"I feel ridiculous."
Normally, Cillian Beaufort was quite the patient man. Nothing ever really struck a nerve with him, unless it either put him in danger, or swindled him of what he observed to be hard-earned coin.
But tonight, he was trying with every fibre of his being not to grow annoyed at Val's seemingly never ending stream of self-deprecation.
He didn't regret agreeing to attend the pre-wedding feast with her, but he wasn't exactly thrilled about it either. So having to listen to her rather neurotic mutters and watch her fidgeting with every step they took towards the Keep wasn't ideal in helping his already waning mood.
"Lass, you look grand- both Luce and I said it. So stop your flappin', will you?" Cillian half-whispered.
The harsh instruction seemed to work a little too well, for a small hint of a frown appeared on Val's painted face. "Sorry. I'm just nervous, that's all," she said, adjusting the wolf-fur wrap that was protecting her bare shoulders against the winter night.
"You've nothing to be nervous about," Cillian said reassuringly, but as he'd suspected, it didn't help a bit.
"That's very easy for you to say," Val replied glumly. "You're the not the one who's on your way to face a Court wherein half of the occupants hate you."
Cillian's fingers squeezed the hand that was nestled in the crook of his elbow, and gave Val a soft smile.
"You're here because Varian wants you here. That's all you need to think about," he said, turning his smile to a smirk.
"Besides, only having half of a place hate ya is actually quite good going."
"Shut up, Cil," Val muttered, fighting the urge to join in with his amused chuckle.
They finally reached the fortress, and found a caravan of carriages lined up outside the main gate. Well-dressed footmen opened the door to each one, and let out dignitaries from Samarkand, Ironforge and Lordaeron, who surged across the open drawbridge to escape the cold.
"You got the invite, lass?" Cillian asked as they took the path that had been cordoned off for those arriving on foot. For a horrible second, Val had to ask herself the same question. But a quick rifle through her bag allayed her fears, and she held up the folded parchment.
"Aye, I have. I'm not exactly sure who I give it to though. The last time I came to a function like this, I was already in Varian's chambers, so we just went downstairs together," Val confessed, and Cillian, who was admittedly a few inches taller than her, craned his neck over the bustling crowd.
"There's guards at the door. I'm presuming we go there," he said, and Val just looked more nervous than she already did.
"Please tell me that you didn't bring anything dodgy with you, Cil. The last thing I need is to be turned away at the door because you're smuggling a gun in your arse-crack," Val hurriedly whispered, and his chuckle didn't exactly fill her with confidence.
"There's a flask of rum in me breast pocket, 'Riccy, but that's about it," Cillian told her, but unsurprisingly, Val didn't look as if she believed him.
" 'Ere, that's the Prince of Samarkand," Cillian said, giving Val a nudge and pointing over to a young, dark-skinned man who was already climbing the Keep's colossal stairwell.
"Which one? I heard there was about twenty of them," Val replied, making sure that her grip upon the invitation was iron-clad.
"That's the second oldest- Yassar. You won't like him- he's a bit…traditional, if you get my drift," Cillian explained, and Val's face told him that she did indeed get his drift.
"Sounds like a charmer," she muttered.
"You say that, but he's one of the most sought after lads in Bonan, so he must be doing something right," Cillian argued, but that only made Val start to laugh.
"Aye- he has gold, and lots of it," she reminded him, but straight after, she blanched as if something had horrified her.
"Oh sweet Light…do you think this is how people talk about Varian and I?" Cillian shrugged, and gave her quite the annoying grin.
"If I say 'probably', will you slap me for it?" he asked cheekily, and while she didn't 'slap' him per se, Val did lightly shove him.
"Evening, Miss. Your invitation, please," said one of six guards that had been put in the unfortunate role of doorman. Val could see the young man's lips turning blue underneath his helm, so with a compassionate haste, she handed over the slightly rumpled parchment.
"Very good. Have a pleasant evening, Mr and Mrs Glenmore," he said, extending an arm towards the open doors. Cillian sputtered hard enough for his tanned cheeks to go red, but Val managed to keep a slither of composure, and all but dragged him behind her.
"I take it he's fucking new?!" Cillian chortled, ignoring Val's harsh shushes as she continued pulling him forwards.
"Aye, he probably is. Now shut up," Val hissed. Thankfully, Cillian managed to calm himself before they crossed the threshold of the castle, and the two of them shivered as a frosty, almost electrifying sensation washed over them.
"Bloody magic," Cillian grumbled, brushing down his dresscoat as if it were dusted with arcane residue.
"It's easier than patting down every guest who comes through the gate," Val pointed out, and she made sure she had a tight, firm grip on his arm.
"This place does notlook this big on the outside," Cillian observed, and Val actually found herself smiling.
"Varian and I used to think that was because of magic, too," she said, watching her feet as they went through the Throne Room.
"I'd hate to live here," Cillian mused.
"Why? It's the height of luxury," Val said, cocking an eyebrow at him.
"I ain't denying that. But fuck having to walk two miles from my bed to breakfast every morning. I'm a simple man; put everything in one room where I can reach it, and I'm grand," Cillian answered.
"Lazy git," Val muttered, earning another nudge.
"Spoiled mare," Cillian retorted, but before Val could express her annoyance at such a branding, they were already at the ballroom doors.
"Invite, please," another soldier asked, and Cillian seemed quite offended by the request.
"Why? We've already shown it, and were let in with no problems," he argued, but Val quietly shushed him and handed it over.
"It's so they can announce us," she explained, but if anything, he looked more confused.
"Announce us? What the fuck d'you mean-"
"Miss Valerica Glenmore, and her honoured guest!"
Even Cillian looked uncomfortable as over fifty faces turned to acknowledge the doorman's loud call. Some were surprised to see her standing there. Some were enraged. But others, who were clearly new to Court or from the neighbouring kingdoms, averted their gaze in indifference.
Val felt her chest tighten all the same. Cillian immediately realised that her hand was beginning to shake in his and tightened his grip. It allowed him to steer her towards the first servant he found to be carrying a tray of goblets, and snatched one for her.
"Ere, chug that down and breathe," Cillian commanded, and Val did as she was told- much to her detriment. The strong, blood red wine burnt her throat, and she coughed into her palm hard enough to make her eyes water.
"I can't do this," Val squeaked, and Cillian passed over his handkerchief.
"You've already made it this far, 'Riccy. Don't bottle it now," Cillian said, but clearly, Val disagreed.
"That's Tiffin's family over there- the blondes by the band," she choked, pointing the group out to the pirate, who looked less than impressed.
"They won't cause a scene. Not tonight of all nights," he rightly observed.
"I'm not expecting them to. But Light knows what they must think about me even beinghere," Val lamented, and Cillian's face twisted with his frown.
"Well now, you're about to find out. Her brother's coming over. At least, I'm assuming that's her brother," Cillian told her, and Val was sure that she felt her heart freeze in her chest.
"Oh fuck no," she cursed, but it was too late. She turned around to find a slender, blonde clone of Tiffin looking down at her.
"Lord Henrick," Val greeted, and without really thinking about it, she dipped into a wobbly curtsey.
"Miss Glenmore," Henrick said flatly, and completely ignored Cillian as he took another step forward. "I'll admit, I didn't quite believe my sister when she told me that you would be attending tonight."
"Lady Tiffin invited me herself, Milord. It would've been disrespectful not to accept," Val said quietly, but apparently, that wasn't going to placate her brother, who was about ten years older than even Varian.
"What seems more 'disrespectful' to me, Madame, is that you have the temerity to come here, knowing that it's a celebration of my sister's marriage," Henrick retorted, and Cillian took his cue to intervene.
"We're here to celebrate it as much as anyone else, mate," he growled, and of course, Henrick became rather affronted.
"I'm not your 'mate', sir, and you'll do well to remember that," he snapped, turning back to Val.
"I am obligated to respect the wishes of my Prince. He clearly wants you here, so I cannot have the guards simply throw you out. As much as that is what my parents would love for me to do. But I will warn you, Miss Glenmore, to stay as far away from the Prince, and my sister, tonight as much as humanly possible. This is theirevent. Not yours."
"I'm well aware of that, Milord, and have already told His Highness that I intend to do exactly what you felt the need to come here and demand of me," Val rebutted. "In fact, it was your sister that opposed my judgement on the matter."
"My sister has always been both naive, and a poor judge of character. She'd allow a wild tiger into her heart if it tried hard enough," Henrick pointed out, and his gloved hands went behind his back.
"I do not wish to quarrel with you, Miss Glenmore. I know you're a smart girl, and will understand why I've said what I have. So I trust you'll heed it, and act appropriately."
"I've just said that I won't show your sister up, Milord. But I will also not be intimidated into a corner. So expect me to enjoy the festivities as much as you…no matter what that entails," Val challenged, putting a hand on Cillian's chest as the pirate moved forward.
Henrick glanced at him, and to Val's complete annoyance, he gave her what she could only describe as the most genuine, yet fake, smile she'd ever seen.
"Just as long as you do them away from His Highness. Do what you want once everybody has retired- go to his bed, go home, I don't care. But all the while he's down here, know your place."
And before Cillian could unleash the tirade of curses and insults that was clearly sitting on the tip of his tongue, Henrick turned on the heel of his boot, and strode back towards his eagerly awaiting family.
"That no good, smug faced, puffed up, son of a fucking kraken's arse!" Cillian spat once he was gone, and Val couldn't find the energy to even shush him at this point.
"You're seriously telling me that bastard is related to Tiffin?"
"Why do you think she never objected to the marriage?" Val pointed out, seeming too calm for Cillian's liking. "She was never going to win against that lot."
"Do you want to go?" Cillian asked, and Val defiantly shook her head.
"No," she said, putting a stray curl behind her ear."I've just told that cock-face that I'm going to have fun, and that's exactly what I intend to do- Varian, or no Varian."
Cillian knew better than to argue with her. He'd spent enough time with Glenmore women over the years to realise that it was futile endeavour. So instead, he fished in his pocket, found his watch, and grinned down at the open face. "Well then. We have ten minutes before Varian's supposed to get down here. Methinks that's plenty of time for a fag, a drink, and maybe a small dance. What d'you reckon?"
Val knew that it was simply a ploy to cheer her up. Cillian had protested for at least a week against any form of dancing, so the sudden turnaround could be called highly suspicious.
But damn it all…it worked.
"I reckon so," Val murmured, but a smile appeared on her weary face as Cillian took her hand and led her out into the Keep's gardens.
Val was worried. It was coming on half past seven, and there was still no sign of Varian, nor Tiffin. Multiple people had come down and told the concerned guests that they were 'simply running late', but Val knew better.
"Llane ain't even here," Cillian whispered as the two of them glanced at the empty table at the head of the room.
"That means something's wrong," Val replied, nibbling on the breadstick that she'd been holding for at least five minutes.
"Do you think we should go investigate?" Cillian asked. Val's lips began mashing together in quite the nervous manner, and she flicked her gaze towards Henrick, who was dancing with his wife.
"No. I can't get involved- not tonight," she said hurriedly.
"Don't you worry about what that fucker thinks, 'Riccy," Cillian said, clearly understanding her hesitation, but not agreeing with it.
"He was right though, Cil- I can't make everything about me tonight. And if I go galloping up to Varian's rooms uninvited, that's exactly what I'll be doing," Val argued, nearly turning the breadstick to dust with how tight a grip she had upon it.
"I don't really want the Ellerians turning up at my front door with sticks to beat me with in a couple of days time because I didn't 'heed their warning'."
"Oh, aye, because they'd risk their daughter's marriage by doing that and pissing the groom off royally, won't they?" Cillian said sarcastically, and Val's eyebrow began to rise.
"You seem to know an awful lot about betrothals all of a sudden," she said accusingly. Cillian answered with a cattish grin.
"That's probably because you've droned on about it so much- I've subconsciously taken it all in, even when I check out," Cillian retorted, earning a playful swat.
"Regardless, I can't go charging up there over what's probably nothing," Val concluded, finally shoving the last of the savoury treat into her mouth.
"...So in five minutes, we go, yeah?" Cillian asked.
"Yes," Val said without thinking. A tight cringe nearly folded her in half, and she cursed herself as the pirate started laughing heartily.
"That wasn't fair!"
"Bloody funny though," Cillian rebutted, and if they weren't in the castle, he was sure that Val would've given him a good slap.
"Ah come on, lass- your man's clearly going through something to be late to his own bloody party. I should think that having his lady with him is the one thing that'd help the most."
"Alright! Fine! Light above, we'll fucking go," Val angrily conceded. She knew deep down that Cillian was right, and if the shoe were on the other foot, she'd love nothing more than Varian to come and aid her with whatever was apparently going on upstairs. So with a petulant stomp to each step, she wove her way through the crowds and towards the door.
Unfortunately, that meant crossing paths with Henrick, who of course, noticed where she was leading.
"Remember our chat, Miss Glenmore," he said, and although Val would probably regret it tomorrow, she gave him a sharp, one fingered salute.
"Go jump in the canals, you gobshite," was the insult she flung at him, and to Cillian's great amusement, she didn't even turn around or slow her step to give it to him.
"Now that's more like it, Lass," Cillian whispered. They were briefly separated by the guests still coming into the ballroom, but once they passed them, Val gladly took his outstretched hand.
It didn't take long for them to get to the Keep's Residential Wing, and as she'd expected, Val could already hear shouting before they'd even reached Varian's chamber door.
"Miss Glenmore- I was just debating on whether to come and get you," said Jon, Varian's bodyguard, when he noticed the two of them.
"For what? What's going on?" Val asked, letting go of Cillian's hand.
"His Majesty went in there about an hour ago…ever since, there's been shouting and screaming. No idea why, though," Jon explained, concerning all those present.
"I thought you'd said that Varian had made peace with his Da?" Cillian questioned, and Val's brow began to furrow.
"That's what hetold me," she said simply, and thanked Jon for opening the door before she could even put her palm on the handle.
"Miss Glenmore, Your Majesty!" he yelled, but even then, his call was barely heard over the ferocious bellows coming from a red-faced Prince.
"We should've noticedsomething was wrong with him!" Varian shouted, and even Cillian flinched as the stool sitting under Tiffin's vanity table was kicked across the room.
"Calm yourself, my son! Khadgar and Anduin are on their way to rectify what has passed as we speak! As I've said about twenty times now!" Llane retorted, putting a hand on his thigh and watching his child pace back and forth.
"His Majesty's right, Varian-" Tiffin started, but a stark pivot by the brunette made her throat run dry.
"It makes me wonder how damn far this goes. If we can't even trust Azeroth's guardian, then what fucking hope do we have?!"
"Why can't we trust the guardian? What's he done?" Val piped up.
Varian's anger, while still emanating from him like steam from a kettle, ebbed somewhat when he finally realised that she was standing there.
"Sweetheart," Varian greeted, bending to kiss her cheek.
"Your arrival is well timed, Valerica. We were just about to depart for the ballroom," Llane told her, but something told Val that was a bare-faced lie.
"No, we weren't, Father. In fact, we're calling the whole thing off," Varian protested, affirming Val's theory.
"We can't do that, Varian- everyone's come especially for the wedding. It'd be the height of bad manners if we told them to leave now," Tiffin interjected.
"To hells with bad manners- Our people are in danger, Tiffin. If what we've been told is true, this ruins any chance Stormwind has," Varian barked, and once again, his father raised a calming hand.
"We have no reason to doubt Khadgar's claim, Varian. Nor do we that Medivh will be stopped in due time. There is absolutely no reason to cause mass panic by turning away those who've come here tonight," Llane reasoned, and Val took the quiet moment to gain some valuable information.
"What has Medivh done?" she asked slowly, letting Varian wrap his arm around her waist.
"Tell her, Father," he said glumly, and Llane ran his large hand down the beard that reached past his chin.
"We've received the rather disturbing news that Medivh was the perpetrator behind the opening of the Dark Portal," he direly told Val, who'd been rendered speechless by the revelation.
"Fuck…" Cillian muttered, and for once, Varian didn't give him a dirty look.
"Our sentiments exactly," Varian murmured, rubbing Val's hip with his thumb.
"So what now?" Val asked dumbly, and even Llane couldn't muster a reassuring look for her.
"Now, we wait. That's all we cando," Varian said, subconsciously holding her tighter.
"We can ready the city's defences. Our walls will hold. But it's the people I'm worried about more," Llane said forlornly.
"Why not evacuate now, while you have the chance?" Cillian, a man who was once a navy-man himself, suggested.
"It goes back to what I said to Varian about causing a panic, my boy. No- we have to keep life insidethe city as normal as possible," Llane replied, and Val could see the toll this was taking on him from the shadow that fell over his face.
"The Horde will come. And we can only pray that we're ready for them when they do."