"Wakey wakey little sister! You've alotto do today!"

A half asleep Val barely had time to process what he brother had said before he tipped a mountain of soot covered, musty smelling clothes on top of her head. With an angry rush of adrenaline, she shot up, and yanked away every article she had still hanging from her.

"What in the actual hells is wrong with you?!" she seethed, tossing a discarded sock onto the floor next to her bed.

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with me…except that I have a sibling who doesn't keep her bloody promises," Lucian said, casually leaning against the doorframe.

"I said I was sorry, you feckin' arsehat! I didn't planon staying at the Keep that long," Val muttered, shoving her blankets back and tying up her loose hair.

"Aye well, now you can make up for missing an afternoons work by washing that lot. I've made you a flask of tea to take with you, and the soaps in the barrow," Lucian commanded, and Val simply sat there and glared absolute daggers at him.

"You can't be serious," she said, eyeing the swaths of clothes now scattered across her room.

"Oh, I'm deadlyserious- now go on, before all the good spots are taken," Lucian insisted, pushing himself up and going downstairs.

"I hate you!" Val lamely called after him, and all she got in return was a light-hearted 'Love you too!'.

With a loud, exaggerated sigh, she heaved herself up and started gathering the strewn pile until she could hold it in both arms.

"You know, Bessie has a washing pot the size of this house in the Keep!" Val yelled, using her foot to feel her way down the same steps that her brother had just descended.

"That woman has enough on her plate without us asking for her to scrub our smalls!" Lucian called back, picking up a pair of tongs from the floor and putting them back on their hook.

"This is abuse," Val mumbled as she passed him, and without missing a beat, Lucian gave her exactly the response she deserved by laughing heartily.

"Stop your moaning, will you? I'm doing the gutters later on, so it's not like you've got the worse job out of the both of us," he said, watching her rather petulantly dump the clothes into the small wheelbarrow he'd placed by the front door.

"Am I at least entitled to breakfast before you put me to work?" Val asked sarcastically, and Lucian started to laugh again, which was never a good sign.

"You would be, if we had any. Bread went stale last night because someonedidn't wrap it properly," he explained, and Val wanted to do nothing but sit on the floor and cry. But instead of giving in to her melancholy desires, she chose to swallow them down and stomp back up the stairs to get herself hastily dressed.

She felt a bit more awake by the time she left, but that was probably the result of the bacon sandwich she'd stopped to grab at the bakers on her way to Cathedral Square. She knew that she looked like a complete loon, pushing a wheelbarrow through the city with food hanging out of her mouth, but quite frankly, she didn't care.

The large fountain that had been dubbed 'washer's well' over the years stood proudly just outside the cathedral, and every day, the women of Stormwind (and the few bachelors who couldn't afford the laundress) would gather around it and use the enchanted water as an agent to remove the muck and grime that living in the city brought with it.

Thankfully, there was a spot free for Val to simply slip into and sit down. The battered old washboard that Bessie had given them slid into the clear pool and almost autonomously, Val put Minnie's 'training' to use, and started on one of her brother's many workshirts.

"Morning, Val," came a booming voice from across the way, and Val looked up to find it's owner giving her an inane grin.

"Morning Peg," she greeted flatly, and apparently, her disdain for the woman was clear in her voice.

"Aw, what's the matter? Woke up in the wrong bed, did ya?"

Val tried so hard not to bite at the clear wind up that her teeth actually started to hurt. Peggy was known as the city instigator- no matter where she went, she had to start a fight. She'd already been banned from both of the city's taverns, and was well known to nearly every single guard.

Apparently, Val had been chosen as her victim of choice this morning.

"Oi! I asked you a question! What, you too posh to answer me anymore?"

Val straightened once again, and made no attempt to hide her annoyance this time around.

"What the hells are you on about, Peg? I just want to do my bloody laundry and get on with my day," Val said, holding up Lucian's sodden shirt to press her point.

"Seen ya yesterday. Going to the Keep. Didn't wait long, did you, Miss Posh?" Peg jabbed, flicking the ash from her cigarette.

"One of these days, you might want to try worrying about your own life instead of everyone elses," Val suggested, grabbing the soap from her barrow and rubbing it against a soot stain that wasn't budging.

"Everyone else has noticed too- not just me," Peg protested, growing ever more frustrated with how Val was actively ignoring her.

"Look- I'm just here to do my washing, Peg. Leave me alone," Val repeated, but that was completely the wrong thing to say.

"His wedding's in a month, did you know that? We do, because we're paying for the fucker," Peg continued, tapping her foot and making her jowls wobble.

She must've noticed Val's flinch.

"Oh, you didn'tknow. No time for talking yesterday, was there? Was the prince's mouth just too full?" Peg goaded, and Val's nostril's started to flare.

"Shut up, you old sow," she snapped, and every voice around the fountain went deathly quiet.

"What did you just say?" Peg seethed, throwing her cigarette on the floor and stomping towards the younger woman.

"You heard. Don't sit there and make shit up when you know it's not tr-"

Slap.

Val was almost knocked over by the force of the meaty hand that met her cheek. The blow didn't even hurt that much, it was merely the shock that made small tears prick up in the corners of Val's eyes as she brushed herself down.

"I don't have to take that from a tart like you!" Peg screamed, sending droplets of spit straight onto the cheek that she'd just struck.

"I'm not a tart," Val muttered, but apparently, Peg wasn't done yet.

"We're not the only ones who think you are- poor Lady Tiffin, getting married in weeks, and you're trying to nick her fucking husband. Shame on you," she sniped, and that was enough for Val's patience to run out.

….in hindsight, returning a slap with a full-on punch was probably a bit too much, but that didn't stop Val as she shook her fist free of the sting it had left.

"You little bitch!" was all she heard before her hair was yanked by knobbled fingers, and her face came inches away from meeting the concrete.

"Go on Peg, smash her head in!"

"Knock that fat slapper out, Val!"

Peg let out a gush of air as Val's elbow met her gut, but still her grip on Val's tresses kept its vigor.

"Let go of me, you cow!" Val screamed, scrabbling to pry the digits away, but Peg had the upper-hand with her weight alone.

"Not until you admit what you are! Not so Miss- high-and-mighty now, eh? Nah, you're just a common slag, like the rest of 'em! Turning your dad's smithy into a fuckin knocking shop!"

Using the rest of her momentum, Val slammed the side of her body into Peg's chest, and miraculously, it made her wobble enough to topple her, and with an almighty splash, they both landed in the fountain with the grace of a diving hippo.

A shrill whistle dispersed the small crowd that had gathered pretty quickly, and two armoured guards heaved the sodden women out.

"Right, that's enough, you two. Break it up now, or we'll be forced to take you to the stockades," said the taller one as he made sure Val was steady on her feet.

"She started it," Peg argued, and Val would've retaliated, had she either the energy or the nerve.

"Peggy Birch. Why am I not surprised that you're involved?" The shorter guard said exasperatedly.

"Go on, I don't want to tell your old man that you've anotherfine to pay."

After another tirade of curses and protests, Peg snatched up her washing and waddled off towards the entrance of Cathedral Square.

"Are you alright Miss?" one of the guards asked Val, who'd been completely consumed by her own thoughts. It took a gentle hand on her shoulder to jar her from them, and even then, she just stared blankly for a good few seconds.

"What? Oh, aye…I'm fine," she half-lied, and bent down to gather her laundry, which was now bobbing pathetically in the fountain after her body-slam into Peg had knocked the barrow over.

"You don't seem it. Can we escort you home?"

Val thought about it, and eventually shook her head.

"No, no thanks. My auntie works at the Keep- I think I'll go and see her," she said, letting the clothes fall back in with a wet thump. She couldn't let Lucian find out about this, not yet anyway.

"That's where I've seen you! You're Bessie's girl! Here, we'll give you a hand."

"Look, she's got her own servants now."

"We get fines, she gets mollycoddled."

Val tried to ignore the whispers as the three of them left the square, really she did. But it was proving more difficult than usual- maybe it was where her pride had already been wounded today, or where she was simply tired of it all, she didn't know, but they got to her.

A choked sob left her throat, and angry, hot tears fell down her cheeks as she miserably followed the soldiers to the castle.

"Bessie Fairfeast?"

The dwarf was elbow deep in a large pile of raw dough when the guard called her name, but that didn't stop her looking up and turning as pale as the sprinkle of snow covering the ground outside when she noticed the state of her Light-daughter.

"Wha' in tha hells…wha' happened to ya, lass? Did ya fall into tha' canals or somethin'?!" she asked worriedly, and using a blunt palette knife, she scraped her arms off and came to hold both of Val's cheeks in her ruddy hands.

"Miss Glenmore was involved in an altercation within Cathedral Square, Miss Fairfeast," the same guard explained, and Bessie's worry melted away, and turned into a fuming anger.

"Ye've been fightin'?! With who?" Bessie demanded, staring down a truly pitiful Val.

"Peggy Birch, Ma'am. According to witnesses, the whole thing started over comments concerning Miss Glenmore's… 'affiliation' with His Highness," the second guard added, and Bessie only seemed to become angrier.

"Now how many damn times have yer Da and I told ye not ta listen ta a word that bitter old trout says?! She wakes up looking fer trouble, ye stupid child!" Bessie fumed, and with a loud, exasperated sigh, she turned her gaze to the taller of the two guards.

"How much do I owe ye, boys?" she asked, clearly expecting a hefty fine to be paid on behalf of her young charge.

"Nothing this time, Ma'am. Just try to make sure that she stays out of trouble from now on," was his reply, and Bessie, of course, gave him an assuring nod.

"Aye, course ah will. Thank ye fer bringin' 'er ta me," she said, returning their farewells and seeing them out of the same door that they'd marched Val through not five minutes ago.

Once it was closed, Bessie's lips thinned until they had practically disappeared, and her hands were glued firmly to her hips as she came over to Val, who'd taken a seat at the kitchen table.

"Now then, Missy. Care ta tell me wha' happened?" Bessie asked sternly.

"I didn't start it, if that's what you're thinking," Val said bitterly, and took the clean dish-towel that Bess handed her.

"Ah didnae ask who started it, ah asked wha' happened," Bessie stressed, and with a heavy sigh, Val started pressing the ends of her hair inbetween the folded cotton.

"I literally went there to do the washing- that's all I wanted to do. But then that bitch started her fisherman's wife routine and it all escalated rather quickly," Val explained, rubbing at her locks as if they'd personally offended her.

"Well aye, I got tha' part- but what did she actually say?" Bessie pressed, and ladled some of the brandy she'd been warming into a small cup and putting it in front of Val.

"That I'd come back to Stormwind in order to nick Varian away from Tiffin, because, you know, I'm a massive tart," Val dead-panned.

"Ha-tha's a bit rich, comin' from 'er. Woman's had more cocks in her than Stonefield Farm," Bessie replied, flouring her hands again and beating her frustrations into the dough pile she'd been kneading before.

"Oh, she made a point to tell me that she's not the only one who calls me that," Val said, taking a sip of the brandy and finding it warmed her bones almost instantly.

"Did ya really expect people to not make assumptions when ye chose ta be friends wit' Varian again, lass? Now, ah'm nae sayin' tha' it gives 'em any right ta start on ye, but ye cannae be fightin' with everyone when ye know the truth and they donnae," Bessie reasoned, but it seemed to have the complete opposite effect.

"I had no intentions of 'fightin'! She was the one who wouldn't bloody leave it! Going on about how she was paying for his wedding, and goading me because I didn't know when it was," Val muttered, pushing her cup away.

"Thank you for conveniently forgetting to tell me that, by the way."

Bessie didn't let the spiteful tone to Val's voice get to her. Instead, she merely shrugged and carried on folding what was to be a large loaf of bread.

"It werenae up ta me ta tell ye, lassie," she rightfully pointed out, but Val still looked annoyed- in fact, her grimace deepened.

"Why not? You tell me every other bloody thing that's happening in the world," Val retorted, and from the few snickers given by the other cooks as they milled about the kitchens, Bessie had been caught bang to rights.

"Ah honestly donnae think yer in a position ta give me lip, girlie," Bessie grumbled, adding another handful of olives to her dough and mixing them in.

"…Is it really in a month?" Val asked quietly, and Bessie's face softened.

"It is. After Taria passed, Llane had the idea in 'is head that the kingdom needed ta be secure. So he gave the whole thing t' go ahead," she told her ward, who seemed understandably crushed by the news.

"I dread to ask how Varian took it," Val murmured, stroking the rim of her cup with the tip of a slow, sad finger.

"Well…he blew up, as was to be expected. Cursed his Daddy to hells, told 'im he wished he were dead, etcetera. But then he just…accepted it. Told Wyll tha' he simply didnae care anymore," Bessie replied, bending down and taking a loaf tin from the shelf.

"This whole thing's a fucking mess," Val concluded glumly, and Bessie snorted in agreement.

"Aye, tis…almost as much as you look right now," she teased, earning a well deserved glare.

"Oh, ha fucking ha," Val retorted, but in all honesty, she couldn't completely disagree with the assessment. She stunk of damp, and she could feel the cold water even through the two layers of clothes she'd put on this morning.

"Varian's bath is probably still warm, if ye be wantin' one," Bessie suggested, and Val's nose immediately wrinkled at the idea.

"I've literally just come here because I smacked someone for calling me a tart, now you're saying I should use the bath of the very man I'm supposed to be in bed with? Have you finally friggin' lost it?" Val asked incredulously, but Bessie seemed rather blasé about the accusation.

"Oh come now, it's nae like he's gonna be inthe damn thing with ya, is it? Saves ya goin' back ta Lucian an' havin' ta explain yerself," Bessie replied, sliding the bread into the oven.

"Go on, ah'll finish the laundry, and ye 'ave a mornin' wit' yer matey."

"Not when that 'matey' is the lastperson I want to explain this whole debacle to," Val further argued, but even as she said it, she knew she was clutching at straws. Truth be told, spending an hour or so with Varian would be just the tonic for the truly abysmal morning she'd been having. Perhaps she'd even give in and let him embrace her, that was how completely defeated she was feeling.

"Ah, just go, will ya? Yer clothes will be done by tha time ye go home," Bessie insisted, and with a loud, tired sigh, Val left her seat and kissed Bessie's cheek.

"Thank you, Auntie," she said, and Bessie merely wiped her cheek of the droplets that Val's lips had left.

"Ah donnae need thanks, lassie. Now off with ye, before ye make more puddles on ma floor," Bessie commanded, waving a hand towards the doorway.

"Bess…" Val called as she reached the threshold, and the cook looked up curiously.

"Aye?"

".…You don't think I'm a tart, do you?"

"Oh fer fuck sake. Nae, I donnae, now bug off, ye silly bairn!"

Varian had to wonder if he was in the middle of a fever dream. Never in a million years did he think he'd be sitting in his chambers, with a cup of tea in his hand, and Tiffin Ellerian sitting across from him with a smile on her face.

He'd awoken this morning to find his day practically clear, so with a little 'encouragement' from both Bessie and Wyll, he'd finally decided to take the bull by its horns and tie a very large olive branch to them.

To his relief, Tiffin had accepted his invitation to share morning tea, and once they'd gotten the rather messy subject of their feud (or rather, his tantrum) out of the way, Varian had apologised to the girl, and she'd agreed to wipe the slate clean, as Val had not a week ago.

Varian found within minutes that when they weren't being forced to interact with each other as imminent spouses, he and Tiffin actually got along rather well. She was alot milder than the women he was used to- she frowned every time he cursed, and blushed whenever the conversation turned a little scandalous, so he had to watch his words, which he never enjoyed. But aside from that, they'd chatted as any normal pair would do.

To his complete surprise, she'd even admitted that she'd done the same as him before the betrothal had been set in stone. She'd had a lover -although they hadn't been as serious as Varian and Val, Tiffin still regretted letting him go. So in hindsight, she'd known more of Varian's plight than he could've ever assumed- which to the Prince, was rather humbling.

"Where is he now? Do you know?" he asked, happily taking a finger sandwich from the plate she held out.

"The last time I heard from him, he was in Gilneas, on a cargo ship. But that was over a year and a half ago, so there's absolutely no telling what his situation is at present," Tiffin replied, dropping a sugar cube into her cup after refilling it.

"And your father had absolutely noidea?" Varian questioned, quite amused by the apparent double-life that Tiffin had been living.

"There was a point where he was very much pressing the fact that I was to be a married woman, so I thought that meant he knew. But he didn't explicitly say it," Tiffin said, making Varian scoff into his tea.

"He probably didn't want anyone to find out," he suggested, and Tiffin made a soft, tinkling noise of agreement.

"I suspect he was more concerned about your father than anyone else. I'm no lawyer, but from what I've gathered, if one of the betrothed couple commits what the Light deems 'adultery', the marriage contract is declared null and void," Tiffin mused, and to his own shock, Varian chuckled.

"Oh well, now I wish you'd told everyone. It could've saved us all a lot of hassle," Varian said, making Tiffin laugh as well. But that laughter faded as quickly as it'd come, and she gave him quite the serious expression.

"It shows how much my father wants this though. He overlooked the whole 'Val' situation simply because he was that desperate for us to marry," Tiffin pointed out, and Varian knew the sadness that marred her gentle features all too well.

"I should never have assumed that you shared that desperation, Tiffin. I can only apologise again for my brutishness," Varian said, but Tiffin surprised him again by shaking her head.

"It's not necessary. But If I may be rather crude in my wording?" she asked, and he nodded to give her the go ahead.

"...I really, reallydon't want to marry you. Forgive me for saying so, but I would never consider us compatible in the slightest," Tiffin admitted, but Varian waved a hand of reassurance.

"There's no forgiveness needed- I've made my own views on this entire mess quite clear, so it's only fair that you air yours," he said, but a deep sigh left his chest not long after.

"But alas, it seems that there's absolutely nothing we can do about our situation at this point, except make the best of it."

"That's why I chose to attend today, in all honesty. If we are indeed condemned to spend the rest of our lives together, we may as well be tolerant of each other," Tiffin added, and Varian's reluctant agreement was evident on his face.

"It almost makes you wish to be poor, doesn't it?" he asked, making her eyebrow rise.

"In what way?"

"Well, think about it; poor men have the freedom to chose whatever goes on in their life, be it for good or for ill. Wealthy men have every luxury butthat," Varian elaborated, and now Tiffin understood.

"I don't wish poverty on anyone. But that being said, I do find myself envying certain aspects of the lives of others," Tiffin said, and there was a small, melancholic smile on her face.

"It's just the frivolityof it all. I'd love to just sit here one evening and decide that I'm going to the tavern, or the dog races. But no, I have to have guards, and inform everyone on every step I take, it's bloody mad-"

Varian's rant was cut off by the sound of his chamber door being knocked. The prince looked at the thick, dark oak like it'd personally offended him.

"If that's Bolero about my New Year outfit again, I'm going to poke him with his own damn needles," Varian grumbled, hearing Tiffin's giggle as he pushed himself from his seat and crossed to the door.

He opened it to find not the tailor that he'd been so dreading, but instead, a wet through, miserable looking Val.

"What in the hells-"

"Don't. Just, don't," interrupted Val, who was starting to shiver. "I need a shirt, some tea, and a hot bath. Please tell me that you have at least oneof those things." Varian gave her a wry smile, and held the door back further.

"You're in luck- I have all three. Come on in," he told her, and without any hesitation, Val ducked underneath his arm and went inside.

"Thank you. You would honestly not believethe fucking morning I've had," Val moaned, already untying her blouse before Varian had even closed the door. Varian noticed this, and loudly cleared his throat.

"Val- company," was his stark warning, and she looked round at him with deep confusion, until a jerk of his head made her change the direction of her gaze and realise that Tiffin was still sitting there.

With an embarrassed squeak, she hastily covered herself, and turned back around just so that she could glare at the prince.

"You could've told me that beforeI came in, icebrain!" she hissed, and were it a physical possibility, Varian's jaw would've dropped to the floor.

"How the hells was I supposed to know that you were about to stripin the middle of my damn chambers, woman?!" he growled back.

Given the chance, Varian was sure that they would've argued over who was to blame for the faux pas until the end of time. Thankfully, a badly concealed laugh from the room's other occupant broke whatever tension was building between the pair of them.

"If it's any consolation, I barely saw anything, so your modesty is quite intact," Tiffin told them, already pouring out a third cup of tea, as per Val's request.

"After all the shit I've gone through today, I'll take that," Val replied exasperatedly. Varian knew she was beaten down when she accepted the offer of his housecoat- on a normal day, she'd refuse it and tell him to stop fussing.

"Well, you can tell us all about it while I get your bath sorted, can't you?" Varian suggested, taking her by the shoulders and steering her towards his empty chair.

"I'd much rather talk about what I've just walked in on, to be frank," Val admitted, watching the blonde sitting opposite her with both curiosity and caution in her honey eyes.

"You mean the fact that I'm in Varian's chambers, and he hasn't killed me yet?" Tiffin boldly asked, and Val nodded a little too quickly for her own liking.

"I took everyone's advice for once, and invited Tiffin here so that I could apologise to her," Varian explained, stoking the fire and adding a few more warming salts to it.

"You….apologised? Varian Wrynn apologised?" Val asked in bewilderment. She started to wonder if she'd either swallowed some of the fountain's treated water, or developed a mild case of hypothermia- either way, she was clearly hallucinating.

"Don't sound so surprised, you cheeky mare. I am capable of admitting when I'm wrong," Varian grumbled, brushing his hands off as he stood up.

"Please tell me you accepted it. Apologies from Varian are like gold dust, you can'twaste them," Val said to Tiffin, who was trying so hard not to laugh that her cheeks were turning pink.

"You'll be pleased to hear that I did. I've always had a mild understanding of where his anger towards me came from, so it was alot easier to forgive him than some would expect," Tiffin affirmed, passing Val's cup to her.

"So everything's good now?" Val asked dumbly, and Varian gave her shoulder a firm squeeze.

"It is," he said, but there was the barest hint of a grimace twisting his features. "Well, as 'good' as it's ever going to be, all things considered."

"Indeed," agreed Tiffin, who seemed far too calm for Val's liking. "We've both come to begrudgingly accept that we're to be married. Neither of us want this, but it's what has to be done. So there's no use being at each others throats for the rest of our lives."

"And you're alright with…" Val vaguely waved a hand towards herself, and pulled a face that she hoped would make Tiffin understand what she was tryingto say.

"I've already told her that you'll be visiting, whether she likes it or not," Varian snapped, and Tiffin's eyebrow arched.

"I've no quarrels with the two of you being in contact, Varian. I wouldn't even object if you came to me and said that you were courting again," Tiffin replied, taking Val's hand as she made to protest. "I know you're not, but I needed to say it to make my point."

Val deflated, and simply sipped her tea, so Tiffin continued.

"I've heard the rumours that are going around about your visits here, and want you to know that I don't give them a second thought. What you two do is completely your business; I'm simply to be Varian's wife in title, so it's not my place to dictate what he does...or in this case, doesn'tdo."

Val's hand began to tremble as she put her cup down, and she swallowed hard to dislodge the lump in her throat.

"So you've no problems at all?" she pressed, looking Tiffin straight in the eye and trying to ignore how Varian was badly trying to act as if he were busy behind her.

"None whatsoever," Tiffin said confidently, and to her utter surprise, Val started to laugh.

"Well shit…I guess I didn't need to punch Peggy after all."

"Didn't need to what?!"Varian roared, utterly flabbergasted by how nonchalantly Val had made the rather colossal confession. She didn't answer him straight away- instead, she left her seat, slipped his housecoat off and patted the prince's stubbled cheek.

"Don't worry about it. It doesn't matter now, anyway," Val told him, and without even a syllable of elaboration, she practically skipped into the washroom.

"Light blind me, that girl lives to test every nerve I have," Varian muttered, running a hand down his face in exasperation. Tiffin turned in her seat, and flashed him what others would call a mischievous grin.

"Ah, but you love her for it," she teased, and Varian answered with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, hush you," he grumbled, trying not to smile and utterly failing at it, for every word she'd said was completely, hopelessly true.