Auriana

The wailing wind hit Auriana like a wall as she emerged from a portal, and out into the wintery wilds of Northrend. It was not yet snowing, but the heavy clouds hanging overhead seemed ripe to burst at any moment, and the wind was relentless. Auriana was wearing multiple layers - hose, dress, coat and heavy cloak - but even then she could still feel the sharp bite of the cold against her skin. It had been a long time since she had been in Northrend, outside of Dalaran, and she had forgotten just how damn inhospitable the place could be.

Varian, Anduin, and the rest of the Alliance retinue had arrived earlier that day, but Auriana had had a few last minute things to attend to in Stormwind and Dalaran before she was able to join them. The last few weeks had been almost unimaginably busy, and Auriana had barely had a moment to herself, let alone to spend with Varian. They had stumbled into bed after midnight nearly every night since Auriana had returned from her emissary to the Council of Six, only to wake up a few hours later and start all over again. It was worth it to see the Tournament come together as well as it had thus far, but Auriana could not deny that she was badly looking forward to a break - and a chance to watch a few epic battles in the arena.

The official arrival area had been set up about five hundred yards south of the Tournament grounds, well outside the range of the dampening field that prevented the use of any kind of magic. Spellcasting was permitted only in the arena, and nor was the carrying of any weapons allowed. The only exceptions to either rule, aside from the arena itself, were a few dedicated healing stations for wounded combatants, and the Argent Crusade guards who patrolled the entire grounds. The dampening field in particular was a singularly impressive piece of magical engineering, and one that had taken the Kirin Tor over a week to construct. It was one thing to prevent mages from using their powers, but the Tournament field had to inhibit all kinds of spellcasters - from mages to druids to priests to shaman - in a way that could not easily be circumvented without someone noticing.

Auriana was not looking forward to having her powers dampened, but it could not be helped, and she hesitated for only a moment before trudging off through the snow towards a small guard encampment north of the portal. This late at night, there were only three guardsmen in attendance - one tauren, one worgen, and one Argent. They were talking quietly amongst themselves as they huddled around a blazing fire, though they all leapt to attention as they caught sight of Auriana's approach.

"Halt!" the tauren said gruffly, looming over her like a snow-dusted mountain. "You may proceed no further until you have passed inspection. You will surrender any weapons on your person immediately, and submit to a thorough body search."

Auriana raised an eyebrow. She had been expecting the search, given that she had been heavily involved in the security planning, but not so much the abruptness.

"Keme!" the worgen exclaimed. "Don't you know who that is? Show some respect, you lumbering side of beef."

He pushed the tauren out of the way with a scowl, but there was a distinct playfulness in the way he did so, and Auriana could have sworn she saw the tauren smile as he stepped to the side. Evidently, being freezing cold and stuck on guard duty in the middle of nowhere left one with little choice but to get know one's fellow sentries.

Perhaps there is hope for this Tournament after all, Auriana mused.

"Hello, Your Majesty," the young worgen added, his tone far gentler than that of his tauren counterpart. "Apologies for the harsh greeting, the cold has done little to improve Keme's manners. But he is right, we do have to search you."

"I understand," Auriana assured him quickly. "I carry no weapons."

"No luggage?"

"My bags were sent on earlier today, with the entourage from Stormwind," she explained.

"Well, this won't take long, then. We'll have you back to your King in no time, Your Majesty."

Auriana dutifully held her arms out straight from her sides as the Argent stepped forward, and stood perfectly still as he patted her down and searched her pockets. It was not the most comfortable experience, admittedly, but the Argent was well-practiced and careful, and he completed his inspection as quickly as promised. He finished his search with approving nod, before beckoning for the tauren to hand Auriana a bright, flaming torch.

"You'll find the entrance to the Tournament Grounds at the end of the path," he instructed, pointing. "You may feel a bit strange as you pass through the nullification barrier, but it is not dangerous in the slightest. The Alliance camp will be on your right as you enter."

"Do you need one of us to escort you, my lady?" the worgen asked.

"No, thank you, I'm sure I'll be fine," she said. "Though I should get moving before it starts snowing."

Auriana lifted her torch high in the air, and was pleased to see that the path was clear and well-worn, even despite the snow on the ground. She didn't fancy having to fight her way through a snowdrift in the dark, much less during a storm, and while she had no desire to be rude, she did not wish to linger overlong.

"Be careful not to stray from the path," the Argent added. "The surrounding terrain can be dangerous, and at night in the snow, someone could pass within five feet of you and never notice."

"Thank you for the advice. I hope you three aren't stuck out here for too much longer?"

"Only another half hour or so," the tauren confirmed. "Portal's closed after nine. Er… my lady."

Auriana hid a smile as he offered her a sort of awkward half-bow, before he turned away and withdrew a goblin-made flare gun from his belt. He aimed the firearm straight up over his right shoulder, and shot a single flare high up into the air to signal the presence of a traveller on the path. It bathed the surrounding landscape in an eerie green glow as it burned brightly overhead, and after only a few moments, an answering red flare blazed to life from the direction of the Tournament grounds.

"Head towards the red light, Your Majesty," the worgen instructed. "And be safe."

Auriana accepted his guidance with a short but grateful nod, before turning to step out onto the path. As the Argent had suggested, it was difficult to see, especially once the bright lights of the flares had faded away. She was soon left with only the flicker of her torch for guidance, and she kept her steps small and precise to avoid slipping on the icy ground.

Far from being uncomfortable or frightened, however, Auriana actually found it rather peaceful out on the snow, with only the wind and the ice for company. It was a far cry from the constant flurry of activity that had been her life of late, and she knew, deep down, that her slowness was not entirely due to the difficulty of the terrain. Out here, alone, she could finally breathe, even despite the cold, she gladly took a moment to appreciate the quiet, stark beauty of the frozen north.

Her journey was otherwise uneventful, though as Auriana approached the border of the dampening field, she felt a strange prickle rise at the back of her neck. At first, she thought it was simply her magical senses alerting her to the looming presence of the field, but as she took a few more steps forward, she was struck by the uncomfortable realisation that she was being watched. The Tournament grounds were still a ways off yet, but there was definitely someone - or something - out there following her every move. She couldn't have said precisely how she knew, either, but years of hard fighting had taught her to trust her instincts.

Auriana drew to a halt and switched her torch to her left hand, forcing herself to stand absolutely still. Visibility was limited, even despite the torch; leaving her with no choice but to rely upon her already poor hearing. The howling wind did little to help the situation, and Auriana ground her teeth in frustration as she strained to hear anything that might reveal the location of her mysterious pursuer.

Assuming you're not imagining things...

Several long minutes passed, and just when Auriana was ready conclude exactly that, she once again heard the dull rumble of shifting snow from somewhere behind her. She whirled, a glittering frostbolt already crystallizing around the gloved fingertips of her right hand, and squinted through the gloom. Ten feet ahead, one particularly large mound of snow writhed and twitched, and Auriana's heartbeat accelerated as she tensed herself for the fight.

"Show yourself!" she demanded.

She was more than ready to take on whatever assassin or monster or undead creature thought to ambush her, given that she was still well outside the dampening field and still in full command of her formidable powers. It never once occurred to her to run or hide - though nor did it ever occur to her that her 'assailant' might be a very young, snow-covered orcish child. Which, as it turned out, was exactly who she now faced.

"What?"

Auriana took a step backwards as a small orc tumbled free off the nearest snowdrift, rolled to his feet, and brushed himself off. He seemed just as surprised as she to find another person outside the Tournament grounds at this time of night, but also equally as relieved to find that Auriana was not some kind of nightmare Scourge monstrosity waiting to gobble him up.

He took a few awkward steps to the side, and gave Auriana a small wave. She was hardly an expert orcish childhood development, but she guessed the boy was about five or six years old. His height was not a particularly useful indicator, given that his head was already almost level with her shoulders, but he had the same gawky gait and wide-eyed expression that she had seen on young human children in Stormwind.

"Uh… throm-ka," she said slowly, lowering her hands. "Rosh ka nog ag'zog."

The boy tilted his head to the side. He seemed rather confused by the fact that she had spoken to him in orcish, and he took a few moments to compose himself before he spoke.

"Your orcish is not very good," he said finally, in heavily accented Common.

He enunciated each syllable very carefully, as if concerned that Auriana might be judging his diction. He had a faint lisp where the unfamiliar words curled around his fledgling tusks, but otherwise he was perfectly understandable - and apparently, far more understandable than Auriana herself.

"Um… thanks," she muttered drily. "You speak Common well enough, it seems, perhaps we ought to stick to that?"

"My father taught me," the orc explained.

"Your father?"

The boy thrust his chest out and stood a little straighter, and he fairly beamed with pride as he spoke.

"I am Durak, son of Go'el."

"Thrall's son?" Auriana realised, recognising the name. "Ah… I'm Auriana, daughter of Alliana."

She wasn't sure whether she ought to offer him her hand, as she might with an adult, and so settled for nervously pressing and moulding her gloves around her fingers instead.

"Um… my friends call me Auri," she added, giving him a small smile.

She had very little experience with human children, let alone orcish children, but she supposed a little friendliness wouldn't go astray. The orc boy was clearly bright and inquisitive, and while she was thoroughly out of her depth, there was hardly any point in being rude.

"Auri," Durak repeated, rolling the strange word over his tongue. "Are you a gnome?"

"Am I a… what?" she started. "No, no... I'm human."

Auriana didn't think she looked like a gnome, though for an orc child raised in Orgrimmar, it was perhaps not an easy a distinction to make. She vaguely recalled that Thrall and Aggra had brought the boy to the trial of Garrosh Hellscream in Pandaria, but she doubted he had been old enough to remember much of what had transpired. Nor, evidently, could he recall the difference between humans and gnomes.

"I have not met many humans. I thought they were taller," Durak remarked, eyeing her up and down.

There was not a trace of guile or insult in his tone, merely a keen curiosity and willingness to learn.

"Well, in general, we are," Auriana confirmed, bemused. "I'm… uh… something of an exception. But... definitely not a gnome."

Durak nodded to himself, as if filing the information away for later use. His heavy brow ridge crinkled in concentration, and for a moment Auriana was starkly reminded of Anduin in one of his more studious moods.

"How did you get out here?" she asked, more to stop herself from laughing than anything else.

She glanced out over the ghostly white ridges that bordered the path, once more lifting her torch so that she could peer through the gloom. The bright lights of the Tournament Grounds glittered in the near distance, though Auriana could not see any movement or banners to mark the relative location of the Horde and Alliance camps. As the son of a former Warchief, Auriana did not doubt that Durak would be guarded as well as Varian guarded Anduin, but somehow he had been able to evade his protectors.

"Tunnels," he said brightly, as if that explained everything.

"Tunnels?"

"Yes. There are many tunnels under the snow," Durak explained, pointing. "I have found six!"

Auriana squinted through the darkness in the direction the young orc had indicated. It was difficult to see, but she could faintly make out a darkened in the ridge that may have indicated a hole, surrounded by several piles of snow. It seemed unlikely that Durak had dug all the way out here from the Horde encampment, but in a stark moment of clarity, Auriana realised that there was another, far more reasonable explanation.

"Nerubians…" she breathed.

The word clearly meant very little to Durak, but to Auriana his miraculous escape from the Horde camp suddenly made a great deal more sense. The nerubians were a race of giant, intelligent arachnoids, whose subterranean empire had once stretched beneath the entire continent of Northrend. She had fought a number of nerubians during the war against the Lich King, and had no particular desire to do so again. They were vicious and cunning, though she had thought that most of the species was now extinct - or at the very least, had been driven deep underground. It nevertheless seemed that some of their architecture had survived intact, and she wondered just how many tunnels there were criss-crossing their way beneath the Tournament Grounds. Her mind also saw fit to conjure an image of a huge arachnoid clacking its pincers somewhere in the darkness below their feet, and she shivered in a way that had nothing at all to do with the weather.

"Why did you leave the Horde camp?" she asked, turning her full attention back to Durak. "It's very cold, and I'm sure your father is wondering where you are."

"Father is talking with our friends, in the big tent," he replied, with an exaggerated sigh. "It was very boring. All they do is talk. I wanted to see the horses."

"The horses?" Auriana repeated, genuinely surprised by his response.

The orc boy's face lit up at the word, and he bobbed his head up and down with great enthusiasm.

"We do not have many horses in Orgrimmar. I wanted to see your Alliance horses, but I could not find a tunnel to hide me from your guards."

Auriana hid another smile behind her hand. She had very little experience with children, but there was something rather endearing about the boy's eagerness and naïveté.

"Hmm. Well, I probably can't get you past the guards, but…"

She crouched down so that she and Durak were standing eye to eye, and held out her hand, palm up. She squinted in concentration, and a second later her fingers glowed bright purple as she summoned a full-sized illusion of a proud, prancing stallion. She was not especially talented at this sort of magic, but she managed well enough, and Durak certainly didn't seem to find any fault with her spell.

"Horse!"

He squealed in utter delight, and immediately began to chase the illusion through the snow. It was an easy enough thing to keep the 'horse' moving just ahead of him, and Auriana couldn't help but to smile as she watched the playful little orc gambol about. She had certainly not expected to find the son of a former Warchief out in the middle of nowhere in Northrend, but she found playing with the young orc oddly enjoyable; perhaps because it was so starkly different and whimsical compared to the chaos that had been her life of late.

"Here! Here! It's the boy - and he's not alone!"

"Durak?!"

They had only been playing for about five minutes when their quiet little game was interrupted by sudden shouts and the thunder of a dozen feet, and Auriana looked up to see an entire pack of Horde guards barreling towards her through the snow. None of them carried weapons, as per the agreement, but that didn't necessarily make four thousand pounds of charging orc flesh any less intimidating.

"Step away from the child!" the frontrunning orc yelled, his booming voice echoing off the ridges. "You will surrender immediately to the Warchief's justice, or face the consequences!"

Auriana instinctively stepped in front of Durak as the orc guards slid to a stop before her, though she did not give cede any ground. She did not immediately seek to call her magic, either, not wanting to make a bad situation worse - but that didn't mean she was unwilling defend herself if necessary.

"There's no need for this to come to blows," she said coolly, lifting her torch so that the orc guards could see. "The boy is unharmed."

"Step away from him!" the lead orc snarled, clearly not listening to a word she was saying. "I will not warn you again!"

"Everyone calm down! That's my wife!"

Auriana started at unexpected sound of Varian's voice, her eyes widening as he pushed through the line of orc guards with Vol'jin and Thrall himself in tow. The three leaders all looked similarly tense and haggard, making Auriana wonder just how long Durak had been missing. Thrall, at least, brightened at the sight of his son, quickly stepping forward to lift the boy into his arms, though Varian and Vol'jin both remained wary.

"Hello, Auriana," Varian said drily. "I see you've found a friend."

He gave her a swift, penetrating look, and she nodded to let him know that she was unscathed.

"Warchief! She must have kidnapped the boy!" one of the orc soldiers hissed fiercely, thrusting an accusatory finger in Auriana's direction.

"I did not!" Auriana protested. "He found me - after escaping from your camp, I might add."

"Careful, soldier," Vol'jin drawled, though there was a distinct trace of scepticism in his eyes as he stared down at Auriana.

"What happened? How did you find my son?" Thrall asked, more gently.

"I've just arrived from Stormwind. The portal guards can confirm my arrival," Auriana explained, gesturing back down the path from whence she had come. "I was walking towards the Tournament Grounds when I heard a noise. I went to investigate, and I found Durak here playing in a snowdrift."

"She made me a horse!"

The little orc pointed excitedly over his father's shoulder, and Auriana realised that in her distraction, she had failed to cancel the spell.

"It was merely an illusion, nothing more. The boy wanted… he wanted to see a horse," she said lamely, erasing the spell from existence with a quick flick of her wrist.

"So she may not have taken the boy, but she broke the barrier and violated the anti-magic agreement!" the lead orc guard snapped. "Warchief…"

"Speak to my wife like that again, and we're going to have an issue," Varian growled, his words infinitely more frightening for the icy calm promise of violence in his tone.

"Not ta mention ya gonna have ta deal with me. Watch ya tongue here, or watch it in Orgrimmar. Dis hardly be da time or da place for wild accusations," Vol'jin added, glowering.

Despite his overzealousness, the guard was clearly very loyal, and he immediately stood down at the Warchief's command. Of course, that hardly stopped him from glaring at Auriana as if he thought she might lash out at any moment, but for the moment, at least, he fell silent.

"I didn't break the barrier, or violate the agreement," she clarified quickly, before things got further out of hand. "The dampening field is about thirty yards that way."

"She's right," Thrall confirmed, also clearly well aware of the rising tension in the group. "We are still standing well outside the threshold."

He seemed more relieved by the return of his wayward son than angered by the circumstances, and not at all surprised to find that the boy had been off adventuring. He nodded his understanding to Auriana, and let out a soft growl of affection as he looked down at the wriggling child in his arms.

"Durak, amonash, you mustn't run off like that. Your mother was very worried," he rumbled.

"I am sorry," Durak said, all of a sudden the picture of contrition. "I only wanted to see the horses."

"I think we can chalk this up to an episode of youthful hijinks then, hmm?" Varian suggested. "No need for any… trouble."

His sharp gaze flicked briefly towards the orc guards, then back to Vol'jin.

"Agreed," the Warchief said firmly. "We will return ta da Tournament grounds. Enjoy ya evening, Ya Majesties."

He beckoned, and his guardsmen turned to follow him back across the ice and snow towards the Horde camp. Thrall, however, paused for a moment, and inclined his head to Auriana in a gesture of respect.

"Thank you for finding my son," he said gratefully.

"As I said, he found me," she clarified. "But… you're welcome."

"Goodbye, Auri!" Durak added, waving brightly back at her as his father carried him away.

Auriana gave him a shy wave in reply, before turning back around to face Varian. Unlike Durak, however, he was not smiling. In truth, his expression was almost angry, though he said not a word as he offered Auriana his arm. She accepted it quickly, grateful for his warmth and support, though she sensed a distinct frigidity about him that left her both confused and concerned. Of course, standing in the middle of an ice field was hardly the place to discuss the issue, and Auriana chose to remain equally silent as they passed through the dampening field and made their way into the Tournament proper.

It was lightly snowing by the time they reached the royal tent, located squarely in the centre of the sprawling Alliance camp, and Auriana was very grateful to finally be somewhere out of the cold. Inside, the tent was large and well apportioned, more akin to a guest room in the Keep than any tent Auriana had seen. An intricately carved oak table and chairs dominated the entrance, while at the back there was a large, low-slung bed covered in furs. Two fires at either end of the tent kept the space warm, while the floor was covered in some sort of heavy, insulated fabric to protect them from the snow. It was rugged, but not at all uncomfortable, and a far cry from some of the spartan tents she had slept in as a soldier.

The heat of the two fires soon had Auriana sweating in her heavy cloak, and she quickly set about removing both the cloak and her gloves. As she did, Varian took a seat on one of the chairs, and turned his back towards her as he began to remove his boots. There was clearly something bothering him, though Auriana was damned if she knew what it was. Things between them had been strained of late, admittedly, between the stress of negotiations and the utter lack of time they had spent together in the last few weeks. Their duties had largely kept them apart, save for a few small moments here and there, and Auriana missed him terribly. In a way, they'd almost had more time when they had been carrying on their secret affair, and she had thought he might have been excited to finally have some time alone - if not for his sudden, baffling coldness.

"I… I'm lucky you found me when you did," she ventured tentatively. "I wasn't really sure what to do. I've not had much experience with orc children. Or… any children, really…"

She let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, but Varian was unmoved. He remained with his back turned towards her, grunting slightly as he tugged at his frost-covered laces.

"Vol'jin and Thrall came looking for the boy in our camp," he muttered. "I offered to help, as a gesture of good faith."

"I see," Auriana murmured.

She bit her lip, and fidgeted awkwardly with her hands as she tried to think of something to say.

"Varian… what's wrong? I probably should have returned the boy straight away, but I wasn't sure if he would follow me unless I first gained his trust..."

Varian let out a low sigh, and paused in his task so that he was sitting with one boot on and one boot off.

"I can understand you lying to Vol'jin and the Horde, but I won't have you lying to me," he said finally, turning to face her with a heavy scowl.

Whatever Auriana had thought he might be angry about, she hadn't expected to face such an accusation.

"What?" she stammered, thoroughly affronted. "I… I didn't lie."

"Ridley arrived from Stormwind about half an hour before you did," Varian said stiffly. "According to her, you left Stormwind hours ago. Where have you been?"

Seated as he was, it afforded Auriana a rare opportunity to look him in the eye without craning her neck, and she was surprised to see genuine reproach haunting his hard features. He looked tense and careworn, which was understandable given the circumstances, but she felt that it was another thing entirely for him to outright accuse her of lying.

"I was in Dalaran," she said defensively, not bothering to hide her displeasure, "Though I did return to Stormwind before coming here. What I said to Vol'jin was true."

"As far as I was aware, all negotiations with the Kirin Tor were concluded a week ago," Varian said warily.

"It was a personal matter," Auriana countered. "Nothing to do with the Tournament."

Varian's jaw tightened, and if anything, her explanation seemed to make him even unhappier than he already was.

"The Queen of Stormwind taking a secret trip to Dalaran the day before the opening ceremonies looks suspicious, no matter what kind of personal matter it may have been," he growled.

He sighed again, and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

"Everything here is on a knife edge as it is, we can't risk even the appearance of impropriety. The orc boy was barely missing for ten damn minutes before the Horde were here accusing us of taking him."

"I… I honestly didn't think of that," Auriana admitted, "But I would never do anything to jeopardise this Tournament; you know that. Not after all the work we've put in. It really was a personal visit, I assure you."

"So personal you can't even tell me?"

Varian's frown deepened, though the anger behind his eyes shifted to something more akin to hurt.

"If you must know, I've been taking some private training sessions with Archmage Modera," Auriana said archly.

"Modera?" Varian echoed, clearly surprised. "She's never shown any interest you before. What changed?"

"I think she feels sorry for me," she muttered.

"And why would she feel sorry for you?" Varian asked, rising slowly to his feet.

His expression was still wary and mistrustful, and Auriana felt a hot flash of anger kindle in the pit of her stomach. She was not unsympathetic to the fact that he was overtired and overworked - as was she - but she still didn't think it justified his suspicion of her.

"It's nothing," she said dismissively. "Not worth your time."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that, hmm?"

Auriana sighed, and hugged her arms around her body. It was perfectly warm in the tent, despite the snow outside, but the disapproval in Varian's gaze made her feel cold.

"The Kirin Tor asked me to step back from my role as Archmage," she begrudgingly confessed. "I haven't lost my title, or been formally expelled, but for all practical intents and purposes I'm no longer a member of the order."

A myriad of emotions flickered across Varian's face - surprise, pity, disbelief - but he settled on something somewhere between anger and confusion.

"What? Your first meeting with the Council was weeks ago, why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.

His tone was hard, and something in the sternness of his demand made Auriana see proper red. All the stress and loneliness of the last few weeks came welling up inside her, and she found a target for her rage in Varian as she was finally consumed by the full force of her frustration.

"Perhaps because we haven't really talked since our honeymoon!" she snapped. "We've scarcely even been in the same bloody room! And when we do finally get a moment alone together, all you do is make demands and accusations!"

Auriana regretted the harsh words the moment they left her mouth, but a bell could not be unrung. She lifted her chin defiantly, fully expecting Varian to argue back; to counter her anger with fire of his own... but instead, his mighty shoulders slumped, and he strode wordlessly across the tent floor to sweep her into his arms. His long fingers gently wove themselves into her hair, and she let out a small gasp of surprise as his lips caught hers and he pulled her tightly against his body.

"Auri… I'm so sorry…" he murmured, cradling the back of her head in one enormous palm. "I didn't… it's been torture these past few weeks... having you so close and yet having so little time..."

Varian brushed his lips across the top of her head, and let out a slow, weary groan.

"I know you'd never lie to me. I… this is not how I wanted our marriage to start."

He sounded unusually defeated, and Auriana deflated in an instant; her fury burning out just as quickly as it had arisen.

"It's… it's not your fault," she murmured, thoroughly thrown by his reaction. "It's not anyone's fault, really. Just… bad timing."

Varian's arms tightened around her body as she spoke, to the point where his grip was almost crushing. Strangely, however, Auriana didn't mind; instead leaning into his touch and resting her head against the hard planes of his chest. This was what she had needed; his warmth and his strength and the solidity of his presence, and she found herself rather overcome by emotion in realising just how much she had missed him.

"Why didn't you tell me about what happened with the Council?" Varian asked, far more gently than he had the first time.

"You've been so stressed… we both have… it just seemed so... unimportant, comparatively speaking."

"There is nothing more important to me than you," he growled.

Auriana could not see his face, but the genuine concern in his voice was heartening, and she felt the tension that had arisen between them slowly start to melt away.

"I didn't… I didn't want to burden you…" she whispered.

Varian carefully extricated himself from her grasp, and leaned down so that he might look her right in the eye.

"Auriana… when I married you, I married your burdens, too," hey said seriously.

"You're a King."

She tried not to let a note of pettiness enter her voice, but she wasn't sure she had succeeded.

"But I'm your husband first," he countered firmly. "Even if I've been doing a poor job of it of late."

He straightened, and brushed a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.

"Is there anything else you've been keeping from me?"

"Varian…" she sighed.

"Auri. Please."

Auriana suddenly wanted nothing more than to curl up on the fur bed and go to sleep, but the warmth and sincerity in Varian's quiet request was impossible to deny.

"I… all this… being Queen… sometimes I feel like I'm drowning," she confessed at last, her voice barely audible over the whistle of the wind outside. "I don't want to complain, and I don't want to let you down… but I really would be lying if I said I'd never considered opening a portal and just... disappearing."

Auriana felt the hard muscles of Varian's chest stiffen at her words, but once again, his response surprised her. He did not immediately speak, instead moving to slide her coat off her shoulders with the greatest of care, before turning his attentions to her boots and her thick woollen dress. She, too, stood in silence as his long, clever fingers worked the various laces free, and it was only once he had stripped her down to her undergarments that he took her by the hand and guided her to the mound of furs before the fire.

It was deliciously warm before the hearth, despite Auriana's state of undress, and even more so when Varian removed his own shirt and settled down behind her. He wrapped his long legs around her body, and gently maneuvered her towards him so that they were sitting comfortably chest to back. She could still feel an aching tension in her shoulders, but it was difficult to remain quite so on edge when she was safely ensconced in the protection of Varian's arms.

"I was crowned the King of Stormwind when I was eighteen," he remarked suddenly, staring into the cheerful, dancing flames. "I thought I was prepared, but I was… well, I was eighteen. I was brash, and overconfident, and stupid."

"So not much has changed, then," Auriana quipped, deadpan.

"Ha, ha."

Varian poked her in the ribs in protest, and let out a low grunt of amusement as she twisted and squirmed. It was a much needed moment of levity between them, and Auriana was quite content to let him tease her until he was satisfied that she had been suitably 'punished'.

"On the day of my coronation, after quite a few glasses of wine," he eventually continued, "I suggested to Terenas Menethil that ruling a kingdom 'couldn't be all that hard'. He had a good long laugh at that, though at the time I didn't understand why."

Auriana felt Varian's chest contract against her back as he barked out a short, rueful laugh, and shifted to rest his chin against the top of her head.

"His amusement made a good deal more sense about a month later. That was all it took - a month - before I realised that I was in way over my head. More than once, I considered taking a boat out into Stormwind Harbour and rowing towards the horizon until my arms gave out."

Auriana had never known Varian as anything other than the King of Stormwind, and she found it hard to picture him as an uncertain young prince taking on the mantle of king for the first time. He was the type of person who seemed to have walked into the world exactly as he was - commanding, lordly, in control - though she supposed it was reasonable to assume that at some point he must have had to learn.

"Why did you stay?" she asked quietly.

Varian considered the question for a brief second, idly tangling his fingers through Auriana's hair as he mused.

"I suppose… I stayed because it was my duty. I stayed out of a sense of honour… and out of love for my people," he said seriously. "I have not always been the king they deserve, but I have lived every day of my life striving to give them the best of me. That's all anyone can ever ask of you, Auriana."

He sighed.

"My point is… what you're feeling is normal. I felt it, and I had been trained my whole life to rule. I am not ignorant of the fact that your entire world has been turned upside down in a matter of months… but I cannot help you if you refuse to share your concerns with me."

His voice was warm and compassionate, but there was a determined edge beneath the kindness of his words. He tensed, and wrapped his arms even tighter around Auriana's body, as if trying to shield her from the world.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"I don't want an apology, Auri," he whispered hoarsely. "I want you - all of you. Your joys and your heartaches. You… you're my wife. All I want is to make you happy..."

Varian fell silent as he buried his face in her hair, but he did not need words to convey the strength of his love. Auriana closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, once again struck by just how much she had missed spending quiet time in his arms. The fire was warm against her bare skin, though its comfort paled in comparison to the solace she took from the heat of Varian's body at her back. Outside, she could hear the soft patter of snowflakes on the roof of the tent, and for the first time since they had returned from their honeymoon, she almost felt at peace.

"I'm sorry about what happened with the Council. I know that must have hurt," he added, after a while.

"Honestly, I should have seen it coming," Auriana admitted, pensively wiggling her toes through the thick furs. "If I'd been thinking, if I hadn't been so stressed…"

"Would it have made it any easier to hear?"

"Probably not," she sighed. "I understand the decision, but… I guess I never thought that becoming Queen would mean giving up being a mage."

Varian let a low grunt of sympathy.

"As your King… I agree that reducing your visible presence in Dalaran is probably a prudent choice…" he said slowly, "But as your husband… you don't need the Kirin Tor to make you a mage. To hell with them. You're more of a mage than the entire Council put together."

Auriana twisted in his arms, and looked up at him with raised eyebrows.

"Mathematically speaking, I'm sure not entirely sure that's true…"

"It's true to me," Varian insisted. "I'd rather have you fighting at my side than anyone else on Azeroth. You are extraordinary, and that is something that no one can take away from you."

There was absolutely no doubt in his voice or in his eyes, and Auriana suddenly felt as if her heart would burst from the sheer strength of her love for him.

"I love you, Varian," she whispered, reaching out to stroke the chiseled line of his jaw.

"I love you, too," he rumbled. "And… I apologise for snapping at you earlier."

"I understand. You're stressed... tired… worried..."

Varian shook his head.

"It's no excuse, but… we were barely here for half an hour before it started. People arguing over everything from tent arrangements to the colour of the pennants on the arena. I don't know how we're going to hold things together for two weeks of this Tournament."

Auriana shifted her weight so that she was lying on her side in Varian's lap, and began to trace gentle circles on the bare skin of his stomach with her fingertips. She wanted to help him, to say the magic words that would ease his troubles, but it was difficult to do so when she shared his concern. She had seen the mistrust in the orc guard's eyes when he had accused her of harming Durak, and while that situation had been diffused with relative ease, she couldn't help but to wonder whether the entire Tournament was simply a giant powder keg waiting to ignite.

"I'm sorry, too," she said instead. "I should have been more open with you. You would have thought that was a lesson I would have learned by now."

"Well, you said it yourself. We haven't had the time."

Varian touched a hand to her cheek, and turned her face upwards so that they were looking directly at one another once more. The frown lines at the corner of his eyes had deepened, and he suddenly looked far older than he had only a few minutes ago. The reflection of the shifting firelight only served to add to the effect, casting strange shadows across his scars and making him look distinctly haunted.

"Auriana…"

"Yes?"

"I… I'm afraid you'll come to regret me," he whispered throatily. "Or worse, resent me."

The admission had clearly cost him something, and he looked almost surprised that he had said the words out loud. Despite everything they'd been through, Varian was still quite conscious of appearing vulnerable in front of her, and Auriana did not take his hushed confession at all lightly.

"Never," she said swiftly, twisting herself upwards so that she was kneeling before him.

"But…"

"Never. You are mine, and I am yours. That's all there is to it," Auriana whispered, taking his rugged between her hands. "Adjusting to a new life may not be easy… but that doesn't mean I would ever regret choosing you. Far from it."

She emphasised her point with a soft, aching kiss, though Varian was initially slow to respond. At first, he kissed her hesitantly, almost shyly, as if he were afraid to taste rejection on her lips, but he soon grew bolder and more impassioned. He reached for her as if she were a cool drink of water and he a man dying of thirst; his fingers meeting her flesh with a sudden desperation that belied his brief moment of doubt.

Auriana moaned as he pressed her down into the furs, revelling in his weight and the way her body came alive beneath his burning touch. The heat of him put the hearthfire to shame, and in that moment she completely forgot about the Tournament, the Horde, and the rest of the world entirely. There was him, and only him, and nothing else even remotely mattered.

"Auri…" Varian murmured, his eyes darkening to an inky black as he stared down at her with ravenous intent, "It's very cold outside…"

"So it is," she panted, her heart racing in anticipation. "What of it?"

A slow, wolfish grin spread across his face, and the last, lingering vestiges of tension between them faded away as he cradled her close.

"It's been far too long, little wife," he growled. "Come keep me warm…"