Auriana

Auriana's legs had stopped shaking by the time she made it back to the Alliance staging area, thankfully, though she had little time to properly rest. There were only three matches between now and their second duel of the day against the Darkspear trolls, and given that the length of each match was inherently unpredictable, she had no idea when they might be summoned back up to the arena to fight. After the intense physical and mental challenge of defeating Aethas, she would have much preferred to retire to her tent for a well deserved rest, but the Tournament waited for no-one.

Fortunately, there were plenty of replenishment potions on hand, as well as a large hunk of freshly baked bread that Auriana wolfed down with a voracity that would have put Varian himself to shame. She normally preferred to avoid eating right before a fight, but in this case she was willing to make an exception. She was going to need every last ounce of strength and energy she possessed to defeat the trolls, and she couldn't afford to become faint or shaky right in the middle of such a critical match.

Varian, too, seemed even more focused than usual - and Auriana suspected she knew why. He would deny it until the very ending of the world, but she knew he had always been a little jealous of Zala'din. Not because he suspected her of being unfaithful, of course, but because Zala'din had fought at Auriana's side far more often than Varian himself. Varian had always resented having to stay in Stormwind while Auriana had been fighting her way across Draenor, and she knew he would be keen to prove that he was just as worthy as her troll friend.

There was a strange swagger in Varian's step as they made their way back into the arena for their second fight. He was a physically imposing man at the best of times, but as he took his place on the northern side of the arena floor, it seemed to Auriana, at least, that he stood even taller than usual. His chiselled jaw was set in a heavy, determined frown, and he stared at Zala'din with the air of an especially disgruntled wolf.

For his part, Zala'din appeared to be sublimely unaware of the fact that he was the sole target of Varian's animosity. He was clearly well-suited to the life of a champion, and the crowd loved him for it. Unlike Varian, Auriana, or even Vol'jin, he lapped up the crowd's attention with a beaming smile; even going so far as to perform a few rather impressive flips and handsprings for their amusement.

Zala'din was so wrapped up in entertaining the crowd that he failed to notice the referee's attempt to attract his attention - not once, but twice. Of course, the crowd loved this even more , and Auriana couldn't help but to let out a dry chuckle at his antics. Or at least, she laughed for a scant few seconds, until she saw the look on Varian's face.

Fortunately, he wasn't left stewing for much longer. Zala'din finally capitulated to the request of the referee, selecting two long, viciously spiked blades as his weapons of choice - and exactly as Auriana had predicted. She was sure that he was perfectly capable of fighting with other weapons, but given the choice, it seemed that he would always prefer his dual blades.

Varian, too, opted for a pair of twinned swords. Much as Auriana had chosen to fight fire with fire against Aethas, it seemed that he was also determined to beat Zala'din at his own game. Not that Auriana minded - he was remarkably proficient in all manner of weaponry, and she had the utmost confidence in his ability to show Zala'din how a true warrior fought.

Auriana then made her own selection - frost magic - before Vol'jin completed the ceremony by choosing a slender, curving glaive. The glaive was, she understood, a typical weapon for shadow hunters, and she assumed that Vol'jin was more than capable of using the blade to deadly effect. He caught her eye as she watched him twist the glaive back and forth between long, dexterous fingers, and he gave her a short nod a mere second before the referee dropped a hand to start the match.

Varian was the first to move on the referee's signal, barrelling across the arena towards Zala'din as if the troll were a red flag to a bull. They came together with such force that Auriana heard it even from the other side of the arena, and the crack of their impact was so loud that she was certain someone had to have broken a bone - or five. She had no time to worry about the overt masculinity all but oozing from Varian and Zala'din's side of the floor, however, as Vol'jin abruptly came sprinting towards her with his glaive raised threateningly overhead.

Auriana had never before fought a shadow hunter, and certainly not one as talented as Vol'jin. He reminded her a little of a shaman, or perhaps a priest, though he interspersed his spells and hexes with skillful slashes from his glaive. He was surprisingly fast, perhaps in part because Auriana was mentally comparing him to a comparatively slow-moving priest, and she had to work hard to stay out of his reach.

Despite Vol'jin's skill, however, Auriana was confident that she would eventually prevail. She was tired from her duel with Aethas, but the self-doubt that had plagued her first match of the day was now a faint and distant memory. Her magic burned bright and eager in her veins, and she could not help the keen smile that spread over her face as she smoothly wove spell after spell.

Over the course of the fight, the distance between Auriana and Varian grew, though she kept careful watch over him out of the corner of her eye. He was winning, from what she could tell, though Zala'din was mounting a valiant defense. Admittedly, it was difficult to see precisely what was going on, between the four whirling blades and the two enormous warriors who wielded them, but Auriana more than trusted Varian to hold his own.

In fact, the breaking point in the fight came sooner than Auriana expected. She didn't see exactly what happened, only that Zala'din was suddenly down on one knee, with Varian bearing down on him with his swords raised high. Zala'din was not one to surrender until the very last, however, and in an impressive display of athleticism, he just barely managed to turn Varian's blade and flip back and away.

Zala'din's desperate maneuver may have bought him a good amount of distance from Varian, but Auriana still saw a chance to finish what her dear husband had started - assuming, of course, that she moved fast enough. It was a considerable risk, and the timing would be tight, but if she were successful, she could almost instantly eliminate Zala'din from the fight. To that end, she immediately called a blizzard down upon Vol'jin's head; using the swirling storm to force him away so that she might turn the force of her magic on Zala'din. An orb of freezing ice then coalesced between her hands, and her eyes narrowed as she calculated the distance to her target. She assumed that Zala'din would continue to move away from Varian, and so carefully aimed her spell so that the orb would explode just behind her troll friend, and cut off any chance of his escape.

What she did not count on, however, was that Zala'din might move forward . Between the certain loss promised by Auriana's spell and a likely but not quite so inevitable loss at Varian's hands, he chose Varian; abruptly changing tack and rolling forward over his shoulder. It was an awkward, graceless movement, and a sharp contrast to his earlier acrobatics, but it just might have kept him in the match. Varian was not quite close enough to punish his imbalance, and he had delayed Auriana just long enough for her blizzard spell to fade so that Vol'jin might rejoin the fight.

And join it he did.

Auriana gasped as she felt a potent shadow hunter curse slam into her body, and she swore as she felt her connection to her magic disappear. The magic was still there, of course, but there was now a dark, slippery barrier preventing her from tapping into the deep wellspring of her power.

Damn . Too slow.

The silencing spell would not last forever, but it might just last long enough. Her initial plan had failed. Zala'din was already back on his feet and charging at her at full speed, knowing full well that she was now incredibly vulnerable, and she could see shadows gathering about Vol'jin as he prepared another curse. The fight had turned against her in the blink of an eye, and if she knew that didn't do something quickly, the trolls would have her very effectively pincered.

No time. No magic. No weapon, she thought darkly. Unless...

Auriana's feet were moving even before her conscious thought; propelling her across the arena as fast as she was able. Zala'din was hot on her heels, and while she couldn't outrun a troll with legs almost as long as she was tall, she could get to Varian first. If the trolls thought they could take her out of the fight with one measly silencing curse, then they had another thing coming. Her near-loss against Aethas had reminded her that while she might not have been a perfect mage, she was dogged, and clever, and she would damn well be the last person standing.

"Varian!"

As Auriana ran, she made a frantic upwards jerking motion with her arm, desperately hoping that he would catch her meaning. They had practiced a number of unusual scenarios in their preparation for the Tournament, though none quite so unusual as the strategy she had in mind. Still, Varian had an uncanny instinct for reading her intent, and although it was clear from the sudden grimace that crossed his face that he thought she was insane, he complied with her frantic request nonetheless.

A sharp metallic clang echoed across the arena as Varian brought his twin blades together, providing something of a makeshift platform where the shoulders of each blade met. Under ordinary circumstances, this was was not a strategy Auriana would have considered, but with her magic still bound by Vol'jin's curse and the trolls closing in from both her right and her rear, she figured now was as good a time for improvisation as any.

Despite the admitted absurdity of her plan, Auriana didn't hesitate; charging towards Varian like a woman possessed. And then - at the very last moment, she leapt, pushing off her right leg and landing her left foot squarely on the cross of Varian's blades. She heard him grunt as he took her weight, and a second later her stomach leapt into her throat as he thrust his blades upwards, using his incredible strength to turn her momentum and launch her high into the air.

For a split second, Auriana had a perfect, bird's eye view of Zala'din's slack-jawed expression as she flew; clearing his head by a good foot and a half. She had seen acrobats at the Darkmoon Faire perform similar feats, though they had done so with a great deal more grace and dignity. Auriana assumed that she must have looked far more ridiculous than graceful; tumbling through the air with her arms and legs splayed like a frightened cat.

Still, the reckless move had worked, even if it wasn't exactly pretty. Auriana had been able to bypass Zala'din's onrush entirely, though his surprise was nothing compared to Vol'jin's, who was suddenly forced to contend with a small human missile flying directly at his face . Auriana caught a brief glimpse of the Warchief's wide-eyed countenance right before she crashed into his chest; the force of her impact sending them both tumbling to the ground in a tangled mass of limbs.

While Auriana had the advantage of surprise, however, she knew it would not last for long. Vol'jin was unerringly quick, and she would have no chance of overpowering him once he regained his wits. Fortunately, years of grappling with Varian had taught her a great deal about fighting against opponents far larger than she, and she figured that now was the perfect opportunity to test her skills.

Time slowed down as Auriana kicked her left leg free of Vol'jin's bulk, and pulled herself upwards so that she was awkwardly sprawled over his chest with her hips half-straddling his own. In other circumstances, it might have looked as if they were oddly mismatched lovers, but there was nothing romantic about what Auriana intended to do. Taking advantage of the Horde Warchief's temporary dazedness, she then drove her knee hard into the soft flesh between his thighs. She had never seen a male troll naked before, though she assumed their anatomy was roughly the same as that of a male human - and equally as vulnerable.

Her theory was proven correct a half second later as Vol'jin's eyes practically bulged out of his head, and he let out a wordless yelp of pain. He also looked rather shocked, as if he couldn't quite believe that she had hit him there , and Auriana felt the faintest twinge of guilt settle somewhere in the pit of her stomach. She had not broken any rules, but she liked Vol'jin, and ordinarily she would not have resorted to such a low blow - had there not been a Tournament to win.

Unfortunately, while an effective means of buying more time, Auriana's initial strike was not enough to make Vol'jin drop his glaive. Even through his surprise and pain, he still clung doggedly to the blade's hilt, and Auriana knew she had only a few seconds to act before he retaliated. She couldn't overpower him, even with her entire body weight spread across his chest… but surely he had other vulnerabilities.

Auriana reached out to snag Vol'jin's wrist as he raised his glaive to strike awkwardly at her back, but she did not attempt to resist his far superior strength. Instead, she used what leverage she had to change the trajectory of his arm and - unable to think of any better options - bit hard into the sensitive flesh of the Warchief's hand.

That , at least, was enough to force his fingers to reflexively spasm open, and the glaive tumbled to the arena floor. Auriana gagged as her mouth flooded with the taste of blood and troll sweat, but there was no time to focus on her own discomfort - nor the look of sheer and utter astonishment on Vol'jin's face. She scrabbled for the glaive; the muscles of her stomach contracting as she threw herself upright at the same time. She yelled in triumph as her fingers closed over the cool metal, and with a flourish, she twisted the blade up and over before driving it down towards the centre of Vol'jin's chest.

Had they been fighting in earnest, it would have been a death blow. As it was, however, Vol'jin remained mostly unharmed, save for perhaps some bruising where the blunted tip of the glaive met his chest. It also felt as if they had been scrabbling around on the floor for an hour, though in reality the scuffle had probably taken no more than half a minute. The encounter had been no less intense for its brevity, and while Auriana could barely breathe, she knew there was no time to rest.

She rolled back to her feet the moment Vol'jin was teleported away, clutching the glaive's handle tightly with both hands as she stood. She had felt Vol'jin's curse fade the moment he had fallen, though it would take a few seconds for her magic to return to full strength. In the meantime, she wouldn't put it past Zala'din to use her temporarily weakness to even the odds. She and Varian now had a distinct advantage in that they outnumbered Zala'din two to one, but he was both swift and athletic, and she knew from experience that he was a skilled tactician.

That said, Stormwind's numerical advantage and their relative positioning and presented Zala'din with only two real options. Varian had kept him well occupied during Auriana's struggle with Vol'jin, though the two warriors had briefly pulled apart upon Vol'jin's demise. Zala'din could re-engage Varian, and hope to defeat him or draw him away before Auriana regained her full powers, or he could attempt to take her out in the same amount of time. Auriana guessed that he would choose her as the easier option, and was proven right a moment later as he spun on his heel and launched himself back towards her.

Auriana tightened her grip on her pilfered glaive, and crouched down to meet the onrushing troll. She was hardly an expert, but after more than a year of working with Varian on her weapons skills, she was confident that she could hold her own for at least a little while. The glaive was too big for her to wield comfortably with one hand, though she could more than manage with two. Certainly, if Zala'din expected her to be an easy mark, then he was in for a rude surprise.

He closed the gap between them in five swift steps; his long legs eating up the distance as if it were nothing. Zala'din had no idea that Auriana was competent with a blade, and she assumed - or rather hoped - that he would weight his charge expecting that she would blink away. It was difficult to remain still when facing down several hundred pounds of fast-moving troll, but she grit her teeth and held her ground… and at the very last possible moment, she struck.

As she had expected, Zala'din was moving far too quickly to easily stop. He had clearly anticipated having to continue to chase after her, and he lacked the grounding necessary to adjust to Auriana's unexpected lack of movement. She slashed her stolen glaive at his unprotected shins, and it was only through a feat of extraordinary reflexes that he was able to catch her blade with one of his own.

A look of sincere bafflement crossed Zala'din's face as he stumbled, and Auriana couldn't help but grin. There was no time to gloat, however, as he would no doubt regain his composure soon. Fortunately, Varian was already following up on Auriana's attack with a charge of his own; driving his shoulder into the troll's chest with a crushing force and sending him reeling backwards.

Auriana felt her magic surge back to full strength as she advanced in the wake of Varian's charge, but she made a split second decision to rely on the glaive instead. Even after a year of training weapons with Varian, she had yet to really fight anyone outside of the practice arena, and with the tempo of the fight now turned in their favour, she saw another unique opportunity to practice her growing skills.

Varian did most of the work, admittedly, but Auriana did her best to make herself as much of a nuisance as possible. She clung doggedly to Zala'din's heels as Varian pressed him back across the arena floor; hacking away at his back and legs and interrupting his rhythm at every turn. It was a testament to his skill that he lasted as long as he did, but eventually the weight of their combined assault was enough to overwhelm his defences.

Zala'din staggered as Auriana and Varian pinned him between two coordinated slashes, and Varian took advantage of the moment to relieve him of one of his blades. He then ducked smoothly beneath Zala'din's wild counterswing, and without hesitation, used his superior leverage to send the troll tumbling hard to the floor. He did not, however, finish him off; instead, he stepped away, and with a gracious, gentlemanly nod of his head, allowed Auriana to land the final blow.

"And there you have it, folks! Stormwind is once again victorious, and we've all learned a valuable lesson - when life's problems are getting you down, just… throw a small human female at 'em..."

The goblin announcer's excitable cry echoed out across the arena, though even with magical enhancements, his voice was almost drowned out by the wild roar of the crowd. Auriana and Varian were still undefeated after facing about half the other teams in the Tournament, and the crowd loved them for it. Auriana raised the glaive over her head to acknowledge the cheers, though she indulged them for only a few moments before she dropped the weapon and turned to help Zala'din back to his feet.

He happily accepted her assistance, and offered her a broad, toothy grin as he clapped her hard on her back in thanks. It was a friendly gesture, but it was clear that he was more used to celebrating with other trolls than with human women half his size, and Auriana felt her teeth rattle in her head as his broad palm met the muscle of her shoulder with a resounding smack. It didn't help that she was already a bit shaky from having expended so much physical energy in such a short space of time, and she very nearly fell forward onto her face.

"Well fought, little lion," Zala'din enthused, just as energetic in defeat as he was in victory. "I gotta admit, I didn't see dat one coming. Where da hell did ya learn ta fight with a blade ?"

"Where do you think?" Auriana replied archly, pointing over Zala'din's shoulder to where Varian was approaching from behind.

He no longer looked quite so threatening, perhaps because he had now proven himself in his victory over the trolls, though he continued to eye Zala'din with a particular sort of wariness nonetheless.

"Ya Majesty, " Zala'din said, turning his head slightly to acknowledge Varian's presence. "Tell me… what kinda man be throwin' his wife around da arena like some kinda weapon?"

Varian considered the troll seriously, and gathered himself up to his full height. His expression was steely, and Auriana genuinely couldn't tell whether he intended to answer the question, or to censor Zala'din for his impertinence. Concerned, she gave him a stern, warning look, though his focus remained entirely on Zala'din.

"One who wins, obviously," he said finally, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly.

Zala'din blinked. Tension swelled between them, and Auriana was just about to intervene, when Zala'din abruptly threw back his head and roared with laughter. The sound was loud enough to make Auriana jump, though it was nothing compared to the deep, resounding bellow that echoed from Varian's throat a moment later.

He very rarely laughed out loud, being far more prone to an amused smirk or a throaty chuckle, but when he did, he laughed with his whole body. In fact, his real laugh was so loud and raucous that it was actually rather alarming. Zala'din didn't seem to mind, though Auriana was forced to hide her smile at the shock on the faces of many a spectator. The King of Stormwind wasn't exactly known for his jovial nature, and she was sure there were some people in the crowd who were genuinely surprised to learn that he actually could laugh.

Varian and Zala'din shared in their amusement for some time, quieting only when Vol'jin approached to offer his own quiet congratulations, having re-entered the arena upon conclusion of the match. She doubted that they would ever be friends, at least not in the same way that she and Zala'din were friends, but she had always felt that duelling was one of the best ways to get to know someone. It was hard to hide one's true self in a fight, and she hoped that Varian could now see in Zala'din what she had seen on Draenor - his sense of humour, his courage, and his forthright honesty.

The four of them then exchanged a few brief, polite words; Vol'jin making several wry comments about their use of unorthodox tactics. Auriana apologised profusely for biting him - and for other things - but fortunately the Warchief seemed more impressed by her ingenuity and never-say-die attitude than he was annoyed. The match had been well fought on all sides, and both Varian and the two trolls agreed that all four combatants could leave the arena with their heads held high.

It was important, Auriana thought, that the highest respective leadership of the Alliance and the Horde were seen to be getting along, and it seemed that both Varian and Vol'jin had come to the same conclusion. They very deliberately remained in the centre of the arena while they conversed, where they would be clearly visible to all, and it was only at the behest of the referee that they finally departed.

Auriana was the last to leave the arena, behind Varian and the two trolls, though she paused at the exit gate where a bright flash of red and gold suddenly caught her attention. She bent down, and retrieved a small, feathered fetish from where it had caught between the floorboards and the wall. Up close, she could see the fine workmanship in the leather that bound the fetish together, as well as the detailed carving worked into the surface of the horn - or perhaps it was a tooth - that lay at the object's centre. Auriana didn't know what its purpose was, but it was reasonable to assume that it was important to one of the trolls, and she quickly resolved to return it to its rightful owner.

She caught up to Varian just as he stepped into the tunnel junction that separated the Alliance and Horde sides of the arena, and called out to get his attention.

"Varian! Wait."

"Auriana? What are you doing all the way back there?" he asked, turning slightly to look back at her over his shoulder. "I thought you were right behind me."

"I was, but…"

She held up the fetish by way of explanation, and gestured in the direction of the Horde tunnels. A strange expression crossed Varian's face as he caught her meaning, but after a few seconds of tense silence, he nodded. He was trying, she knew, even though making peace with the Horde did not come easily to him, and she was immensely proud.

"Be careful," he said simply. "And don't be too long, I'm starving."

"I would never dream of coming between you and your stomach, Varian," she said drily.

She flashed him what she hoped was a reassuring grin, then slipped off down the tunnel branch that led to the Horde side of the arena. Much like the Alliance side of things, the Horde tunnels were alive with noise and movement as champions, mentors and healers all swarmed around the narrow space. Auriana attracted quite a few curious looks as she pushed her way through the throng, though no one attempted to bar her path as she slowly surely caught up to Zala'din and Vol'jin.

"Zal! Hey!"

The big troll turned at the sound of her voice, and a small frown creased his heavy brow ridge. The tunnel had not really been made for beings as large as trolls, and both Zala'din and Vol'jin had to stoop slightly to avoid cracking their heads against the arch.

"Someting wrong, little lion?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

"I think you one of you may have dropped this, back in the arena," Auriana explained, holding the feathered fetish out towards him. "I wasn't sure if it was something important."

"Musta been knocked off my belt when dat King of yours charged me into da wall," Zala'din sighed, taking it in his hands with a rueful smile. "All dese years I thought ya mighta been exaggeratin', but da man can fight."

"He's the best," Auriana agreed, unable to stop herself from beaming proudly at the acknowledgment of her husband's skill. "Although I hope he didn't damage your trinket. What is it, anyway?"

"Supposed ta be a good luck charm," Zala'din replied, sliding his fingers through the bright feathers. "Didn't seem ta do much good, though da loa who blessed it wouldn't take too kindly ta me losin' it."

"Of course it not be doin' ya any good, mon. Even da loa have no power to protect ya from da bite of a small human," Vol'jin added sagely.

His expression was so serious that for a brief moment, Auriana wasn't sure if he were describing a genuine tenet of troll religious lore, until his tusks twitched in a way that she had come to understand indicated amusement.

"Er… again… sorry about that," she said, a flush rising in her cheeks as she nodded apologetically towards his bruised hand. "Though you didn't really leave me with many other options. That was quite the curse."

Vol'jin's tusks bobbed once again as a sly grin pulled at the corner of his mouth, but before he could say anything further, their conversation was interrupted by a quiet, drawling voice echoing out of the dark tunnel behind them.

"Congratulations, Your Majesty."

Auriana's heartbeat suddenly accelerated as she, Zala'din and Vol'jin turned as one to behold Sylvanas Windrunner leaning casually against the tunnel wall a few feet away. She had snuck up on them in perfect silence, and Auriana had the uneasy sense that she had been listening to conversation for quite some time. Her blood red eyes shone with an intensity that belied the slinky nonchalance of her posture, and in truth her entire attitude was reminiscent of a hunting hawk or a prowling nightsaber. Nathanos Blightcaller skulked around in the shadows behind her, ever the faithful mutt, though Auriana's attention was fixed firmly on the Dark Lady.

"I… congratulations?" she repeated, just as thrown by Sylvanas's statement as she was by the sudden appearance of the woman herself.

She had never seen Sylvanas up close, much less spoken to her, and she was surprised at the strength of her own visceral reaction to the Banshee Queen's presence. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she felt suddenly cold, as if she had just plunged naked into an icy river. Every base animal instinct she had was screaming at her to run away, though she did her best to maintain an air of regal neutrality.

"Another victory under your belt," Sylvanas added, tilting her head thoughtfully to one side. "You're quite the talented little thing, aren't you?"

It was ostensibly a compliment, though Auriana had never before received a compliment that made her skin crawl. She wasn't sure she appreciated being called 'little thing', either, but now was hardly the time to let either her anger or ego get the better of her.

"Ah… thank you. It has been an honour to represent Stormwind in the Tournament," she replied.

Auriana worked hard to keep her tone even as she spoke, and she hoped that it was enough to mask her disquiet. Interestingly, Zala'din and Vol'jin appeared to be equally uncomfortable. They hid it well, but Auriana was not blind to the sudden tension in Vol'jin's posture, nor the way Zala'din's hand came to rest on the side of his belt, as if he were instinctively searching for a weapon. All their earlier friendliness had vanished, and they had both stepped forward slightly so that they were positioned between Auriana and Sylvanas. Evidently, she was not an especially popular person, even amongst the members of her own faction.

"You're being modest, Your Majesty. Your victories were well earned."

The Banshee Queen's burning eyes gleamed, though her expression remained otherwise inscrutable, and it was all Auriana could do not to let out a small sigh of consternation. This was the part of politics that she hated the most; trying to discern someone's true meaning beneath layers of feigned politeness and artful doublespeak. She was slowly growing in confidence in her role as Stormwind's Queen, especially when it came to the practical affairs of running a kingdom, but she was certain that she would never quite master the delicate art of saying one thing and meaning another.

"Although… from one queen to another... I would caution you not to let your aspirations exceed your grasp," Sylvanas added, her voice echoing in the space like nails on a chalkboard. "It would be such a shame to have come so far, only to stumble at the final hurdle."

"What?"

The word spilled from Auriana's mouth before she had time to think of something more coherent, and she silently cursed her lack of diplomatic nous.

"Overconfidence has ever been the bane of those who would be champions." Sylvanas paused briefly for effect, then added, "Great games were common in Silvermoon before the fall. I have seen more than one winning streak cut short by hubris."

Auriana's gaze flicked to Vol'jin, who was staring straight ahead with a fixed expression. On the surface, it was sound, relevant advice, but underneath, the words held a subtle animosity. Sylvanas was not stupid, far from it, and while Auriana doubted that she would attempt to sabotage Tournament relations right under the nose of her Warchief, it was clear that there was a great deal more left unsaid. She had sought out Auriana for a reason… spoken to her for a reason… though Auriana was damned if she could figure out what that reason actually was .

"You offer wise counsel, Dark Lady," she said, choosing her words with the utmost care. "I will be mindful, I assure you."

For the briefest half-second, Auriana thought she saw a hint of the banshee's fury stir deep within Sylvanas's eyes, but it disappeared so quickly that she wasn't entirely sure that it hadn't been a trick of the light, or perhaps her overactive imagination. Sylvanas declined to say anything further, however, and with a last, calculating glance in Auriana's direction, she gathered Nathanos and swept off into the darkness.

Auriana slowly released the breath she had been holding, though she waited until the Banshee Queen was well out of earshot before rounding on Vol'jin. With him , at least, she felt she could be honest, and she made no effort to disguise her displeasure.

"What was that ?"

"Da Banshee Queen has never been known for her… uh… tact," Vol'jin said slowly. "I am sure dat she did not intend to cause offence."

To his credit, he did not attempt to deny the fact that there had been more to Sylvanas's pointed commentary than the words themselves, but Auriana had no interest in carefully crafted platitudes. She had always valued Vol'jin's frank and straightforward approach to diplomacy, and she did not intend to allow him to change tack now.

"A lack of people skills is no excuse, Warchief, I know a threat when I hear one," she insisted, careful to keep her voice low.

Vol'jin returned her gaze steadily, save for the short glance he exchanged with Zala'din. Neither trolls' posture was quite as defensive as it had been when Sylvanas had been present, though they were both clearly still wary. It was a stark contrast to the camaraderie they had shared in the arena, and Auriana silently cursed Sylvanas for her interruption.

Always two steps forward, one step back...

"Vol'jin..." she growled, then added more gently, "Please. I'm new to this game, but I'm not a fool. What's going on?"

She could appreciate that Vol'jin was in an awkward position. He could scarcely afford to openly criticise his allies in such a public place where they might be overheard, but nor could he allow the wife of the High King of the Alliance to suffer insult at the hands of one of those same allies - at least assuming he intended for the Tournament to succeed. To that end, even Auriana wasn't quite sure what she expected him to say, only that she needed to know why Sylvanas seemed to consider her with such particular enmity.

Vol'jin cleared his throat, and shot an uneasy glance back over his shoulder. Auriana had not immediately noticed that the tunnels had cleared out in the time since they had started talking - perhaps owing to the start of another match in the arena above - but that didn't mean that they were truly alone.

"I been in da habit of takin' a walk around da grounds every evenin', just after sundown," Vol'jin said slowly. "Perhaps… ya might like ta join me? In da interest of interfactional cooperation, and all dat…"

He gave her a significant look, and Auriana nodded to let him know that she had caught his gist. He could not discuss Sylvana's motives right here or now, but it seemed that he was not entirely unwilling to talk.

"I'd be honoured," Auriana said sincerely. "I'll meet you outside the arena?"

Her ready understanding and agreement seemed to ease some of Vol'jin's concern, and she watched as he visibily shook some of the tension free from his hunched shoulders.

"As ya wish, Majesty," he agreed, no longer quite so wary, "Though for now we best be gettin' back ta our camp. Losin' a fight always makes me hungry."

He stood up straighter, and nudged Zala'din with his elbow.

"Zal?"

"I could eat da ass out of a low flyin' macaw," Zala'din declared, a hint of his earlier ebullience returning to his tone.

"That seems to be going around," Auriana snorted, thinking of Varian. "Though far be it from me to keep you from your meal. I've taken up enough of your time as it is."

She gave them both a short smile, though she made no futher comment as she turned and made her way back through the tunnels toward the Alliance side of the arena. Her mind raced with every step, but by the time she reached her private tent, she was still no closer to solving the mystery of Sylvanas's targeted enmity. Auriana had not expected friendliness, of course, given the Banshee Queen's fearsome reputation, though she could not understand how she might have attracted such personalised ire from a person she had never before met. It was not that she worried for herself, either, but rather how such an issue might affect the Tournament. Things had been progressing well so far, and yet Auriana was all too aware that it would only take one small incident to ruin everything they had worked so hard to achieve.

She sighed.

Whatever your explanation is, Vol'jin, she thought darkly, It had better be good...