Auriana

Auriana stared down at the map table that dominated the centre of the Keep's war room, and traced her finger along the bumpy line that marked the Stranglethorn Coast. The map was a beautiful thing, expertly rendered in stone and wood and gold, and Auriana could have happily spent hours studying every little bump and whorl. She was not alone, however, having called a conference between Shaw, Jaina, and the warlock Lethia Blackwood, in order to compare intelligence.

Varian was not present, having instead been called to give his testimony at the ongoing trial of Rohas Anguile. In a way, Auriana was glad for his absence. It had been nearly two weeks since her pregnancy had been announced to the world at large, nearly a month since the attack on Dalaran… and still, he remained as surly and agitated as if it had happened yesterday.

Yet while Auriana despised the recent distance between them with a passion, she knew from bitter experience that any attempt to discuss Varian's recent mood would be met with either deflection or outright avoidance. He simply refused to be drawn on the subject, stubbornly insisting that all was well even as he stomped about the Keep in a brooding funk. She also knew she ought to be patient; to allow him to come to her when he was ready. She was no stranger to avoidance herself, and to insist that Varian open up to her on command when she had so often run from him seemed… hypocritical, at best. If he needed time and space, then she would give it to him, no matter how much it hurt her in the meantime.

Of course, such things were often easier said than done. Thankfully, Auriana was not alone. Anduin was a beacon of dogged optimism, as always, and Jaina had made a point of visiting Stormwind as often as she was able. Ostensibly, she came to the city to liaise with Shaw, though she had also been using the time to keep a close eye on Varian. Thus far, Jaina had had about as much success as Auriana in drawing him out of his dolor, but she figured that the more people he had in support of him, the better.

Auriana had otherwise thrown herself into unraveling the mystery of attacks on Stormwind and Dalaran. Bad enough that she felt like a failure as Varian's wife, she didn't need to feel like a failure as his queen, too. The Burning Legion could not be allowed to sow chaos across Azeroth with impunity, and it was critical that they discover the true identity of their adversaries before more lives were lost.

Over the last few weeks, Shaw and Jaina had been hard at work interviewing witnesses, while Blackwood had been making her own quiet enquiries amongst the warlocks of the Eastern Kingdoms. Shaw did not trust Blackwood – and nor did Auriana, not entirely – but he had not yet found any concrete reason to reject her aid. Auriana also taken something of a liking to the older woman, despite her distaste for warlocks in general. Blackwood had a quick, acerbic wit, and was refreshingly straightforward.

What had become rapidly apparent, however, was that they knew very little. While they had positively identified the immediate perpetrators of the Stormwind attack, they were no closer to discovering whoever had led the attack on Dalaran, nor who was ultimately responsible. Many of Blackwood's contacts had either gone silent or outright disappeared, and Shaw and Jaina had fared little better in their own inquiries.

A pile of a hundred different eyewitness reports from Dalaran was balanced on the edge of the war table at Auriana's side, though they were frustratingly vague. All of the accounts recorded therein were more or less the same: the day had started much as any other, when a horde of demons had appeared seemingly from out of nowhere. Most people had then been too busy running for their lives to take note of anything unusual or out of place.

Auriana tapped a finger against her lips, and glanced sideways at Blackwood.

"When we first spoke, you said that it was getting harder to summon demons from the Nether," she recalled, "Yet it seems whoever is behind these attacks had no such difficulty."

Blackwood's sharp violet eyes narrowed in thought, and she pursed her lips. "How much do you know of demonic summoning?"

"Admittedly – very little." Auriana exchanged a quick glance with Jaina. "We're both well versed in portal magics, of course, but neither of us have any specific expertise when it comes to demons."

Auriana had killed her fair share of demons, of course, but that required determination and raw power more than any specialist knowledge.

"Well, you must understand – demons do not serve a warlock of my ilk out of a sense of comradeship, or altruism. They serve either because they stand to gain something, or because they are made to serve by the force of our will," Blackwood explained. "I could work alongside the same demon for decades… we could share a hundred years of tragedies and triumphs… but the one time I made an error in my binding spell, it would break free and tear me limb from limb, without hesitation or remorse."

Not for the first time, Auriana was glad to have been a mage, and not a warlock. That was not to say that mages were incapable of treachery or treason, but the way Blackwood spoke of betrayal as something routine, something inevitable, made her deeply uncomfortable.

"Demons know only one true master," Blackwood said grimly. "And if they are growing resistant to our call, it is because the Legion is calling louder."

"You think whoever wrought these attacks is likely working for the Legion, rather than on behalf of the Horde, or some other faction," Jaina concluded, her delicate features contorting into a dark frown.

"I believe it to be a fair assumption, yes," Blackwood agreed. "Warlocks aligned with the Legion have always had an easier time of summoning demons – after all, they're playing for the same team."

"So what do they want? What are they trying to achieve?" Auriana wondered.

"That, I cannot say. The Legion's ultimate goal is the subjugation of Azeroth, of course… but as to what they sought to achieve with these attacks, specifically…"

Blackwood trailed off, and swept her hand over the war map in a manner oddly reminiscent of a spellcast.

Shaw brushed a thumb over his mustache, and tapped it against his lower lip. "This may be a foolish question, but could you not simply… ask?"

Blackwood considered him seriously for a moment, then shook her head.

"Not all demons are sapient. Many could not give me an answer even if they wanted to. Others are capable of speech, but either don't know or don't care to tell me… or view the universe through such an alien perspective that I would not understand them even if they were to sing like birds."

"Ah. You've already tried," Shaw surmised.

"There are… means… of compelling demons, but thus far my efforts have been in vain," Blackwood confirmed, acknowledging the Spymaster's exceptional deductive skills with a short nod. "Even the more cooperative ones speak in riddles of emerald floods and yawning doors; of hungering stars and the death of dreams. I'm not yet so mad that such things make sense to me."

While Auriana was not normally one to jump at shadows and superstitions, a chill nonetheless ran down her spine, and she reflexively placed a hand over her stomach. Perhaps it was Blackwood's raspy voice, or the faint stench of fel upon her skin, but there was a sinister weight to her words that made Auriana uneasy.

"The Burning Legion do not lack for intelligence – or, at the very least, the Legion's masters do not. There is always a logic to their actions, even if it's not immediately apparent," she reasoned. "So let's start from first principles. If you were a Legion commander, why might you launch an attack on Stormwind or Dalaran?"

"To claim and occupy the territory. Or to destroy them," Jaina said quietly.

Her icy blue gaze flicked to Theramore on the map, and Auriana winced in sympathy. Jaina had not said as much, and likely never would, but she must have been terrified to see a city she ruled come under attack yet again.

"I think we can safely rule that out," Auriana said firmly, hoping to provide Jaina with some measure of reassurance. "While both attacks were impressive feats of summoning, neither demonic force was large enough to represent a true threat. Both cities suffered losses, but we were never in danger of losing outright."

"That is true," Jaina conceded. "Once the demons lost the element of surprise, the Guardians were quickly able to regain control of Dalaran."

"I agree," said Blackwood. "What we saw was only a fraction of the strength the Legion can bring to bear."

"Perhaps something more subtle was at work, then," Shaw proposed. "The attacks may have been a front, designed to either commit or conceal an assassination."

Auriana hid a small smile behind her hand. Of course, if anyone were to suggest an assassination attempt, it would be the Spymaster.

"The attacks were concentrated on the Trade District and the Magus Commerce Exchange. Surely anyone who would be a priority for demonic assassination would be more likely to reside in the Keep, or the Violet Citadel?"

"The Trade District and Commerce Exchange are softer targets than either the Keep or the Citadel. Perhaps these warlocks had observed their quarry, and knew they would be traveling outside the safety of the better defended buildings at that time," Shaw argued. "Or alternatively, perhaps the attacks were meant to draw attention away from the Keep and the Citadel, to allow an assassin to slip by unnoticed."

"Was anyone of note injured, or killed?" Jaina asked.

"That rather depends on your definition," Shaw said drily, "But aside from Her Majesty here, no, I don't believe so. The casualties were mostly civilians: tradespeople, tourists, and the like. Unfortunate souls caught in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I doubt I was a target," Auriana agreed. "I sought out the summoners who led the attack on Stormwind; they didn't find me…"

She closed her eyes, and cast her mind back. As a powerful mage, she was used to being a high priority target, though she couldn't recall any demons paying her special attention beyond what she might ordinarily expect. She hadn't even used her magic in Dalaran, outside of the single desperate shield that had saved her life, and she doubted that the average demon could have identified her as the Queen of Stormwind by looks alone.

"That said - it's an interesting theory." Auriana turned to Shaw. "Have a closer look into the list of casualties from both cities, and determine if any of those people might be of interest to the Legion."

Shaw nodded his agreement. "I'll look into disappearances, too. If not an assassination, it may have been an attempt at a kidnapping."

"Any other ideas?"

"It may have been an act of terror," Blackwood mused, "Intended to soften Stormwind and Dalaran for a larger invasion."

Auriana had considered such an angle herself – after all, the Legion reveled in spreading terror – but if that were the goal, she could think of better targets.

"Why attack centres of trade, then?" she wondered aloud. "If we were facing a less… cosmic enemy, I might suspect economic disruption as a motivation, but I doubt the Legion care for such things. If it were their goal to weaken us, why not prioritise military targets, or disable our magical protections?"

"Perhaps they were poorly informed as to the nature of your defenses, and this was a test of your response capabilities," Blackwood proposed.

"Possibly, although in doing so they've sacrificed the element of surprise."

"Speaking of which, Shaw… why were we surprised? I'm not trying to be critical, but it seems strange to me that we had no warning whatsoever," Jaina said slowly.

"Maybe we did, we just didn't realise what it was," Auriana murmured.

"What do you mean?"

Auriana paused for a moment as she struggled to find the right words. She'd been a little slower since falling pregnant. She constantly felt as if she were missing something obvious, and she sometimes found it difficult to properly articulate her thoughts. Laurena had assured her that a touch of absentmindedness was perfectly normal in her condition, though it didn't make it any less frustrating.

"SI:7's recent efforts have largely been focused on the Grand Tournament and its aftermath," she said slowly, glancing sideways at Shaw for confirmation. "No?"

"That's true. Most of my field agents have been off hunting down the remainder of Thorne and Anguile's co-conspirators."

"And we've had no particular reason to suspect a Legion attack beyond the general threat they pose at any given time," Auriana continued. "It's unlikely we would have missed a significant upsurge in demonic activity, even if we weren't specifically looking, so… perhaps we need to think a little smaller."

"The Legion have favoured deception and subterfuge in the past," Shaw agreed. "What would you have me do?"

"I want you to compile a report of anything… odd… that's happened in the Eastern Kingdoms over… let's say… the last six months."

"'Odd'?" Shaw repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"People vanishing without a trace, or succumbing to mysterious illnesses. Unknown creatures moving about at night. An entire village suffering bad dreams – that sort of thing."

"That's is a lot of information to chase down. And very little of it will be credible."

Auriana did not begrudge Shaw his skepticism. Such occurrences were relatively common on Azeroth, and she wasn't entirely sure what she wanted him to find, in any case.

"That's true, but… it might help us observe a larger pattern," she argued, hoping she sounded more convincing than she felt. "The Plague that destroyed Lordaeron started with a few shipments of grain. Sometimes it's the small things that hold the greatest threat."

"Well, you'd know…" Jaina snorted, much to Auriana and Blackwood's amusement.

Even Shaw's moustache twitched, though as always he stopped short of actually smiling.

"It will take some time," he said, after a pause, "Especially if I cast a wide net."

"I understand," Auriana said quickly, lest Shaw change his mind. "And… speaking of a wide net… I have another idea, but Varian won't like it…"

"What won't I like?"

A deep, commanding voice echoed across the room, and Auriana looked up in surprise to see Varian himself standing upon the threshold; his enormous arms folded across his chest and his blue eyes sharp. She had been so focused on the conversation that she hadn't even heard the door open, though of course the guards wouldn't have let just anyone in when a council was in session.

"Varian…"

Having come straight from Anguile's trial, Varian was dressed in a sharply tailored frock coat and well-oiled boots that rang upon the hard stone floor as he strode across the room to the war table. The crown of Stormwind gleamed against his dark hair, and the afternoon light reflecting off the white walls of the Keep framed his broad shoulders in an otherworldly glow. Up closer, however, Auriana could see the dark circles beneath his eyes, and the deep frown lines that of late seemed permanently etched into his brow.

"Auriana…?" he prompted.

"What? Oh… ah, as I was saying…" she fumbled, trying to ignore the heated flush racing up her neck, "It's going to be difficult to solve this mystery if we're only looking at half the clues. If both Stormwind and Dalaran were attacked, it… it's possible the Horde have experienced similar incidents."

"And?"

"I‐I want to speak to Vol'jin."

The words had barely left her mouth before Varian countered with a refusal. "Absolutely not."

His eyes were like blazing embers, but Auriana was not so easily deterred. She squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin with as much cool dignity as she could muster.

"I'm not suggesting that I march up to the gates of Orgrimmar, here, but surely we could arrange a meeting at a neutral location," she said evenly. "The Temple of the White Tiger has served that purpose well in the past, or…"

"No," Varian growled. "Send a missive, if you must, but you're not going anywhere."

"He's more likely to be forthcoming if we speak in person…"

"I don't care. It's completely unnecessary."

Varian's voice was steady, but in the depths of his eyes Auriana saw a glimmer of real fear. She was not unsympathetic to his concerns – far from it, in fact – but as much as she was trying, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the sharp spark of irritation that flared in her belly every time he insisted on treating her like she was made of glass. She was pregnant, not crippled, though he seemed unable to tell the difference.

"I beg to differ. It would…"

Varian's jaw tightened. "Auriana. Please."

Auriana opened her mouth to argue the point further, only to immediately shut it again as she remembered they were not alone. Jaina, Shaw, and Blackwood were all staring down at the war table as if it were the most interesting thing in the world; politely pretending as if they could not hear every heated word.

"If you insist." Auriana took a deep breath, as she had done so often over the past few weeks, and forced herself to stay calm. "Shaw – if I draft a letter, can you arrange for its delivery to the Warchief directly?"

"Ah – of course, Majesty. I'll see to it right away."

"Thank you. Otherwise – shall we all reconvene again early next week?" Auriana said crisply, trying not to sound as flustered as she felt.

Jaina, Shaw, and Blackwood all nodded in agreement, then quickly set about gathering their papers. Varian had not said as much out loud, but it was clear from his grim scowl and defensive posture that they were dismissed.

Blackwood was the first to leave, after a respectful bow towards her King, followed closely by Shaw. Jaina gave Auriana's arm a reassuring squeeze as she passed, though she did not tarry long. The heavy war room door groaned shut behind her, and Auriana and Varian were left alone.

Uncertain, Auriana stood back and watched as Varian removed his crown and placed it carefully on the edge of the war table. Another time, she might have gone to him; might have gleefully lost herself in the strength of his embrace… but instead, she held back, awkwardly knotting her fingers behind her back as she waited for him to speak.

You are strong, Auriana reminded herself firmly, And you can be strong for him.

That said… there was something different about Varian's recent distance. Even at his most gruff and stoic, he had never before made her feel unloved. But in her darker moments, Auriana had begun to fear that he really was trying to push her away. While he was as vigilant as ever when it came to her safety, it was as if he were trying to protect her from arm's length. There was no warmth to him, just a grim determination that bordered on obsession.

Reckless.

Thoughtless.

Selfish.

Varian's harsh words drifted back to her, unbidden. Logically, Auriana knew she should not take anything he had said in the aftermath of the attack on Dalaran to heart, but it was difficult. She valued Varian's good opinion above all others, and if that was what he really thought of her…

"Auriana…?"

Lost in her thoughts, Auriana had entirely failed to notice that Varian was now staring down at her from across the war table. His broad hands were splayed flat across the aged wood, and a faint frown creased his dark features.

"Sorry. What did you say?"

Varian's frown deepened. "I asked if you'd made any progress on your investigation."

The gruff, businesslike timbre of his voice made Auriana feel like she was once again a Commander reporting to her King, and she fought back a sudden urge to stand to attention.

"Oh. Um… not really. Shaw's doing his best, but we don't have much to go on."

As she spoke, Auriana reached for her own scattered notes and witness reports, and began to stack them into a neat pile.

"Are you sure you ought to be working so closely with that warlock? Her sister…"

Auriana let out a loud, bitter scoff. As Varian was well aware, it was Ayana Blackwood who had sold her out to Blackhand – hardly something she was likely to forget.

"I know. I was there," she said flatly. "But Shaw has found nothing to suggest that Lethia is a threat."

Varian rapped his knuckles hard against the war table, and shook his head. "Just because he hasn't found something, doesn't mean there's nothing to be found."

"Shaw has been present every time we've met, I'm hardly unprotected," Auriana pointed out. "Unless you're suggesting that he's incompetent?"

As bullheaded as he was, Varian could hardly contend that his own Spymaster was unfit for duty, and he conceded the argument with a strange jerk of his head. "Still. You'll be careful around her, won't you?"

"Of course."

Auriana bent over to retrieve one of her papers where it had fallen off the war table, and gasped as a sharp pain lanced through her lower abdomen. Her fingers flexed open, the paper immediately forgotten, and she pressed a hand to the her lower belly. It was far from the worst pain she had ever experienced, though it brought with it a frisson of icy fear. She had been trying to keep up a brave front for Varian's sake, not wanting to add to his burdens, but ever since Dalaran, every little ache or cramp made her heart leap into her throat.

"Auriana?!"

Varian immediately hastened to her side, though as he had done so often of late, he stopped just short of actually touching her. His enormous hands clenched and unclenched several times, and his mouth drew into a thin, tight line.

"Are you alright?"

Auriana's inner voice screamed a denial, but she ruthlessly beat it down. She took a few deep breaths, and rubbed her hand in soothing circles across the curve of her stomach.

"I… I'm fine," she said aloud. "Just a cramp."

"You're very pale."

"I'm always very pale…"

Varian loomed above her with his face set in a heavy scowl, but once again, he refrained from touching her. Light, she wished he would, even if only for a moment. Frankly, she would have settled for a friendly pat on the shoulder, as pathetic as that may have been; desperate as she was for even the slightest hint of his regard. Certainly, she needed something more than the confusing push and pull that had marked their interactions of late.

"Have you seen Laurena recently?" he asked, his voice low and urgent.

"I saw her…" Auriana closed her eyes as she made a quick mental calculation. "Ah, late last week."

"She ought to tend to you every day," Varian insisted.

"Why?"

"Because you're pregnant."

"Oh, that explains so much…" Auriana snorted, unable to stop herself.

Varian was not amused. "Don't be glib, Auriana."

"Laurena is content to see me every few weeks at this stage, unless I have any particular concerns," she argued, ignoring his growled warning. "That may change as I get further along, but for now there's no need for her to be quite so… diligent."

She disliked being poked and prodded by healers at the best of times, and on this she would not be moved.

Varian's fingers twitched. "But…"

"As I said. Just another cramp. The pain has already passed." Auriana stood up straighter, gripping the edge of the war table for support, and squared her shoulders. "I'm fine."

Perhaps if you say it enough times, you might actually believe it…

Varian was certainly not convinced, judging from the shadowed expression on his face, but he mercifully declined to push the issue further. Instead, he bent over to retrieve Auriana's lost paper, and held it out for her to take. Their fingers touched for the briefest moment, and he jerked back and turned away.

Auriana hugged her sheaf of papers tight to her chest, and frowned to herself as she stared up at the stiff expanse of Varian's shoulders. It really was remarkable how he managed to make her feel both overly coddled and desperately isolated, all at the same time. Despite her frustration, however, the urge to touch him was rapidly becoming overwhelming.

Strong, she told herself, clutching her papers so hard that they crumpled. Be strong.

"H-how was the trial?" she asked, more to fill the silence than anything else.

"It was… a trial," Varian grunted. "I said my piece, Anguile's defender asked me a number of impertinent questions, and then I left."

"Will you have to go back tomorrow?"

"No. The evidence against him is rather damning; I expect we should have a verdict by the end of the month." Varian flattened his hand over the map of Redridge, as if by doing so he could simply wipe Anguile's estate from existence. "And it can't come soon enough. Even in irons, he's a smug bastard."

In a way, Auriana was somewhat glad that Varian had barred her from attending Anguile's trial. Not because she actually believed that doing so would put her in danger, but rather because she had no desire to look upon the Duke's smarmy face ever again. He'd taken up quite enough of her time, and he didn't deserve a second more.

"You're finished for the day, then?"

"Yes, although I had made plans to spar with Anduin before dinner."

Auriana was glad that Varian could seek solace in his son, if nothing else. Thus far, Anduin had proven to be the only person capable of drawing Varian out of his funk, even if only for a little while.

"Keep this up and he'll be a master swordsman in no time."

"Hmph. We can only hope."

Varian abruptly reached for his crown where it rested on the very edge of the war table, and grasped it firmly between both hands. His knuckles stood out in sharp relief, and for a moment Auriana genuinely feared he was going to rip it in half. His jaw clenched as he stared down at the gleaming ring of silver and gold… but then he sighed, and placed it carefully back upon his head.

"I suppose I'll see you at dinner, then?"

Another silent, awkward dinner was hardly something to look forward to, but Auriana nodded nonetheless.

"Um… yes. Of course."

"Unless…"

Auriana raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"I don't suppose… you'd like to watch?"

"What?"

"It's a nice afternoon," Varian said, gesturing vaguely towards the door. "Perhaps you… you might accompany me to the arena? I'm sure Anduin wouldn't mind."

Auriana hesitated, mometarily thrown by the offer. Varian's expression was difficult to read, and she couldn't tell whether he was asking because he genuinely wanted her there, or because he didn't want to let her out of his sight. After a moment's reflection, however, she decided she didn't care.

"I'd like that."

"Only if you're feeling up to it, of course."

"I need to take these papers back to our chambers, but otherwise…"

"I need to change, in any case," Varian said, tugging at the embroidered sleeve of his formal coat. "I can't move properly in this damn thing."

He made for the door, crossing the room in a half dozen swift strides, though he paused at the threshold. Not wanting to give him time to change his mind, Auriana hurried forward to join him. He hesitated as she approached, one massive hand clenched tight around the door handle… but then he nodded, and pulled the door open.

"After you…"

It did not take long for Varian to shed his formalwear in favour of a pair of loose trousers and a sleeveless tunic, and soon he and Auriana were making their way back down through the Keep and out towards the training yards. Varian walked on ahead, though every so often he cast furtive looks at her over his shoulder. As he had promised, it was a lovely afternoon, though a scattering of white thunderheads were already building over the mountains. There would likely be another storm that night, though Auriana guessed it was still several hours away. In the meantime, they would be afforded bright blue skies, a fresh breeze, and a slight sultriness to the air – perfect conditions for sparring.

Anduin was already waiting in the arena as they arrived; identifiable as a flash of bright golden hair lurking near the weapon racks. He lifted a hand in greeting as Varian and Auriana approached, but otherwise his attention remained focused on selecting a blade. If he were surprised to see Auriana, he gave no outward sign, though it was admittedly difficult to read his expression from a distance.

"Auriana! Over here!"

A bright, eager cry of welcome echoed across the arena, and Auriana looked around in surprise to see none other than Tess Greymane waving at her from the edge of the stands. Tess was not alone, either, having been accompanied by her mother, Mia. Auriana had never heard the Queen of Gilneas express any particular interest in the fighting arts, though in fairness she didn't know the older woman all that well. Mia had always been kind to her whenever their paths had crossed, but she would not have described them as close.

Auriana glanced towards Varian, who urged her on with a curt nod. She turned away, and approached the Greymanes with a hesitant smile.

"Ah… good afternoon, Tess; Your Majesty."

She was never quite sure how to comport herself around the older Queen. They were ostensibly equal in rank, though Mia had been a queen for decades, where Auriana had not yet served a full year. Mia was also everything Auriana thought a queen should be – gracious, confident, wise…

Tall…

"I've told you before, dear, call me Mia."

"Of course – Mia," Auriana amended, her cheeks colouring. "What brings you two out to the arena today?"

"Anduin invited me," Tess explained, "And… well… Mother invited herself…"

"Far be it from me to turn down an opportunity to watch some fine young men spar," Mia quipped, with a surprisingly lascivious wink.

"Mother!"

Tess looked so utterly scandalised that Auriana couldn't help but to laugh. She had fully expected to spend the afternoon alone, as she had done so often of late, but she was not opposed to some friendly company. She could certainly do worse than Tess and Mia, in any case.

"I can hardly argue with that," she agreed, grinning. "Please, after you."

Mia did not need to be asked twice; her dusky blue skirts swirling about her ankles as she swept off towards the centre of the stands. Auriana made to follow, only to pull up short when she felt a gentle tug on her sleeve.

"Auriana… Your Majesty… um… I'm not sure if Anduin told you…" Tess whispered urgently, "But he and I…"

Auriana knew that Tess had been training Anduin in secret; the latter having divulged the truth after she had caught him sneaking back to his rooms late one night. She hadn't been all that surprised – Anduin was far more venturesome than his bearing might otherwise suggest, and if anyone could be convinced to go along with his harebrained schemes, it would be Tess. Auriana very much doubted that Mia was aware of her daughter's roguish adventures, however, and would likely not be pleased to learn the truth. Genn certainly would not.

"He did."

"I see. Well, ah, my mother doesn't exactly know that I…" Tess bit her lip, and gestured vaguely towards the arena.

"And she won't hear it from me," Auriana promised.

"Really?" Tess breathed, her relief palpable. "You're sure?"

"It would not be the first time I've kept your secrets…" Auriana reminded her, referring to Tess's covert participation in the Grand Tournament.

"I know. And I'm grateful. But… um… why?'

Auriana shrugged. "It's not mine to tell. Although I will warn you – if you get Anduin into any kind of mortal trouble, you'll answer to me."

"So… the non-mortal kind of trouble is alright, then?" Tess mused, her piercing amber eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

Auriana snorted and shook her head, though in truth she was finding it difficult to keep a straight face. As much as Tess could be impudent and overly brazen at times, Auriana appreciated the Princess's spunk and determination to make her own way in the world.

"Come on," she said, more gently. "One ought not to keep a queen waiting."

An impish grin flashed across Tess's face, though she nonetheless dutifully trotted off after her mother. Given the late afternoon hour, the stands were entirely empty, and Mia had already seated herself front and centre. Tess quickly slid into place beside her, while Auriana settled on Tess's other side.

Out in the arena, Varian and Anduin had finished selecting their weapons, and soon moved into a slow and simple warm-up. Auriana knew each and every drill by heart, having spent countless hours practicing with Varian herself. While she had been skeptical at first, she had genuinely come to enjoy swordplay as a discipline, and she missed it even more now that she was pregnant. She flexed her hands in her lap, imagining her fingers closing around the smooth wooden hilt of a practice sword, and it was all she could do not to shuffle her feet in time with Anduin's.

Step, pass forward, pivot, step…

Auriana's yearning must have been written all over her face, for a second later Mia leaned forward and frowned at her in concern.

"Are you alright, dear?"

"Oh, yes, I'm fine," Auriana said quickly, forcing her hands to still.

She wasn't sure whether she could explain what she was feeling, even if she had wanted to. Fortunately, it seemed that Mia had assumed her brief melancholy was somehow related to her pregnancy, rather than her desperate desire to be out fighting with Varian in the arena.

"I hope you've not had too rough a time of it," Mia added, nodding towards Auriana's stomach.

"Well, I wouldn't say I've enjoyed being pregnant thus far," Auriana said drily. "I haven't been sick in over a week, at least… though it seems the moment one symptom abates, another immediately takes its place."

"It's certainly a unique experience. I remember when I was pregnant with Liam, I had the most insatiable craving for bread. There were some days I didn't eat anything else," Mia recalled, chuckling. "At one point, I think I was keeping half the bakeries in Gilneas in business."

"Did you crave anything particular with me?" Tess wondered.

"Meat, and lots of it," Mia confirmed, shooting her daughter a sly sideways glance. "What do you suppose that means?"

Tess promptly stuck her tongue out, and she and Mia both laughed. Auriana had often observed a lingering, unspoken tension between Tess and her father, though it seemed her relationship with her mother was far less reserved. It reminded Auriana a little of the loving camaraderie she had once shared with her own mother, and she felt a faint twinge of wistful jealousy in her chest.

It then struck Auriana that Mia was one of the few people she knew who had been pregnant. She had no living relatives or close friends who had borne children, and while the High Priestess Laurena had been a font of information, talking to a healer wasn't quite the same as talking to a friend… or a mother.

"Was… was it much the same? Both times you were pregnant, I mean."

It was perhaps a touch presumptuous to ask, but Auriana's curiosity overrode her sense of decorum. Fortunately, Mia seemed unfazed by the personal nature of the question, and more than willing to answer.

"Oh, not at all. It was like night and day," she said breezily. "My pregnancy with Liam was a dream – I was hale and hearty until the very day I gave birth."

Tess rolled her eyes. "Light, he was a golden child even in the womb…"

"This one, on the other hand, made me terribly ill. She kicked like a horse, too, barely gave me a moment's rest," Mia said, giving Tess an affectionate pat on the arm. "But it was all worth it, in the end."

"So everyone keeps telling me…"

There was no hiding the fierce gleam of love and pride in Mia's eyes as she beheld her only daughter. Auriana had seen the same look on Varian's face many times, and she had no doubt that all her aches and pains would be forgotten the moment she first held their child in her arms. But in the meantime…

Auriana glanced back towards the arena, where Varian and Anduin had finished their warm up and were now preparing to fight in earnest.

"Ah. You wish you were out there," Mia observed, this time correctly attributing the source of Auriana's frustration.

"I've never been much good at sitting still," she admitted.

"Perhaps you ought to take up needlepoint, or drawing," Mia suggested kindly. "Something to keep the hands busy."

"You'd despair at my needlepoint," Auriana laughed, "And I don't think I've ever drawn anything more complex than a crude battlemap."

She shook her head, and in doing so she caught sight of a stand of lush white peaceblooms growing along the southern edge of the stands. The petals sparkled where they caught the sunlight, and they looked as soft and as smooth as Auriana's skirts.

"Although…"

Struck with a sudden burst of inspiration, Auriana sprang to her feet. Being very careful not to accidentally tread on either Mia or Tess's toes, she shuffled along to the end of the row, and hopped down onto the grass. She then quickly gathered up a generous armful of flowers, and hastened back to her seat.

"What are these for?" Tess asked, plucking a single stem from Auriana's arms and twirling it deftly between her long fingers.

"Flower chains," Auriana explained, as she laid the rest of the blooms gently on the stands at her side. "You've never made them before?"

Mia and Tess exchanged a look, and both shook their heads.

"Is this something your mother taught you?" Mia asked.

"My father, actually. He used to make them for her."

Auriana smiled to herself as she withdrew two flowers from her little pile, feeling lighter than she had all day. She had been thinking about her father a lot of late. He had been a wonderful parent – warm, open, and generous – and she only hoped she could live up to his example with her own child.

"You start with two flowers, and place the second flower under the first," she explained, her fingers sliding smoothly over the stems as she spoke. "Twist the stem of the second flower and tuck it behind the first flower, like this. Then take a third flower, and repeat the process until the chain is as long as you'd like."

It had been years since Auriana had last taken the time to weave a flower crown, but the rhythm of it came back to her as if it had only been yesterday. Her fingers flew over the delicate blooms, and for a brief moment, she wasn't the Queen of Stormwind, but a skinny, knobbly-kneed girl dangling her feet off the dock at Theramore. Her father sat beside her, his bronze skin gleaming in the sun, and they both laughed as he spun tall tales of gargantuan sea monsters and dashing pirate kings…

"You're good at that," Mia observed, her quiet voice drawing Auriana's attention back to the present.

"I had a good teacher," Auriana murmured. "The trick is to keep the flower heads as close together as possible, you see?"

Mia was right – it did help to have something to do with her hands. It couldn't completely ease the restless longing in her soul, of course, but it was a pleasant enough way to pass the time. The afternoon breeze was crisp and invigorating, and the arena was a nice change of scenery from the endless white walls of the Keep. It was certainly better than brooding alone in the silence of her chambers, in any case.

It had been some time since Auriana had seen Anduin fight, and she was pleased to see how he had improved. He was not as fluid or confident as a more experienced swordsman, but nor was he quite so slow or ungainly as he once had been. Varian, of course, was in a class of his own. There was no disguising his matchless grace and power, even when performing a simple drill. The dark cloud that had been hanging over his shoulders of late seemed lifted with a sword in his hands, and Auriana found herself thoroughly distracted by the mere sight of him.

As a result, it took her twice as long as she expected to finish weaving a full garland. It was not her finest work, preoccupied as she was with Varian, but it was a pretty thing nonetheless. Smiling, Auriana secured the last flower in the chain, and reached over to place it on Tess's head.

"There," she proclaimed, "I crown you the Peacebloom Queen."

Tess broke into a wide grin, and turned her head side to side as if she were admiring herself in a mirror. The white petals contrasted beautifully with her raven hair, and the pale gold of the florets brought out the gold in her eyes.

"What do you think? Does it suit me?"

"Very pretty, Your Majesty," Auriana laughed.

"Mother?"

A warm, sentimental smile graced Mia's face, and she reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair back behind Tess's ear.

"Lovely as ever, my darling girl."

Mother and daughter exchanged a knowing look, and Auriana wondered whether she had inadvertently stumbled upon some deep family history or inside joke. She would not pry into something so clearly personal, however, and instead busied herself with the task of weaving a second garland.

Meanwhile, Varian and Anduin continued on with a series of short, face-paced duels. Anduin was soon sweating heavily, even despite the fresh breeze, and his bright golden hair and once immaculate white shirt grew steadily dirtier with each passing minute.

Varian was holding back, Auriana knew, but even then Anduin had his hands full. He was not as confident in a duel as he had been during the warm-up drills, and Varian took full advantage of his hesitation. He was never unfair or unduly aggressive, but nor would he let Anduin get away with poor technique or a sloppy defense.

Whatever Anduin lacked in form, he nevertheless made up for with tenacity. It would have been easy for him to give up after he lost a dozen points in a row, or the fifth time he landed flat on his back in the dirt… but every single time, he scrambled back to his feet, grabbed his sword, and started over. For someone with a pronounced dislike of sparring, it was especially admirable, and it made Auriana's chest warm with pride.

After about an hour of spirited back and forth, Varian pulled back, and lowered his sword to his side. To Auriana's surprise, however, Anduin did not follow suit. Instead, he glanced towards the stands, towards Tess, and she gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod. Something in his posture shifted, and even from a distance Auriana could see the determined set to his jaw. He beckoned, and raised his blade into a guard once more.

If Varian was surprised by Anduin's unusual eagerness, it didn't show. He was hardly one to turn down an offer to fight, and he leapt back into the fray without the need for any further provocation. Yet despite having invited the duel, Anduin had clearly underestimated his father's speed, and he only barely parried Varian's first overhead blow. He scurried backwards to gain some distance, then abruptly lurched forward again with his sword held high.

The resounding crack of wood on wood echoed across the arena as Varian and Anduin came into a bind. As he had done during so many previous bouts, Varian bore down, looking to leverage his superior strength to break the bind in his favour. This time, however, Anduin pressed forward, not backwards, and reached out to grasp both blades where they crossed. He then swung the hilt of his own sword upwards, using its momentum to leverage against Varian's grip, and with a loud, effortful grunt, wrested his father's blade free.

While Anduin had succeeded in disarming his father, however, it came at the cost of his own weapon. He fumbled as he attempted to reestablish his grip, and both swords went spinning off into the dirt. Nevertheless, Varian was disarmed; the unexpected nature and awkward execution of Anduin's gambit having actually worked to his advantage.

"Ha!"

Tess smacked a balled fist into her leg with an enthusiasm more suited to a drunken arena fan than a princess. Mia raised an immaculately groomed grey brow, and Tess immediately sobered.

"Er… that is to say… good show..." she amended, with a sidelong glance at Auriana.

Of course, a disarmed Varian was only marginally less dangerous than an armed Varian. While temporarily thrown by Anduin's maneuver, Varian was quick to recover. Taking advantage of thr fact that Anduin was just as stunned by his own success, Varian lunged forward and closed his enormous left hand over Anduin's wrist. At the same time, he reached for the hollow beneath Anduin's shoulder with his right, and held his son firm. He dropped into a low crouch and pivoted on his left foot, and used his momentum to lever Anduin up and over his hip.

Anduin all but flew through the air, his feet flailing wildly, and landed hard on his back with a loud grunt. Varian charged after him, neatly sweeping a sword from the ground as he moved, and with a triumphant flourish, pressed the tip to Anduin's exposed throat.

For a brief, charged moment, Varian and Anduin remained frozen in a climactic tableau. The dying sunlight reflected through Anduin's golden hair and the gathering thunderclouds overhead leant the scene a dramatic air, like a classical painting brought to life. Anduin's chest heaved as he stared up at his father, and he conceded the bout with a rueful shake of his head.

Varian offered Anduin his free hand, and easily hauled him back to his feet. Much to Anduin's evident surprise, Varian then clapped him on the back in a clear gesture of approval. At this distance, Auriana couldn't hear a word they were saying, but Varian's face was more animated than she had seen in weeks.

Beside her, Tess looked on with a smug smirk. Auriana could tell that she was practically bursting at the seams to take credit for her role in Anduin's small victory, but she wouldn't dare do so in front of her mother.

Varian beckoned for Anduin to retrieve his fallen blade, and lifted his own sword high. Anduin hesitated, uncertain, only to relax a moment later as Varian began to slowly and methodologically teach him how to perform the same disarm in such a way as to end up in possession of both swords. Varian made Anduin repeat the move another dozen times until he was satisfied, before he at last concluded the training session with a firm nod of his head.

Anduin gratefully lowered his sword, and shook a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. Auriana smiled to herself. She knew from hard experience that he would be sore in the morning. It was no easy task to take a beating from Varian, even if he were pulling his punches.

"Come, Tess, why don't we congratulate Anduin?" Mia suggested, placing a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder as she rose gracefully to her feet.

Her expression was outwardly mild, though there was a knowing glint in her sharp hazel eyes as she looked back and forth between Auriana and Varian. Not for the first time, Auriana got the distinct impression that the Queen of Gilneas saw a lot more than she ever let on.

"It was lovely to see you, Auriana. Perhaps we might take tea together soon?" she added. "I'd be happy to answer any more questions you may have."

"I'd like that," Auriana said truthfully. "Thank you."

There was so much she still didn't know about pregnancy and childbirth, and if Mia were willing to share her wisdom, she was eager to learn. It was not the same as having her own mother to lean on for support, but it was something.

For now, however, Auriana's focus was on Varian. He had returned his practice sword to the rack, and now strode purposefully across the arena towards her. It was perhaps wishful thinking, but Auriana thought he seemed a little happier; the combination of fresh air, exercise, and Anduin having done him some good. Despite everything, Auriana couldn't help but to admire the smooth shifting of his muscles as he walked, and the way his dark hair tumbled over his broad shoulders. Her stomach was suddenly alive with fluttering butterflies, and she rose to her feet before she even realised what she was doing.

"Enjoy the show?" Varian drawled, stopping about three feet short of where Auriana stood.

Even though he remained on the floor of the arena, the difference in their heights was such that she could just about look him in the eye. Assuming, of course, he were to look at her.

"Anduin fought well."

"I must admit… I'm impressed. I didn't think I'd ever see him put so much effort into his swordsmanship."

"I hope you told him that."

Varian glanced back over his shoulder towards his son, who was now engaged in an animated conversation with Tess and Mia. Judging from his wild gestures and eager expression, Anduin was describing his hard won victory in great detail. It was rare to see him so excited about a martial feat, and Auriana couldn't help but to smile.

"I did," Varian said quietly, after a pause. "I take it Tess is the one who's been teaching him?"

"Ah…"

Auriana wasn't quite sure what to say. She didn't like lying to Varian at the best of times, and she liked it even less when their relationship was already strained. At the same time, she had no desire to break Anduin's confidence – nor Tess's, for that matter. After all, she had promised.

"No need to be coy," Varian growled. "High risk, high agility, high flash? That disarm had Valeera written all over it, and I know she taught Tess."

Auriana sighed, then nodded. There was little point in concealing a truth that Varian had already guessed.

"They've been training together in the evenings, yes," she admitted. "Let them have their secret, though, won't you? He only wanted to impress you..."

Varian shook his head. "I've no intention of calling him out. As I said. I'm pleased by his efforts."

His voice warmed with pride, and the ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. It was the first time Auriana had seen him display any emotion other than displeasure or unease in a good long while, and she wondered whether his defensive walls were finally starting to soften.

"You fought well, too," she said hesitantly. "You always do."

Varian let out a low grunt. "It was hardly a fair contest."

He was not bragging, Auriana knew, and nor was he trying to discredit Anduin's efforts. It was simply a statement of fact: when one was arguably the greatest swordsman alive, there were very few opponents who could present an adequate challenge.

"Still."

A long moment of silence settled over the arena, broken only by the distant call of a melancholy bird. The air was swollen with the promise of the oncoming storm, and the dying afternoon light cast deep shadows across Varian's darkened countenance. It accentuated the strong lines of his jaw and cheekbones, making him look like a statue carved from a rare and precious stone. Of course, no sculptor could have ever hoped to truly capture the rugged handsomeness of his features, nor the sheer power of his presence. Auriana's heart beat a little faster, and she…

"... your arm?"

Varian's gruff baritone abruptly broke through Auriana's wistful reverie, though while she had seen his mouth move, she hadn't quite caught the words. She blinked, and gave herself a little shake.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"What's that on your arm?" Varian repeated, pointing towards the delicate circlet of flowers looped over the wrist of her right hand.

Auriana's cheeks reddened. In all the excitement of the duel, she had entirely forgotten it was there.

"Oh. Nothing, really, just… something to keep my hands busy."

She wasn't sure why, but she was faintly embarrassed by her work, as if Varian might consider her efforts silly or mawkish. He'd never shown any particular interest in handicrafts, though a hint of genuine curiosity brightened his otherwise stoic expression.

"You… made this?"

Auriana's blush deepened, half-expecting that he might laugh at her. "Um. Yes."

Varian tilted his head to one side, and a faint crease appeared between his brows. "It's quite good."

"Well, blowing things up and warping the fabric of reality aren't my only talents..."

For a second, Auriana almost thought she had succeeded in making Varian smile again, but it was not to be. The corners of his mouth twitched, once, before turning downwards in an all-too-familar scowl.

"I know," he said simply.

Auriana bit her lip, and after a moment's hesitation, she slid the garland off her wrist and held it out towards him. "Here."

He raised an eyebrow. "For me?"

It was a touch fanciful, Auriana thought, presenting flowers to her brooding, troubled king, but for some strange reason, it seemed like the right thing to do.

"Sparring in the arena with Anduin isn't quite the same as an actual tourney, but… it's close enough," she reasoned. "And if this were a tourney, then as a lady, I would be obliged to bestow my favour upon my chosen champion."

"Is that what I am?" Varian muttered, more to himself than to Auriana. "Your champion?"

It was the kind of thing that he might ordinarily say in jest, but there was an odd intensity to his inflection. He met Auriana's gaze properly for the first time since Dalaran, and the power of his stare made her breath catch in her throat. Outwardly, he was stiff and composed, but the depths of his blue eyes roiled and seethed like a storm-tossed sea.

"Of course," she whispered, without hesitation. "Of course you are."

Despite their present difficulties, Varian was still her husband… the father of her child… the love of her life. He was her champion, in every sense of the word, and she wouldn't have him doubt it for even a second.

"I… thank you," he murmured, a strange hitch in his voice.

Varian accepted the garland with a lopsided frown, though something in his harsh expression softened as he ran a calloused thumb over the delicate petals.

"You're welcome…"

Another silence stretched between them, though it was not quite so heavy or as awkward as before.

"I should clean up before dinner," Varian said finally. "I don't smell great."

Auriana shook her head. She'd always rather liked his salty, masculine redolence, especially after he'd been hard at work in the arena. "It's not so bad…"

Varian looked doubtful, but he did not argue. Instead, he leaned his head back, and stared up at the darkening sky.

"Regardless – we should head back to the Keep. There's a storm coming."

"There've been a lot of storms of late," Auriana said quietly.

"Not unusual, for this time of year. Though they've been particularly wild this season, I'll give you that." Varian looked down at the dainty garland in his hands, and let out a soft grunt. "Come on – let's get inside. I wouldn't want to ruin such a pretty thing."

Auriana got the impression that he wasn't strictly talking about the flowers, though she kept her thoughts to herself. This afternoon had been a brief ray of sunshine in an otherwise dreary week, and she had no desire to spoil the mood. A small step forward was better than no step at all, and it was with a lighter heart that Auriana gathered her skirts, and followed Varian back towards the bright, inviting lights of the Keep.