterian's confessor.
And when he was once desperately infatuated with her, her dignity and beauty, and would give her anything in the world that she needed from him. A fantastic age ago. Suddenly, though, it was happening again.
Liadrin was already halfway through the letter.
"She says Kael'thas is suicidal."
"What?!" Sorn got up from his seat. He stood over her shoulder, "I've read it many times, it doesn't say that!"
"No. But her concern… she's afraid he'll hurt himself. Or, other people. That is what this is really about. It's not the ring." Liadrin sighed, moved down the letter to read the rest. "This is not about the ring at all."
No one else had seen that. What would they have done with the information? And to assassinate Anasterian's heir… for Celsestia or any loose affiliation of a corrupt Sunstrider, that letter would make a clean act of it—convenient proof that Kael'thas did not want to exist, that he was capable of it. A murder could be made to look just like it. Of course, it was terrible for Sorn, for him to see his imagination to leap that far. But Liadrin met his eye when she was done, and it was clear she'd already gone there as well.
"Sorn… this is horrible. The boy lost his mother years ago. I don't think Kael'thas ever really got over it, and now this. And Jaina is young, I don't think she realizes what she's done to him. She should not have taken our prince to bed, not if he's just a 'Nerdboy', some trifle in her eyes."
"Lady Jaina is very precious to him, and I'm sure—"
"She's not a lady in here, I don't care about her." Liadrin put the letter on the desk, shrugged.
"Won't you help me?"
Liadrin became quiet. She shared a final look with Sorn, sighed, and took up the letter again. "And his parents truly don't know? Or, I should say, 'parent.' Anasterian, at the least, should be aware of this, how depressed and anxious his son is. Kael'thas is obsessed, to have gone this far. And he's been bullied all this time, at university. Jaina's seen him very upset, on many occasions. That's what she's intimating. I suppose, in a way, she could not come out and say it. Suppose this was intercepted?"
"So, it's not so much… the ring, that she can't get it off. Eventhough you say that doesn't matter—"
"No, Sorn. It's that she can't give it back to him. And it's his mother's ring. Kael'thas needs it. It really is all that he has, now. And also now that she's rejected him and his father… is always so far away." Then, clever Liadrin flew into another subject, "How did Kael'thas ever smuggle that ring out of the royal treasury? All the way from Dalaran?"
"Well, he only had to ask his father for it."
"I see. So mad king Anasterian, he only encouraged it. The painful… self-destructive tendency his son has. It's no wonder, I guess, when Anasterian can't even see the same thing in himself." Liadrin shook her head. Now she couldn't stop looking at the letter. "Well, I know both Sunstrider men and their minds… but all I can give you is my advice. I'm on punishment, or don't you remember that? And a little thing like me, I can't swing a sword. I can't lop any heads off for you. Though this Jaina's head, I'd have it on a silver platter in a second if you asked me for it."
"Well," Sorn made a nervous smile, "She's Prince Arthas' intended. Lady Jaina Proudmoore is practically the queen of Lordaeron."
But Liadrin was decided, "I do not like her at all. Let me guess… intelligent, young, thin, pretty, innocent, blonde—what else are Sunstrider men into? Well, these days… Impossible? Or, should I say intractable? And arrogant? As a beast. With a ring in her nose… Busty?"
"You've described Queen Celestia of Silvermoon well. Now, I don't think Kael'thas would go and make the same mistake as his father. Lady Jaina is more of a… um…"
"Oh, but Celestia's not thin today. Celestia wasn't thin yesterday, either. Not in a month of Sundays."
Sorn laughed, "True. I'm afraid she's always worn it well, though."
"Well enough for him." Now, Liadrin didn't want to say the king's name. "And he would try and start a war with the Humans over something like this, if he knew. This Lady Jaina Proudmoore taking his late wife's ring? Breaking his son's heart, and his mind? Kael'thas bullied at university for years and years, by her and Kael'thas too afraid or proud to say anything about it. Then Prince Arthas is obviously the ringleader, he's in every other sentence of Jaina's. Arthas of all people, the son of the Human king Anasterian loathes the most…" Liadrin gestured around with the letter in her hand, as if the damning document were nothing better than a shopping list. It kept making Sorn set his teeth and reach a little for it, "Oh, Anasterian would finally have the not-so-flimsy excuse he needs. Or Celestia might conspire to have Kael'thas killed, and be able to cover it up. Then, destroyed by grief, it'd be easy to declare… Anasterian… a mad king, make it official for not just the confessors and chief advisors and wives sworn to secrecy in his life. After that, Celestia would have the throne to herself. And she'd feel like, after being called a queen but treated like the royal concubine all this time, all while he's had a mountain of lovers ontop of her anyway… Celestia, queen absolute of Quel'thalas… she'd feel like she'd earned it. In a small way, and I never thought I'd say this… I wouldn't blame her." But then, Liadrin got as hard as steel, "But I would never, ever blame Kael'thas either."
"Oh, Liadrin! Gods, I can really see it now…" he covered his face a moment. "I did need you to out and say it, though. War with the humans, or the Highborne struggling under a vengeful, despot queen. Kael'thas caught in the middle or worse…"
"That's what will come to pass, certainly, if no one does anything."
"But what can we do, to stop any of this?"
"I assume you can't get him back home?"
"Kael'thas refused to return right after graduation. But the campus will empty out soon, term is over. They won't let him stay in Dalaran forever." He whispered, "Besides, with our reports of what's really going on in the Human countryside… oh no, no, no. He shouldn't stay. I do know that."
Liadrin drummed fingers on the table. "Kael'thas doesn't want to face reality. And surely not, not after his fantasy of the perfect woman to fix his world, to be his mother and his wife and his goddess all in one, now ruined."
Sorn sat down again, leaned elbows on his knees. I'd take the portal to Dalaran myself, but… there are many restrictions. The king's mages keep access locked tight. And then, of course, Anasterian would know what I was doing. He'd quickly find it out, whatever excuse I made. So, whatever we try, we must… we will be required to go around him."
Liadrin stood, though. She went to the shelf. "I have a book… I keep it here. I don't want it in my room, or I'll be the one to obsess over it." She offered it up, then she took it back. She squeezed it like she would hug it but of course she couldn't be seen, hugging a book. "This is his mother. Anthene'alas. All that I knew about her, from Anasterian. All good. I couldn't write anything bad if I tried. Well, she did have flaws… but the only mistake Queen Anthene ever made was falling in love with him. Though, Kael'thas, being the result of their love, would never think that of his mother. So…" she swallowed, "Send this… send this along to him."
Sorn took the book, turned it over. "I remember this one. Your first book, after you were um… cloistered. But this edition of the book is banned…"
"Because none of Anasterian's propaganda is in there. It was before the vultures got to it. Send a messenger with this to Kael'thas. It won't fix everything, but it will ease his distress, for now. It will remind him that he is loved."
"And do you love him?"
"Obviously, I'm done with Anasterian-"
"Kael'thas. You once thought you were going to be his mother."
It was almost rude to ask. Liadrin leaned against the windowsill once more. She looked down and played with her fingers. "I will always cherish Kael'thas. Eventhough I didn't marry Anasterian. Not the way I wanted to. And then… and then he put me in here."
Sorn couldn't help himself. "What happened, on that day? After I said goodbye to you? I didn't think… I didn't think you'd be out and out punished like this, sworn to silence beyond these walls? I have always wanted to tell you, Liadrin. I have always wanted to say that I'm sorry and that I—"
"Enough. I'll tell you the story. But then, you must leave, Sorn. And you must send that to Kael'thas immediately. Other than that, I can only think of you… getting a delegation or other." She squinted at something beyond the window, something she hated to see, though she was in a convent full of devoted priestesses, "…Good people. Maybe some of his old Silvermoon friends, if he's got any, to go and visit him. They must be truly virtuous people who don't mean him any harm whatsoever. No one that his father would choose, of course. And really just… fetch him back home after they've seen him. Get Kael'thas back here, where we can keep a better eye on him. Though I don't know who could do it. There isn't a Farstrider in this kingdom that I can trust, I don't know about you."
Sorn sighed. "Alright. But you must tell me. About that day with Anasterian. Please. What he was really like in those last days, and how this whole thing started, with that ring. It may even help me, when I write Kael'thas and send the book. I worry now that, if he never reads it… I must get him to open the book and at least try. I want to speak with him myself, desperately."
"Obviously. I would, too, but it wouldn't mean anything to Kael'thas. My chance, I missed it."
"But Lia, if I go to Dalaran, Anasterian will be right on my heels."
Liadrin sat down again. "… I can't make that journey." Her voice wavered for the first time since Sorn arrived. And his unprecedented arrival should have been disturbing enough for her.
"But your first lesson about the [Heartblood of Anthene] is that it is not truly a ring. It is a relic. It encapsulates the impossible love of one woman for the Sunstrider line and her kingdom. A love that should have never existed, but yet… but yet it embodies itself, even today, in the form of Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider. So then, he is hope incarnate."
"You make me feel like we're in the middle of a religious service. Or… some pagan ritual."
"I am not joking with you, Sorn." Liadrin's expression darkened, but then a smile flickered there. In a moment, in a heartbeat, it reminded him of Anasterian's perfect smile, now marred by pointed teeth. "This kingdom, for too long, has been devoid of true love. Compassion, kindness for other living beings. We need that ring, and we need our prince. Back home, alive. Queen Anthene'alas sacrificed everything for both her boys while she was alive, Anasterian and Kael'thas." Her voice rose with conviction. She turned from the window, to face him, "And I feel that… I, alone, understood why."
"I believe you may be right, Sister Liadrin."
"Then, unfortunately," she spread open her hands, "that means the whole world is wrong, and it needs to be upset. Would you agree with that as well, Chief Advisor Sorn?"
Sorn did not know what to say.
"Sorn. I know there will be red tape, and bickering over who says… who can do what." Then Liadrin shook her head, "But I don't care. As soon as you can, you get a few good Farstriders. And you go get Kael'thas."
Sorn got up to leave. He extended his hand. This gentleman with hair gone white, fine robes and a humble skull cap, looking so knowledgeable, tried, true, still so relevant… he was frightened that the exhausted priestess in simple robe, passed over and forgotten, dressed almost as a pauper, she would want not hug him goodbye. Sorn waited for Liadrin to accept, to at least shake his hand. To part as colleagues, as friends, after everything. Instead, Liadrin made a fist. She raised it across her chest, then brought the arm down sharply, to salute him.
"For some reason… I feel that should have been the other way around, Liadrin." Sorn fidgeted.
She smiled absently. "Good luck on your mission. As for me… my part in this is quite done. Old and washed up, and plain as dirt. No one reading what I write, or ever listening to my ideas anymore. And I thought they were such good ideas, Sorn." She hugged her arms, "I'm sure this talk of ours will be the last important thing I ever do."
"Lia," Sorn put a hand on her shoulder, then drew her into the hug he craved. Perhaps the way she'd been standing, they both wanted it? "Beautiful Lia… Have faith."
"Bring me Kael'thas. And then I will believe in… everything. Again."