Sorry for the delay on this one! I kind of derped and got stuck at a point where I realised I was going to have a twenty thousand word long chapter on my hands, and I figured that might be a little much. It seemed sensible to split it, until I then realised the bits I'd written were the middle and ending… which now form Chapter 12, not Chapter 11. RIP me.
Anyway! As always, thank you all so much for your support and commentary; I promise you that each and every comment gets read at least a dozen times, and there's usually a lot of squealing and smiling and ugly crying involved. Please also feel free to hit me up on Tumblr ( wolfandwild) or send me a PM if you'd like to chat!
Varian
The next twenty minutes passed in silence as Varian and Auriana prepared to make the journey home. There was no question of returning to Stormwind, not given the potential gravity of the situation, but that didn't mean Varian had to be happy about it, either. Ridley had stepped outside to give them some privacy, but he could feel her presence as keenly as if she were standing in the centre of the room tapping her foot at him. It also didn't help that his brain was still foggy with lust and adrenaline from his 'hunt', and he was finding it rather difficult to gather his thoughts. Not even an hour ago, he had been wild and free; lost in the heady, primal thrill of his wolfish side, and yet in a mere second he had been forced to regain control and become High King Varian once more.
Of course, such a thing was more easily said than done. Varian's nerves were still afire, despite his best efforts to remain calm, and every sight and scent and sound that Auriana made threatened to send him back over the edge. She was still soaking wet, her skirts clinging to her thighs in a way that highlighted every luscious curve, and beneath the smell of rain and sweat and blood, he could still smell her lust; as clear and stark as if he had his face buried in crux of her thighs.
Varian watched Auriana closely as she folded her clothes and carefully placed them in her bag, both out of concern, and because he found her so beautiful that he could scarcely look away. He could not tell from her expression whether she was still as affected by their tryst in the woods as he, nor how she felt about the sudden change of plans. She had reacted Ridley's startling declaration with nothing more than a quick upward quirk of her eyebrows, before immediately turning away to see to her things.
Even when doing something so simple as packing, Auriana was radiant, and Varian was so distracted by her beauty that it wasn't until she had finished and turned to face him with a curious expression that he realised hadn't moved. He coughed in a poor attempt to cover his distraction, before hastily shoving his own things into a bag with little care for efficient use of space or any overarching principle of organisation. By the time he'd finished cramming everything in, it looked less like an actual bag and more like a loosely bound pile of pile of cloth, leather, and plate. It was functional, at least, though he did not miss the sidelong glance Auriana shot his way as he awkwardly lifted the bundle onto his back.
Varian then called Ridley back inside to assist with the larger pieces of his armour, as well as his wedding present, while Auriana dutifully opened a portal back to their rooms in Stormwind. Ridley went through first, and as she disappeared Varian made a mental note to send a message through to Darnassus to explain their abrupt departure. The elves had been Varian's favourite kind of hosts, namely absent ones, and he did not wish to repay their kindness and generosity with rudeness.
Just as Auriana went to follow Ridley across the threshold of the portal, however, Varian was struck by another important thought, and he decided to take advantage of what might have been their last private moment for a while.
"Auri… wait…"
He caught her by the sleeve, and gently pulled her back. He had no idea what kind of political storm they were about to step into, but he wanted to make sure Auriana was not vexed with him before they did. It was barely even a week into their marriage, and yet they had already found their personal lives disrupted by the weight of his crown. Varian would never dream of shirking his duties as High King, and nor would Auriana ever ask him to; but he knew that the timing left a lot to be desired, and he would not have blamed her if she were upset.
"Before we go to back to Stormwind and everything becomes… complicated… you should know, I am sorry," he said seriously.
Auriana cocked her head to the side, and touched a hand to the place on her shoulder where Varian had so violently marked her as his. The bleeding had stopped, but the wound still appeared red and raw beneath the see-through fabric of her blouse.
"Varian… I told you… there's no need to apologise…"
"Not… that," he clarified quickly, though admittedly he felt rather guilty about biting her, too. "I promised you time… a proper honeymoon…"
Varian shrugged his shoulders helplessly, finding it difficult to articulate precisely what it was he was sorry for.
"You're the High King. You're needed," Auriana said simply. "I understand."
"I know you do," he said, "But I also know that becoming a Queen would not have been your first choice, if there had been another option. I know that you hate this sort of thing."
Auriana frowned at his choice of words, and pulled away from him slightly so that she might better look him in the eye.
"Hate it?" she repeated. "Not at all."
She bit her lip, and a moment of silence passed between them as she searched for the right words.
"Varian… I think you've misunderstood. I know I was hesitant about becoming Queen, but it's not because I dislike leadership," she said gently, staring up at him from beneath dark lashes. "Or politics, for that matter."
"No?"
"You know how much my command in Draenor meant to me," she pointed out. "I live and bleed for the Alliance, and as Queen of Stormwind I have the power to protect lives in a way that I never could as a mere commander. My reticence comes from fear, not because I hate the idea of being a queen. I'm... afraid of letting our people down. I'm afraid of letting you down."
She ran a hand through the damp tangles of her hair, and gave him a rueful smile.
"Afraid is not quite the right word. I'm...terrified, actually."
"You're never afraid," Varian countered fiercely. "You're the bravest person I've ever met."
"I'm afraid of plenty of things. Though I have to admit, the thought of failing you troubles me more than almost anything else," Auriana murmured, looking away from him to stare down at her hands.
The movement was small, but it still clearly conveyed the deep vulnerability and contradiction hidden in the depths of Auriana's heart. It was strange, Varian thought, that a woman with both the courage and the power to stand toe to toe with gods feared disappointing him. It filled him with a profound sense of humility, and was not something he took at all lightly.
"I think I owe you another apology," he murmured. "I underestimated you."
Somewhat surprisingly, his comment made Auriana's quirk upward in a small smile. She shook her head, and gestured to her diminutive stature.
"You wouldn't be the first," she snorted.
"No, but that doesn't mean I'm not sorry," Varian said. "And for what it's worth, I don't think you could ever so much as disappoint me, much less fail me."
Her smile widened at his words, and she was so soft and beautiful as to make Varian's breath catch in his chest and his heart ache with regret. He knew they had to leave, he knew that he could not neglect his duties as king… but there had scarcely been a time when he had wanted to more.
"One more thing..." he said quietly, tightening his grip on the sleeve of Auriana's shirt.
"We really ought to get back…" Auriana said, gesturing towards the portal. "Anduin and Ridley will be waiting…"
"I know. But now that I've got my wits about me again… I need you to understand…"
Varian cleared his throat.
"About what happened between us in the woods, what you did for me today… I…"
He had been utterly floored by Auriana's trust in him and her understanding of who he was and what he needed, but it wasn't something he had truly appreciated in the moment. Out in the forest, he had become a creature entirely consumed by instinct and lust, but now that the fire in his veins had begun to cool, he could understand what it was about the encounter that had been so special. Auriana made him feel free, and for a man who had spent his entire life bound by his crown, and his pain, and his rage, it was a priceless gift indeed.
Expressing the complexity of his feelings was far easier said than done, however, and he stood, frowning in discomposed silence for a few moments, before Auriana took matters into her own hands. She rose up onto her tiptoes, and pulled Varian down for a tender kiss before he could say another word.
"Varian. I know. It doesn't need saying. It never has."
She slipped her hand into his, and pulled him gently towards the shimmering portal.
"Now come on. Let's go home."
The first thing Varian saw upon rematerialising in his study was Ridley shaking her head like a wet dog as she tried to clear the water from her ears. The second thing he saw was his son, standing by the fire with his brows drawn in a pensive expression. Anduin had recently hit another growth spurt, and had gained a bit more height and breadth in the shoulders. It made him look more mature, more adult, but in that moment he looked more like a nervous boy than a prince on the cusp of manhood.
"Father!"
The look of sheer relief on Anduin's face as he turned did much to ease Varian's irritation, though he still rather wished that the Warchief's request had come with better timing. He doubted he'd ever get much of an opportunity to spend so much uninterrupted time alone with Auriana ever again, but such was the burden of being King. Varian nodded in acknowledgment of his son's greeting, before divesting himself of his baggage and brushing his wet hair back from his face.
"Hello, Anduin."
"I'm so sorry, Father, I know you didn't want to be interrupted…" Anduin rambled, speaking so quickly that even Varian found it hard to keep up. "And you, Auri… I know it was your honeymoon... but then the letter came, and I wasn't sure what to do… and it's so important, I mean, when was the last time the Horde reached out to…"
He paused for breath, and seemed to properly notice Varian and Auriana for the first time.
"Wait, why are you two soaking wet? And what is that on your face, Father?"
He pointed to Varian's considerable chin, and with a start Varian realised it must have been a week since he had last shaved. He had been so distracted by Auriana that it hadn't even occurred to him, and he supposed by now he must have been looking rather scruffy.
"It's a beard, Anduin - or the start of one, at least," he growled. "Believe it or not, some of us are actually capable of growing facial hair."
Anduin dismissed the sarcastic comment with a roll of his eyes, though his hand subconsciously brushed across the smooth skin of his lower jaw.
"Were you two in a fight or something? There's mud all over the side of your neck," he added. "Honestly, Father, how is it that you manage to find trouble even in the middle of nowhere on your honeymoon?"
He shook his head in bemusement, only to frown a second later as his bright-eyed gaze found the blood along the line of Auriana's collar.
"Auri, you're bleeding!" he exclaimed. "What happened? Are you alright?"
Ever the healer, Anduin immediately stepped forward to offer aid, but Varian stopped him with a firm hand on the chest and a shake of his head.
"Anduin. No."
It wasn't difficult to identify the imprint of human teeth in flesh from up close, and he knew that Auriana would be mortified if Anduin suspected anything of what had transpired between them out in the forest.
"But…"
"I'm fine, Anduin. Just a small nick," Auriana said, the top of her ears going red. "What's all this about a message from the Warchief?"
She, too, placed her bags on the ground, and dismissed Ridley with a small smile and a wave of her hand. Anduin did not appear at all convinced by her assurances, however, though he was also smart enough to know that there was no point in pushing the issue. Instead, he strode over to Varian's desk, and retrieved an otherwise unremarkable scroll of parchment.
"It was hidden in a diplomatic package from Pandaria. I didn't realise what it was until I'd already opened it, but it's addressed to you…"
He held the scroll out to Varian, who thumbed open the broken seal and began to read. The message was actually composed of two different pieces of parchment; one a long and formal missive bearing the official seal of the Horde Warchief, and a second shorter note in different handwriting that was addressed to Auriana.
Varian read over the formal message first, and was somewhat surprised to learn that Vol'jin really did wish to arrange a meeting. It wasn't that he hadn't believed Anduin, of course, but more that Vol'jin's overture was so unexpected that he had needed to see the proof of it for himself. The current Warchief had certainly proven to be more cooperative than many of his allies, but he was still a Warchief of the Horde. The tentative truce that had persisted on Azeroth ever since the end of the war on Draenor was one thing, but Vol'jin's letter seemed to suggest that he wanted something more, and Varian couldn't help but to be skeptical.
"I didn't show Genn," Anduin said nervously, wringing his hands. "I know he was supposed to be my advisor, but I didn't know how he'd react; you know how he can be about the Horde…"
"Can you blame him?"
Varian's own position on the Horde had softened over the years, though he doubted he would have been so charitable had Garrosh Hellscream succeeded in his attempt to kill Anduin with the Divine Bell, as Sylvanas had succeeded in killing Liam Greymane. He and Genn may not have always seen eye to eye on every issue, but Varian had always held a great deal of sympathy for the older King's sorrow. If he were to lose Anduin, or now Auriana...
"I know that he still carries much pain, and rightly so," Anduin said carefully, ever the diplomat, "But if there is a chance we can and save many more sons and daughters by securing a lasting piece, we must put our personal feelings aside."
Privately, Varian felt there some things that defied forgiveness, but that was a philosophical argument for another day. His son was uncertain; clearly worried that he had made some sort of critical error, and Varian had no wish to undermine his confidence as he took his first steps towards real kingship.
"You did well," he said, clapping Anduin firmly on the back. "Who else is aware of the Warchief's message?"
"Just us three. As I said, it was hidden among some other documents," Anduin clarified. "Oh - and Ridley, too, obviously. I thought she could be trusted."
Varian nodded, then turned to Auriana and handed her the missive from Vol'jin, as well as the second sealed message that bore her name.
"Believe it or not, Vol'jin wants to meet us privately," he explained. "He wishes to talk off the record about the future of the Alliance and the Horde. Whatever that means."
"Us?" she repeated. "As in you and I?"
"Apparently. There's a letter there addressed to you, too."
A flicker of recognition crossed Auriana's face as she read the messy scrawl marking her own name, but she did not immediately flip the seal. Instead, she tucked her wet hair back behind her ears with a thoughtful frown, and glanced towards the study door.
"I can't concentrate when I'm dripping all over the floor. Let me get out of these wet clothes, and we'll discuss this properly, hmm?"
She gave Anduin a small smile as she stepped past him, taking both letters with her as she slipped out of the study and off towards the bedroom. Both Wrynn men watched her go, and it wasn't until she was well out of earshot that Anduin spoke once more.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I know you two needed time alone, but…"
"Anduin. You did the right thing by recalling me," Varian said flatly, holding up a hand before his son could speak further. "I'm not going to say it again."
Anduin nodded, though his expression remained doubtful.
"I'll have to find a way to make things up to you," he suggested. "I'm sure I could see to the kingdom for another few days - I think - if you wanted to try again sometime? I know it's hard to find the time, but I would like to help."
"The offer is appreciated, Anduin, but unnecessary," Varian said softly. "Really."
It was something of a lie, though he didn't see any point in making Anduin feel worse than he already did. His son had ever worn his heart on his sleeve, and guilt was clearly written into every small frown and crease of his forehead.
"What were you doing out there, anyway?" Anduin asked, curious. "I thought you were staying in a cabin in Teldrassil, not... roaming about the forest. You look like you've been rolling around in the mud, and Auri looks like she was wrestling a wild animal with her bare… oh."
His face flushed an unbecoming shade of bright red as the realisation hit him, and he suddenly seemed rather fascinated by the floor. Varian was not in a particular habit of discussing the finer points of his relationship with anyone, much less his teenaged son, and he felt his own ears burn hot. He was not embarrassed by his own desires, and he did not want to give Anduin the impression that physical intimacy was something shameful; but nor did he want to get drawn into a discussion of the details.
Ever.
Fortunately, Anduin seemed to agree with his father's sentiment. He turned away, his cheeks flaming, when his gaze fell upon the painting resting up against the leg of Varian's desk.
"I… uh… oh! What's this?" he asked, gently pulling away the cloth cover protecting the artwork.
It was a clear attempt to change the topic to something less awkward, though his interest soon became genuine as he realised what the painting actually depicted.
"This… hold on, is that you? And that must be Grandfather, and Grandmother…"
Anduin's mouth fell open, and he stared up at Varian with wide eyes. There were relatively few relics of the House of Wrynn left from before the fall of Stormwind, most of them have been burned by the orcs or stolen by looters. Varian had ordered a few things rebuilt, based on his own memories, but there were hardly any originals left, and none that depicted Anduin's grandparents - until now.
"Auriana's wedding gift to me," he explained. "She - well, let's just say she went to a great deal of trouble to acquire it."
"It isn't a replica? She… how?"
Anduin reached out to run his fingers reverently across the textured oil paint, staring down at the face of a man he would never know. He may have borne Llane's name, but Varian would always regret that his son knew nothing of his grandfather's smile, or his wit or compassion.
"Father… this is… she…"
"Oh, believe me, Anduin, I am well aware of the fact that I don't deserve her," Varian snorted.
He shook some more water from his hair, and made his way over to the liquor cabinet at the back of the room. He wasn't especially comfortable in his own soaked clothes, but he had such a naturally high body temperature that they were drying relatively quickly. The cheerful fire burning at the back of the room also helped a great deal, though it admittedly did very little for the squelch in Varian's boots.
"Where do you think we ought to hang it?" he asked, as he poured himself a stiff glass of whiskey.
"Hmm," Anduin murmured, "Somewhere private, I think. It's personal, not a landscape to be forgotten in a hallway somewhere."
He placed the painting on Varian's desk with an air of great reverence, and gazed around the room with a thoughtful expression.
"Maybe not your bedroom. I can't imagine you'd want your father staring at you while you… uh… sleep."
"Is that a hint?" Varian teased. "I could have something commissioned, you know; rig it up on your ceiling so that you can always have me watching over you."
Anduin blanched, and Varian could practically see him imagining what it would be like to have a giant portrait of Varian himself looming over his bed.
"Or… you could just hang your painting above the fireplace there, instead…" he suggested.
Varian barked out a laugh at the look of sheer horror on his son's face, earning him a glare of pure indignation. Despite his best efforts, however, Anduin could not resist his father's mirth forever. His mouth twitched, and soon he, too, was laughing. Such levity had often been rare occurrence in their relationship, though that had changed significantly over the past few years. The laughter also did a great deal to ease some of the tension still lingering in the room between them, and for a while Varian allowed himself to enjoy the moment of simple kinship with his son.
"How have you been, anyway?" he asked finally, after the last of Anduin's bemused chuckles had subsided.
"Fine, mostly. Getting that letter was a bit of a shock, but otherwise it's been business as usual around here," Anduin replied, his expression growing sober once more. "I must admit, though, I rather underestimated the amount of work you do for the kingdom."
"Oh?"
Varian leaned back against the heavy oak of the liquor cabinet, swirling the amber whiskey around his glass as he studied his son. Anduin had moved to take a seat on the lounge, and was now fiddling idly with the corner of a plush pillow as he gathered his thoughts. His golden brows were drawn together in a very small frown; not an expression of consternation, but rather one of deep thoughtfulness. It was uncannily similar to an expression that Tiffin had often worn, and Varian hid a fond smile behind the rim of his glass as he took a long draw of his drink.
"I mean, I know you work hard, but I didn't realise it was that hard. I may have been 'king' when you were missing, but I was still a child. Bolvar did most of the work," Anduin continued. "And you're efficient, too. It takes me a whole day to do work I've seen you do in a few hours."
"I've had twenty years of practice, give or take," Varian pointed out. "You haven't."
"I thought I had a better handle on things, but it was a tad overwhelming, even with Genn's help," Anduin admitted. "I don't want to let our people down. I don't want to let you down."
"You care. Deeply. That's more than a lot of rulers can say," Varian countered. "The rest is practice. You'll get there, it might just take some time."
"It never feels like enough," Anduin sighed.
"Welcome to kingship."
Varian understood his son's frustration all too well. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he could never hope to help or protect everyone. There would always be people who suffered; people who had less than they deserved. People who died. Dwelling on this harsh was enough to break the heart of even the strongest man, and Varian had long ago learned to push such thoughts to the back of his mind lest he find himself consumed.
Anduin, however, was still young, and empathetic almost to a fault. Varian did not wish for him to become cold, or unfeeling, but at the same time he knew that the realities of kingship demanded a degree of hardness that Anduin would have to learn if he were to be an effective leader.
"You look tired," he observed. "Have you been sleeping?"
"Not really," Anduin confessed. "But I'm fine."
Varian would have almost believed him, if not for the fact that at that precise moment, Anduin's body chose to betray him. Despite his best efforts to stifle it, a loud, drawn out yawn escaped his lips, and he was forced to sheepishly cover his mouth with his hands.
"Go get some rest," Varian told him.
"But…"
"No buts. Auriana and I can handle things from here," Varian ordered. "And for future reference, a king who is awake has a substantial advantage over one who is asleep."
"Funny," Anduin said, rolling his eyes.
Despite his outward reticence, however, Varian could tell he was actually rather relieved to have been dismissed. There were dark circles under his eyes that Varian had not immediately noticed, and he did not doubt that the boy had been up till the wee hours of the morning each day, buried in his work.
"You know, you haven't ordered me to bed since I was a child," Anduin added.
"You didn't listen to me then, either."
Anduin smiled at that; his blue eyes warm with affection as he stared up at his father. The expression made him look very young, and Varian was starkly reminded that for all his intelligence and wisdom, Anduin was not yet a man with decades of life experience, but in many ways still an inquisitive youth trying to find his place in the world.
In this case, Anduin was also an especially tired young man, and Varian hoped that for once he would heed his father's advice. Varian was quite prepared to argue the point, and even to carry Anduin off to bed himself, if that's what it took, but for once it seemed that Anduin was content to accept Varian's orders without resistance. He offered his father a small nod and another weary smile, before he turned and slowly and silently made his way to the study door.
A few minutes after Anduin had departed, Auriana returned, having traded her soaking wet skirts for a warm blue dress. Varian noted that the outfit she had chosen was particularly high necked, so as to hide the mark on her shoulder, though of course with Anduin gone there was little need. She had also pinned her damp tresses into a messy pile on top of her head, and altogether she looked far more relaxed and comfortable than she had when they had first arrived.
"Where's Anduin?" she asked.
"I sent him back to his rooms. I suspect he's been running himself a bit ragged."
Varian held out a glass of wine toward her, which she accepted with a grateful smile.
"He wants so badly to impress you," Auriana observed, running a pale finger along the rim of her glass. "I can relate to that."
"I know," Varian said quietly. "He puts too much on himself."
"A Wrynn king taking the weight of the world on his shoulders, whoever would have thought," Auriana said, smiling wryly back at Varian from over the rim of her wine glass.
"You're a Wrynn now, too, don't forget," he reminded her.
"A Wrynn queen, not a Wrynn king. We're much smarter," she teased.
"Well, you did marry me, that hardly speaks to any great intelligence on your behalf..." Varian said slyly.
Auriana burst out laughing, and flopped down onto the chaise where Anduin had been sitting only a few minutes earlier. She beckoned for Varian to join her, and he certainly did not need to be asked twice. He moved immediately to take a seat at her side, picking up her feet so that they were resting comfortably in his lap, and tickled the bare skin of her ankles until she shivered. Their honeymoon may have been cut short, but that did not mean that Varian could not take the time to enjoy some small moments of peace with his new wife.
Unfortunately, duty could not wait forever, and all too soon Varian's attention was drawn back to the two scrolls Auriana had left perched on the edge of the lounge.
"So," he said finally. "What did you make of Vol'jin's invitation?"
"It's… interesting, to say the least. I can't believe he wants to meet us in Booty Bay, of all places."
Auriana pinched her lower lip between her thumb and her index finger, and scowled in deep thought.
"Why there?" she mused. "I've been to Booty Bay a few times now, and I'd hardly recommend it as a destination for… anything, really."
"Neutral territory," Varian guessed. "Not an ideal place for a meeting of this significance, but somewhere no one would bat an eye at a human and a troll conversing. Easy for access from Ratchet, too."
"Somewhere no-one would ever be looking for a Warchief, or a High King, either, I suppose," Auriana agreed, nodding. "So whatever Vol'jin wants, he's very invested in keeping the discussion secret - from both the Alliance and the Horde."
"I agree. It could be a trap," Varian observed.
"I think that's where the second letter comes into it," Auriana said, tapping the parchments with a slender finger. "It's from Zala'din, and it's most definitely his handwriting. He assures me the Warchief's intentions are genuine, and he simply wants an opportunity to talk."
"Do you trust him?" Varian asked. "Zala'din, I mean."
Auriana considered the question, fiddling idly with a stray lock of hair as she did. Her friendship with Zala'din was an odd one, given the turbulent history between trolls and humans. It had been borne out of a battlefield necessity, though it had later matured into something far more genuine. In his pettier moments, Varian had found himself wishing that they had not grown quite so close. Not because he suspected any sort of romantic relationship between the two, of course, but rather because he was undeniably jealous of the time Auriana and Zala'din had spent side by side in Draenor. Varian loved fighting alongside his wife more than almost anything, and it rankled him that Zala'din had been given the opportunity to do so far more often than Varian himself.
"I trust him," Auriana concluded, "But whether that means I want to go traipsing off to a pirate backwater tomorrow night is an entirely different question."
"Tomorrow?"
Varian reached for the parchment, and quickly scanned over Vol'jin's scraggly handwriting for the second time. Admittedly, he hadn't really paid much attention to the specifics on his first reading, surprised as he had been to have received the message at all.
"The message said that if we agree to meet, they will be waiting for us on the full moon," Auriana clarified. "That's tomorrow night."
"I must have lost track of time when we were in Darnassus," Varian said ruefully. "That doesn't leave us much time to prepare."
"No, it doesn't," she agreed. "Though I will confess... I'm curious. Anduin was right - this is an unprecedented move for the Horde."
Auriana leaned back against the arm of the chaise, stretching out her toes as she gave Varian a serious look. She as much reason as he did to hate the Horde, having lost her entire remaining family in the attack on Theramore, but she was also ultimately a pragmatist at heart. She had worked closely with Zala'din and his troops in Draenor, regardless of her own personal feelings on the matter, because that was what it had taken to triumph over the Iron Horde. Auriana would always do what she had to do to win, and to protect the people she loved - and in this case, Varian realised that the best way to protect the people under his care might have been to accept Vol'jin's offer. After all, the troll only wanted to talk.
He sighed.
"I'm curious, too. And I think speaking to Vol'jin one on one - or two on one, I suppose - is likely to be more productive than any formal diplomatic meeting I could arrange. On balance, I'm inclined to think we ought to go," he admitted.
"I agree," Auriana said, nodding, "Provided we take certain precautions."
"No arguments from me. What do you suggest?"
"We go together, obviously. Armed. It's Booty Bay, no one is going to complain about a few extra swords. And I can disguise us with my magic," she concluded.
"Oh?"
A strange expression crossed Auriana's face, and she suddenly seemed unwilling to look Varian in the eye.
"I can glamour us, yes," she said slowly. "I change our hair, hide your scars, that sort of thing."
"You can glamour us? Funny, last year I seem to recall that you went to Kalimdor with Genn because disguising me would have been too difficult."
Varian deliberately kept his voice low and steady, but judging from Auriana's sudden caginess, he suspected he would not like her answer. It wouldn't be the first time she had been less than honest with him, though in this case he didn't quite understand what had motivated her deceit.
"That… that may have not been… entirely true..."
"You lied to me," he accused her.
Auriana lifted her gaze to his, and she gave him a short nod.
"I did," she admitted.
"Why?"
"Because you were in one of those moods where I feared you would march up to the gates of Orgrimmar and demand to fight every last member of the Horde one on one!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air.
"Afraid I'd lose?" Varian scowled.
"No. I was afraid you'd win."
Auriana withdrew her feet from his lap, and sat up straight in her seat, her hands folded neatly across her thighs. The casual affection in her posture vanished, and her expression caught somewhere the between that of a naughty child awaiting a scolding, and her fiercest, most defiant self.
"You weren't yourself," she muttered. "You were exhausted… reckless… angry."
"I don't like being handled, Auriana," Varian said warningly, biting back the hot flash of anger that burned through his chest. "Nor lied to."
Try as he might, he found it difficult not to rankle at her implication that he had been entirely incapable of controlling himself. He knew he was a dangerous man, but nor was he some sort of ticking time bomb waiting to explode. Coming from her, of all people, also made it somehow worse, as did the fact that she had kept her decision from him for an entire year.
"Please… you have to understand..." she murmured, "It wasn't my intention to 'handle' you. I'm sorry… but at the time I believed it was in everyone's best interests to keep you out of Ratchet."
She looked up him with wide, pleading eyes, and tentatively reached for his hand.
"You were a wreck, Varian, and understandably so. They came after your son. I… I did what I did to protect you, more than anyone else…"
Both Auriana's words and hands were cool and soft, but her touch did not quell his displeasure as easily as it usually did. And yet…
Varian closed his eyes, and took a deep breath as he forced himself to consider her point of view. He was no stranger to his fury, but admittedly there had been few moments in his life that had enraged him more than witnessing the two explosions intended to kill both his son and the woman he loved. He had been very careful to avoid showing his anger openly to either Anduin or Auriana, but in private he had been another beast entirely. At one point, he had nearly broken his hand in an ill-advised attempt to drive his fist through the stone wall of the Keep, though it had done very little to release his pent-up rage.
She was right to leave you behind, a small voice inside him whispered, and he sighed.
"You're my wife, now, Auriana. You can't lie to me," he growled, though he nevertheless took her offered hand, and linked his fingers with hers.
"I know," she said quickly. "I promise, it won't happen again."
"You should never fear telling me the truth," he added, more gently. "I rely on you to be honest with me, to speak your mind. I can't promise I'll like hearing it, but I will always listen."
"So long as you'll do the same for me."
Auriana squeezed his hand in reply, and some of the tension in her shoulders began to ease as Varian rubbed his thumb over the back of her knuckles. They sat in silence for a long while, each lost in their own thoughts, but the quick frisson of anger and hurt that had kindled between them ultimately proved short lived. Oddly enough, their brief argument had served to remind Varian just how much he had missed having a wife, and for all that it may have vexed him to learn of her dishonesty, he would take a lie from Auriana any day over not having her at all.
"Are you hungry?" he said finally.
It was his indirect way of asking if things were alright between them, and he only hoped that Auriana would understand. Fortunately, as it turned out, she'd never really need him to say things out loud.
"Starving," she said, and she smiled.
Varian spent most of the next day catching up on the goings on of the kingdom while he had been away. Anduin had done well, despite his concerns, though there was less work complete than Varian would have done himself in the same time period. Much of it could be explained by Anduin's relative inexperience, though Varian also suspected it might have something to do with the boy's thoughtfulness. He liked to think things through, to consider things from all possible angles - which while not in itself a bad thing, could also make him indecisive.
Still, the work Anduin had done was both thorough and of a very high standard, and Varian was immensely proud. He had no plans to cede the rulership of Stormwind to his son anytime soon, but it heartened him to know that when the time came, his beloved kingdom would be left in capable hands. He also reminded himself to tell Anduin as much the next time they spoke, but for now he simply threw himself into his work.
It was just after sundown when Varian finally left his study, stretching out his neck and shoulders as he made his way back to his inner chambers to change. The full moon was already on the rise, and Varian had yet to don his disguise for the trip to Booty Bay. He and Auriana had each borrowed a set of roughshod clothes from Mathias Shaw at SI:7, so as not to look out of place amongst the general rabble that made up the population of the ramshackle pirate city. Shaw had been extremely reluctant to let his King and Queen travel to a pirate haven without an entire regiment at their backs, but after a short argument, Varian had prevailed. Vol'jin's message had been very specific, and he did not wish to compromise theil negotiations before they even began. In a way, he also almost preferred the idea of meeting the Warchief one on one, where they could speak more openly and honestly, outside the normal strictures of the uneasy diplomacy that existed between the Alliance and the Horde.
Of course, Varian didn't doubt that Shaw would probably send agents to shadow them anyway. Booty Bay was a dangerous place at the best of times, and Shaw was far too good at his job to let Varian and Auriana go entirely unobserved. Stormwind's spymaster most likely already had a half dozen agents in the city, collecting rumours and gossip from travelers from all over the Eastern Kingdoms and Kalimdor, and it would be a small thing for Shaw to order them to keep an eye out for any trouble. Even if that did mean technically disobeying an order from his King...
As Varian entered his inner chambers, he found Auriana standing over their bed, frowning slightly as she contemplated an array of small knives arrayed on the mattress. She had already changed into her disguise, including a pair of pants so singularly tight that Varian wasn't entirely sure how she'd managed to get them on. She already had a short falchion strapped to her hip, though it appeared she was having more difficulty choosing a knife.
Varian coughed to announce his presence, the sound loud enough to pull Auriana's attention from her weapons-based musings where his entering the room alone had not. The damage to her left ear she had suffered in Blackrock Foundry still made it difficult for her to hear soft sounds, and more than once he'd unintentionally startled her by quietly entering the room when her back was turned.
"Good evening," she said, flashing him a brief smile. "You're not dressed."
"Won't take a minute," Varian assured her.
His own roughshod clothes were folded neatly on his own side of the bed, and he quickly set about stripping off the more formal clothes he had worn during the day.
"You seem to have amassed quite the collection," he added, nodding towards Auriana's knives.
"You know how conspicuous I am when I use my magic. I'll defend us if it comes down to it, of course, but if we can get out without blowing our cover, that would be preferable," she said, shrugging. "Hence…"
"What's that?" Varian asked, pointing to what appeared to be an oddly shaped white rock nestled between two push daggers.
He hadn't noticed it at first, but up close it appeared rather out of place with the rest of her arsenal.
"Hearthstone," Auriana explained. "I made one after I was attacked last year with the magebane. If it is a trap, and they somehow nullify my magic, we still have a way out."
"What if they can generate a dampening field?" Varian wondered.
Auriana tilted her head to the side, and looked at him very strangely.
"What if they can generate a dampening field?" she repeated, looking at once baffled and impressed by the fact that he had thought of such a thing.
"What?" Varian protested. "I listen."
"Yes…" Auriana said slowly. "Apparently you do…"
She looked at him askance for a few seconds, before she shook her head and continued on with her explanation.
"I think it's unlikely. Dampening fields are very difficult magic, and generally require multiple mages working in concert to produce. And even if we assume that Vol'jin somehow has half a dozen pet mages following him around, it wouldn't matter. Dampening fields only prevent new magics from being cast. They don't interfere with existing spellwork, like my hearthstone here."
"If Vol'jin has half a dozen mages with him, we might be in trouble," Varian said slyly.
He knew suggesting that Auriana might somehow be outmatched by another mage - or six - was guaranteed to get a rise out of her, and he was proven right a second later as she shot him a cool look and let out a small snort of utter derision.
"Please."
She turned away to slip a slender thumb knife into her boot, and Varian bit back a laugh. She was so wonderfully competitive, and even if he were not precisely pleased to be making the trip to Booty Bay, he was pleased to be with her.
Once Varian had traded his regular clothes for his far more dashing pirate garb, he moved to stand beside the mirror so that Auriana might use her magic to make further illusory alterations to his appearance. Varian had seen others use glamours and magical concealments before - most notably Onyxia in her guise of Katrana Prestor - but he had never had such a spell applied to himself. He wasn't nervous, exactly, but the whole idea of hiding who he was made him uneasy in a way that he couldn't quite explain.
"Ready?" Auriana asked.
"As I'll ever be. What are you going to do to me, anyway?"
"Nothing too drastic," Auriana assured him. "I'm not especially talented when it comes to this sort of magic, and glamours are most effective when they're subtle, in any case. The more I change, the easier it is to detect the spellwork. Smaller changes are also easier for me to maintain. I figure if things go south we're going to need me at full strength, so I won't do any sort of major structural changes. It's only a glamour, not a transfiguration."
"Much appreciated. I'd rather not spend the next few hours as a sheep, if it's all the same to you."
"Don't tempt me. You would make a very cute fluffy sheep," she grinned, perhaps in retaliation for his own earlier teasing.
"Cute?!" Varian scoffed. "I'm the bloody King of Stormwind! I'm not cute."
Auriana's smile widened at his protestation, and she touched his arm in a way that was at once both very gentle and extremely patronising.
"Whatever you say, Your Majesty," she said sweetly. "Now don't move."
Varian grumbled underneath his breath in mock irritation as she raised her hands, and a second later, he felt a strange tingle building across his cheeks. It was mildly annoying, though not painful; similar to the sensation of a fly landing on his nose. It took all of his self control not to swat the imaginary insect away, but he wasn't sure whether any abrupt movement might cancel the spell. Instead, he stood perfectly still, fighting back the urge to tap his foot on the floor until the strange sensation tickling across his nose finally abated, and Auriana stepped away.
"There. Take a look."
She pulled gently on Varian's shoulder, and turned him around so that he could examine at his new reflection in the mirror. It had been over a decade since he had seen himself without his facial scars, and the effect was so jarring that Varian had to forcibly turn his head from side to side a few times before his mind could accept that he was still staring at himself. The removal of his scars made him appear much younger, but also ever so slightly off, as if he were staring at himself in a gnomish trick mirror at a faire.
Auriana had lightened his hair, too, and somehow smoothed away the weathered lines upon his face. Most notably, she had also made him appear a good deal slimmer and lankier, and a far cry from his normally robust self. Bemused, Varian touched a hand to his chest, and was somewhat surprised to find that he was still as wide and solid as ever. It was a strange feeling, his eyes telling him one thing while his hand another, and he honestly wouldn't have recognised himself if not for the fact that he knew it was only an illusion.
"Hmph," he grunted.
"What do you think?"
Auriana stepped into view behind him, her head tilted slightly to one side as she studied her handiwork.
"Well… it's… it's very…"
Varian trailed off, unable to find the right word to describe his new appearance. The magic was impressive, certainly, as Auriana's magic always was, but it had done nothing to quell his lingering sense of unease.
"It's a bit strange, isn't it?" she said, nodding in agreement with his unspoken concern. "Though I must say, I prefer the scars."
"You do?"
Of all the changes Auriana had made, Varian thought the removal of his scars might be something she wished was permanent. He was about a decade older than she was, and while he was not a man prone to vanity, he had occasionally wondered whether she might prefer a more youthful-looking partner. He had also lived a difficult, violent life, and the ragged marks across his face stood in glaring, unavoidable testimony to that fact.
Auriana, however, seemed to feel rather differently.
"I do," she confirmed. "It's a nice face, but... it's not the face I fell in love with. It's not Varian Wrynn."
Varian turned away from the mirror, studying her face carefully for any sign of hesitation or reluctance.
"You're sure you don't want to make the glamour permanent?" he asked, only half-joking.
"I'm sure," Auriana said firmly. "I wouldn't change you for the world."
She gave him a sweet, wistful smile, and self-consciously touched a hand to her lower back.
"I've thought about glamouring my scar before, you know," she added, her voice soft. "I did, actually, for a while. Right after it first happened. I couldn't bear to look at it. But I eventually realised that as much as I may not like it… it's a part of me."
She reached up to touch Varian's check, just on the point where his scars would have crossed were they still visible, and gently stroked his weathered skin.
"You helped with that a lot, actually," she murmured.
"I did?"
"Surely you understand by now how much I admire you?" she asked, sounding genuinely surprised that he didn't know. "You own your scars. You're not ashamed of who you are."
Her blue eyes were wide and sincere, and the undisguised love in her expression was enough to set Varian's heart beating faster. He bent his head to capture her lips in a searing kiss, and he held her close for quite some time before he finally remembered that they had somewhere to be.
"You'd better get on with your own glamouring," he warned her, his voice little more than a husky whisper, "Or else we're not going to make this meeting…"
Auriana nodded, though there was a faint trace of reluctance in her expression as she stepped away and began to repeat the spell on herself. It wasn't an especially spectacular piece of magic to watch - Auriana's face simply went hazy, as if obscured by a thick fog - but a few minutes later, an entirely different person was standing in front of Varian where his wife had been only moments ago.
Auriana had lightened her hair from its normal glossy brown to a dark blonde, and shortened it so it only hang just below the line of her shoulders, instead of tumbling halfway down her back. Her eyes were also now dark brown, rather than blue, and where she had made Varian look smaller, she had managed to make herself appear about fifteen pounds heavier. The weight made her cheekbones appear softer and less angular, too, and her jawline slightly fuller and more squared.
"How do I look?" she asked, twisting from side to side for effect.
"Weird," Varian blurted, before he'd really thought it through.
"'Weird'?"
"Not in a bad sense," he added hurriedly, "Just… not you."
Auriana raised her eyebrows skeptically, and crossed her arms over her chest. It was odd seeing such a familiar expression on such an unfamiliar face, and Varian found himself thoroughly disconcerted. She was still pretty, but she was not his Auriana.
"Er… you know I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world, don't you?" he murmured.
"Nice save," she snorted.
"I'm being sincere!" he protested. "I swear to you, Auri, I..."
For a moment, Varian thought she might have been genuinely offended, but she quelled his doubts with a quick kiss before he could dig himself any further into a hole of his own making.
"It's very odd kissing you when you look like that," he remarked. "Almost like I'm being unfaithful to you… with you. Somehow."
"Not two weeks into our marriage and you've already betrayed me," Auriana gasped, pressing a hand over her heart in mock horror.
Once again, the expression was very her, even though the face was very much not.
"Magic gives me a headache sometimes, you know," Varian growled, scratching his left temple.
For some reason, Auriana seemed to find his consternation highly amusing, and she barked out a short, throaty laugh.
"Get your sword, then, warrior," she told him, her eyes sparkling with their own distinctive fire. "We've got some trolls to meet."
