Braelyn was in the throne room when they told her that her husband was dead. She'd known something was wrong the moment Genn walked in with her parents and Mathias Shaw by his side, Anduin and his guard bringing up the rear, but it was still a shock to hear the words. To give a name to the mass of fear that had choked her for the past week.
They expected her to cry, to collapse to the ground in a wailing heap. She didn't; instead, she stood, still and silent as a grave. Numb and disbelieving, she wondered how Genn could think that such a cruel joke was acceptable.
Then Anduin had made a small choking sound. Braelyn turned and looked at the young man she'd come to love as her own son, and the heartbroken expression on his face, one that he was trying hard to hide from the others, is what finally broke her.
But she still didn't cry.
Braelyn screamed; a battle cry of primal fury that startled her parents so much that her father let go of her arm. As soon as she was free she launched herself at Genn, not knowing why it had to be the Gilnean who suffered her wrath. All she knew was that she had to scratch and kick and claw and bite until all her anger was spent.
"Your Majesty!" Mathias Shaw shouted, grabbing her around the waist. Crimson Fox grabbed her other side, while Learen attached himself to her legs.
But Braelyn still kept moving forward, growling under her breath. She was speaking, but couldn't hear herself over the furious pounding in her brain.
"Damn it, woman!" Learen swore, his little feet scrabbling to find purchase as they tangled in her skirts. "You should have known that this would happen. That man had a bullseye painted on his back at birth, just as his son did. As did you the day you married him. A dead man walking, that's what the king was, what you are."
Braelyn froze. Her gaze drifted down to the gnome. Anyone else would have fled the area at such a look, but not Learen. The rogue glared back at her, unrepentant.
"You'd best be concentrating on finding the bastards that did this, so I can go teach them a lesson."
"He had guards," Braelyn said coldly, "and SI: 7 agents. They were meant to keep my 'dead man' walking a lot longer. Where were they, Shaw?"
"Dead," Shaw replied, bluntly. He saw that Braelyn was in no mood for tea and sympathy, so didn't bother softening his tone. "To a man. All of them went down fighting for their king, Your Highness, never question that."
"We should take this into the office," Braelyn's mother said firmly. She grabbed Braelyn in one hand and Anduin in the other, dragging them into Varian's office.
Braelyn stared at the desk, remembering all the times she'd been in here with her husband. She couldn't bear the sight if it, so she leaned on the edge of it, her son copying the gesture. She wrapped an arm around him, and held him close, fuming at the injustice of it all. She was all he had left now.
"What happened?" she demanded as soon as Shaw and her parents settled themselves. Dominic hovered in the background, his face pale, for once not knowing what to do.
"Half way through the Council meeting, the Shrine exploded," Shaw said, face grim and hands clenched into fists. "The Council all managed to survive, thank the Light, but the city was in chaos, dead and injured everywhere. We started evacuating as many people as we could, guiding them outside."
"Then how... " Ellysan said, her hand rubbing Braelyn's back.
"We were attacked as soon as the king made it outside."
"So, Varian was the target?" Jasper asked. Shaw nodded.
"Was it the Horde?" Braelyn asked, voice surprisingly steady. She felt the grief welling up inside of her, but she wouldn't give in to it, not yet. Not until Varian was returned home.
"No," Shaw said. "I don't know who they were beyond the fact that some of them were human, most of them rogues. The ones I came up against had military training, and I'm willing to bet some were even ex-SI: 7. I have Nightwind and Kearnen working on it. If I'm right, it would explain how they managed to pull this off."
"How did they get the bombs into the Shrine?" Anduin asked, his eyes burning with rage and grief.
"I don't know," Shaw admitted, and Braelyn could see it rankled his pride. "When I got to the Shrine, I ordered a sweep of the building. It came up clean. This means that the bombs were either planted sometime after that, or the agents I sent on the sweep were compromised in some way. Maybe they planted the bombs, maybe they were bribed or mindcontrolled into overlooking them. I don't know at this point. I'm sorry, Your Majesty."
"This is not your fault, Shaw," Anduin replied. The spymaster didn't look like he agreed.
"What of the rest of the Council?" Ellysan asked. "Are they... ?"
"They survived," Shaw answered, "and I sent them back to their homes as a safety precaution. Although, they probably wouldn't have made it if the Horde hadn't shown up."
"What?" Braelyn asked.
"The Horde Council were also having a meeting," Shaw said, dragging a hand across his tired face. "When they heard the explosion, they came over to check it out. We thought they were part of the attack at first, hell they may even thought about it. Who knows? But once the other bastards showed up, they helped us fight them off."
"Where is my father now?" Anduin asked.
"Still at the Shrine, Your Highness," Shaw replied. "A portion of the building still stands. We are keeping our fallen there. The Horde removed the bodies of their people, and those of the attackers. Your father is there, awaiting his escort home."
"I will go to him," Braelyn said abruptly. "I will bring my husband home."
"No," Shaw said, firmly. "It's too risky. They could be waiting for something like... "
"I do not need your permission, Shaw!" Braelyn snapped. "I'm his wife! I couldn't keep him safe, but I can damn well see him home to his people."
"Pumpkin," her father said softly, "I don't... "
"Don't you dare take this away from me!" she interrupted with a scowl at her father, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. "Don't you dare."
"The Queen should go," Dominic said suddenly. All eyes turned towards the steward. "She should. Someone from his family needs to be there, and it's far more likely that the assassins will be after Prince Anduin than the Queen."
Braelyn stared at the steward in shock, for the first time realising how much he cared about the king, and her and Anduin. She managed a brief look of gratitude for his support, and vowed that she would find a way to repay his kindness.
"He's right," Ellysan said with a sigh. "As much as I hate the thought, if anyone goes it should be Braelyn. Anduin... Anduin is the king now. He is much more valuable a target. Besides, he will be needed here. The people need to be told, and comforted."
Oh, Anduin, my poor boy, Braelyn thought miserably. Your father never wanted this for you, not so soon.
"But I want to go too!" Anduin protested, "You can't keep me... "
"Anduin," Braelyn said, touching his shoulder. She looked him in the eye, and he seemed to wilt under her sorrowful gaze. "I am willing to risk my life, but I will never risk yours. You will stay here and guide the people. They will be devastated, and we also need to prepare the city in case whoever attacked the Shrine tries to do the same to Stormwind."
"But I'm afraid you won't come back," Anduin said, and it damn near broke her heart.
"I can't make any promises," Braelyn replied, a single tear falling down her cheek, "just as Varian wasn't able to. But know this; if I die, I will go down fighting, and I will take as many of those bastards with me. I will have our revenge."
"Then may the light be with you, mother," Anduin said, embracing her tightly.
"And may it keep you safe, my dear son," she replied, holding him tight, and praying that this precious young man would not be made to suffer any further.
Braelyn had never been so angry in her entire life. If she'd had a weapon in her hand, people would have died. To have gone through that horrible moment in the throne room, to have seen the heartbreak on Anduin's face when he realised his father wasn't coming home, and have it be for nothing infuriated her.
Varian was alive.
His injuries were severe, and death could still claim him, but he was still breathing. His hand, warm and unscarred, was held tightly in hers, and Braelyn was watching the steady rise and fall of his chest like a hawk.
"Did none of you think to send word to me that my husband was still alive?" she whispered, and her voice was like fire. "Do you have any idea what you did to me? What you did to Anduin?"
"I'm sorry, Your Highness!" a young worgen priest said. "But we didn't have time, and everything was so chaotic. Poor Sampson thought he was imagining things when the king began breathing again." The priest pointed to a human paladin who was sitting in a corner looking shell-shocked.
"What the hell happened?" Braelyn demanded, smoothing Varian's hair away from his face. He felt colder than he should, and his skin was clammy.
"He did die," the priest, Bellamora, swore. "He wasn't breathing, his heart had stopped. Healing spells did nothing, resurrection failed. That's when we sent Shaw to inform you."
"And then?"
"Sampson went to clean him, so we could send him home to you. He was bathing the king when he noticing the king's arm twitching. Like I said, he thought he was imagining it, but then it happened again, and this time he heard the king gasp." Bellamora shook her head. "I don't know what caused this, but we want to send word to Darnassus when we can find a mage who isn't completely mana-dry to open a portal. Hopefully, somewhere in their long lives, the night elves will have come across something to explain what has gone on here."
"I have two mages with me," Braelyn said, waving a hand towards her mother and her friend, Chelinka, who had been keeping Braelyn company in the Keep when news of Varian's 'death' had come through. "We can send word about Varian to both Darnassus and Stormwind, and... "
"No," a new voice said.
Braelyn looked to where Fox had been stealthing in a corner. The rogue was now visible, a thoughtful look upon her face.
"What do you mean, 'no'?" Braelyn demanded.
"It's too risky," the rogue replied calmly. "If we let the king's would-be assassins know that he's still alive, they'll come back to finish the job. This place is not defensible, and lacks the staff to defend it even it were. The king does not look well enough to move to a safer place. We need to get him back to full health before we spread the word. It's the only way to keep him safe."
"She's right, sweetie," Ellysan said. "As much as I hate to think of Anduin suffering any longer, we can't risk revealing the truth until the king is well."
"Uh, there's a problem," Bellamora said, and Braelyn snapped her head around to look at her. "The king is not responding well to our efforts to heal him. We need to find out what happened to him before we can formulate a treatment."
"Damn it," Braelyn swore. She then sighed. Like her mother, she hated the thought of Anduin and the others grieving over a lie, but she needed to keep Varian safe.
"All right," she said, "but we should at least let Shaw know. He can get some agents out here to protect the king, and quietly."
"I can do that," Fox said, and Braelyn nodded.
"Go with my mother, Fox. Mum, stay close to Anduin and Genn." As the two older women started to discuss the best way to go about their orders, Braelyn turned to Chelinka.
"Chelinka," she said, "I want you to go to Darnassus and talk to Tyrande Whisperwind. Tell her that you are acting under my authority, and let her know what has happened here. Ask her to send anyone she thinks that can be of any help, even if it's just extra healers to give Sampson and Bellamora a break."
"Of course, Braelyn!" the mage replied, an enthusiastic glimmer in her vivid green eyes.
"But, Chelinka... " Braelyn said warningly. "You must not tell anyone except Tyrande about what you've seen here today. I mean it."
"It's okay, girl," the mage reassured her. "I got this. I won't let you down!"
"Good. No go." Braelyn watched the other women leave, chewing on her lower lip anxiously. "Bellamora, how many people know that Varian is still alive?"
"Not many," the priest replied. "There's not a lot of people left in the Shrine now. Just a handful of Pandaren guards, and a few heroes who have stayed behind to help."
"All right," Braelyn said, a plan forming in her mind. "Sampson, do you think you can speak to the guards about keeping quiet?"
"Ye... yes, Your Majesty," the man replied shakily, but got to his feet. "I can do this," he added in a whisper to himself. "I can do this."
"We need to find out what happened to my husband," Braelyn said, turning her eyes to Varian. She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it. He sighed, and she knew that he was aware of her presence, which gave her comfort.
"Are any of the attackers' bodies here? Or their weapons?" she asked the priest.
"No, the Horde were kind enough to take them away, so we wouldn't be burdened with dealing with them. Why?"
"Because Varian's condition could be a result of a poison, and if it is, their weapons will tell us what that poison is," Braelyn explained. "Checking the bodies may also help identify who these bastards are."
"You want me to go check them out?" Learen asked from the shadows.
"NO!" Braelyn exclaimed. "I am not thanking the Horde for their courtesy today by letting you loose in their city on Stab the Orc day or whatever the hell day it is. Besides," she added, staring at where she thought the little rogue was hiding, "you're the only one here I trust to keep Varian and his healers safe."
"Then how are you going t... no," Learen said. He appeared at Braelyn's side, scowling up at her. "I let you go out there alone, Shaw will have me on permanent guard duty for the rest of my life."
"For once in your life, Learen," Braelyn growled, "you will shut the hell up and follow my orders. If you don't, it's going to be Gnome Pinata Day. I will not be alone, anyway; I'll rustle up a few of those heroes to some with me."
Learen glowered at her before disappearing again with a huff. "Fine, but if you die, don't come back from the afterlife and bitch to me, Your Royal Bully's Eye."
"If I come back from the dead, that's the last thing you'll have to worry about," Braelyn muttered.
"Are you sure you should do this?" Bellamora asked Braelyn as the queen began to stroke Varian's cheek.
"No, but we have to do something," Braelyn replied. "I will not stand by and watch my husband die for lack of information."
She studied Varian's face carefully. He looked as if he were merely sleeping, but the bandages covering his body spoke of many wounds. How had they managed to pierce all that plate?
"Rest well, Varian," she said, pressing several soft kisses to his lips. "I will be back shortly."
I hope.
The Shrine of Two Moons beckoned her, but Braelyn waited patiently about twenty metres away from the entrance. She was flanked by two warriors, a human and a draenei, while a disc priest hovered behind her. She was clad in the armor that Varian had bought for her, so there should be no doubt who she was.
"Easy, Bitey," she crooned to the lynx who had wrapped around her ankles, growling softly.
Braelyn could feel eyes upon her, whether from the sentries manning the Shrine's walls, or from rogues stealthing near the stairs. She was unsettled; it was an odd feeling being so close to the 'enemy' without being engaged in combat.
"I do not like this, Your Majesty," the draenei said, stepping slightly in front of her and raising his shield. "It is too open, and they are keeping us waiting too long."
"I do not like it, either, Rannoch," Braelyn replied, "but there is too much at stake for me to give up now."
"As you wish, Majesty," the warrior replied, then stiffened as a figure came down the stairs and headed for them.
A lanky troll stopped a metre or two in front of them. He stared at Braelyn for a few moments before speaking. "Ya be a brave one ta come marching on ta Horde land like this, girly," he said, his orange eyes narrowing at her.
"That's no way to address the Queen!" Rannoch bristled, glaring at the troll. Braelyn held up a hand to stop the draenei mid-rant.
"It's all right," she said with a calmness she didn't feel. "I am Braelyn Wrynn. I would like to speak to whomever is in charge."
"And what ya wanna talk to Thrall 'bout?"
"The death of my husband," Braelyn replied, and her lower lip wobbled a bit. Just the thought of Varian dying for real made her... no, now was not the time.
The troll started slightly, and Braelyn realised that he must not have known about Varian 'dying'. It must have occurred after the Horde had departed.
"I'll let Thrall know," he said. "Ya just be waiting here."
Fifteen minutes later, the troll returned, and gestured for them to come forward. "Thrall be agreeing ta meet wit' ya. Follow me, but be keepin' ya hands where we can see 'em."
Braelyn walked up the stairs, shaking her head in disgust as she heard the priest muttering about uncivilised barbarians. When she got to the stop of the stairs, she was painfully aware of the people coming to a halt to stare at her.
What would Varian do?
She raised her head and stared back at them. She did not do so with arrogance or disrespect, but with confidence and strength of will. It was a look that said, 'I am the Queen of Stormwind, and I am not afraid.'
The eyes staring back at her were not angry or full of hate. They were solemn, as if this sombre silence was all the respect they could offer her and her fallen king.
"Your Highness," a deep voice rumbled, and Braelyn's attention was diverted to an enormous figure standing near a doorway. "I am Thrall, and I welcome you to the Shrine of Two Moons."
Braelyn didn't know what to say. Thrall was huge. She stared blankly at him for a moment before dropping into a curtsy.
"Please call me Braelyn," she said, "for I am no queen to you or your people. I am honoured to meet you, Thrall, though I wish it could have been under better circumstances."
"Yes," Thrall rumbled, and Braelyn could hear the surprise in his voice echoing the murmurs around them. Perhaps they did not expect such polite conduct from their enemy. "I was not aware of your husband's passing. My relationship with Lo'Gosh was troubled, but he fought with honour today, and died a warrior's death. May that be a comfort to you and your people."
"Thank you," she replied, "for both your words, and the bravery you and the heroes of the Horde showed today when you helped my husband in his hour of need. I will not forget such honour."
Thrall nodded, extending an arm for her to take. She allowed him to guide her into the Shrine. "How may I be of service?" he asked.
"I was hoping you would allow me to inspect the weapons and armour of the men who attacked our Shrine. Their bodies, too, if possible."
Thrall looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Is that something you should be doing?"
"If it means finding the ones responsible for killing my husband, then yes," Braelyn replied. She noticed the look Thrall was giving her, and smiled grimly. "This armor is not for show, Thrall. I am a hunter, and saw battle before marrying Varian."
It may have only been one battle, but it had left its mark on Braelyn's soul
Thrall gave soft laugh. "Even if I hadn't known who you were prior to becoming queen, I should have known that Lo'Gosh wouldn't have married a timid mouse. No, the Ghost Wolf found himself a lioness. Sylvanas still rants over the beating your heroes dished out in Duskwood."
"Good," was Braelyn's only reply.
The stench of death met her nostrils long before she entered the makeshift morgue. She was surprised that they hadn't already started burning the bodies, it was so bad. Memories of her disastrous foray into Warsong Gulch assaulted her brain, but she quashed them. She couldn't afford to wimp out now, and she did not want to show weakness in front of Thrall.
"Are you interested in anything in particular?"
"Anything that may identify who they were working for," Braelyn replied as she glanced over some armor. She noticed that there were no weapons around. They'd probably been scavenged as souvenirs. She looked more closely at the bodies, nothing catching her attention until she reached the body of a human woman her own age.
The woman's hands were resting on the slab, palms exposed to Braelyn's eyes. There was a distinctive mark on the right palm, a small, innocent looking tattoo that was anything but innocent.
With a cry, Braelyn began inspecting the hands of the all the humans in the morgue, ripping off gauntlets and sending them flying through the air. By the time she had finished, she was swearing up a storm.
"What have you found, Braelyn?" Thrall asked, intrigued, and amused, by the hunter queen's reaction.
"Do you see this mark?" she asked, raising one of the corpse's hands towards Thrall. He nodded.
"It looks like a tattoo of a cog."
"It is," Braelyn replied. "It's the symbol of the Defias Brotherhood."
Thrall rumbled in discontent. "Those common bandits have turned to political assassination?"
"They've always been after Varian's head," Braelyn said, thinking furiously. "But they've been so preoccupied with Westfall since the Cataclysm. I don't understand why they attacked him now. It's not as if this attack was opportunistic; it took planning."
"I wish I could help you in this matter," Thrall said, "but I am afraid all I can do is offer to have my people keep their ears and eyes open when travelling through neutral territory."
"Anduin and I would greatly appreciate that," Braelyn replied, though her attention was mainly devoted to the dead hand she was still gripping.
The Defias attempted to kill Varian, she thought. But why now? And why do I have the feeling that this is more complicated than it seems?
AN - see, he's not dead, it's all good. You can put the knives down, now. Chelinka, you can stop sulking.
Next Chapter: Braelyn finds out why Varian refuses to heal, and learns that if action is not taken, he will die. A solution is found, but involves Braelyn undertaking a dangerous mission to the Isle of Thunder.