Auriana
"What took you so long?"
Auriana had only just barely stepped inside the tent before Varian fell upon her, looming over her with his brooding features twisted into a heavy scowl. He was shirtless, having disposed of his plate, chainmail and undershirt on the bed, though he had not yet divested himself of his belt, pants, and boots. A flagon of mulled wine and a half-empty glass lay on a nearby table, and it was clear from the slight furrow worn in the canvas floor that he had been pacing quite extensively.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I got… uh… caught up," she said, placing a conciliatory hand on his bare chest.
Varian was warm, despite the cold outside, though his expression was anything but. Auriana knew him well enough to know that he was not actually irritated with her per se, but rather that he was masking his fear with anger. He cared for her so deeply, and while she often found his overprotectiveness cloying, she could not fault his sentiment.
"I'm fine," she added quickly. "I promise."
"I was about to send Ridley out after you," Varian grumbled.
He pulled roughly away from her touch, and collected his wine from the table. His back was a mess of both fresh and aging bruises, courtesy of their time in the arena, though thankfully his movement seemed unhindered. Auriana always found it hard to see him hurting, even if such injuries were relatively minor, but she doubted he would appreciate her showing concern when he was already feeling cantankerous. Instead, she simply turned away, and set about removing her own dirt-stained armour.
"So. What was the hold up?"
Auriana's fingers slipped on the catch of her shoulderplates, as she wondered how best to explain her current predicament. She thought of trying to steer Varian gently into the difficult conversation, but after a few moments consideration, she realised there was little point in trying to soften the blow when he was going to take things badly regardless.
"I ran into Sylvanas Windrunner in the tunnels," she said lightly, keeping her back turned.
"What?"
Varian let out a strange, guttural growl from deep within his throat, and Auriana heard a dull thump as he slammed his wine glass back down on the table.
"By which I mean, she approached me. I didn't... seek her out," she clarified.
She glanced back over her shoulder, and was surprised to see genuine fear colouring Varian's expression at the mention of the Banshee Queen. She hadn't expected him to be pleased by their unexpected encounter, given how much he worried, but there was clearly something deeper at work beyond his normal concerns for her safety.
"Varian? What's wrong?"
Auriana abandoned the pretense of fiddling with her armour, and turned back to face him. Varian's lips drew into a tight, thin line, and he stared at her, unblinking, for quite some time before he finally spoke.
"Sylvanas is up to something. Something that involves you."
He sighed.
"You should have seen the way she was looking at you after we defeated her rogues…" he added darkly. "I didn't say anything at the time because… well, it's Sylvanas. She's not exactly known for her upbeat personality."
He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, as if trying to relieve a particularly irritating crick in his neck, and cracked the knuckles of his right hand against his left palm.
"Before you start, I'm not just being paranoid. I know a threat when I see one."
"Actually, I agree with you," Auriana said softly. "She definitely has an interest in me, though I'm not sure why."
Varian's eyes narrowed.
"What makes you say that?"
"She sought me out, in the tunnels. And… ah…" Auriana cleared her throat. "She threatened me."
Varian let out a sharp hiss of fury from between his teeth. His gaze raked over her from head to toe, as if he thought Sylvanas might have already done her harm, and he squared his massive shoulders as if readying for a fight.
"She threatened you?" he repeated, his tone as chilling as the glacier outside.
"Not in so many words, but… yes." Auriana bit her lip. "She was saying all sorts of things about overconfidence and hubris and not overstepping one's bounds… it was definitely intended to be a warning of some sort, though I'll be damned if I can figure out what she really meant."
Varian clenched and unclenched his massive fists, and glanced towards the tent door.
"I'll send for Shaw," he growled. "He can investigate."
"Varian, you know as well as I do that summoning your spymaster is unlikely to improve the situation," Auriana said gently. "The Tournament has been successful so far, we don't want to jeopardise that."
"Are you telling me you'd be content to remain here, none the wiser, while Sylvanas schemes?" he scoffed.
"No… but there may be another way to obtain that information without involving SI:7."
She took a deep breath.
"Vol'jin was present when Sylvanas confronted me. He knows something, and he's willing to talk. He invited me to take a walk with him around the grounds this evening… and I intend to go."
A myriad of emotions flashed across Varian's face - surprise, bafflement, disbelief - but in the end he settled on something halfway between anger and cold disapproval.
"You bloody well will not," he snarled. "Has it occured to you that this might be a trap?"
Auriana bristled at the implication that she was somehow incapable of assessing the potential risks and benefits of the situation, but did her best to remain calm. She was sympathetic to Varian's concern, even if she felt it unwarranted, and she genuinely tried to control her growing frustration.
"You said it yourself - we need to know what she's up to," she said coolly. "Vol'jin's offer represents a way to do that without causing a scandal."
She could tell that Varian had no real counter to her argument, judging from the particular slant of his bushy eyebrows and the depth of the creases at the corners of his eyes. She doubted anyone else would ever notice, but she had long ago learned to read the subtle differences between his many scowls. Of course, the lack of a counterpoint was unlikely to make him any less belligerent, and if anything would simply make him dig in his heels even further.
"If the Warchief wants to talk, I'll go," he harrumphed.
"I don't think he'll talk to you," Auriana protested, shaking her head. "Not about this specific issue, in any case."
"But why does it have to be you?" Varian demanded, a faint note of pleading entering his voice.
Auriana brushed a stray lock of hair back over her ear, and gave a bemused little shake of her head.
"I don't know why, exactly. Perhaps I'm not quite so… intimidating."
Varian's eyebrows shot way up, and he barked out a single, skeptical laugh.
"Auri, I don't think anyone who has seen you fight these last few days would describe you as 'not intimidating'," he said drily.
It was a fair observation, and Auriana reluctantly conceded the point with a small shrug.
"All that aside, he… trusts me, I suppose," she reasoned, biting back a fresh wave of exasperation. "Varian, please. I think this is important."
"Do you trust him?"
It was a loaded question, but Auriana didn't hesitate.
"Yes. I do."
Varian snorted, and shook his head.
"And Sylvanas?"
"She's hardly going to shoot me in the back in the middle of what is essentially a peace summit," Auriana exclaimed, throwing up her hands. Sometimes, it was like talking to a wall. "She'd have both the Alliance and the Horde after her if she did. Sylvanas is a lot of things, but I don't think she's that reckless. Or that… stupid."
Varian's frown deepened, and Auriana could practically see his mind turning over as he considered every risk and possibility. He was a highly intelligent man, even if he sometimes downplayed that fact when it suited his purposes, and while he was clearly afraid for her safety, she hoped that his more rational mind would eventually win out.
"Fine. Take no more than an hour," he conceded finally, his voice flat and tense. "You are not to enter the Horde side of the camp; you are to remain in the designated neutral areas. If Sylvanas appears, you leave. If she attempts to follow you, you scream bloody murder until the Argents find you."
Even though she was pleased that Varian had given his consent, however reluctantly, Auriana could not help but to feel like she was on the receiving end of a dressing down. His tone was identical to the one he used with subordinates when they had done something wrong, and she didn't like it one bit. She resented being spoken to as if she were a wayward child, and for a split second her temper flared as she finally allowed her irritation to get the better of her.
"Yes, Father," she snorted, rolling her eyes in a passable impression of Anduin.
She regretted the petty, barbed words the moment they left her mouth, but it was too late to take them back. An expression of genuine hurt flashed across Varian's rugged features, and Auriana immediately felt her cheeks blaze hot with guilt and shame. He was wrong to speak to her the way he had, true, but that didn't excuse her own poor behaviour, nor the fact that in her sharpness she had touched on two points that she knew were sore for him - his relationship with his son, and the difference in their ages.
"I like that smart mouth of yours a lot better when it's not directed at me," he muttered.
He turned away, ostensibly busying himself with the task of pouring more wine, but Auriana knew it was really so that he could hide his face. She winced, cursing her quick temper, and rubbed a tired hand across her eyes.
"I… I'm sorry. That was uncalled for," she murmured, deflating. "I just… I know what I'm doing. I need you to trust me, and it hurts when it seems like you don't."
She took a few tentative steps forward, and when Varian did not protest, rested her cheek very carefully against the powerful muscles of his mid back. He tensed at the contact, but did not immediately pull away, and even permitted Auriana to slide her arms around his taut waist. He smelled like smoke and leather; his broad back impossibly warm and comforting beneath her cool cheek, and as much as he sometimes drove her mad, Auriana knew she wouldn't change him for all the world.
"Varian? I…"
"You mean everything to me, do you understand? Everything," he muttered, his voice low and rough.
He knotted his hands with hers, pulling her closer against his back and clutching at her so tightly that there was scarcely a hair's breadth of space between them. The raw strength of feeling in his voice sent shivers up Auriana's spine, and the queasy feeling of regret that had settled in the pit of her stomach surged..
"I know I'm not the most romantic or demonstrative of partners, but that doesn't mean I don't… feel things. I can't lose you," he said fiercely. "I won't."
"Varian, I'm fairly sure you feel things more deeply than anyone I've ever met."
Auriana frowned, and leaned her head back ever so slightly.
"Is that really what you think? That I take risks because I don't know how much you care about me?"
Varian stiffened; the hard planes of his stomach muscles practically trembling beneath her hands, and it felt to Auriana as if she were trying to contain a mighty beast in a very tenuous cage. He did not make any attempt to answer her question, and Auriana decided that it would be wiser not to push. She didn't want to argue, no matter how frustrated she might have been, and she hoped he could feel just how sorry she was through her touch.
After a few minutes of silent contemplation, Varian twisted in Auriana's arms so that they were standing face to face, and slid a hand around the back of her neck so that he might pull her close. It never ceased to amaze her just how safe and complete she felt in Varian's embrace, nor how much she treasured the steady thunder of his heartbeat in her ears. Even in the midst of a disagreement, there was nowhere else she would have rather been than with him, and from the careful, almost reverent, way he held her, she knew that he felt the same.
"C'mere."
Varian rested his chin on the top of her head with a long, gruff sigh. Auriana couldn't see his face, but she could tell from the way he leaned into her body that his eyes were closed.
"I trust you. I do. It's everyone else I have a problem with," he murmured. "Just… promise me that you'll be careful. You have a knack for trouble, and while everyone else at this Tournament might be wagering good money on the fact that you're invincible, that's not a bet I'm willing to take."
"I promise," Auriana said quickly. "And I really don't go looking for trouble, you know."
"So you keep saying," Varian sighed.
He straightened, and slipped two fingers beneath her chin so that he might look her in the eye. His expression had softened, though not so much so that it eased the heavy crease in his forehead, nor the slight downward turn of his lips.
"You planned to meet the Warchief at sundown, correct?" he asked.
"Uh… yes, I did," Auriana confirmed, though she was somewhat confused by the abrupt change of topic. "Why?"
Varian answered not with words, but rather with a deep and lingering kiss that set Auriana's nerves on fire from her head to her toes. His fingers found their way into the knots of her hair, already pulling her braids free from their bindings, while he used his bulk to press her back across the tent towards their bed.
"Good," he rumbled. "That gives us at least a couple of hours, and I think we both owe one another an apology, don't you…?"
Auriana left their tent about a quarter hour before sundown, after spending the rest of the afternoon tangled in Varian's arms. Their tender intimacy did much to improve both his mood and the lingering tension between them, though by the time she had dressed and pulled her boots on ready to leave, he had resumed his ill-tempered pacing. For a moment, Auriana even thought he might change his mind and forbid her from leaving, but in the end he had let her go with little more than a frown and a few hushed words of warning.
She walked from the tent swiftly, hugging her soft woollen cape about her body as she made her way out of the Alliance camp and down towards the arena. While the weather during the day had been pleasant and warm, the temperature had fallen dramatically with the imminent setting of the sun. The fires burning back in the tent did a great deal to offset the chill of the evening breeze, but out here, Auriana found herself immensely grateful for the well-knit warmth of her clothes and gloves.
A few curious stares followed her path, though by this time of night most people had retired to either their private tents or the common eating areas to celebrate the day's fighting with copious amounts of food and drink. Auriana was especially pleased to see that the beer tents that had been set up in the neutral parts of the camp were full to the brim with light, laughter and good cheer. It was slow going, perhaps, but she had the distinct sense that the Tournament really was working to bring people together in the way that they had all hoped, and she smiled to herself as she ducked around a group of carousing tauren and into the shadow of the colossal arena.
Vol'jin was already waiting outside when Auriana arrived; his bright red hair a burning contrast to the crisp white snow beneath their feet. Much like Auriana herself, the troll Warchief had also come dressed for the weather, with a thick pelt draped over his broad shoulders and upper body. It was strange to see a jungle troll in such heavy attire, but she supposed that they were not as used to the cold as their cousins amongst the Drakkari.
Vol'jin acknowledged her approach with a brief nod of his head, and beckoned for her to join him under the protection of the eaves.
"Good evening, Warchief," she said.
Had he been another human, she might have offered him her hand, but she wasn't sure how such a gesture might be received by a troll. Up close, he seemed a tad on edge - but in fairness, so was Auriana herself.
"Ya Majesty." Vol'jin gestured towards one of the side entrances that led into the arena tunnels. "I thought we might take a turn around da arena floor."
"I didn't think you could get back inside after the place was closed for the day," Auriana remarked, though the Argent guard manning the door made no effort to bar their path as they slipped inside.
"Not da stands. But champions are permitted access to da floor if dey wanna strategise or what have ya," Vol'jin explained. "Da wards prevent da use of magic without da Argents ta supervise, but ya can walk around."
Auriana raised an eyebrow.
"Really? I must have missed that notice. Though, admittedly, I was so involved in the organisational side of things that I didn't really look through the guidelines for champions all that thoroughly."
It wasn't a lie. She and Varian had made the final decision to represent Stormwind rather late in the process, having gone back and forth several times on how such a decision might be received, and what kind of political message it might send. In an effort to maintain neutrality, the specific rules and guidelines for champions had also mostly been developed by Tirion Fordring, with the Kirin Tor providing insight on magical matters. It was an extensive document, and Auriana had skimmed over most parts that didn't directly relate to what was and was not permissible in a fight - including, it seemed, some of the privileges awarded to nominated champions.
"Clearly," Vol'jin snorted, then added, "I'm pretty sure it be against da rules ta bite ya opponent on da hand."
His sharply pointed nose crinkled as he shot her a sly grin, and he waved a bandaged hand in Auriana's face.
"Ah, see, that I know for sure is a legal move," she insisted.
"I suppose I ought ta be thankin' da loa dat ya human. Tiny teeth, and all dat," Vol'jin mused, baring his own sharply pointed cuspids.
"They didn't seem so tiny when I was making you squirm in the arena," Auriana shot back.
For a second, she thought she might have overstepped. Vol'jin's brow twitched, but after a few moments he let out a low chuckle; a throaty, barking sound that Auriana nevertheless found rather catching.
"Ya pull dat move again, and dere is gonna be trouble," he said, shaking his tusks in playful warning.
"Oh, don't worry about that. I'm not in any rush to taste sweaty troll a second time..."
The light banter helped to ease the tension in the air as they made their way through the darkened tunnels, and after a brief inspection from the Argent Crusader guarding the eastern gate, they were permitted entry to the arena floor. It was still and silent without the roaring crowd, and Auriana was surprised at how just how dull the place seemed in the absence of all the pomp and pageantry that accompanied a match. It was, however, a very good place to speak in private, and she could see why Vol'jin had suggested that they come here.
"It seems smaller," she remarked.
She took a few steps out into the centre of the floor and spun around in a full circle, her skirts flowing smoothly around her ankles as she turned.
"How does it feel ta be undefeated?"
Vol'jin paced around to her to the left, though he remained at a respectful distance. There was a slight hesitancy to the way he moved, and Auriana abruptly realised that he was just as afraid of offending her as she was of offending him.
"Honestly, it's a lot of pressure," she confessed. "I try not to think about it too much."
Auriana looked down at the floor, and saw a patch of dried blood poking out from beneath her boot. It was most definitely not hers - she hadn't yet been made to bleed so copiously - but it was a stark reminder of how quickly one's fortune in the arena could turn.
"Ya fight well," Vol'jin remarked. "I remember watchin' ya fight on Draenor… I thought ya were impressive den, but with Wrynn watchin' your back, ya might just be unstoppable."
As he spoke, he made his way across the floor towards the outer edge of the arena. Auriana moved to follow, and after a brief pause before one of the enormous Darkspear banners draped from the stands overhead, they began to traverse a steady path around the floor.
"No one's unstoppable," she murmured. "If I believed that, I think I'd be dead by now."
"Still, da pair of ya might come close."
Vol'jin then hunched over so that he and Auriana were more of a height, and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Don't tell Zala'din I told ya dis, but he's spent da last few hours complainin' about dat King of yours."
"Oh?"
"Says he's never met anyone who hits dat hard. Or moves dat fast. Insists da match was rigged," Vol'jin confirmed.
"I can assure you, that's all Varian," Auriana said proudly, "... but you didn't bring me here to discuss our match."
She didn't want to push, but neither did she want to waste time. Varian was expecting her back within the hour, and even if he hadn't set a time limit on the length of the discussion, the longer she and Vol'jin remained in a public space, the more likely it was that they might be discovered or overheard.
Vol'jin seemed to have been thinking along a similar line. He drew to a halt, and his gaze darted around the arena as if expecting an eavesdropper to jump out at any moment. His shoulders had once again grown rigid with tension, and he champed at his tusks with the air of a skittish beast.
"No. I didn't," he said warily.
"Am I going to have to beg?"
Vol'jin sighed, and resumed his slow pacing. Auriana followed patiently a half step behind, but after they had completed nearly a quarter lap of the arena, she began to fear that the Warchief might have changed his mind. He was taking just as much of a risk as she in being here - perhaps even more so - and while it would be a great disappointment, Auriana couldn't really blame him if he had developed cold feet.
"What do you know of Sylvanas?" he asked finally.
"She was the Ranger-General of Silvermoon. She fell during the Scourge invasion of Quel'Thalas during the Third War, and was raised as a banshee by Arthas himself," Auriana recited, after a brief pause. "She broke free of his control, and declared herself queen over the other renegade undead who pledged to her cause."
She felt a little like she had when she was a child again, recounting names and dates for her fastidious and exacting grandfather. He had always considered the study of history to be the most important academic endeavour, and had attempted to instill a similar belief in Auriana from a young age. She had never taken to the topic in quite the way he had hoped, but she had, at least, developed a good memory for historical information.
"Dere are many people on Azeroth who have lived tragic lives, though Sylvanas's story is more tragic dan most," Vol'jin said slowly, nodding. "Still… I questioned Thrall's decision ta let da Forsaken join da Horde, all dem years ago. Dey have proven dere worth to da Horde many times since den… but dey don't tink like da livin'."
Auriana remained silent as the Warchief gathered his thoughts. She still hadn't the faintest idea why she had become a target for Sylvanas's enmity, but at least Vol'jin was talking.
"I tink Arthas took more dan just Sylvanas's life," he continued, his voice heavy. "I tink he took her soul, too. He took away everyting dat made her… well, livin'. He took away anyting dat wasn't hate, or anger, or a desire for revenge. I don't tink she's even capable of feelin' anythin' more than that."
Auriana frowned as a wave of pity washed over her, followed quickly by a wave of guilt. She had never seen Sylvanas as a pitiable creature - in general, the Banshee Queen was far too cool and intimidating to arouse such emotion - though perhaps that was because Auriana had never really given the matter proper thought. She understood what it was to feel rage better than almost anyone alive, but she also understood love, and laughter, and happiness, and she couldn't even imagine a world in which all those wonderful things had been lost to her.
"I… I'm ashamed to say I've never really thought about what the Forsaken have lost," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "I mean, I've thought about their lives, obviously - I had family in Lordaeron - but I suppose there's a lot more to life than simply… existing."
There was a time, after Theramore and Garrosh Hellscream's escape from his trial in Pandaria, when Auriana had felt a bit like a Sylvanas herself. She had closed herself off to almost everything that wasn't rage or a thirst for vengeance, and if not for Varian coming into her life, she realised, there was a very good chance she would have continued to drown in that pit of her own making. Sylvanas, on the other hand, had no choice; no light or love at the end of that long, dark, tunnel...
"Monsters be everywhere if dat's all ya willin' ta see."
Vol'jin's quiet voice pulled Auriana out of her brooding thoughts, and she glanced upwards to see him staring, not at her, but off into the far distance. His tusks gleamed in the pale, dying light of early evening, and he suddenly looked very old. She also got the sense that he was no longer talking about the Forsaken alone, but before she could ask him exactly what he meant, he continued.
"But I'm not really here ta give ya a lecture on da history of da Forsaken… or ta garner ya sympathy. My point is dat Sylvanas long ago forgot what it was like ta feel love… and I tink she tends ta assume most others see da world da same way she does: through a veil of suspicion and distrust."
"That's unsurprising, if somewhat… depressing," Auriana murmured. "Though I still don't understand what Sylvanas's history has to do with me?"
Vol'jin considered her seriously, and he chose his next words with great care.
"Ya marriage ta Varian Wrynn caused quite da stir amongst the Horde."
"Really? I wouldn't have thought anyone… cared."
Auriana was not trying to be glib. She understood the interest in her marriage on the Alliance side of things, even if she hated being the subject of such intense scrutiny, but she couldn't really think of a reason why the Horde might be interested beyond idle gossip.
"It was not da Horde who have met ya or fought wit ya that were concerned…"
"... but Sylvanas was," Auriana realised, slowly beginning to put the pieces of the puzzle into place.
"Yes," Vol'jin confirmed. "And she can be quite persuasive when she wants ta be."
"Persuasive about what?" Auriana huffed, letting out a soft snort of frustration. "I still have no idea what I've done to offend her… aside from marry Varian, I suppose."
She blanched.
"Please don't tell me it's because she has some kind of… unrequited romantic feelings for him."
"Uh… I dun know about dat," Vol'jin muttered, clearly as disturbed by the possibility as Auriana herself, "But ya marriage be exactly da problem, at least da way Sylvanas sees it."
He scratched awkwardly at one of his tusks.
"Ya were born in Lordaeron, yah?"
"I was, yes," Auriana said slowly.
It was another abrupt change of topic, and she wondered whether Vol'jin was deliberately attempting to throw her off.
"And ya family… dey were prominent nobles?"
"On my mother's side, yes," Auriana confirmed, raising an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"
She was genuinely surprised to learn that Vol'jin knew so much about her past. It was not some great secret, but once again she could not quite fathom why the Horde would ever be interested in such information.
"Da Scourge destroyed da city, but not its history. Not of all it. Ya would be surprised ta learn what kinda records are still kept in da Undercity. Da Forsaken were human, once. It is dere history as much as it is yours, and dey guard it jealously."
Auriana had always assumed that most of Lordaeron's history had been destroyed during the Scourge, but now that Vol'jin mentioned it, she supposed it made sense that at least some of it had survived. After all, the Scourge were not like mortal armies. Arthas had come to the city to sow terror and to raise more bodies in the service of the Lich King, and she doubted he would have been overly concerned with destroying birth records or history books.
"Well, that explains where you're getting your information from," she conceded, "But not what is has to do with Sylvanas."
"I'm gettin' dere." Vol'jin took a deep breath. "This be why I wanted ya ta understand her way of thinkin', first. She cannot conceive of a world where Varian Wrynn - alone for nearly twenty years - would marry for love. What she can understand is a world in which da king of da humans marries a woman with perhaps da best livin' claim ta the throne of Lordaeron."
"What?"
It was not an especially queenly exclamation, but Auriana didn't care. Whatever she had thought Vol'jin might say, the idea that Varian had only married her out of a desire to reclaim the lost throne of Lordaeron was perhaps the last thing she ever would have imagined.
"Arthas Menethil is dead, and his line died with him. Ya family might not have been da kings and queens of Lordaeron, but from the records Sylvanas uncovered, it seems dey were da next best ting," Vol'jin elaborated. "Am I wrong?"
"Well, no, but… I mean… there are other families with similarly strong claims…" Auriana stammered.
"And how many of dem are already queens, with da armies of Stormwind at dere command?" Vol'jin's eyes gleamed. "Da majority of Lordaeron's nobility was wiped out by da Scourge, but dose dat survived are unlikely to challenge ya claim."
Auriana pinched the bridge of her nose.
"This is why Sylvanas seems to hate me so much? She thinks… she thinks Varian married me because he wants to use me to reclaim Lordaeron?"
Vol'jin paused. He had been open with her thus far, but Auriana was well aware that he was going far beyond what his allies might consider either necessary or appropriate. Certainly, Sylvanas would see it as a betrayal, and for the first time Auriana truly appreciated just how much he was risking to give her answers.
"Not just Lordaeron," he said finally, his voice low. "Ya one of da most powerful mages in Dalaran, and a good friend of Jaina Proudmoore. There be a strong possibility dat she might one day name ya as her successor."
Auriana made to protest, the sting of the Kirin Tor's recent decision regarding her status within the organisation still fresh in her mind, but Vol'jin lifted a hand to silence her before she could speak.
"Wrynn already effectively holds the loyalty of Gilneas through his friendship with Genn Greymane, and dat alliance could be strengthened further by da marriage of his son ta Greymane's daughter," Vol'jin added, counting off each point on his fingers as he spoke. "From what I hear, ya also have Kul Tiran blood in ya veins. Dey have sat alone on dere island for a good long while now, but perhaps dey would be more likely ta rejoin da Alliance if dey knew da reigning queen was one of dere own."
"I… I haven't been to Boralus since I was a child…"
It was admittedly a weak protest, and certainly Vol'jin did not appear at all convinced.
"Dat's not really da point, and ya know it. Alterac and Arathor be long dead, but through his marriage ta you, Wrynn could reforge what remains of da Alliance of Lordaeron, and unite humanity into a single empire under his rule," he concluded. "An empire dat would drive da Forsaken - and by extension da Horde - out of da Eastern Kingdoms."
"That's really what Sylvanas thinks we intend to do?"
"Anyone who has seen ya together knows exactly why Wrynn married ya, but Sylvanas no longer understands love," Vol'jin said, shrugging. "Not really. So she went lookin' for a better explanation."
Auriana bit her lip in consternation, her mind racing as she tried to come to terms with such startling new information. She had never in her life considered that she might serve as some kind of lynchpin in Varian's plans to conquer the Eastern Kingdoms, though she supposed there was a certain kind of logic to the idea. Her grandfather had long bemoaned the fact that if not for a small twist of fate, their family dynasty would have ruled Lordaeron in place of the Menethils, and she could hardly deny her connection to the other human kingdoms. In fact, the more Auriana thought about it, the more convincing Sylvanas's argument became, and for the briefest of moments even she began to doubt whether Varian had married her entirely out of love…
"Wait… Sylvanas… had she sold this theory to the other leaders of the Horde?" she asked, forcibly pushing her more troublesome thoughts to the back of her mind.
"Not in so many words. I had ta do some diggin' ta find out as much as I have," Vol'jin admitted. "But she has planted da seed of suspicion amongst our allies, yes. Some have questioned Wrynn's motives in attending da Tournament."
"That's insane," Auriana muttered. "I barely wanted to be the queen of one bloody kingdom, let alone five..."
She had not intended for Vol'jin to overhear, but it seemed his sharply curved ears were more sensitive than she had thought.
"Perhaps," he said, his eyes gleaming, "But consider da matter from Sylvanas's perspective. She has always lived in fear of da Alliance marchin' north ta take back her city."
"Isn't that largely the reason why she and her people joined the Horde? The threat of your reprisal keeps her safe, while she provides you with strategically positioned territory close to the Alliance heartland," Auriana reasoned.
Vol'jin shook his head, and let out a great sigh.
"Dat's da short of it, but if Wrynn were to properly unite da five surviving kingdoms under his control? After everyting we have suffered of late… first Garrosh Hellscream tearin' da Horde apart, and den da siege of Draenor... ta have fight a land war on a continent thousands of miles away from our strongholds? Well… I'm not entirely sure da Horde could stop ya. At least not right now."
The admission had cost him something, Auriana could tell, and once again she was reminded of just how much he was risking by talking to her.
"I suppose I can understand why Sylvanas is so afraid," she said truthfully, "But does she have any idea how many things would have to go our way for that to happen? Reuniting the remaining human kingdoms under a single ruler is far easier said than done."
"But it not be entirely out of da question," Vol'jin countered.
"No, I suppose it isn't," Auriana murmured.
For a brief, startling moment she pictured herself as a conquering queen, ruler of one of the greatest empires that Azeroth had ever seen - and just as quickly, she dismissed the thought with a shake of her head. She had no desire for that kind of power, no matter what Sylvanas might have thought.
"It does explain a lot of the things she was saying, at least. Warning me against overconfidence and my reach 'exceeding my grasp'."
She snorted.
"Funny how that makes a lot more sense once I actually know what the hell she's on about."
"Dis be Sylvanas's flaw," Vol'jin agreed. "She tinks everyone sees da world as she does. Dat dey be motivated by da same tings."
Auriana's chest tightened, and for the second time that day she found herself feeling oddly sympathetic towards Sylvanas. She knew pain, yes, and anger, but the idea of holding onto so much hate and rage that one could not conceive of a world ruled by anything else was almost unimaginable. How must it feel, she wondered, to see nothing but threats in every shadow, and to assume that everyone and everything around you wanted nothing but your death...
"That's why she brought the rogues, isn't it?" she realised abruptly. "It's a test. She's trying to figure out if she can kill me."
Vol'jin shifted his weight uncomfortably, but he did not utter a denial.
"I don't tink she would dare move on ya at da Tournament," he said slowly. "She's not stupid - and she's not da kind to act prematurely."
"But she is watching… and learning," Auriana concluded.
"Yes."
"Why are you telling me all this?"
Auriana suspected that she already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it in Vol'jin's own words.
"I did not start dis Tournament on a whim. I believe in what we be doin' here. It be important ta me that we succeed… and I won't be havin' anyone threatenin' dat. Not someone from my side of tings, not someone from yours," he rumbled. "Azeroth has had so few chances for a true peace. I will not allow Sylvanas's paranoia ta stand in da way of what we're doing here… or Varian Wrynn's, for dat matter."
Vol'jin stood up to his full height as he spoke, and his voice was rich and compelling. Auriana had often seen some of her own doubts reflected in the Warchief, the sense that he considered himself similarly unworthy of the people that he served, but in that moment nothing could have been further from the truth. He was determined, strong, and self-assured; everything that a true Warchief ought to be, and Auriana felt her respect for him grow tenfold.
"If ya understand Sylvanas's motivations in context, I figure ya be less likely ta take offense… or ta do someting we might all live ta regret."
"Not to mention that telling me gives you deniability," Auriana pointed out. "Were Sylvanas to act, this conversation is proof that she did so without the authority of the Horde."
A flash of surprise crossed Vol'jin's face, and she could tell that he hadn't intended for her to see through his deeper motivations so easily.
"Someting like dat, yes," he admitted.
Auriana came to a halt, and reached out to place a tentative hand on Vol'jin's massive forearm. He started in surprise at her touch, but did not pull away, and for a long time they simply stared at one another; the diminutive human queen and the mighty troll Warchief just about as starkly opposite as two beings could be. Despite their differences, however, he had just shown enormous faith in Auriana, and she wanted him to know how much she respected and appreciated his trust.
"Varian has no intention of moving on Lordaeron," she said firmly. "Of that, I can assure you."
Varian was not there to provide confirmation, of course, but Auriana was certain that he would have told her if he were secretly planning to conquer the Eastern Kingdoms. At the very least, she doubted that he would have put so much time and effort - and money - into the Tournament if he intended to undo all that hard work by sending an invasion force northwards immediately after. Fortunately, her declaration seemed to be enough for Vol'jin, who nodded firmly in agreement, and even went so far as to briefly close his his large, three-fingered hand over Auriana's own. He was clearly relieved by the successful turn of their conversation, and doubly so to learn that she and Varian had no intention of confirming Sylvanas's worst fears.
Eventually, Auriana pulled away, and together they resumed their slow turn about the floor.
"I'm impressed, you seem to know a lot about human history," she remarked.
Her statement was intended as a light compliment, but Vol'jin did not seem to have taken it that way. His tusks turned downwards in a small frown, and he looked at her ever so slightly askance.
"For a troll?" he snorted.
"I didn't say that," Auriana said quickly.
"No, but ya were tinking it."
The Warchief's eyes narrowed shrewdly. There was a tendency, Auriana knew, for some in the Alliance to view the Horde as bloodthirsty and unintelligent; in some cases little more than animals. She had never held that particular prejudice - or so she had thought - but now that Vol'jin had drawn her attention to the matter, she realised that her surprise was, at least in small part, based on the fact that he was a troll.
"I... you might be right, actually," Auriana admitted, the tops of her ears reddening in shame. "I'm sorry. Really."
"Ah, ya not da first. My people are smarter den a lot of people give us credit for."
Vol'jin shook his tusks, and Auriana could see a fierce pride burning in the depths of his reddened eyes.
"I am da Warchief of da Horde," he added firmly. "It is my duty ta understand both my allies and my enemies. I read, I listen, I learn… and I see a lot more dan people tink."
Something in his tone made Auriana think that he was no longer referring to her or the Alliance alone, and she wondered whether he had faced similar prejudice from within the ranks of the Horde. She had studied the Horde extensively, both in her capacity as a commander of Alliance military forces, and then again as the wife of the High King, and she knew their internal politics to be just as complex as their relationship with the Alliance.
"Are we enemies?" she asked softly.
Auriana bit her lip as she awaited Vol'jin's answer. She still had decidedly mixed feelings about the Horde as a whole, but she liked the Warchief, and she genuinely hoped that he did not see her as a foe.
"I don't tink so. I would hope not," Vol'jin offered. "I tink de Alliance and da Horde have come a long way… even if we still got a long way ta go."
"I agree. I think the Tournament has really…"
Auriana cut off as Vol'jin abruptly grabbed her arm, and pulled her to a rough stop.
"Wait… can ya hear dat?"
"Hearing is not my strong suit, unfortunately," Auriana explained, rubbing her arm where he had grabbed her. "What is it?"
"It… it sounds like… drippin'..."
Their slow lap of their arena had brought them around to the northern gate. Auriana couldn't hear whatever it was that was bothering Vol'jin, but she dutifully followed as he loped over to the gate and began to search for the source of the noise. Personally, she did not find the sound of dripping to be all that concerning - likely it was just some icicle melting - but apparently it was of more concern to Vol'jin.
Auriana grew somehow even less concerned when Vol'jin's impromptu search of the north gate revealed nothing more than loose bit of paneling. The damage to the wood seemed to have been done recently, it was true, though Auriana would not have put it past a frustrated champion to throw a punch at the wall after losing a match. The damage was also not severe enough to have required immediate attention, and she was willing to dismiss it as nothing more than a bit of natural wear and tear - until Vol'jin decided to pull back the damaged wooden panel to reveal a small, curious object hidden in the wall cavity.
Damn.
"We need to leave," she said flatly, already backing away.
The device a crude creation of glass and metal that looked a bit like a malformed hourglass, or two funnels that had been placed at ends to one another. The top chamber was nearly empty, though a few drops of a strange, silvery liquid still clung to the curves of the glass before dripping slowly into the chamber below - ostensibly the source of the noise that had so bothered Vol'jin. The lower chamber, in contrast, was almost filled to the brim with a second, darker liquid that grew stormier with each and every drop that fell from above. Auriana's heart began to race.
"Why?" Vol'jin asked, thoroughly nonplussed.
"Because I'm fairly sure that's a bomb…"
Auriana reached out to tug urgently on his arm, but the Warchief was having none of it. He actually leaned in closer, though he was at least not so foolhardy as to actually attempt to touch the damn thing.
"Are ya sure? It don't look like a bomb..."
"Trust me, I get blown up a lot," Auriana said shortly. "Look, I'd be happy to explain how it works later, but right now we need to run…"
She hauled on his arm with most of her weight, and this time, thankfully, he moved. Within seconds, they were both flat out sprinting towards the relative safety of the southern gate… but their efforts were too little, too late.
Auriana initially felt, rather than heard, the bomb detonate, as she was pummeled from behind by a wave of intense heat and pressure. The sound followed soon after, a low rumble that quickly turned into a dull roar. Her body was thrown into the air like a ragdoll, only to come crashing downwards all too fast. She cried out as her knees slammed into the hard wood of the arena floor, and then, mercifully, the whole world went black.
"Auriana?"
Auriana groaned as she regained consciousness, her entire body protesting the indignity. She was lying face down on the arena floor, splayed out on her belly with her cheek pressed against the rough wooden slats. Her ears were ringing horribly, and she felt as if her lungs had been flattened inside her chest. She could still feel her hands and feet, thankfully, though she felt as if she had been run over by a herd of rampaging tauren.
"Auriana!"
For a moment, Auriana thought that the explosion must have addled her brain. Vol'jin had been the only person with her when the bomb had detonated, and yet the voice calling her name sounded nothing at all like a troll. It was deep and commanding, but lacked the characteristic timbre and accent she had come to associate with the Horde Warchief. Confused, she decided to dismiss the sound as a figment of her imagination, and instead turned her head to the left an attempt to locate Vol'jin.
"Auri! Don't move!"
The voice rose in pitch and urgency. Auriana blinked, and out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a person - or was it a group of people? - standing at one of the arena gates. They seemed very far away, almost impossibly so, and she had to strain to make out even the largest and most obvious of shapes.
"V-varian? What are you doing here?"
"We heard the explosion, we came to find you," he explained, speaking low and very slowly. "Auri, I need you to listen. Are you badly hurt?"
Auriana closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She wanted to vomit, and she couldn't understand for the life of her why Varian was standing so far away.
"I… no. I don't think so. A bit bruised, and… and… my head hurts… but… I think I can get up..."
"No!"
Varian's urgent shout boomed off the arena walls - and Auriana quickly realised why he sounded so panicked. The moment she had pressed her palms against the floor in an attempt to push upwards, the entire thing had shifted; creaking ominously beneath her weight and threatening to send her tumbling down into nothingness.
"The explosion damaged the integrity of the arena floor. There's a very real chance that it will collapse, so I need you to stay as still as possible. Do you understand?"
Auriana nodded once, and then went very still. In the back of her mind, she vaguely recalled that the arena had been destroyed once before, during the original Argent Tournament. A group of champions had fallen through the floor and had been forced to face off against the risen crypt lord Anub'arak, in a trap cunningly set by the Lich King. Auriana had not been there at the time, but she remembered all too well the stories soldiers told about the skittering things that lurked in the Icy Depths beneath the Tournament grounds...
"Vol'jin…" she gasped, forcing her thoughts back to the present. "Is he…?"
"He's alive, but still unconscious," Varian confirmed. "We have a rope… we're going to slide it out to you, alright?"
"I… alright."
There was something wrong about Varian had just said, but Auriana couldn't quite put her finger on exactly what it was that bothered her. She was finding it difficult enough to remain conscious, and even harder not move. She was very aware of the way the floor roiled and creaked every time she took a breath, and it took every ounce of self control she possessed to remain still.
That said, Auriana could not resist the urge to look around for Vol'jin. Her heart in her throat, she very carefully turned her head to the right, and let a short sigh of relief to see him lying on his side about six or seven feet away. He wasn't moving, but if Auriana tilted her chin ever so slightly up and away, she could just make out the slow rise and fall of his chest.
Unfortunately, it also meant that she could see the extent of the damage done to the arena in the explosion. The northern gate had been utterly obliterated, as had most of the surrounding floor. A dark, yawning chasm now loomed where the gate had once been, and every now and again another piece of shattered wood broke off and fell away into the gloom.
Auriana shuddered, and closed her eyes.
She was not especially afraid of heights, but it was all well and good to say that when one was not currently suspended over an icy abyss, with the floor threatening to collapse at any moment. Her head was also throbbing incessantly, and with her eyes closed, it was awfully tempting to just forget everything and go to sleep. Varian was a competent person, her muddled mind reasoned, and surely would be able to enact a rescue without her help...
Auriana was startled out of her reverie by something hard and knobbly pressing against her shoulder, and she very carefully turned her head back towards Varian. True to his word, he had managed to procure a length of rope as thick around as Auriana's wrist, and had slid it ever so carefully across the floor to her position.
"Take the rope, and wrap it around your arm," he instructed, speaking very slowly and clearly. "If you fall, I'll catch you."
"If I fall…" she repeated vaguely. "But what… what about Vol'jin?"
Varian let out a quiet growl of frustration, and gave the rope a gentle jerk to keep her attention.
"Right now, I'm worried about you. We can't risk moving Vol'jin while he's unconscious, but we can ensure that you are safe."
"Why don't you just wake him up?" Auriana suggested, genuinely surprised that someone as intelligent as Varian had failed to consider such an obvious solution.
There was a pause as Varian conferred with someone in the darkness behind him, though Auriana could not make out the words. It hurt her head to try.
"We've been trying, but he's unresponsive," he explained, as if he were speaking to a child. "Hell, it took us over half an hour just to get through to you."
Half an hour? Auriana shook her head slightly. Varian had to have been mistaken. The explosion had happened only a few minutes ago… hadn't it?
"Auri, I know it's hard, but I need you to listen. Really listen," he added, his voice softening. "The floor could collapse at any moment, and we need to secure you while we try to wake Vol'jin. The rope won't go any further, you need to grab it."
"I can reach him," she murmured.
"What was that?"
Auriana blinked, and called louder, "I can reach him."
"Auri, do not move."
The tension and fear in Varian's voice was palpable, but to Auriana his concern seemed rather unimportant and very far away. The floor seemed to be holding, at least for now, and she could hardly afford to abandon Vol'jin when he was unconscious and vulnerable. She was also very light, and she figured if she could just wriggle a couple of feet to her right, she could, in theory, reach both Vol'jin and the rope…
"I can… I can do it," she repeated, more to herself than anyone else. "I am not going to let him die."
"Auriana, you stubborn, pig-headed... just grab the damn rope!"
Auriana's breath hitched in as she abandoned the rope entirely, and ever so slowly wormed across the floor, moving no more than an inch at a time. She could distantly hear Varian calling her name, but she stubbornly ignored him in favour of her delicate task. Even as dazed as she was, she knew she could not in good conscience allow the Warchief to fall without even trying to rescue him - especially not at an event specifically designed to promote peace between the Alliance and the Horde.
Unfortunately, Auriana soon realised that she simply wasn't tall enough. Even stretching as far as she was able, she could not get close enough to Vol'jin to grab his arm whilst still being able to reach back and grab the rope. She was also acutely aware of the fact that she couldn't hold his weight for very long if the floor were to collapse beneath them, though she knew she would last a lot longer if she had him by more than just his fingertips.
"Vol'jin… please… wake up…"
Auriana swore, wishing she had some means by which to prod him awake… when she suddenly realised that she did. Very carefully, she reached into her hair and pulled a few long pins free from the knot of her hair. Her body ached from the smallest of movements, though she pushed the pain to the back of her mind as she lined up the pins so that she could flick them across the floor at the Warchief's face.
"Vol'jin," she repeated. "Wake up!"
It was not a perfect solution by any means, especially as it required movement, but Auriana figured it was better than nothing - and certainly better than leaving Vol'jin to die. She swore as the first pin missed, her aim thrown off by the dull pounding in the back of her skull, but the second and third were right on target; pinging off Vol'jin's sharply pointed nose and chin. The fourth pin ricocheted off the top of his brow ridge, almost poking him in the eye, and he finally, thankfully, regained consciousness.
Regrettably, the Warchief's first instinct was to try to roll onto his back, and Auriana winced as she felt the ground shift violently beneath her belly in response. He was a lot heavier than she, and his movements had a correspondingly larger effect on the stability of the floor.
"Careful!" she shouted.
Vol'jin was no fool, even barely conscious, and he complied immediately. His red eyes widened as he took in the precariousness of their position, and he visibly relaxed his muscles in an attempt to prevent any undue strain.
"Take my hand," Auriana whispered, straining and her hand towards him. "No sudden movements."
Vol'jin was still about a foot away, though it felt to Auriana like a mile. He moved with painful slowness, and while it was exactly what she had requested, she found the tension of it interminable. The floor creaked threateningly with every half inch, and she began to feel light headed from holding her breath in fear.
After what seemed like an age, Vol'jin's long fingers finally found Auriana's wrist, and she gripped onto his forearm as tightly as she could. Of course, reaching Vol'jin was only half the puzzle. She now had to reach back for the rope whilst maintaining her grip on the Warchief - and it seemed that their luck had well and truly run out.
"Auri!"
The floor abruptly buckled, and as Auriana's eyes met Varian's, she realised that without a doubt it was going to fail. Throwing caution to the wind, she dug her nails into Vol'jin's arm and rolled her weight forwards, straining with her free hand in a last ditch effort to grab the rope. Her heart leapt as she briefly felt the rough brush of earthen strands against her fingers, but her hand closed over nothing but thin air. Auriana knew a split second of weightlessness as the floor at last gave out, and with a final, deafening crack, the Queen of Stormwind and the Warchief of the Horde went tumbling down into the darkness.
