Anduin

Despite the urgency of his conversation with Jaina, Anduin waited a few more days before approaching his father. He had hoped that the formal announcement of Auriana's pregnancy to the Court would alleviate some of Varian's concerns, but if anything, it seemed to make him even more agitated. He was grumpy and brusque, and he spent most days holed up in his study with strict instructions that he not be disturbed.

It didn't help that the trial of the Duke Anguile had begun in earnest, either, adding yet another weight to Varian's already overladen shoulders. He had presented his testimony before the jury and the Master of Laws in person, but otherwise had kept his distance. While he was the king, Stormwind was still a city of laws, and it was important that such a complex matter as the trial of a member of the House of Nobles not be clouded by allegations of bias or regnal interference. Varian was plainly not pleased by the necessity, given that he wanted Anguile's head more than anyone, though he had managed to content himself with a daily report thus far.

Anduin would have liked to observe the trial, at least for a day or two. Knowledge of the law was important for a future king, though for once, his interest had less to do with academics, and more with a desire to see Anguile face justice. He did not consider himself a vengeful person, but the former Duke had caused a great deal of pain and suffering, and it was only right that he be held accountable for his actions. Unfortunately, Varian had staunchly refused to allow either Anduin or Auriana to attend out of fears for their safety. As a key witness, Auriana had still been required to provide her own testimony in written form, thougu she had not appeared in person.

It had also taken some time for Anduin to think of a means of engaging his father's attention. Anduin would have been perfectly happy to talk things out whilst enjoying a good meal, but he doubted his father would simply decide to pour his heart out over a thick-cut steak. Varian wouldn't say no to the steak, of course, but he would most certainly refuse the feelings. Which meant finding a more oblique way to get at the heart of the problem.

When Anduin himself was upset or irritated, he might take a long turn about Stormwind Lake, or meditate under the Light to clear his head. Alternatively, he might seek the distraction of a favourite book, or find someone with which to play a game of jihui or chess… though none of these pastimes seemed likely to improve Varian's mood to the point where he might be willling to talk. He was more of a physical being, preferring to spend his leisure time riding or hunting. In the end, then, Anduin concluded that there was one thing that could truly pique Varian's interest, and so it was that he cautiously made his way into his father's study to invite him out to spar.

Varian sat alone behind his great oak desk; a piece of parchment clutched in each hand and a quill precariously balanced between the index and middle fingers of his right. It had been a long time since Anduin had seen his father look so tired and careworn. A smear of ink stained the very tip of his nose black, though he did not seem to have noticed. A deep frown creased his forehead, and the wine-dark shadows beneath his eyes made him look as if he'd been punched. Even under stress, Varian was usually possessed of an aura of grim determination, but today, he simply looked defeated, and it worried Anduin greatly.

"Good afternoon, Father."

Varian glanced up, and something strange and wary clouded the blue of his eyes. Nevertheless, he laid his quill and parchments down upon the desk, and leaned forward slightly in his chair.

"Anduin," he said quietly, by way of greeting. "What brings you by?"

"Do I need a particular reason to visit my father?"

"I suppose not."

Varian let out a short huff, and with a start Anduin realised he had assumed that there was something wrong. Sadly, the fact that Anduin might simply want to enjoy his company had not occurred to him.

"You have ink on your nose, by the way," Anduin noted, miming a swiping action with his own thumb.

Varian scowled and mimicked the gesture, though it did little more than smear the ink across an even larger area.

"Close enough," Anduin smiled, hoping to prompt at least a small smirk in return, but Varian's expression remained stormy and distant.

"Is there something you need?"

"Nothing particularly urgent," Anduin said, trying to sound nonchalant, "Though I was thinking…"

"... yes?"

"With your trip to Ironforge, and all the other… uh… excitement… lately, we haven't really spent all that much time together."

Varian winced, and gave a brusque shake of his head. "I'm sorry. I've been… busy."

"No, no, I didn't mean that as a criticism," Anduin said quickly. "I know you've had a great deal on your mind of late, I only thought… perhaps we could make the time?"

Varian tilted his head slightly to one side. "Did you have something in mind?"

"Well…" Anduin swallowed. "I'm open to other suggestions, but I thought maybe we could… spar."

Varian's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline so fast that they might as well have been powered by a goblin rocket.

"You want to spar," he repeated flatly. "With me."

Anduin shuffled his feet. "Um. Yes."

"You hate sparring. Especially with me."

Even seated, Varian was tall enough that he barely had to lift his chin to meet Anduin's eyes, and his gaze burned like fire. Not for the first time, Anduin had the distinct impression that his father could see straight through him, and it was all he could do to resist the urge to squirm.

"Ah… hate is such a strong word…" he equivocated.

Varian sighed. "What do you really want, son?"

"I…"

Anduin swallowed. He should have known that Varian would find his sudden interest in sparring suspicious, given his previous vocal dislike. Not that his request was entirely a lie – he did want to spend time with his father, even if sparring was not the way he would have preferred to do so. He couldn't come right out and say that he wanted to talk, however, though he wondered whether he might better succeed with a half-truth, instead…

"I'm worried," he said quietly.

"First Stormwind, now Dalaran. Something strange is going on, and we both know it. What if… what if there's another attack?"

Varian let out a soft grunt and leaned back in his chair, though his expression otherwise gave nothing away.

"A-and then there's Auri," Anduin continued, knowing full well that he was poking the bear. "She can't defend herself for at least another six or seven months, and I… I just thought… I know this sort of thing isn't my strength, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared… does it?"

As expected, a grim, pained shadow darkened Varian's features at the mention of Auriana's name. His right hand curled into a brittle fist where it rested on the desk, and he suddenly seethed with nervous energy.

"I…"

The thought died half-formed on Varian's lips, and Anduin frowned. His father could hardly be described as loquacious, though he was rarely at a complete loss for words, either.

"I'm in meetings with the Provost and the mercers guild all afternoon," Varian said finally, an odd inflection straining his voice. "There's simply too much… I…"

Anduin's frown deepened. While he had not expected his father to be open with him, he couldn't remember a time when Varian had actually refused his company outright. Perhaps Jaina was wrong, and Anduin was not as much of a comfort to his father as she had thought…

"I see. Er… never mind, then…"

It honestly had not occurred to Anduin that Varian would decline, and he wasn't quite sure what to say. Under normal circumstances, he might have argued his case, but in the present he felt there would be little point. Varian's walls were well up; as rigid and impregnable as the Keep itself.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you."

Heart heavy in his chest, Anduin awkwardly turned to leave, and was just about to cross the threshold when Varian called out.

"Anduin. Wait."

Anduin paused, one hand resting against the door jamb, and looked back over his shoulder. Varian covered his eyes with a broad palm, bridging his temples between thumb and forefinger, then brushed his hand back through his hair. Two more streaks of black ink blossomed across his tanned skin.

"I suppose… I could spare an hour or so before dinner," he amended. "I'll meet you in the arena just before sundown?"

Anduin breathed a sigh of relief. "I'd like that very much."

"Hmph. So you say."

Varian did not bother to hide the scepticism in his tone, but Anduin didn't care. Agreeing to participate in a single sparring session wasn't much, but it was enough for now. At the very least, it would draw Varian out of the gloomy confines of his study, and despite his growing trepidation at the prospect of another hard-fought sparring session, Anduin smiled.

I will help you, Father, he swore silently. No matter what it takes.


True to his word, Anduin arrived at the arena a little after five o'clock, just as the sun had begun to rubify over the horizon. Most of the guardsmen and soldiers who trained in the arena had already retired for the day, though a pair of sweaty, red-faced trainees and their armsmaster were still hard at work. In the midst of a fast-paced duel, they paid Anduin little mind as he slipped between the fence posts and into the arena proper.

The Keep's arena was built to accommodate dozens of fighters at a time, and could even be configured for jousting. It was long and rectangular, with low-slung wooden stands stretching along the length of the south-western edge. The eastern end of the arena was lined with an array of targets, wooden obstacles, and crudely painted training dummies, along with several racks of blunted wooden training weapons.

Between his father and Auriana, Anduin had spent a fair amount of time in the arena over the years, though no matter how often he trained, he always felt a little out of place. Almost like a trespasser, lurking where he didn't belong. No one had ever said as much to his face, of course, but he found it difficult to shake the sense that he was intruding nonetheless…

"Anduin!"

Lost in his thoughts, Anduin did not hear his father approach until Varian was more or less standing on top of him. Varian had exchanged his more formal clothing for loose linen slacks, leather bracers, and his favourite pair of boots, though he had left his chest otherwise bare. He had also, Anduin noted with a smile, scrubbed the ink stains from his face.

"Hello, Father."

"Ready?" Varian asked, rolling his shoulders back and forth and stretching out his back.

Anduin had grown another couple of inches in the past year, but next to his father, he always felt small and gawky. Not only did Varian boast a physique that would have made someone half his age envious, he moved with surprising speed and grace for a man his size.

"As I'll ever be."

Varian raised an eyebrow. "Come now, this was your idea..."

It may have been Anduin's wishful imagination, but he thought there might have been a little more energy in Varian's step as he turned and made his way over to the racks of training swords to select a weapon.

"I'm sorry, I'd forgotten that you were injured. Are you sure you ought to be fighting just yet?" Anduin asked, gesturing towards the angry red wound that marred his father's back.

As much as Anduin had tried, Varian had refused to allow him to perform any healing. He was not stupid enough to let a bad wound fester, but for some mysterious reason, he had insisted that he use the services of the Court physician. Anduin did not think it had anything to do with his skill – or at least, he hoped not – but couldn't think of a better explanation for Varian's reticence, either.

Varian shook his head. "It's fine. I don't imagine we'll be doing anything overly strenuous."

Anduin wasn't sure whether he ought to be insulted, though he supposed he ought to be grateful that Varian did not intend to go hard on him. It had been some time since they had last sparred together, and he was rusty at best.

Anduin bit his lip as he studied the rack of training swords, trying to remember what Varian had taught him about choosing an appropriate weapon for his height and strength. He went back and forth between two likely candidates for over a minute before at last he chose the slightly shorter blade and gave it a heft. His father made no comment, which Anduin decided to take as a sign of approval.

Varian, of course, did not hesitate to make his own selection, choosing the largest available weapon and swinging it back and forth a few times to test the weight. When he was satisfied, he turned back to Anduin with a slight quirk to his brow and a purposeful glint in his eye. It was not a happy expression, precisely, but he at least looked slightly less miserable than he had back in his study.

"Let's see what you remember. Show me a fool's guard."

For a split second, Anduin's mind went completely blank. He risked a sidelong glance at Varian, but there was no hint to be found in those cool blue eyes. Sweat beaded in Anduin's palms, and he shifted his weight from side to side as he tried to think.

Fool's guard, fool's guard…

He vaguely wondered whether Varian had asked him to demonstrate a 'fool's guard', of all things, in order to make some kind of point, only to quickly dismiss the notion a second later. As a teacher, Varian was rigorous and exacting, but never petty or cruel.

Focus… Anduin admonished himself. Fool's guard is used to… to bait your opponent into an attack by seemingly exposing the upper… ah!

His traitorous memory came on in a sudden, tumultuous rush. He took a too-quick step forward onto his left foot, almost overbalancing in the process, and extended his arms with the tip of his blade pointed down towards the ground.

"Um… is that right?"

"You tell me."

"I…" Anduin froze. "No… I mean… yes, yes it is."

After an uncomfortably long pause, Varian nodded, and began to circle slowly around so that he might inspect Anduin's form from all angles.

"Hm. Right hand closer to the crossguard. Soften your knees," he instructed, his voice low and quiet. "And I'm pleased to report that your feet remain securely attached to your legs; there's no need to watch them quite so closely."

Anduin flushed, and immediately leveled his gaze. It seemed such an obvious thing – he managed to walk around every day without needing to stare at his feet, after all – but it was as if his body lost all coordination the moment he so much as touched a sword… though at least he had managed to recall the right stance.

"There you are. Now, relax your left hand." Varian flowed effortlessly into the same guard, and rolled his own left hand side to side to demonstrate. "The tightness of your grip is contorting your wrist, you see?"

Anduin found it somewhat difficult to relax under his father's direct scrutiny, though thankfully, his priestly training was of great use when it came to centering the mind. He took a deep breath, and just as Velen had taught him, he imagined the Light radiating out from the centre of his chest to the tips of his fingers. The bright, familiar warmth came on easily – certainly far more easily than his fool's guard – and the stiffness in his hands eased.

"Better," Varian said, nodding. "Let's get you moving. From your guard, step forward into a rising cut. No need to rush; I'm more interested in your form than your speed."

Having overcome his initial moment of nervousness, Anduin found his memory for swordplay was better than he had first thought. He shifted his weight and swung his blade upward as requested; not as gracefully as Varian might have done, perhaps, but competently nonetheless.

"Good. Now do it again."

Varian made Anduin repeat the simple sequence ten times in a row; using the tip of his own practice sword to gently guide and correct Anduin's position. Frankly, half the time Anduin couldn't feel any difference between where he was and where Varian wanted him to be… but he supposed that was why his father was arguably the greatest swordsman alive, and Anduin himself was… staring at his feet again. He snapped his head up.

When Varian was finally satisfied with Anduin's form, he added a third movement, and a fourth, until Anduin was moving slowly through a sequence of a dozen different cuts and guards. The drill itself was well-designed, so that the end flowed back into the beginning in a smooth, endless loop, and Anduin found his confidence growing with each step. By the fourth pass, it had even begun to feel somewhat comfortable, if not precisely natural, and some of the rigid tension in his shoulders dissipated.

As Anduin rounded slowly into his sixth loop, Varian stepped alongside him with his own sword raised. They began to move in sync, almost as if they were dancing; Varian matching his form and pace perfectly to Anduin's own. It was almost meditative, in its own way: the intense awareness of one's body, the focus on one's breathing, and for the first time Anduin thought he understood why Varian so enjoyed swordplay as a discipline. His own contemplations under the Light were typically far less sweaty, but he could see the value in this kind of moving meditation – especially for a man like his father.

Anduin was so engrossed by the drill that he began to lose count of how many loops he had completed, until Varian disengaged with a neat little circle of his sword. Curious, Anduin followed suit… though he wisely did not attempt to match Varian's flourish with his own.

"Alright, I think you're warm enough."

"Warm enough?" Anduin repeated, nonplussed.

"You said you wanted to spar. That was simply a warm-up; a means to get your blood moving and your eye in. Now – we fight."

"Oh. Right."

Varian tapped Anduin's blade with his own, nudging it gently upwards into a guard position. Anduin could have sworn he saw his father's eyes gleam at the prospect of a good scrap, though perhaps it was simply a trick of the fading afternoon light.

"Try to relax, son," Varian said drily. "I'm not some beast or demon out for your blood."

"Perhaps not, though they call you Lo'Gosh for a reason…"

"Do they now?" Varian snorted. "Not to worry; in this case I'll keep the wolf well leashed."

Despite Varian's assurances, however, it only took twenty minutes for Anduin to remember why he usually avoided sparring like the plague. For a start, his physical condition left a lot to be desired. The last six months had been rather chaotic, and he had let his regular exercise routine slide. He wasn't unfit, exactly, but nor was he at his peak, either, and it wasn't long before his arms and back began to ache with effort. Ever since the incident with the Divine Bell, he felt it more keenly whenever he was out of shape, and he silently resolved to take up morning calisthenics again.

To make matters worse, the arena floor was covered in a layer of fine-grained sand. It appeared soft enough at first glance, but was rather abrasive when one found one's self face down in it for the dozenth time. Anduin supposed he appreciated that Varian respected him enough not to go easy, though his knees may have disagreed. He also despaired of what it must have looked like to an observer: Varian, elegant and deadly, the consummate swordsman, while Anduin himself flailed around in the dirt like a fish out of water.

Varian was holding back, of course – he always did – though Anduin knew he would be sporting a few impressive bruises come the morning. Not all of them were Varian's fault; Anduin having simply tripped over his own feet more than once. While he had felt at least capable when moving through the drill, he was always discombobulated by the pace of a proper duel. It was hard enough to remember his own forms, let alone to read and interpret the movements of his opponent in such a way that would allow him to employ the correct counter. It didn't help that Varian was a master, either, and gave away very little in his form or his expression.

Nevertheless, Anduin persevered for nearly an hour before Varian finally relented – though not without one last, expertly-timed takedown. In one smooth movement, he sent Anduin's practice sword flying, whilst also bringing them body to body so that he might use the leverage of his hip to take Anduin to the ground. It all happened so quickly that Anduin barely had time to let out a surprised gasp, before he found himself lying flat on his back with his arms and legs akimbo.

Again.

"Seventeen to zero. Probably time to call it a day, eh son?"

Anduin nodded, and rested his head back against the hard plane of the arena floor. He suspected he would be picking grit from his clothing for days, but in that moment he was simply grateful for a chance to catch his breath. The sky had darkened to a rich plum, and the very first stars had begun to twinkle overhead. A gentle breeze ruffled the lengths of Anduin's hair, and if not for the fact that he could feel a puddle of sweat pooling at the small of his back, he might have found it rather pleasant.

Anduin closed his eyes. Beneath the rapid staccato of his own heartbeat, he could hear a low, chittering hum as the lush grass surrounding the arena came to life with the drone of vespertine insects. He focused again on his breathing, counting up to eight and back down again as he inhaled and exhaled, and called on a hint of the Light to soothe his already-stiffening muscles. A familiar sense of peace washed over him as power flooded his limbs, and he slowly but surely eased his body back to rest. It was a technique he had developed to cope with his pain, but it worked just as well as a means of recovery after strenuous exercise.

"You've improved."

Varian's gravelly bass sounded even deeper against the soft sounds of early twilight.

"Really?" Given that his practice sword was currently lying a good eight feet away, Anduin was skeptical. "It certainly doesn't feel like it…"

"You're faster," Varian countered. "Your read of the flow of combat is better."

Anduin gingerly propped himself up on his elbows, and opened his eyes. Where he was now a sweaty mess, Varian looked as if he'd engaged in nothing more laborious than a light jog around the arena. He loomed over Anduin with his practice sword stretched lazily across his broad shoulders; the only concession to his efforts a faint sheen across his chest and the unruly tangle of his dark hair.

"Um… thank you," Anduin mumbled, his ears hot. "I… I think my work with Auri helped a lot. She's a good teacher."

"Hmm."

Once again, Anduin was taking a risk in mentioning Auriana, given the lability of Varian's current emotional state. A faint crease appeared between his bushy brows, though for once he said nothing further. Instead, he extended his free hand, and easily hauled Anduin back to his feet.

"So… ah…. same time tomorrow?" Anduin suggested, brushing the dirt off his trousers as he spoke.

His beleaguered muscles screamed in protest at the thought of going another round so soon, but anything was worth it if it helped to pull Varian out of his funk.

"I'm sorry, Anduin, but my schedule is full for the next few days. It's important that the damage to the Trade District is repaired as fast as possible."

"Oh. Of course."

Anduin wasn't sure whether he was disappointed or relieved. As much as he disliked sparring, he did like spending time with his father. Perhaps it was due to Varian's long absence in Anduin's childhood, but he had always felt as if every moment they spent together was immeasurably precious. And if sparring was the price… well, it was a price he'd gladly pay.

"Between that and the trial, it's... complicated."

Varian broke off, and rubbed a weary hand over his eyes. The muscles in his chest and shoulders visibly tensed, almost as if he were readying for a fight, and he made several false starts before he finally spoke.

"What I mean to say is… I…" Varian sighed, and gave a strange shake of his head. "I can't do tomorrow, but… perhaps closer to the end of the week. Say, the same time, three days' hence?"

Anduin very much doubted that was what Varian had originally intended to say, but he wasn't going to argue.

"I'll be there with bells on," he said, grinning, and was gratified to see the corner of Varian's mouth twitch upwards in answer.

It was not quite the same as a beaming smile of enthusiasm, though it was still a considerable improvement over a stony scowl. Anduin had half-expected that Varian might see through his plan and simply refuse to participate, but it seemed his father was either oblivious to Anduin's true agenda, or willing to cooperate regardless. Either way, Anduin would take what he could get.

"I suppose we ought to get back to the Keep. I'll need to wash up before dinner – Falster will have my hide if I track half an arena's worth of dirt into the dining room," he remarked, in reference to Varian's fastidious chamberlain.

"Yes, Light forbid we disappoint Falster," Varian quipped, though he nonetheless made his way over towards the racks to stow his weapon.

Anduin followed his father's lead, collecting his wayward sword from where it had fallen. They were now the only two people in the arena; the guardsmen Anduin had seen earlier having retired in advance of the oncoming night.

"Do you really think I've improved?" he asked, securing his blade neatly back in place.

Varian raised an eyebrow. "I do. I won't insult your intelligence by claiming that I've never lied to you, but you know I'm not one to give false praise."

Anduin cocked his head to one side. "Wait, when have you lied to me?"

Varian had always made a point of being frank with Anduin, even when he had been a young boy. He might have left out details, or phrased things in a manner appropriate for a child, but it was rare that he would lie outright. At worst, he might lie by omission, such as when he had concealed the truth of his romantic relationship with Auriana, though usually not without good reason.

"Hmm," Varian mused, racking his own weapon alongside Anduin's. "Ah – do you remember Garrosh Hellscream's trial?"

"Yes, of course."

Frankly, it was rather hard to forget.

"About a week before we left for Pandaria, you had your hair cut."

Anduin nodded, casting his mind back. He had wanted to look his best; not out of a sense of vanity, but in deference to the gravity of the trial. Nearly every major political figure on Azeroth had been in attendance, and as the Crown Prince of Stormwind, it had been important that he make a good impression.

"If you recall," Varian continued slowly, "I told you it looked good…"

"Yes, I… oh."

Anduin scowled, but for the first time in several weeks, the ghost of a sly smile flickered across Varian's face. He shrugged, though whether it was a gesture of apology or amusement, Anduin couldn't tell. Most unhelpfully, Varian declined to elaborate any further, instead turning and making his way from the arena without another word, leaving Anduin standing dumbfounded and alone in the evening breeze.

"Wait – what was wrong with my hair?!"


Anduin never quite appreciated just how many stairs there were in Stormwind Keep until he had to walk back up to his rooms after a session in the arena. Head down, he shuffled slowly through the white stone corridors, paying only scant attention to his surroundings. His left buttock, in particular, protested loudly with every step, and was on the verge of outright mutiny by the time he finally trudged his way up to the royal wing… only to run straight into the very surprised Princess of Gilneas.

"Woah!"

Tess reeled backwards in surprise, and would have smacked her head on a nearby sconce had Anduin not caught her by the elbows to steady her.

"Light, I'm sorry," he fumbled. "Did I hurt you?"

"Forget me, what happened to you?" Tess exclaimed.

Her sharp gaze swept over Anduin from head to toe, noting the redness of his knuckles, and the bruises already forming on his arms and hands.

"My father."

Tess's curious expression darkened into a heavy scowl. "I know your father has a temper, but I never imagined he'd beat you…"

"Oh, no!" Anduin said hurriedly. "He didn't beat me. Well, I mean, he did – but not in a bad way."

Tess remained doubtful. "There's a good way to beat someone?"

"We were sparring. It's mostly dirt." To emphasise his point, Anduin licked the tip of his thumb and ran it along his forearm to reveal fresh pink skin beneath a fine layer of grit. "See?"

"You were sparring." Tess stepped back, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Voluntarily."

"Yes, actually, if you can believe it."

She clearly didn't, judging from the skeptical crinkle between her eyes and the wry tilt of her head. It was hardly a great secret that Anduin was not as martially inclined as his father, nor that he typically avoided sparring at every opportunity.

"I suppose stranger things have happened," she said, shrugging. "Though are you sure you haven't taken ill? Are you running a fever?"

Tess reached out a playful hand towards Anduin's forehead, as if to take his temperature, and he swatted it away.

"There's nothing wrong with me," he insisted. "Nothing that a good hot bath won't fix, in any case."

"Well, if you're returning to your rooms, I'll escort you – lest you bump into some other unsuspecting noblewoman who is far less tolerant than I."

With a winning smile, Tess looped her arm through Anduin's. She didn't seem to care much for the fact that doing so left great streaks of dirt along her dark sleeve, and Anduin was admittedly grateful for the crutch.

"I thought you'd be back in Darnassus by now," he remarked, as they continued slowly down the corridor.

Both Tess and Queen Mia had attended the special session of Court earlier in the week, though Anduin hadn't had much time to speak to either. As the Crown Prince, he had been expected to play his part in the formal proceedings, and he had otherwise been preoccupied with his father's recent odd behaviour.

"Mother and I had originally planned to return yesterday, but Father insisted that we stay," Tess explained. "Congratulations, by the way. I meant to find you after lunch, but it seems you can't get anywhere close to the royal family quarters these days without tripping over an entire battalion of guards."

As if Tess's words had summoned them from the ether, a brace of guardsmen rounded the approaching corner. They stood to attention to allow Anduin and Tess to pass, and it was only thanks to years of courtly training that he held back a laugh. It didn't help that he could feel Tess shaking with repressed giggles beside him, though they both managed to contain themselves until the guards were well out of earshot.

"I didn't plan that, you know," Tess chuckled.

"I'd have been impressed if you had."

"It's a bit unusual, though, isn't it? Double shifts every day?" Tess wondered, glancing back over her shoulder. "I know the Trade District was attacked, but surely the Keep itself is safe…"

"Ahh… well, with so many people around for the ceremony, Father felt it best to be cautious."

It wasn't entirely a lie, though it wasn't the whole truth, either… and it certainly wasn't enough to deceive Tess.

"If you'll permit me, it seems like it's more than that," she said softly, drawing to a halt and turning to look at Anduin properly.

When Tess had first visited Stormwind, not long after the Cataclysm, she and Anduin had been more or less of a height. These days, however, he had to tilt his head downward to meet her gaze. Her eyes were a shade of deep amber, like afternoon sunlight in autumn, and they fairly shone with wit.

Hawk's eyes.

"It's… complicated, I suppose," Anduin said, after a pause.

"Do… do you want to talk about it?"

Anduin hesitated. He considered Tess a friend, and he didn't doubt that she was trustworthy, but their conversation was typically limited to playful banter. He'd never had much cause to confide in her the way he might confide in Jaina, or Velen, or even Varian. That said, he and Tess actually had rather a lot in common, and she was one of the few people he knew who might understand the complexity of his relationship with his father.

"Not out here," he said finally. "There's a sitting room a few doors up, come on."

In addition to the royal family's sleeping chambers, including Anduin's own, the royal wing housed several dining rooms, sitting rooms, and small studies. Varian wasn't really the sitting room type, but when the Keep had been rebuilt following its destruction in the First War, he had insisted that much of the original floorplan be preserved.

Once inside, Anduin closed the door, and gestured towards the dark cream chaise that dominated the centre of the room. At his invitation, Tess swept gracefully across the room to take a seat, though Anduin himself elected to stay standing… in large part because he feared that if he sat down, his legs would stiffen and he'd never get back up again.

Instead, he walked over to the large bay window and stared out over the city as he gathered his thoughts. In the time it had taken him to hobble upstairs from the arena, the cloak of true night had fallen over Stormwind. He could see the distant flash of lightning far out over the ocean, and vaguely wondered whether there would be rain.

"I… Father is somewhat… out of sorts."

"I noticed it at the ceremony," Tess admitted. "He looked more like a man condemned than a proud father announcing the arrival of his second child."

Anduin nodded to himself. It was an astute observation. While Tess's outwardly brash and mischievous personality might suggest otherwise, she didn't miss much.

"I assume you heard about the Dalaran attack?" he asked.

He turned back around to face Tess, hoping she didn't notice how heavily he was leaning on the windowsill for support.

"I did."

"Well, Auri was there. And because of her pregnancy, she can't use magic."

"Oh, Anduin…" Tess breathed, pressing her hand over her mouth in alarm.

"She's fine, and the baby," he clarified quickly, "But… I think it was a rather close call. I'm not really sure what happened, though I can only assume it wasn't anything good…"

Anduin gave a helpless shrug.

"My father isn't really one to talk about how he's feeling…"

"Ah, a father who doesn't like to talk about his feelings. I wonder what that's like…" Tess quipped, with a loud, unladylike snort.

"Anyway. That's why I was out sparring. I was hoping it might lift his spirits. And… I don't know, I thought if he were more relaxed, more comfortable, he might be willing to speak his mind…"

The idea sounded desperately foolish when spoken out loud. Anduin half-expected Tess to laugh at him, but her eyes were wide and her expression unusually soft.

"That's sweet of you," she murmured. "Really."

"I'm not sure it did any good. There were a few moments today he seemed a little lighter, but…"

"I think you might be surprised."

Tess shifted her weight from thigh to thigh, and straightened her skirts over the edge of her knees. In the time Anduin had known her, she had almost always projected an aura of easy self-confidence, but for once she seemed uncertain.

"You know I complain about my father more than anyone," she said slowly, "But… in his defense… I can't imagine what it might be like to lose a child. When Liam died…"

Tess's breath caught in her throat, and Anduin's heart seized for her. He realised had never heard her speak Liam's name aloud. Her father's fierce, angry grief had a tendency to pull focus whenever the topic was raised, and with a twinge of guilt Anduin was reminded that Tess, too, bore the scars of her brother's untimely death.

"Tess…" he started, but she waved him off.

"When Liam died," she repeated forcefully, her voice strengthening, "There were days I thought Father would never speak again – and others when it seemed he only knew how to speak in anger. Sometimes I wanted to scream at him, because I thought it was the only way he might hear me. I never did, of course, but…"

Anduin winced, and closed his eyes. He knew the feeling. In his youth, his father had been prone to bouts of both brooding depression and smoldering fury. There were times when Anduin felt as if he could have yelled at the top of his lungs and Varian wouldn't have blinked. To his credit, Varian had worked hard to conquer his inner demons, but there were few things Anduin feared more than his relapse.

"So, what did you do?"

Tess fiddled idly with the hem of her sleeve. "I took to sitting with him as he worked at night. There were so many things to do after the refugee contingent first arrived in Darnassus, and he was often up after midnight. We never talked, but I didn't want him to be alone."

She bit her lip, and glanced furtively up at Anduin from beneath dark lashes.

"I… I didn't want to be alone, either."

Perhaps due to her Gilnean upbringing, Tess very much valued the outward appearance of strength and composure. It was rare to catch her in a moment of genuine vulnerability, and Anduin was flattered that she could trust him so.

"Mother told me later that he would purposefully dawdle sometimes, so that he could spend more time in my company," Tess continued, a faint flush spreading across her cheeks. "It would have been nice if he'd told me that himself, but… my point is, my being there meant a great deal more to him than he ever let on. I'd imagine your father might feel the same."

Anduin folded his arms across his chest as he considered Tess's argument.

"Aunt Jaina said something similar," he admitted. "She's the one who gave me the idea to spar with him, actually."

"Well, there you go. Surely two of the most brilliant and beautiful women you know can't be wrong?"

Tess gave herself a little shake, and sat up straighter. Her bittersweet countenance brightened, and in the blink of an eye she was her usual blithe, brassy self again.

"Surely not," Anduin agreed, with mock-seriousness.

He would have happily provided a friendly ear should Tess have wished to further discuss the loss of her brother, or her relationship with her father, but the abrupt shift in her manner suggested such overtures would not be welcome. The moment had passed, and Tess was not one to be pushed. She would share on her own terms, or not at all.

"If nothing else, I suppose Father might enjoy the novelty of a moving training dummy," Anduin added, sighing.

"You can't be that bad…" Tess insisted, though there was a note of questioning in her voice.

"You've never seen me fight."

Tess shook her head. "That's not true. I've seen you spar with Auriana."

"That's different. That's the Light, not a sword," Anduin argued. "And besides, I only last as well as I do against her because she allows it. I wouldn't stand a chance if she fought me in earnest."

"At least you're safe while she's pregnant."

"As are you," Anduin teased.

Tess pursed her lips, and her eyes narrowed. During the Tournament in Northrend, Tess had disguised herself as one of the Gilnean champions so that she might test herself in the arena. She'd been successful, too, until Auriana had unceremoniously put a stop to her schemes. Auriana's actions had not been unjustified, of course, given the political climate of the event, but it had rankled Tess nonetheless.

"I would have kept winning, you know…" she growled.

"...had Auri not threatened to turn you inside out?"

Tess's glare could have withered stone. "People that tiny should not be so intimidating. It's not natural."

Despite himself, Anduin laughed. Tess could be rather intimidating herself, when she wanted to. She was also a competent fighter, and while she might not yet have the experience to win against a seasoned veteran like Auriana, she could nonetheless hold her own…

"I don't suppose…" Anduin started.

"Yes?"

"Ah… nevermind."

It was a silly notion, and he hadn't actually meant to speak his thoughts aloud.

"Oh, that's not fair. Anduin, you can't tease me like that. What is it?"

He sighed. "I thought… well, you know how to fight, perhaps you could teach me a thing or two?"

Tess frowned slightly as she considered the prospect, which Anduin supposed was better than outright refusal. Or worse, laughter.

"I don't know…" she said slowly. "My fighting style is very different from King Varian's…"

Tess was largely self-taught, having been forced to conceal her roguelike activities from her father, though Anduin knew she had received at least some formal training from Valeera Sanguinar, as well as the Gilnean Tournament champions.

"But you do know how to fight with a sword."

"That's true…"

"Tess. Please." Anduin held out his hands, palms up, in a gesture of entreaty. "I know I'm not going to become a master swordsman overnight, but if I could just land one damn hit on him…"

Apparently, he appeared suitably desperate, for Tess relented with a roll of her eyes and a dramatic flick of her hands.

"Alright, alright, I'll help," she huffed. "Come to my quarters after dinner tonight. Say… nine o'clock?"

Even though it had been Anduin's idea, he had hardly expected an invitation to Tess's private chambers. Of course, it made sense – word would certainly reach her father if she were to stride out into the middle of Stormwind arena with daggers in hand – but he knew they would attract just as much attention were he discovered paying private, late-night visits to the Princess of Gilneas's chambers.

"Ah… I'm not sure I ought to… that is… people will think…"

Tess grinned, as if she knew something Anduin didn't, and rose smoothly to her feet. Her posture was perfect, as poised and demure as one would expect from a princess, though Anduin distinctly felt like he was being stalked.

"People will think what, exactly?"

"Well… ah… um… things…"

Anduin wasn't entirely sure what it was he was trying to articulate, though he certaintly didn't fancy being accused of some kind of impropriety by Genn Greymane. Varian likely wouldn't care, but the cultural sensibilities of Gilneas differed considerably from those of Stormwind. Tess's already wicked grin widened.

"Yes, yes, we wouldn't want to encourage the Court rumour mill, now would we?"

She raised her eyebrows and placed her hands on her hips, and it was only then that Anduin realised that they were already very much alone. He coughed.

"Not to worry, I'm sure you're a perfect gentleman," she added, a slight sing-song tone brightening her voice. "Enter the servant's corridor that runs along the side of the smaller dining room – the one with the dark red chairs – and turn northward. Follow the corridor, you'll come to a set of stairs. Come up one floor, and you'll see a small window with damaged tracery. Climb out the window, and across the parapet. My rooms are second along."

"Climb out…?" Anduin repeated doubtfully.

"The parapet is quite wide, it's perfectly safe," Tess insisted, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "And I'll leave my balcony doors open so you know you're in the right place. No one will be any the wiser."

Anduin nodded, though he already felt like he was getting more than he'd bargained for. He wasn't really the climbing sort. Maybe he should have simply lost another seventeen rounds to his father and called it a day, but it was too late to back out now.

"Tess…" he said weakly, "How do you know all this?"

She laughed, a sound that was at once both rolling thunder and silver bells, and her eyes took on an impish gleam.

"Why, how do you think I sneak out into the city every night?"