On calm, sun-beaten waters, a colony of gulls that had been bobbing about the surface scattered as a large passenger ship tumbled its way into Stormwind's harbour. It came to a slow but sure stop at the furthest of its many piers, and stayed deathly still whilst its great sails were furled, and the gangplank lowered.
It landed with a dampened 'thud', right in front of the boots belonging to the kingdom's harbour master, who braced himself, for he knew that what followed would be nothing less than an onslaught. He was proven right, for no sooner had he blown the whistle that gave all those aboard the permission to alight, than droves of men, women and children all eager to enter the city surged down towards him like a herd of stampeding Elekk.
It was then up to him and the few men he'd been given to organise the chaos, and guide everyone into lines, whereupon their entrance papers would be inspected, and their intentions scrutinised. This was the second ship to travel from Stranglethorn Vale that week, so it was no surprise that the process went smoother than it would were it the first. In fact, in no time at all, the Harbour Master looked up, and found that only two people remained.
"Name?"
"Valerica and Lucian Glenmore."
"Reason for your visit?"
"Oh, we're not visiting- we live here. At least, we used to," the young woman explained, wrinkling a thin nose with a small, round tip."We've decided to come back."
"For what purpose?"
"We own 'Glenmore's Grindstone' on Old Herring Street. Thought it was time to open it up again."
"Ah yes! I thought the name sounded familiar. I trust your papers are in order?"
"Yep. All here," said Lucian. With a hand that was calloused, and felt older than his rounded face looked, he passed a meticulously folded pile of parchment sheets to him, and gave his counterpart an encouraging glance whilst all was looked over.
"I'm satisfied. I recommend a trip to the priests, just to make sure you haven't brought anything nasty back. Aside from that, however, I'm happy to welcome you back to Stormwind."
They were clearly relieved to hear it, for their smiles grew bigger, and lost the anxious twitch they'd been sheltering for the entirety of the conversation.
"Brilliant. Thank you," chirped Valerica, and with Lucian echoing the sentiment, they both picked up the single cases they had with them, and happily marched past him, towards the large staircase that led to the city proper.
Only once they reached it, did they both let out the breath they'd been holding.
"For a horrible second, I actually thought he wasn't going to let us in," Valerica admitted, lifting the skirt of her light blue overdress so that it didn't get caught underneath her boots.
"Why? Everything was legitimate," Lucian pointed out, regretting the nights he'd indulged himself in beer and pastries over the past three years, for he found himself a little out of breath even though they weren't even halfway up. He wasn't monstrously huge, by any means, but it was getting to a point where his belly was just beginning to peek over the waistband of his breeches.
"I know it was, but it's still bloody intimidating, having someone stand there and question everything about you."
"Ah, you're just too used to Booty Bay not giving a fuck."
"Maybe," Valerica agreed, blowing a stray strand of naturally corkscrewed hair from her olive-toned face. Usually at the this time of the year, she'd be a shade paler, but thanks to the relentless Stranglethorn sun, she had been blessed with a more pigmented hue to her already tanned skin.
She looked at her brother, with eyebrows that needed constant plucking to look presentable knitting together in concern.
"Do you think we made the right decision? Coming back, I mean."
"We didn't exactly have a choice," Lucian pointed out, grimacing hard enough to make his jolly features seem rather ugly.
"I know we didn't. But we had a whole world to escape to...and we chose here."
"Because we have a sure way of making coin here. Enough to get those bastards off our arses."
His grimace deepened.
"Although, I have to admit...it does feel a little eerie, seeing all this again."
He wasn't wrong; Valerica felt the same growing unease that he had written all over his face as the pair reached the top of the stairwell, making it seem as if they were wandering into a hostile, unfamiliar wasteland, rather than the bustling city that they'd grown up in.
So great was the sensation, that she had to stop for a moment, and really force herself to come to terms with the choice she'd made, and what exactly it meant for her. Lucian clearly didn't harbour those fears, for his pace didn't even slow. In fact, he hadn't even noticed that she wasn't by his side until he was a fair distance ahead, and it was only because she didn't answer him that he realised.
"You comin', or what?"
"Yeah...yeah, I'm coming," Valerica choked, finding it immensely difficult to get her feet to agree with her mouth, and start moving again.
As soon as they did, however, she regretted them ever doing it. The further they travelled into the labyrinthian hive of townhouses and shops, the more faces she began to recognise. That wouldn't have been so much of a problem, were it not for the expressions upon them telling her exactly how most of them felt to see her again. She couldn't exactly blame them; if the roles were reversed, she'd be doing the same thing.
"Don't mind them."
"That's very much easier said than done," she grumbled, passing her case to the other hand and trying not to hit his legs with it.
"They've probably all forgotten about it by now."
"Luce, if I haven't, I can guarantee that they haven't. But I appreciate you trying."
"No you don't. Otherwise you'd do as I say and tell them to go fuck themselves. What happened is in the past, and if Wrynn can get on with his life, then so can you."
"You have zero evidence of that being the cas-"
"Lucian! Is that you?! What you doing back here?!"
A booming, jovial voice came from one of the houses as they turned into the next street, and it brought a grin wider than the canals encircling them to the elder Glenmore's face, who put his bag down in order to greet its owner.
"Ah, you know, had enough of annoying the family, so I thought I'd come and do it to you instead!" Lucian chortled, heartily embracing the large, dirty-blonde haired man who'd come bounding over to do the same thing.
"I bet you did, you shithead," the man chuckled, turning his small-eyed gaze to Valerica, who was sure that he had no idea how welcomed his interruption had been.
"Alright, Val?" he asked, and whilst Val was glad of the use of her nickname, which in truth, she much preferred, she could hear the exact same tone of exaggerated charm that had tried, and failed, to woo her for years.
"Alright, Jimmy?" she replied, keeping her tone as flat as possible in order to drum the message into his thick skull for the millionth time in her life.
Thankfully, he seemed to get it this time, and turned back to Lucian with a bouncy, toothy smile.
"So, you back for good?"
"Aye. Thought it was time to get the ol' family business going again."
"Plenty of folk will be glad to hear that," Jim admitted, putting pudgy hands on equally doughy hips and grimacing hard enough to make his chin nearly disappear. "Ain't been a good smithy round here since your dad passed."
That was the moment that Lucian's face finally lost the jolly masque that it'd been wearing since alighting the ship, and gained another- this time, it was one of hardened sadness.
"Yeah well, hopefully I can fill his shoes, eh?"
"Definitely, mate," Jimmy agreed, clearing his throat to break the growing awkwardness between them. "He was a good man, you know. I never got to say it after his funeral- you know, cause you two disappeared so bloody quickly, but he was a top bloke."
"We had our reasons, Jim," Lucian said, nudging his head towards Val, who didn't appreciate the gesture one little bit.
"How have things been here?" she asked, expertly diverting the conversation.
"Oh you know, the same old, same old," Jim said, straightening as an idea came to him. "How about we go to the Nag, and I tell you over a pint? My treat."
Val would've protested the idea, but her brother had already lit up like a freshly struck match, meaning it would be entirely pointless.
"Now that, is a fantastic idea!" he crowed, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "I've been dying for a decent one since we boarded ship!"
"How about you, Val? You in?"
She debated with herself for far too long before giving him a nod. "Yeah, why not. Bess isn't expecting us until four, so we might as well kill time."
"Oh I see, you can tell Bessie that you're coming back, but not your best mate!"
"You can't fucking read, Jim! What would you have done with a letter, apart from wipe your arse with it?!"
"The thought would've been appreciated!"
"Spell that word first, then we can talk about what you 'appreciate'!"
"Fuck off, Luce."
"Make me, piss-stain."
It was hard for Val not to smile as the pair shared another embrace, despite their voices raising high enough to ring about the near-empty street.
"I've missed you, mate."
"Same here. It's good to have you back."
...Although, it was dismaying, watching two friends reconnect so quickly, when deep down, she knew she wouldn't be granted the same grace. The 'friend' she'd left behind would never forgive her as easily as Jim had her brother, and quite frankly, she couldn't blame him. Circumstance and stupid decisions had quashed any dreams she had of coming back here and embracing him, the same way the two in front of her just had.
Apparently, the creeping sadness clouding her thoughts was beginning to manifest on her face, for Lucian bent down, as if he were inspecting a freshly made weapon, with another frown- this time, however, it was born from concern, not sorrow.
"You alright?"
It was such a simple question, but Val knew that there were another million behind it, each more complicated and intrusive as the last. Ones she had no interest in answering. Not right now, anyway.
"Fine. Just tired," she lied, fiddling with the ends of her hair, as she was want to do whenever things were getting overwhelming.
He didn't believe her. It was as obvious as the nose on his face. But being the ever-loving big brother that he was, he showed a rare moment of mercy, and didn't interrogate her further. Although, Val had the sneaking suspicion that wouldn't be the case later on, once the two of them were alone.
"All the more reason to take a break, and catch up," declared Jim, who helpfully took Val's case for her, and used the other hand to clap Lucian's shoulder. "The hard work can be done later."
"That's easy for you to say, when you won't be the one doing it," Val joked, managing to shake off -or at least smother- her melancholy for the moment, and instead falling into step with the two of them. "Unless that's your roundabout way of volunteering?"
"Fuck no. I've enough of the missus making me do the shit work at home."
"You and Hetty are still together?"
"Don't sound so surprised by it," Jim huffed. "But yes, somehow, by some miracle of the Light, she hasn't killed me yet."
"I wouldn't get too comfortable, mate- she'll get new glasses soon enough, then you're fucked."
"Says the bloke who's perpetually single."
"Single and happy mate- single and happy."
That's when Lucian looked down at his sister, and bore his gaze into her like the heat of a forge as it ate through a sheet of steel.
"We don't need to make ourselves miserable chasing other people, do we, sis?"
Typically, she would've smacked him for being completely unsubtle with the question's deeper meaning. But thankfully, Jim had either not noticed what he'd said, or it had completely flown over his head. Either way, he didn't press the issue, as countless others would have- particularly because she was glaring at her brother so hard for it.
"...No, we don't."
"Have to get some grub while we're there. I don't know about you two, but I'm starving," mused Jim, confirming Val's theory, much to her utter relief.
"Sounds good," she mumbled, feeling her face grow hot with anger, but somehow managing to keep it bay long enough to calm herself down without creating a spectacle. Lucian clearly felt no remorse for what he'd said, nor her reaction to it, for he kept staring her down like a master would a naughty puppy until the trio emerged from the city's backstreets, and into its heart.
"Light, I forgot how much that man can bloody talk."
Lucian chuckled as he fished in his pockets for the keys that had been clanking impatiently since they'd left the tavern. It'd not been long since then, and to their shame, they'd spent far too long there, pouring drink after drink, and talking of every subject concerning Stormish gossip until the two of them knew every single detail about the lives of their neighbours.
"Just wait until Bessie gets here- we'll be listening to it all again," he reminded her, shoving the biggest of the ring into the lock and pressing hard as it turned.
Val hadn't exactly been sure what they would find once it opened. The place had stood completely still and silent for nearly four years- not a soul had been inside save for Bessie, who'd come once every six months to make sure rats hadn't nested- and even then, she never stayed long.
Dust sprayed from the floor with their every footstep, and cobwebs lined the ceilings. Patches of mould that had been left unattended decorated a corner here and there, but aside from that...it was a perfect preservation of the life they'd so suddenly abandoned.
Everything, from the tools lining the walls, to the safe that they'd cleared out to pay for their spontaneous passage, were exactly as they'd left it.
"We're home, da," Lucian whispered, showing a rare instance of sobriety in his tone, and using careful movements to secure himself inside the shop. Val chose to leave the door open out of fear of choking on whatever was flying about the place, but even the sunlight couldn't shatter the unnatural chill in the air.
"I think the first job is get some air in," she said, choosing to organise herself, instead of staying idle, and risking her emotions getting the better of her. "Then we can deal with the floor."
"Sounds good," Lucian agreed, already proving that he wasn't really listening by tentatively making his way up the rickety staircase ascending from behind the shop's counter. It led to the apartment upstairs, which, while only boasting three rooms, each tinier than the last, had provided them with the necessities to grow up quite comfortably for nearly twenty years.
Val followed him soon after pushing the heavy frames of the downstairs windows up, and found him standing statue still in the middle of their kitchen, which acted as a gateway for the two bedrooms sitting behind doors that hadn't been opened in years.
"Are you alright?" she asked, knowing full well that he wasn't, but wanting to fill the silence in any way she could.
"All of his stuff's in there..." Lucian murmured, completely dropping the jovial bravado that he'd been presenting for the past few days, and letting himself admit that it was hard being back in the one place they'd vowed never to set eyes upon again.
"Not all of it. Bess said she boxed the more valuable things."
"It's all valuable though, ain't it...cause it's his. It's all we've left in the world of him..."
"Want me to go first?"
Lucian clearly wanted to say 'yes'. But to his credit, he swallowed down whatever was causing the lump in his throat, and shook his head defiantly.
"It needs to go. We can't hold on to the past," he announced, pulling the same set of keys that had let them in the front door from his pocket and sliding a smaller one into the lock. "Besides...I ain't sharing with you again."
It barely qualified as a joke, but still, Val laughed, simply because it made him feel better.
She didn't want to follow him in there. It didn't feel right, invading their father's room, and sifting through his things like urchins. Not right now, anyway. Given time, she was sure that she and Lucian were going to make the place their own, but for now, too many ghosts were hanging about for her liking.
So instead, she diverted right, and jiggled the knob on the door covered with pictures and paintings that an enthusiastic father had nailed to it over the years; blotchy faces of a trio blissfully happy, and wonky flowers of every shade taunted her with the life they had before the disastrous chain of events that had led to their departure. But still, she pushed it open, and crept inside.
The threadbare curtains did nothing to deter the light coming from outside, even though they were drawn as tightly as humanly possible. Still, Val opened them out of habit, and felt a cool rush of winter breeze as the window befell the same fate.
"How is it in there?" Lucian called, and it took far too long for Val to answer. She was too busy sitting on her bed, and taking in hand the battered ragdoll that rested upon her pillows. The white yarn making up her hair had turned yellow with age, and there were stains that messy fingers and sitting at the table with a child had inflicted on the lace of her dress, but still, she brought a weary smile to her mistress' face.
"Hello Mary," she said, smoothing the doll's bonnet.
It felt rather silly, enjoying the company of a toy at her age; but the sentiment behind it was the thing driving Val, who figured that no one would dare berate a nineteen year old for embracing a doll once they realised that her dead father had given it to her.
"It's basically the same as everywhere else," she hollered, finally answering her brother and putting Mary down, in order to stop herself spiralling into a trance of melancholic nostalgia.
"Everything's...the same."
She was trying not to acknowledge the drawer in her bedside cabinet. But still, it called like a siren, and she found herself unable to ignore it for long. It was like a box that had a demonic presence inside; one look, and she was sure she would unleash all manner of horrific things.
Her fingers were curling around the handle before she could stop herself. The squeak of its bracket made her wince, and forced her to stop when it was only half open, but that was enough to be confronted with the mass of trinkets and memories that she had stored away in it over the years.
A pile of letters that had been meticulously folded and tied with a length of twine caught her attention, and a sinking feeling manifested in her stomach as, against her better judgement, she picked it up, and started to play with the frayed ends, as if she were about to loosen them, and subject herself to more unnecessary heartache.
"Didn't know you still had those."
Lucian's voice managed to stem any sort of temptations rising within her, and she raised her head, looking him straight in the eye.
"I couldn't find the heart to get rid of them."
"Why? They're rubbish."
"Not to me."
That was when he sat next to her, ignoring the protesting creak of the bedsprings, and put an arm around her. "Val, you said you wouldn't do this."
"I know I did," she admitted, turning the pile over in both hands. "But...it's harder to keep to that now we're actually here."
"He's the reason we left in the first place."
"That's not fair- it was a lot of things."
"Yeah, but the biggest was what he did."
"But it wasn't what he did, was it?" Val huffed, tossing the letters beside her. "It's what his father did- and it's only recently that I've realised that."
"So, what? Oh no...please tell me you're not thinking of talking to him."
"Would it be such a crime if I was?"
"Yes," Lucian stressed, but even she could see that he was conflicted. "Val, no matter who did it, what happened, happened. And there's no coming back from something so mindbogglingly fucked."
"How do you know that, though? How do you know that in the two years since, things haven't changed? Maybe it's all been called off. Maybe he's not even here- you know, he could've left the same time we did..Oh, I know I'm being absolutely stupid," Val moaned, putting her head in her hands.
"No, you're being a typical person. One that hasn't had any closure on anything since we put our dad into the ground," Lucian lamented, rubbing at her back.
"Take my advice- get yourself sorted first. Then decide what you want to do about...him, once you're all settled."
"I suppose I should at least unpack before I start putting myself through this shit again," Val agreed, still gazing at the floor. "Besides...He probably doesn't even know we're back, so there's no point rushing anything anyway."
"That's the spirit," Lucian said, encouragingly patting her knee, and heaving himself from the bed. "Now, if I may suggest that we at least start with the cleaning before Bess gets here? You know what she's like."
"You can go in that cupboard first. Light knows what's living in there."
"Well, if there is something, it better start paying a damn rent," Lucian joked, testing the door and sighing as he noticed that the hinges were practically hanging from the frame. "We're going to be here forever fixing this place, and it's going to cost an arm and a leg."
"We may have a few favours to call in. I'll find dad's book," Val offered, getting up herself and shoving the letters back into the drawer.
Lucian had been right; it was foolish to be thinking about their sender this soon after coming back, when all she'd done prior was curse his name, and swear she would never, ever give him a second chance.
But then, she had no idea how things had been on his end in all the time she'd been away. Bessie, who, Light love her, had the best intentions in doing so, hadn't said a single word on his health, his mood, or anything else that concerned him. They'd lived two completely separate lives, and she was starting to wonder if there was no coming back from that.
Especially with how spectacularly explosive their parting had been. Even now, Val felt her throat burn from screaming too much, and her eyes sting from tears that had seemed to never stem. It probably didn't help that she was standing in the same room as she had been when she'd gone through it all, but she wasn't about to sleep in the kitchen because of a few torturous memories.
She had to wonder if he'd even been half as heartbroken as she had. Back then, she'd not given him the chance to confirm or deny it, so blinded had she been by her own emotions. Had he spent countless days and nights sitting alone, feeling numb to the world? Or had he simply gotten on with his life, and shoved every thought of her away, as she had just done with his letters?
Morbid curiosity insisted that she find out. But rationality begged her not to, and forced her mind to turn elsewhere.
She had a life to start rebuilding. Varian Wrynn, and the problems that came with him, could wait.
It took a fair few hours to make the place habitable again. Whenever Val thought that there couldn't possibly be more dust, another layer would mysteriously appear, making it feel as if she'd swept about a million times before it was clean enough to walk on in anything but thick-soled boots.
Sweat ran down her face, and her back ached like an elderly woman's, but in her eyes, it was worth it just to feel the warmth that being truly home brought with it. They were settling right back in, which was just what she had wanted.
"The scrappy's coming round tomorrow morning, according to Sid. So I won't bother taking it to the docks," Lucian said, brushing his hands after dumping the fragments of his old bed-frame outside the shop's front doorway. They figured that he didn't need it now he had their father's room, so an eager Val had somehow convinced him to dismantle it there and then, in order to allow herself time before Bessie arrived to rearrange everything still in there to her liking.
"What about the mattress?" she asked, passing him a cup of tea that had probably crossed the line from warm to cold a while ago.
"I'll just burn it later on. No-one's going to want it."
He swallowed with a grimace, and patted his stomach, which Val realised was the source of the grumbling noise she could hear every now and then.
"Now...do I wait for Bess, or do I go and get some chips?"
"I'd say get the chips, but chances are she's bringing something with her," Val said, glancing inside and not liking what the clock hanging above the forge told her. "Although...it's dinnertime up at the Keep, so she's going to be a while."
"Then sod it. We just won't tell her," Lucian declared, ducking back into the shop, and re-emerging soon after with a purse in his hand. "I'll go now, that way I'll be back before she even leaves."
"Can I go?" Val asked, holding her hand out for the purse.
"Why?"
"Because I want to."
"You're not going to the Keep, are you?"
"No! I just want to get some fresh air, that's all," Val insisted, thrusting her hand out again like a defiant child.
Lucian was reluctant, but then, he knew deep down that 'big brother' didn't equal 'father'. So with a sigh, he handed it over.
"I want the change."
"With the amount you normally eat, there won't be any," Val joked, and before she could take another step, Lucian called her back, and gave her a few more coins.
"Go to the florist. Get something for Dad. We're going later, Bessie or no Bessie."
"Right," was all Val said to that.
She went inside, grabbed her coat, and waved goodbye as she left, not needing to even think about the route she was taking, so ingrained was it in her head from years of treading the exact same cobblestones that dug into her feet with every step.
Even the sound of the main square was the same; every shout, squeaking of carriages and clop of hooves was blissfully familiar, and it made Val feel absolutely no confliction about her decision to come back. Brinewick had been good to her, she would never deny that. But it wasn't home. Not like Stormwind was.
The smell of fresh bread drew her to the baker's, which had been run by the same couple ever since Val had been born. Their presence was quite a comfort nowadays, especially for those who were reluctant to accept any sort of changes- which Val had to admit, the older she got, she could completely sympathise with.
What baffled her, however, was the large crowed amassed outside it. As far as she knew, there was no national holiday taking place, nor was there some sort of tournament. Yet there were droves of mostly women and children gathered about the large wooden gates leading to the forest proper, and after much deliberation, Val found it impossible to resist joining them and asking the nearest person for any sort of explanation.
"Didn't you hear? The troop from Black Morass has returned!"
Now Val understood. She hated to admit it, but she was no stranger to the delightful anticipation of receiving a loved one from the front lines; the amount of campaigns that Varian had taken part in over the years were too many to count.
Exactly why they had left in the first place, she wasn't able to gather, for the gates had opened, and a charge of exhausted, yet relieved men and women covered head to toe in heavy steel plate drudged through them, all dispersing at the sight of their loved ones, and gaining rapturous applause for it.
Val would've joined in, but she was too busy attempting to make a hasty retreat. She had seen the banners, heard the bugles, and knew full well what that meant. It meant a member of the royal family was with the parade, and since she knew that King Llane wouldn't place himself in any kind of battlefield , it could only mean one person was about to ride into the city. The one damned person she hadn't wanted to see.
It was too late by the time a gap wide enough for her to slip through appeared. She felt her throat swell, and her heart clench, as her hazel eyes met and locked with the bright blue ones of Varian Wrynn, who stared as if he'd seen a ghost.
He knew better than to call out to her. At least, that was what Val told herself as she tried desperately to make her legs move as they were supposed to. Thankfully, he proved her right, and only made one attempt to turn his horse around before obeying the bellows of his superiors, and reluctantly cantering on- presumably, towards the Keep. But still, she watched his neck crane every now and then, as if to make sure that he'd definitely not gone mad, and she had indeed been there.
She wanted to run. But there was no point now. Varian knew she was in Stormwind, and that fact alone was about to cause a hurricane of turmoil- for the both of them.
"Did you see her? Anduin- did you see her?"
"All I saw was you acting the fool in front of the people. Something that doesn't really surprise me nowadays," huffed Anduin Lothar, the head of the Stormish army and lifelong friend of Varian's father.
"It had to be her. There's no one else it could've been," Varian muttered, with his fingers fumbling over the buckle of his scabbard. A weight was lifted from his back, and he handed his sword, an elven blade called Shalamayne, to the nearest groom, not caring whether the boy could actually bear the weight of the weapon before surging in front of Anduin.
"She looks the same. Three years, and she looks the damned same."
"I wish I could say the same for you," Anduin quipped, running a hand down his greyed beard. "The sooner you let me put a knife to that hair of yours, the better."
"My hair isn't important right now," Varian snapped, but deep down, he could see what the older man meant. Val (if it had indeed been her) may have looked identical to when he'd last seen her, but he looked worlds away from the prince she'd known.
With a long, thick ponytail in place of the cropped, neat waves he'd prided himself on back then, and a brush of scruffy, wiry whiskers covering the bottom half of his face, she probably didn't even recognise him.
"I need to go back."
"No, you bloody well don't. Varian, it's been three months since you've seen your father, the least you can do is sit at a table with him before you go gallivanting again."
"Don't give me another lecture, Anduin. I'm entitled to spend my free time as I want."
"Sneaking away in the dead of night and drinking a tavern dry is not the way to do it. Especially when you're a prince."
"Oh aye, because you never did the same thing when you were my age."
"I did, but the difference between us is I knew when to stop," Anduin said, and despite his harsh tone, there was a softness that one could almost call concern in his eyes.
"You hold onto things far too much- it's your biggest weakness, and if you're not careful, it's going to ruin your life one day."
"A tankard or two of cheap ale won't make things any worse than they already are," Varian murmured, setting his jaw.
"There is nothing that abhorrent in your life that excuses the shit you do, Varian. Not anymore."
"And that just proves to me that you don't understand a damn thing about it," Varian replied, coming to a stop just in front of the Lion's Throne, which thankfully, stood unoccupied at the head of the large, circular chamber that housed it.
"The only thing that I need to 'understand' is that you're putting your father in an early grave!"
"Good! The sooner he gets there, the better."
"You don't mean that."
"I do, Anduin. For the minute I'm king, I'm dissolving this farce of a marriage, and getting my life back. A life he ruined."
"Your mother-"
"Don't you dare bring her into this-"
"Your mother would be ashamed of every word you just said, you ungrateful little bastard!" Anduin roared, ignoring how his gruff voice echoed loud enough to probably be heard down the many hallways branching from the throne room.
"She was on my side about the whole thing!"
"That doesn't mean that she'd want you to curse your father in such a way!"
"Well she's not here to tell me one way or the other, is she?" Varian huffed, turning on his heel and alerting an already irate Anduin.
"Where the hells are you going?"
"To the kitchens. I have a dwarf to interrogate," Varian spat, glad that the sparse number of staff that were milling about the chamber moved swiftly out of his way, for he wanted to give the older man no chance of yanking him back by the collar- as he had done many times before.
"Your father's expecting you!" was Anduin's final attempt to further his point, and to his credit, it almost worked, for Varian's step faltered just by a tiny margin.
"He can wait!"
It didn't take long for Varian to reach the kitchens; since he was a child, he'd known where to find every secreted walkway, and disguised staircase that provided a quicker route than the Keep's main halls. There was a slight regret to his choice, however, for all the while it took for him to descend, he could hear the ghostly echoes of children playing endless rounds of hide-and-seek, and chirping to each other on how many cakes they would eat once they got there.
"Simpler times..." he muttered, ignoring how a mouse scurried brazenly by his feet, and using a hand against the wall to guide him down, since the rail was too low down for his six foot seven stature to use comfortably.
What he wouldn't trade to be that child again. After all that had happened, he'd decided that adulthood was completely and utterly overrated, and nothing but a punishment for not appreciating just how many carefree moments that came with being young.
He hadn't appreciated Val back then, either. Not until she'd reached basic maturity, and the three years between their births suddenly hadn't caused as much of a chasm in terms of their interests. Out of nowhere, they'd decided to be reading partners in the library, and go riding through Elwynn as if they hadn't actively tried to kill each other a few years before.
He hadn't meant for things to escalate beyond that. But escalate they had, and by the time he'd known what was happening, he'd been in far too deep to stop it, and quite frankly, he hadn't wanted to.
So of course the Light, being as malevolent as he was beginning to suspect it to be, had chosen to drag him back to open air, kicking and screaming, just as his life was about to become perfect.
It'd all come crashing down like a house of cards, and here he was at the end of it, alone, and despairing for any hope of happiness in his dismal existence.
But maybe, just maybe, things were about to change once again- and all being well, it would be for the better.
The kitchens were a hot, noisy place. As soon as he opened the door, a wave of steam that smelt of four different kinds of vegetables hit his face, and left it covered in an uncomfortably warm dew. The clattering of pots and pans, shouting of cooks, and roaring of the many fires assaulted his senses, especially his hearing, which was impaired due to an old battle injury.
He foolishly anticipated having to fight his way through the crowded chamber, but of course, as soon as someone noticed him standing there, they bellowed 'Your Highness!', and all stopped what they were doing in order to bow to him.
"I'm looking for Cookmaster Fairfeast," he informed them, feeling the same awkwardness that he always did whenever he was shown such reverence.
"She's in the pantry, Your Highness," said a young redhead, who added a pointing finger to her parting lips, as if hours of Varian's youth hadn't been spent raiding the exact chamber for cake and pies.
He didn't bother thanking her, for he was sure that if his own mouth opened, the wrong tone would be used, or an uncouth word would be snapped at someone who didn't deserve it.
Instead, he marched through the staff as if they were reeds in a pond, and appreciated the speed in which they parted for him. The door to the pantry was ajar, with just enough room for Varian's bulky frame to slip through without alerting Bessie to his presence.
Looking back, he would probably regret how hard he slammed it shut behind him. But in the moment, it seemed the perfect way to gain both the privacy that the impending conversation needed, and the unwavering attention of the dwarven woman, who jumped a foot in the air, and whirled on a boot heel to berate whoever had caused such distress for her.
"Wha' in t' bloody hells- Varian!" she squeaked, with a wide, toothy grin covering most of her ruddy face. "Yer back! Ah thought ye were in the Morass till next week!"
"Our plans changed," was the curt reply that Varian gave her.
She moved to embrace him, and on any other day, he would've happily accepted it. But today, he stood back, and glared down at her hard enough to stop her in her tracks, and make her smile completely disappear.
"Wha's happened, laddie? Did the battle go bad?" she asked, and in his anger, Varian couldn't tell whether the concern painting her accented voice was genuine, or just a ruse to throw him off the trail he'd set himself upon.
"The battle went well. It was when I returned that things went awry," he told her, trying so hard to keep his composure that he was sure that his limbs were starting to vibrate.
"Oh...did ye see yer daddy already?"
It was a fair assumption to make. For the past three years, Varian had lain out in great detail the troubles that he and his father were going through, and each time, Bessie had listened, and advised him better than anyone actually paid to do the job had. So it made sense for her to think his bad temper was due to their reunion.
"No, I haven't. He's waiting for me upstairs, however, so I'll make this quick," Varian said, flexing and clenching his fists, almost as if he were preparing for a fight.
"I'd appreciate tha'," Bessie admitted. "Ah've actually got somewhere ah need ta be."
Varian knew then that he had her bang to rights. It was common knowledge- in fact, it was a running joke, that Bessie barely ever left her post. She'd work any hour the Light sent her, and there were few things in the world that would be worthy of her abandonment.
One of those few things were the Glenmore children.
"Oh really? Where are you going?"
"Ah, ye know...just t' tavern wit' a few friends."
"You hate the tavern."
"Ye hate cookin', yet yer in th' kitchens.'
"Did my father give you permission to leave?"
"Aye, he did."
"And did Val say what time she wanted you over?"
"Aye, about three, so they had ti- ah!"
Her cheeks turned a great crimson, and her meaty hands curled and waved in an attempt to distract Varian whilst she rushed to think of a good cover up.
"Ah mean, nae, she didnae, cause ah'm not seein' Val!"
"So why are you in here taking food, if not to feed her and Lucian?!"
"Because ah eat too, ye knucklehead! Ah hadn't time to make anythin' fer meself, so ah thought i'd borrow somethin'."
"You're lying!"
"Ah am not!"
"Yes you are Bess- I know you are. Because I saw her. I saw Val, with my own damned eyes!"
He frantically wiped at his face to rid it of frustrated tears, and took the long silence that fell between them as a chance to steady his erratic breathing. It didn't work, but he no longer felt on the edge of a complete meltdown, so that was something, he supposed.
"...Where did ye supposedly see 'er?"
"By the gates, during the parade. She was in the crowd."
"Are you sure it was her?"
"Bessie, please, don't treat me like a moron."
A sigh sounded rather melancholy when it came from such a jolly woman. But come it did, and it told Varian all that he needed to know.
"When?"
She couldn't meet his eye, but she answered.
"This mornin'."
"Why?"
"She didnae tell me."
"I told you to stop lying."
"Ah promise ye, Varian, I ain't. All she told me was that they were comin' back. That's all."
"Permanently?"
It vexed him to be so incapable of asking more elaborate questions. He supposed it was just his exhaustion catching up with him that proved the cause, and both he and Bessie would simply have to humour it until he fell into bed later and let his body rest.
"As far as ah know, aye," Bessie said, taking a great risk and reaching out until her large hand rested on Varian's forearm. To her relief, he didn't throw it off, or snap at her to do it herself. Instead, he simply stood there staring, as if he were watching the snake that was about to bite him. "Ah know it's a shock, lad."
"That's putting it lightly," Varian huffed, with a hard swallow doing nothing for his bubbling emotions. "You know, I was actually coming to terms with the fact that I'd never see her again. I didn't like it, not in the least, but I was accepting that was the way of things."
"They still are t' way of things," Bessie stressed, taking her hand away and instead folding her arms in a manner only scolding mothers could perfect. She wasn't one herself, but she'd cared for enough children in her near three hundred years to earn the right to use it whenever she pleased. "Ye cannae see 'er. Not now."
"Who says that I can't?"
"Someone who loves t' bones of ye, and doesnae want ye hurtin' more than ye already are. Either of ye."
That caught Varian's attention.
"Bessie...tell me truthfully- how is she?"
There was a long pause, and it gave him absolutely no confidence in her answer. But still, he awaited it, for it's importance held no bounds, and he was certain that she knew that- hence why she was trying to concoct the perfect one.
"She's...as well as one would expect," she said after a long while. The hem of her apron was worried through fidgeting fingers, and Varian couldn't help but watch them during the agonising silence that she introduced in order to think her words over just a little more.
"Ah cannae say anythin' fer certain, mind you, cause ah've not actually seen 'er yet. But from her letters, it seems she's gettin' on fine."
"Has there been anyone?"
"Oh come on, Varian, ye donnae wanna know such a thing."
"I do. So much, that i'll ask again. Has there been anyone else since she left?"
"No. Tha's the one thing ah can be certain of."
"You're sure?"
"Aye. If there had been, ah'm sure someone would've told me. But ah've not heard a word on t' subject."
Strangely, that made Varian feel a slight percentage better. True, it made him sound like a controlling maniac, but to know that she'd not moved on to someone potentially far worse than himself was a small comfort.
"Thank you."
"Fer wha'?"
"For proving that you're still the only person in this Keep that treats me like a normal man," Varian said, straightening to his full height again. "Others would've either brushed me off just now, or fed me a load of codswallop."
"They only do it t' spare ye feelins', lad."
"Maybe I don't want my feelings spared. Maybe I want to be given a harsh truth. At least then I'll manage to actually feel something."
"Yer a good boy, Varian. I've always said it."
" 'A good boy' wouldn't have driven away the love of his life in order to marry some harlot that his father picked out for him," Varian huffed.
"Oi, come on now, Lady Ellerian ain't that bad."
"Aye, but she's not good, either. She doesn't like any of the things I do, and conversations with her are a chore. It was never that way with Val."
That was when Bessie could swear on her soul that an honest, true smile appeared on his weary features.
"Everything flowed so naturally with her. I think it's because the words 'Your Highness' were never uttered."
"Nae- she just called you a bastard instead."
It had meant to be a joke, but apparently, judging by his expression, Varian didn't find it very funny.
"She called me worse when we separated," he grunted, losing the smile that Bessie had fought so hard for him to achieve and replacing it with a black anger. "Liar, user, demon...there were a few more, but I daren't soil your ears with them."
"Ah expect she regrets all of tha'."
"Has she said as much?"
"Nae, but ah can hazard a confident guess. She's nae the sort of person to hold on to her anger."
"Unlike me, you mean?"
"Ah was tryin' not t' say it."
"You didn't have to. I'm well aware of the absolute animal that I've become since she left. Even more so, of how ashamed I am of the fact."
"Then maybe this is yer chance t' do somethin' about it!" Bessie suggested, holding his arm and feeling no fear of repercussion for the gesture. "A clean slate. Ah'll even help ye, if ye want."
"How?"
"By gettin' ye sobered up, fer a start."
"I'm sober already."
"Aye, because ye've been in Lothar's company, and he doesnae take yer shit," Bessie pointed out, and despite how he wanted to protest such an observation, Varian found it impossible to do anything but agree. "But ah know ye well enough t' know there's already a bottle of whiskey waitin' in yer chambers."
He couldn't meet her gaze, and his shoulders started to shift.
"It helps me sleep."
"Varian, ye asked me not ta treat ye stupid. Give me the same courtesy."
White hot shame washed over Varian's skin, and he felt his throat run dry.
"...It's all I've thought about since leaving camp."
Of course, he'd been fully expecting the loud sigh, the cluck of her tongue, and the muttered curse, but that didn't make any of them easier for him to hear from someone he held in such esteem. It made him feel as if he was speaking with his mother, and that alone was enough to make angry tears prick the corner of his eyes.
"Ye cannae go on like this, Varian."
"It's how I cope."
"There are better ways t' do it!"
"If there are, I certainly haven't found them!"
"Because ye've nae looked fer 'em. Which is why ah'm tellin' ye t' let me help!"
"And how exactly do you intend on doing that, hm? I've already tried locking myself in my chambers, and finding substitutions for it. Nothing's worked."
"Wha' if ah made ye a deal?"
"What kind of 'deal'?" Varian asked, rightly suspicious of how Bessie's lips were mashing together.
"One tha' ah think will be sweet enough to give you all the willpower you need."
"Explain."
"...If ye stop t' drink- or at least slow down...ah'll talk te Val fer ye."
It was tempting. Very tempting. In fact, it was everything Varian had wanted from this confrontation in the first place. But something in his gut told him that such a route was not a good one to tread, and before he could stop himself, he was shaking his head.
"Don't use her like that, Bess. If she ever decides to speak to me, I want it to be on her terms," he declared, sitting himself upon a nearby barrel and only continuing once he was certain it wasn't about to break underneath his weight. "Besides, if I'm going to do this, I need to do it because I want to, not because you bribed me."
"And do you? Want to, I mean?"
"Yes and no," Varian admitted, linking his fingers as if that would make them stop fidgeting. "'Yes', because I would love to crawl out of the hole I've put myself into. 'No', because it's going to make me face reality head on, and I'm not sure whether I'm ready to do that yet."
"Honestly? Ah donnae think anyone in this world is ever ready t' do such a thing," Bessie said, patting his shoulder now that he was at the same height as her. "But we do it anyway. Cause we have t'."
"I've made a cock up of every good thing in my life, Bess..."
"Aye, but yer young. There's still time t' fix it."
She gave the same shoulder a squeeze in order to both comfort him, and bring his waning attention to her.
"Startin' wit gettin' yer backside upstairs, and tidying up afore ye see yer daddy."
"Oh yes, because sitting across a table from him isn't going to make me want to drink more, is it?"
"Probably. But yer gonna prove yer a boy of yer word, and not give in. No matter what he says."
There was a silent command to her words that of course, Varian picked up on. He wasn't sure whether he actually appreciated them, but they were acknowledged.
A thought struck him in that moment. He fell silent as he contemplated whether to heed it or not, and Bessie noticed the change in his demeanour almost instantly.
"Varian?"
"Would you deliver something for me?" Varian asked, springing to his feet. There was a sudden fire in his eyes, and while it was one that Bessie knew from long before, and was actually quite happy to see again, she was wary of how animated he'd suddenly become.
"Aye...depends wha' it is."
"A letter. That's all."
"For wh- oh, no, Varian-"
"I know, it's playing with fire. But I think it'll provide the closure I need. Give her everything on a plate, then let her decide," Varian explained, starting to pace as he mapped out the admittedly insane plan in his own head.
"And if she decides ta burn it?"
"Then that's entirely her choice. But I would've said it, and that's what matters."
"Ye honestly want me t' go tonight and give her a letter from ye, five minutes after she gets back?"
"Of course I don't!" Varian protested, realising how foolish his haste had made him sound. "That would make a complete bastard of me, and Light help me, I'm not quite at that point yet."
His pacing started up again, which was a great worry to Bessie, who was trying to read every inch of his face in order to ascertain what absurd notion was about to leave his mouth next, and completely failing at it.
"My father's been on at me to go with him on progress to Westfall, in order to finalise everything with Lord Ellerian," he continued, feeling his tongue blacken with every word. "He's arranged it for next week. That's when I'll give it to you. That way, I'm not here for her to feel pressured by."
"Yer actually willing t' go make wedding arrangements in order for me t' give it t' her?" Bessie asked, sounding appropriately dubious.
"I'm willing to do whatever it bloody well takes," Varian replied, coming to a stop and looking down at her with steeled eyes. "The wedding will go ahead, no matter what I do now. So I may as well stop fighting it. What I will not stop fighting for, however, is Val's forgiveness. And if I can get it before then, than maybe I wont feel so much like it's my funeral."
"Tha'...tha's actually very mature of ye."
"Yes, well, it had to happen at some point."
Finally, the two of them shared a smile, and Bessie even managed to pat his cheek without slapping it, as she had wanted to when he'd first confronted her.
"Alright, Lad. Ye've a deal."
"Thank you, Bess," Varian said, kissing the same hand that had just rested on his face, and giving it a light squeeze before letting go.
"Ye can thank me by goin' and getting' cleaned up. Ye stink like a rams arse."
"I probably look it as well."
"Aye, well, ah was wishin t' be polite," Bessie joked, following him to the door of the pantry, where she had no doubts that every single one of her brigade were huddled listening.
To their credit, they weren't to be seen once Varian opened it, and there was not a noise as she beckoned him down for one last embrace before they parted.
"I cannae make any promises, ye know tha', don' ye?"
"Of course I do. All I ask is that you try."
"Ah will. But only cause it's ye," Bessie said, waving him off. "Now go on, ye've a daddy t' eat with."
"What do we have tonight?"
"Ribs and green bean casserole. Ah made it special, so ah expect a clean plate from ye fer it."
Her intentions were badly hidden, but appreciated. Varian knew that she was trying to treat him as his own mother would, were she still here, and that included goading him into eating a meal that he was sure that on a typical day, especially lately, he wouldn't have touched. In fact, before this morning, his plan had been the usual- to substitute it with a liquid dinner instead.
"I'll do my best."
"Good boy. Right, off wit' ye- ah've two more mouths ta feed tonight, and ye know what Val will be like if ah'm late doin' it."
"Aye, I do," Varian chuckled, giving her one last peck upon her ruddy cheek before turning on his heel, and trying to conceal the hopeful smile that was creeping onto his face as he left the kitchens.
"Bess? What's this?" Val asked as she lifted an envelope from the shop's counter. It'd been nearly two weeks since she and Lucian had returned to Stormwind, and only now were things straightened enough for her to notice the smaller details- like a letter she was sure hadn't been delivered by the courier this morning.
"Wha's wha?"
Val lifted the envelope higher.
"This."
"Why, ah do believe tha's somethin' called a 'letter', my dear," Bessie teased, serving up the dinner that she'd once again snuck from the Keep for the both of them. This time, it was Val's favourite- salmon parcels with a cheese sauce, and roasted vegetables.
"But I wasn't expecting a-"
Val's voice died in her throat, and her chest deflated enough to make her ribs hurt as she turned the envelope over, and found the seal of Stormwind's royal family set upon the back of it. She didn't have to question Bessie any further on its origins, for they were now abundantly obvious.
Of course, it wasn't as if she hadn't seen this coming. Ever since their run-in at the parade, she'd been bracing herself for the moment that Varian made contact with her. But as the days had disappeared, she'd begun to wonder whether it was ever to arrive at all.
So to now be holding what could quite possibly be the last she ever did hear from him, was overwhelming to say the least. She had no idea what was written on the pages sitting within the envelope that still sat unopened in her shaking hands, and was reluctant to admit that she was scared to find out.
"...When did he give this to you?" she asked Bessie, figuring that since the dwarf had played messenger with it, she knew every detail of its creation.
"A few days ago. Afore he and his Da left."
"Do you know what it says?"
"Nae. Ah just promised t' deliver it."
"You don't have to read it, Riccy," Lucian said, abandoning the logbook that he'd been hunched over for the past hour. "You can just burn it, and forget it ever existed."
"I know."
But did she want to? That was the question that swum about Val's addled mind like a lost fish.
One the one hand, opening the letter meant that the wound their parting had brought would do the same thing, and would force them both to confront the pain that had been festering since then. On the other, she could leave, or even destroy it, and lose the one chance she had at finding out whether their separation had been as hard on him as it had her- something she was sure that she would deeply regret in the long term.
"I think i'll read this in my room," she declared, not giving Bessie, nor Lucian, a chance to protest the decision, and closing the door behind her. Her bed felt as hard as a rock as she sank onto it, and with trembling fingers, broke the seal in half.
A deep, anxious breath burned at her lungs, and she carefully unfolded the thick parchment nestled within.
It didn't take long for her to read the two pages, but once she had, she felt hot tears running freely down her face, and had no desire to stop them.
He still loved her. After everything, he still loved her, and bore no resentment towards her for the sorrow he'd obviously been going through in her absence. In fact, the apologies he presented to her were so great in number that Val was sure if they were removed, the missive would only be the length of half a page.
She didn't know what to do. But then, she did, really.
She had to see him. She had to speak with him. She had to do all the things she swore she wouldn't.
It was the only way to make their lives the easiest they could be.
She read the letter again. Then again. Then again, until her eyes started to blur from repetition. Each time, she came to the same conclusion.
She needed him, and he clearly needed her.
"Val? Love, yer tea's gettin' cold."
Bessie's voice was gentle as it drifted through the door, but Val still felt like she was shouting, simply because she could hear the underlying question within it.
"I'm just coming," Val replied, forcing herself to rise, and opening the door. In her hand still sat the letter, and Bessie, who was patiently awaiting her, reached out to pat her arm without even a word being spoken between them.
"Ye donnae have t' do anythin' ye donnae want, Val. Even Varian said so."
"I said some awful things to him, Bess...and I didn't mean any of them," Val choked. "If he's willing to listen, I think that the least I can do is tell him so."
She looked down at her.
"When is he back?"
"Ah donnae know exactly," Bessie admitted, guiding her to the dinner table, where Lucian was already digging in. "Ah'll ask Wyll in mornin'."
"Thank you. I want to get this over and done with."
"You're not seriously going back to him?" Lucian asked, clearly missing his sister's intentions. She couldn't exactly blame the conclusion he'd come to, all things considered, but that didn't mean she appreciated it.
"I'm not 'going back'. It's just one conversation."
"One you said-"
"Yeah, I know what I said. But now I'm saying something else, alright?"
"See? I fucking told you this would happen," Lucian fumed, throwing his fork down. "Before we left Brinewick, I asked you outright whether you wanted to come back for him. And you said 'no'. You swore to me that we were coming back for the money. Now we're here, you've done nothing but concern yourself with Varian bloody Wrynn."
"What the hells did you expect, Luce?! We've been friends since I was four. He was the first boy I loved, the first I ever kissed, the first...first everything! How the fuck was I just going to forget all of that, especially when he's only forty minutes away!"
"Right! The both of ye, shut up and sit down!" bellowed Bessie, whose large hands slammed upon the table hard enough to make it shake.
"Lucian, ye've every right ta be concerned. If It were my sister sayin' all this, ah would be too."
"Thank you. So now, you see-"
"But," Bessie continued, holding a warning finger up. "Val's a big girl. If she wants t' see where things go, and sort them out fer herself, it's her choice, and ye've no say in it."
She turned to look at her Light-daughter, who'd gone eerily quiet.
"If she wants her best friend back, then whose t' stop her?"
"You have Jimmy, and Sam, and Paddy. I have no one. Trixie moved to Lordaeron, Fran to Samarkand. None of the people I knew are still here. Except Varian. We've had so much upheaval in our lives, Luce...can't you just let me have this one consistent thing?"
"Dad would be losing his mind, if he were here."
"Nae, he wouldnae. He would want his daughter t' be happy, and clearly, right now, she isn't," Bessie protested.
"Lucian, ah understand that yer the head of the family now that 'Kir's gone. But that doesnae give you the right t' dictate wha' she does. She'll not learn anythin' of life that way."
Lucian clearly knew at that point that he'd been outmatched, but that didn't stop him from giving his sibling a hard, cold stare as he slumped back into his seat.
"Fine. But don't you dare come running to me when it all goes tits up."
"Fine," Val repeated, finally picking up her fork and stabbing it into a slice of carrot. She then turned to her Lightmother, effectively ending the conversation with her brother, whether he liked it or not. "Would you be willing to play middle man a little longer, Bess?"
"Do ah honestly have a choice?"
"...I'll make it up to you."
"Course ye will," Bessie chuckled, wiping her hands on a nearby cloth. "Go on then. Wha' dya want me t' tell him?"
"Well, obviously tell him that I want to meet. But not at the Keep," Val started, waving her hands about to compensate for how much she was stumbling over every syllable. "And not here either. Tell him to meet me in Elwynn, by the lake."
"Elwynn, by t' lake..." Bessie repeated, quickly scribbling the instructions onto the bottom of the shopping list that the three of them had written earlier on. "...Why t' lake?"
"Because it's a place we both know," Val explained. "We went there a lot, before."
"Tha' sounds a little like playin' with fire there, lass."
"I'm fully aware of that, but I need things to be as calm as possible if we're going to talk properly," Val insisted, taking another mouthful, much to Bessie's delight.
"Aye, and if he says something you don't like, you can always push him in," Lucian chuckled, earning a half-playful kick to his shin underneath the table.
"Shut up, you," Val snapped, trying and failing to hide a smirk, for the notion was one that her brother had always given whenever she'd told him and their father that she was going out to Mirror Lake. It brought a strange sense of comfortable nostalgia to hear him say it again, and in turn, a slither of confidence about her decision made its way into her uneasy heart.
"Now, ah'll warn ye Val, 'e ain't t' same Varian ye know," said Bessie, as if she could sense the little cloud that her Light-daughter was starting to float on, and wished to bring her back to earth.
"I think I got that from the absolute state of him," Val grumbled. "I've never seen his hair that long before."
"Och, t' hairs t' least of yer worries," Bessie scoffed. "It's what's inside him that's the scruffiest thing."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, ah didnae tell ye this, but since Taria died, he's a different boy. Angry, all the time. Barely at the Keep, and drinking like a sailor. It's like someone's swapped 'im with a doppleganger."
"Drinking? Varian's drinking?!"
The panic in Val's voice was far too obvious, but she didn't care. As she'd known him, Varian barely imbibed in anything stronger than a pear cider, so focused was he on keeping himself in peak condition- for both the army's sake, and for his own health. So to hear he was fighting those values now worried her to her very core.
"How bad is it?"
"Val..."
"How bad is it, Bess?"
"Bad. He's on a bottle a day."
"Of what? Please say 'ale'."
"Kharanos whiskey. He gets it imported."
"Fucking hell...that stuff knocks you out in a second," Lucian pointed out, and despite his anger at the prince only mere moments ago, sounded genuinely concerned, much to Val's relief.
"He's a big lad, so it doesn't do it as quickly," Bessie countered, fiddling nervously with one of the rings decorating her fingers. "That and...well, t' be frank, 'es become very good at hiding it."
"Then that's another condition you can give him before he comes to meet me," Val declared. "He has to be completely, absolutely sober. Tell him that if I even smell a hint of drink on him, he'll never see me again."
"Bit drastic, don't you think?"
"Being drastic is the only thing that works on drinkers- you know that from Grand-da," Val retorted, turning in her seat to make sure that Bessie could see how serious she was.
"I mean it, Bess. Cold, stone sober, or this doesn't happen."
"Fine. Ah'll tell 'im so."
"Thank you," Val said, feeling her head beginning to throb. So much in fact, that the food in front of her didn't seem appealing at all, and she felt the sudden urge to push her plate away. Of course, Bessie noticed this, and Val quietly explained that she was tired, and left the two of them in order to prepare herself for what would probably be the most important moment of her young life.
Varian's heart beat in perfect time with the hooves of his horse as the two of them flew down the main road leading from Goldshire to Mirror Lake. The sun had barely risen, ensuring that the forest ahead of him was quiet enough to travel without the worry of animal or merchant obstructing his path, which fed his almost feral need to reach his destination in as little time as possible.
Typically, he wouldn't care about his punctuality so much. But today was different. Today, it wasn't his father, or Lothar who awaited his arrival. It was Val.
In truth, he hadn't believed Bessie when she'd told him of her agreement to meet. Not at first, anyway. It had seemed too good to be true, and his chronic pessimism had dismissed the very idea of it. But then she'd shown him a reply to his letter, written in Val's own hand, and finally, a spark of hope had ignited within him.
He'd taken on board all of her conditions, tried his damnedest to honour them, and waited with bated breath for three days to pass.
Now they had, and he was only mere minutes away from seeing her again.
To say he was terrified would be an understatement. Since he'd first departed, a million and one thoughts had ran through his head; what if he got there, and she decided that she hated what she saw? Or learnt of the life he'd led, and make her disgust for him as plain as the nose on his face?
Such blackened ruminations hung off of him like a putrid cloak, and he was sure they would maintain their iron grip until he reached the lake, and gauged for himself how she felt about the man he'd become in her absence.
A cool breeze started to blow over his skin, telling him in no uncertain terms that he was almost there, making him all the more nervous. As not to intimidate her with a barrelling entrance, he brought his horse to a gentle stop, and patted the beasts neck as he tied its reins to a nearby tree.
"I may be back in a minute, my friend. Don't get too comfortable just yet," he told it, taking a chunk of apple from the bag hanging from his saddle, and placating the cob with it just enough to leave him behind.
The tall, winter crisped grass whipped at his calves, and the overhanging branches made it difficult for a man of his height to progress any further without having to duck quite a few times, but eventually, he made it, and took all of three seconds to look about before spotting Val.
He realised then that his insistence upon the fact that she looked exactly the same wasn't down to a trick of his eye. Up close, it was all the more apparent; everything, from the curls sitting on her shoulders, to the freckles dotting her nose...even the way she stood was identical.
He'd always teased her for it, telling her that she wasn't a ballerina, so she didn't need to perch herself on the balls of her feet all the time. It always earned him a swat, or a dirty glare. But eventually, she'd forgive him, and find something to tease him right back for, making all right with the world.
There was no incentive to tease her now. If anything, Varian was gladdened to see such quirks again, for it meant that not all had changed. It was as if he were crossing a portal into the past- a past that he was beyond desperate to return to.
His voice was usually meek as it called her name, but still, she heard him, and turned quickly enough to tell him straight away that she was just as nervous as he was.
"You knew where to come then."
It was a statement, not a question, and strangely, Varian appreciated that.
"Of course I did."
He looked out on the lake, using its rippling waters as a distraction as his feet autonomously moved toward her.
"I'll admit, I was surprised that you chose here, of all places."
"It's quiet," was all the explanation he was getting. But he didn't mind; she was speaking, and that was enough to give him oceans of patience with her.
"I brought food. Do you want some?"
"If that's alright?"
"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't."
"Then yes, please."
It was such mundane, pathetic conversation, and it irked Varian that things had fallen so far. Usually, they would greet each other, then spout for hours about what had happened in the days they hadn't seen each other, and branch off to a million and one tangents until the time came for them to part again.
"Did Bessie make these?" he asked as she handed over a sandwich, meticulously wrapped in a scarf to protect it from the many insects buzzing around.
"No- she didn't have time, so I told her that I would," Val said, glancing over at him and noticing how he hadn't taken a bite yet, when she'd known him as a complete glutton, incapable of leaving a morsel untouched for more than a few seconds. "They're not poisoned, if that's what you think."
"Well, I can never be too careful with your cooking," Varian retorted, surprising himself with how swiftly his consciousness had decided that he was well within his rights to be funny, when really, the situation called for the opposite approach.
"I've gotten better since then."
"Clearly- this is delicious."
Finally, a whisper of a smile started to tug at the corner of her pursed lips. It was being fought against, anyone with half a brain could see that, but it meant that the rock hard ice between them had the potential of melting, which was gladly welcomed by the hopeful prince.
"Thanks," Val replied, looking over at him again, but this time, there was a hint of sternness in her eyes- the same possessed by a mother when she and her child were leaving the house.
"I don't like your hair like that."
"No-one does."
"Then why not cut it?"
"Because I don't have anyone to impress anymore, so there's no point."
Val tried not to wince at the genuine hurt in his voice- especially because she was about to make it worse.
"I heard about your mum."
Varian stiffened.
"Bessie?"
"Yes," Val affirmed, wondering how exactly she was to say this. "Can I ask how?"
"You can. But I won't have an answer," Varian admitted, staring off over the lake. "All I remember is her complaining of a headache one day, then a few more passed, and 'poof', she was gone."
"Sounds like what happened to my dad."
"I did think that at the time."
"That just makes me all the sorrier that I wasn't there."
"Don't say that."
"Why not?"
"Because we both know that I should be sorry that you weren't there. Not you."
"Varian-"
"No, no...let me say this, please," he asked, throwing his food down onto the blanket and turning to face her.
"If it hadn't been for me, none of the shit we went through would've ever happened."
"That's not entirely true," argued Val.
"It's not exactly a lie, either," countered Varian. "Think about it, Val. If I'd paid more attention where it counted, I could've prevented this whole mess."
"Alright, if we're going that route...yes, you could have found out about the betrothal sooner," she said, but her grimace told Varian that there was a very important 'but' coming.
"But...that wouldn't have changed how much it hurt us. We would've been in the exact same position, just a bit younger."
It was an undeniable fact, but that didn't make it any easier for either of them to swallow. Silence befell them once again, to the point where Varian wondered whether they'd ruined their chances already.
"Would you have left? If we'd found out sooner?"
"Probably not. In all honesty,Varian, the leaving part had little to do with what happened to us," Val confessed, bringing her knees to her chest and hugging them tight. "It was much more to do with Dad."
"He was a good man."
"So I've heard. From every single bloody person in Stormwind."
"If it helps, I've had the same about my mother."
"Aye, so you know how suffocating it all is."
"I do. So I completely understand why you chose to run. I would've, had I the choice."
"You don't hate me for it?"
"Of course not," Varian affirmed, much to her delight. Apparently it showed, for his own features brightened by the tiniest margin, and his limbs lost a fraction of the stiffness they'd exhibited since he'd sat down.
"Was I completely devastated by the fact that I would potentially never see you again? Yes. Did I think you a bitch for doing what you obviously thought was right for you? Not at all."
"I didn't hate you either, in the end," Val admitted, feeling the weight that had been lying dead centre on her chest lift a little bit more. "I realised pretty early on that what had happened was out of your control. In fact, I think that's what I was more angry about."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I was angry on your behalf at the entire betrothal, and the ideals behind it."
"Ah- the whole 'signing your son away' aspect."
"Yeah...that."
"Well then...it's nice to know that someone concurs with me on the subject."
A smile appeared on her face, and it was enough to make him want to burst into tears.
"That was always me though, weren't it?"
"Aye, it was," he said, swallowing hard as he unpinned an imaginary, yet potentially fatal grenade. "It could still be, if that's what you wish."
Her smile faded, and her frown returned. But she made no move to leave, as he'd expected her to do. In fact, her expression seemed less angered, and more contemplative, which intrigued him to no end.
"Do you really think we can just snap back to how we were? After everything?"
"Not exactly how we were, no. But some semblance of it."
"But the betrothals still taking place."
"It is."
"Meaning that very soon, you'll be married."
"I will."
"So it'll be impossible for us."
"Why?"
"Because I still love you, you fucking idiot, that's why!" Val snapped, with her cheeks turning a deep crimson as she realised exactly what she'd said, and how she'd said it.
"Val-"
"You can't expect me to suddenly be your friend, and have the fact that we can never be more rubbed in my face every fucking day, Varian. It's not fair."
"Of course it's not! This whole situation isn't fair!"
"Then why do you want to make it harder for the both of us?!"
"Because I still love you!"
"Well, don't!"
"If it were that easy, I would've done so three years ago!"
"We could make it that easy, right now! We can just say fuck it, and go our separate ways!"
"Then do it!"
"No!"
"Fine! Then we'll just sit here in silence for all eternity!"
"Fine!"
And that's exactly what they did, for all of a minute and a half before Val could swear that she heard a quiet, joyous snickering coming from the prince's mouth, which had been hidden by his hunched stature.
"What's so funny?"
He didn't answer her at first. Instead, his snickers turned to chuckles, irking her all the more.
"Varian, nothing we have just said is in any way funny."
"I know it's not," he agreed, finally giving her the courtesy of eye contact, and showing her the glint in his own. "It's just...Light, I've missed having stupid arguments."
"Oh, well, it's good to know that you're taking this seriously."
"I'm taking this very seriously."
"Yeah? Then where do you suggest we go from here then?"
"I don't know."
It was a harsh confession to make, but one that Varian knew he had no choice in. Of course, Val understood why he'd made it, and merely slumped, looking as lost as he felt.
"We weren't actually courting for that long, when you think about it."
"It was nearly two years, Varian."
"Aye, but compare that to the ten we spent together before that," Varian pointed out, squaring his shoulders. "I'm not saying that it'll be completely as it was, but can't we at least use those as a foundation?"
"Foundation for what? A relationship that can't go anywhere?"
"A friendship. One that's been overshadowed and left in the rain by this whole mess."
There were another few beats of silence. But unlike the others, Varian didn't feel as hopeless at the outcome of it.
"I have missed having a best friend...I mean, I've made more friends since then, but it hasn't been the same."
"Going riding as far as our horses would take us and setting up camp wherever we landed, knowing that our fathers would be furious."
"Fighting over who won the last chess match..."
"Not putting on fronts with one another," Varian said forlornly, knowing that's what the two of them were doing more with each passing minute.
"But what if we can't leave the other side of it alone? What if one day, we meet in the kitchens, and you kiss me without meaning to?"
"Then we'll deal with it," Varian told her.
"How?"
"By doing exactly as we are now. Talking it through. Not raging, and falling into silence with one another, as we have done."
She looked up at him with large, sorrowful eyes. But even then, there was a glimmer of something in them- whether it was optimism, or hope, Varian couldn't tell, but it was definitely there, which was enough for him to feel confident enough to take her hand.
She flinched, which he'd expected. But she didn't pull away.
"I'm scared that we'll fuck this up again..."
"So am I. But what's the point of life if we don't take chances?"
"What about Tiffin?"
"She's nothing to do with this. This is purely about you and me."
"It won't be for long."
"Then as I said- we'll deal with it," Varian said, giving her fingers a light squeeze.
"People will talk about us."
"Let them."
"They'll assume things."
"We'll know the truth."
"Will we? Varian, I barely know what day it is."
"Fairly sure that it's a tuesday."
"Shut up."
"Never."
Their laughter was quiet, but their smiles were no longer held back, and spread across their faces just as the sun was doing across the lake.
"Would it be too much for me to say that I've missed you?" Varian asked, watching her face for any sort of waver, and gladly finding none.
"No. Because then I can say the same to you," she replied, slipping her hand from his, simply so she could pick up the drink she'd been neglecting.
"You don't have anywhere to be, do you?"
"No. The shop's closed, and I haven't any plans."
"Good."
"I take it we've got a lot of talking to do?" Val asked hopefully, finding complete solace in his softened features.
"I believe we do. You first."