Auriana

After years of service as an Alliance commander, and now as Stormwind's Queen, Auriana was more or less used to being recognisable, though she was not used to being famous. And yet, after an unbeaten streak of victories in the arena, that's exactly what she was.

As a naturally shy person, Auriana found her newfound notoriety rather confronting. She was certainly highly visible in her role as Queen, though most people tended to remain respectfully distant when it came to royalty. As a Tournament champion, however, it seemed that she was fair game. Almost every time she stepped outside her tent, she was confronted by a gaggle of excited spectators wanting to offer their congratulations, ask questions about her upcoming fights, or to request autographs. There was even one portly dwarf who had asked for a detailed breakdown of what she had eaten for breakfast each day of the Tournament, and had carefully recorded her answers in a little notebook and while grumbling under his breath the entire time.

As a result, Auriana had spent most of her time at the Tournament holed up in her private tent. She was genuinely flattered by all the support she had received, though she found it difficult not to be overwhelmed by the sheer number of people who had taken to following her around. She had Varian, of course, and Ridley, but even standing in the shadow of her two stalwart protectors, she still felt painfully exposed.

Fortunately, the one place she did not feel awkward and uncomfortable was the arena. Auriana had always suspected that she would be well suited to the life of an arena champion, but she had sorely underestimated just how much she enjoyed a good fight. While she did not miss the constant, heart-pounding stress of life during wartime, she had missed the thrill of combat; the challenge of pushing herself to her physical and magical limits, and the pure, unmatched satisfaction of a battle well won. The fact that she was now fighting alongside Varian was the icing on the cake, and despite all the pressure and the distractions, she could scarcely remember a time in her life when she had had more fun.

Today, in particular, was the day she had been anticipating the most; ever since the Tournament draw had been posted. She and Varian were scheduled to fight two matches that day, the first against the blood elves Aethas Sunreaver and Penthas Sunbinder. Auriana didn't care much about the paladin, but she was keen to test her skills against another Archmage. She had been working hard on her duelling with Modera, and she was eager to see how she might match up against a mage as notorious and talented as Aethas.

For their second fight of the day, Auriana and Varian were matched against the Darkspear trolls. While Auriana and Zala'din had fought beside one another on several occasions, they had never before had the opportunity to duel one another. Auriana knew that Zala'din had a competitive streak almost as wide as her own, and that he would do everything in his power to beat her. Not that she would ever let such a thing happen, of course, but she would enjoy watching him try.

Before Auriana could meet her friend in the arena, however, there was first the matter of the blood elves. Their match was the second of the day, right after a clash between the worgen and the Tushui Pandaren, which left Auriana and Varian with very little time to prepare. Immediately upon waking, they both dressed and made their way to the staging grounds to don their armour, before continuing on to the arena proper.

The arena floor was encircled by a labyrinth of tunnels, which served as storage space for weapons, banners and other Tournament paraphernalia. The tunnels also provided a means of quickly travelling from one side of the arena to the other, without having to go through the crowd, as well as place for champions to wait before they were called to fight.

Auriana always hated the last quarter hour or so before a match. The tunnels did little to dull the roar of the crowd overhead, and there was naught for her to do but wait, fidgeting, as adrenaline and anticipation coursed through her veins. Worst still was the moment when one of the Tournament officials came to lead Varian away to his own gate on the other side of the arena, leaving Auriana to stand alone in the near-darkness while anxiously counting down the last few minutes until she was summoned by the referee.

Auriana was especially edgy before their match against the blood elves. She had been calm for most of the morning, but the moment she and Varian had entered the arena tunnels, her stomach suddenly felt like a pit of writhing snakes. Magic was one of the most important things in her life, and somewhere deep inside she feared being proven unworthy of the title of Archmage. She was strong, certainly, but raw strength alone was no guarantee against a mage of Aethas's calibre. And as much as Auriana understood why the Kirin Tor had asked her to step down from her duties, it still hurt, and there was a small, petty part of her that wanted to prove to the entire world that they had acted in error.

Varian seemed to have sensed her nervousness, and he stayed unusually close as they went through their usual pre-fight checks with the officials. Security around the Tournament was tight, and each contestant was required to prove that they were not somehow cheating or concealing unsanctioned weaponry within their armour. Neither Auriana nor Varian spoke throughout the now-familiar process, and it was only as Varian made to leave for the north entrance gate that Auriana broke the silence.

"Varian. Wait."

She reached for the back of Varian's arm, brushing her fingers softly across the cool metal of his armour. He stopped immediately at her touch, and glanced back at her over his shoulder with a concerned expression.

"Keep the paladin busy," she murmured, her voice low and determined. "Aethas is mine."

"Is that so?"

Varian had turned fully to face her then, and the concern shadowed in his eyes shifted to something far more akin to affectionate amusement.

"I gave you Saurfang," she reminded him.

"So you did. I suppose it would be churlish of me to deny you the same," Varian agreed, nodding. "In which case… as you wish, Your Majesty."

He bent forward in a low, sweeping bow - which might have almost been respectful, if not for the crooked, barely disguised grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. He seemed perfectly content to trust in her decision, at least, though as he turned away into the engulfing darkness of the tunnels, Auriana couldn't help but wonder whether his confidence in her was misplaced.

Mercifully, she was not left brooding overlong, as only a few minutes later she was summoned into the arena. She emerged from the southern gate, while Varian made his entrance from the north. The paladin came in from the west, but Auriana's attention was fully focused on Aethas. He looked calm and coolly confident, with the slight swagger and the imperious carriage so typical of his people. In short, he looked more than prepared for the fight, and Auriana felt her heart rate suddenly double.

Despite her agitation, however, Auriana somehow managed to wait patiently as Varian and the two blood elves selected their weapons or magic of choice. The young paladin was the first to decide, and he spent several minutes agonising over his selection before he eventually opted for a massive greatsword that was nearly as long as Auriana was tall. Oddly enough, he seemed rather unsure of his choice, and it was only once he looked to the stands to find Lady Liadrin and the handsome Blood Knight seated beside her that he settled.

Varian, too, chose a two-handed sword; perhaps in an attempt to intimidate the paladin even before the match began. There was certainly an unspoken air of 'anything you can do, I can do better' in the way he selected the weapon and made a few lazy warm-up passes: where the young paladin had hesitated, Varian's every move oozed confidence. The blunted arena sword was not quite as impressive a blade as Shalamayne, of course, but then again, Varian was the kind of man who could make a wooden spoon look intimidating.

Aethas was the next to declare, though unlike the other spellcasters Auriana had faced thus far, his part in the ritual of choosing was far from subtle. Most contestants she had seen had simply called loose magic to their hands or performed a basic illustrative spell, but Aethas, it seemed, had other plans. He raised his right hand, and a single point of fire coalesced between his outstretched fingers. The spell shimmered once, then twice, and a second later the entire crowd gasped as a towering, illusory phoenix exploded into life and soared away to complete a triumphant lap of the arena.

Subtle.

Auriana let out a soft snort at Aethas's display, though she couldn't help but be impressed by the strength and precision with which he worked his magic. It wasn't surprising, given that he was an Archmage and the leader of his people's most prominent magical organisation, but it did give Auriana pause. She had come prepared to fight his fire with her frost, and at the time, the decision had made a great deal of sense. Frost magic was the comfortable and familiar choice, and in a fight against an experienced Archmage from a race of people who had already been practicing magic for thousands of years when her ancestors had still been huddled fearfully around campfires, it made sense to play to her strengths. The moment that blazing phoenix sailed overhead, however, Auriana's mind was made up.

If she really wanted to beat Aethas, if she really wanted to prove herself, then she had to beat him at his own game.

Auriana had never really enjoyed the delicacy and patience required to cast fiddly spells like the phoenix, but what she lacked in subtlety, she more than made up for in strength. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered worse than ever at the sight of Aethas's immaculate casting, though she nevertheless managed to answer with a monstrous, flaming apparition of her own.

Auriana did not summon another phoenix, however, but rather a wolf - and a rather large one, at that. The illusion was nearly five foot tall at the shoulder, with fiery paws the size of dinner plates and a hellish maw that dripped searing sparks as it prowled protectively around her legs. Far across the arena, out of the corner of her eye, she thought she might have seen Varian smirk, though she did not look toward him for fear of losing her concentration.

For his part, Aethas's focused expression never wavered, though his left hand closed into a determined fist. The crowd, naturally, went wild, and even the referee seemed rather amused by the display. She nodded once to acknowledge Auriana's choice, and a few moments later dropped her hand downwards to indicate the start of the match.

Auriana reacted immediately, flicking her wrist and sending the blazing wolf racing off towards Aethas. There was little point in wasting a perfectly good spell, and it seemed that the blood elf Archmage felt the same. He perfectly mirrored her spell, and the phoenix and the wolf crashed into one another in a veritable storm of sparks and flames.

Trusting Varian to keep the paladin occupied, Auriana advanced in the wake of her wolf, and soon she and Aethas were swept up in a spectacular and fiery duel. His magic was - and there really was no other word for it - beautiful. While the methods used for casting simple spells tended to remain consistent between different mages, advanced spells left more room for interpretation and experimentation. As the old adage went, there was more than one way to skin a mana saber. In Aethas's case, Auriana quickly learned that he favoured complex, elaborate castings that were masterpieces of magical symmetry and elegance. Of course, such detail was more or less invisible to anyone without arcane ability, but to a trained mage, he was dazzling.

Almost too dazzling, in fact. In the face of such refinement and precision, Auriana felt like an awkward, clumsy oaf. She was more than a match for Aethas in terms of raw strength, but she had never in her life attempted to work spells of such complexity. Aethas was a true Archmage, and by comparison, Auriana felt like a wide-eyed first-year apprentice struggling to cast her first fireball.

For the first time in the Tournament, Auriana found herself on the back foot, scrambling to get back into the fight as Aethas punished her every move with scrupulous determination. Her mind went blank, and without even realising it, she began to mimic his meticulous method of casting spells. Or at the very least, she attempted to do so. Unfortunately, without the same training and decades of practice, Auriana was woefully disadvantaged, and she began to genuinely fear that she might lose the fight.

Aethas smoothly wove fireball after fireball after fire blast, forcing Auriana to slowly give up ground as she struggled to dodge his calm but relentless onslaught. She had never before blanked in a fight quite so badly, and she swore under her breath as even the simplest of fire spells came undone in her hands. Magic that normally flowed like a river through her veins was suddenly sluggish and uncooperative, and she gasped in horror as Aethas punished her incompetence with the most singularly perfect pyroblast she had ever seen.

Auriana dove gracelessly to the side, and felt a wave of heat wash over her as Aethas's spell exploded just above her head. She grunted as her knees met the unforgiving wood of the arena floor, and felt a sharp pain lance through her wrists as she threw out her hands to break her fall. Off in the distance, she heard one of the announcers cry out in dismay, and Auriana couldn't help but assume that Aethas was preparing a final spell to eliminate her while she was down. She wasn't one prone to surrender, but disheartened and disoriented as she was, she could only raise a weakly burning shield in her defense.

Get up.

Time seemed to slow down as Auriana cringed dazedly on the arena floor, panting as she fought to catch her breath. The fierce voice of her rage urged her to stand up, to fight back, but for once she found it unmoving. She couldn't hope to match Aethas's elegance and precision, even if she had a hundred years to try, and if she couldn't hope to match him, then there was little point in standing up.

And why are you trying to match him, you daft girl?

A second voice joined the first, and it sounded so uncannily similar to Modera that Auriana had to resist the urge to check whether older Archmage had somehow managed to teleport herself into the arena.

Stop playing to his strengths, and start playing to yours. You're not some mincing magister with more style than sense, you are a juggernaut, the voice added. Fight like one.

With a start, Auriana realised that - much like her tangible counterpart often did - that the imagined Modera had a point. While Aethas was extraordinarily skilled in general, he wasn't a duellist. Not really.

Auriana hadn't noticed it at first, distracted as she was by the sheer beauty of his spellwork and hampered by her own insecurities, but now that she thought about it, her inner voice was right. She had been so nervous that she had allowed herself to be overawed by Aethas's skill as a mage, and had not paid attention to his weaknesses. His spellwork was remarkable, it was true, but far better suited for the sedate calm of an arcane conservatory rather than a face-paced battle. He had only gained the advantage because Auriana had allowed him sufficient time and space in which to work his complex spells - which, she realised rather belatedly, had probably been his intent all along.

You really are daft.

Auriana leaned more of her weight onto her wrists, allowing the crisp clarity of the pain to clear the fog from her mind. It wasn't an ideal solution, admittedly, but in a strange way it helped her to regain her focus. The arena around her almost immediately came back into sharp relief, and a fresh wave of energy flooded her chest.

Get up!

This time, Auriana heeded the call, using a quick blink to get herself back to her feet and away from Aethas at the same time. He looked somewhat surprised to see her up and fighting, though he did not allow himself to be thrown for long. Almost immediately, he began to channel another pyroblast, and it was clear from the confident quirk of his long brows that he believed victory to be near.

Perfect form, Auriana thought grimly, But far too slow.

She forcibly pushed any thoughts of her own inadequacy to the back of her mind, and quickly summoned a pyroblast of her own. In comparison to Aethas's spell, it was rather brutish - if not downright ugly - but it sure as hell was strong. So strong, in fact, that it simply obliterated Aethas's own blast where the two spells collided in mid-air.

Aethas blinked.

Auriana snarled.

With the sweet sting of magic now burning freely through her bones, Auriana stopped worrying about perfect spellwork and proving that she was worthy of being an Archmage, and allowed herself to simply be. Something inside her shifted, and her magic came to her as it always had - not sophisticated, or artfully crafted, but swift and powerful and furious.

Auriana slugged Aethas with spells over and over again, falling into the flow of her magic in a way that she hadn't done in a good long while. There was no theory here, only instinct, and after a while she forgot the crowd, the announcers, and even Aethas himself. One spell blended into another with effortless ease, and it was only once she heard a sudden, thunderous roar of cheers and applause that she realised she had beaten Aethas to his knees.

The blood elf Archmage's once immaculate red hair was dishevelled and out of place, and now he was the one fighting to catch his breath. He looked rather stunned, as if he couldn't quite believe how quickly the match had turned, nor the dramatic irony of the sudden reversal of their positions. Auriana doubted the distinguished elf ever had much cause to find himself dirty and beaten on his knees, though such a thought did give her pause in the slightest. She might have badly fumbled the start of the match, but she absolutely refused to fail at the end.

Given that Aethas had tried to end their match with a pyroblast, Auriana thought it only appropriate that she do the same. A low growl rose in her throat as she reached down into the deepest wellspring of her power, and summoned one of the most powerful spells she had ever cast. It flew from her hands like lightning, racing across the arena to smash through the last of Aethas's shattered defenses with tangible force. He crumpled, defeated, and a savage roar of triumph tore from Auriana's throat to echo loud above the exhilarated crowd.

Across the arena, Varian was dutifully fulfilling his duty to keep the paladin well away from Auriana and Aethas. The silver-haired elf was certainly skilled, but he was no real match for the King of Stormwind. Varian had barely worked up a sweat; patiently biding his time until Auriana had won her own personal duel. The very second he saw Aethas succumb, he turned the full force of his skill and aggression onto his own opponent, and within the space of a minute, had emerged victorious.

Auriana closed her eyes as the paladin fell, and let out a slow, shaky breath. Her hands were trembling with effort, and for a brief second she felt her rage surge. Victory was a sweet thrill like no other, and there was a dark part of her that wanted to keep fighting; to really give the crowd something to scream about. Her heart felt as if it might beat right out of her chest, and if not for her many years of practice, she might have lost control.

"Your Majesty?"

Auriana's eyes flew open, and she turned slightly to her left to see Aethas staring down at her with a thoughtful expression. He had smoothed his long hair back into place, and if Auriana hadn't known better, she would have assumed he had performed a task no more strenuous than a leisurely stroll about the Tournament grounds. He certainly didn't look like a man who had just fought an intense duel, and Auriana vaguely wondered whether his heart was pounding as hard as hers.

"You don't fight like a mage."

Auriana glanced pointedly up towards the stands, where the crowd was excitedly clapping and chanting her name.

"No," she remarked. "But you do."

Aethas's otherwise inscrutable expression slipped as an indescribable emotion darkened in his eyes - some surprise and perhaps a hint of respect, all together mingled with something a touch darker - though he quickly regained his composure. He frowned, then reached into the pocket of his robes, and - of all things to be carrying during a duel - offered Auriana a delicate silkweave handkerchief.

"Here," he said quietly, gesturing to her face.

Auriana touched a hand to her nose, and let out a soft snort of surprise as her fingers came away sticky with blood. It had been a long time since she had pushed herself quite that hard, and now that the adrenaline of the fight was no longer pumping through her veins, she realised just how exhausted she really was. Casting spells at the level of power and intensity that she had exacted a considerable physical toll, and Auriana knew she would likely be feeling the impact of fight for days to come.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, wiping away the blood in one smooth motion. "For the handkerchief… and for… for the match…"

Aethas nodded, and the faintest hint of a smile flashed across his refined, ageless features.

"Archmage," he said formally.

"Archmage," she replied, returning his nod with a similarly respectful gesture of her own.

Auriana's gaze followed Aethas as he turned away to collect his fallen partner so that they might make their exit, though she didn't immediately move from where she was standing. Her legs were trembling badly, and she feared that if she took a step forward, she would simply topple over.

Of course, she could not stay standing in the middle of the arena forever, and she was immensely grateful when she felt the warmth of Varian's broad palm close over her right shoulder. She leaned into him slightly, trusting that he would keep her balanced, and took another deep, steadying breath.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, his voice almost too soft to be heard over the crowd.

"I… I'm fine."

Auriana must not have sounded terribly convincing, for Varian's worried frown deepened, and his grip on her shoulder tightened. She was distinctly aware of the fact that they were on full display in front of hundreds of people, though for once she found she didn't really care.

"You're in control?" he pressed. "I was only half-watching, obviously, but that looked like one hell of a fight."

Varian sounded distinctly proud of her efforts during the duel, though it did not seem to assuage his concerns. It was clear that he had noticed the drying blood staining her nostrils, and equally clear that he found such a sight deeply troubling.

"I am," she assured him - and to a lesser extent, herself. "I promise."

Auriana stood up straighter in an effort to add believable weight to her words, though Varian still looked somewhat skeptical. Still, he declined to argue the point further, and instead slipped his arm through hers, so that he might escort her from the arena before the next match.

"Come on then, little champion," he murmured. "The day's not over yet..."