It was never going to be 'just one drink'. With the looming shadow of their potential demise creeping up on them, and a rare night where none were bound to duties or chores, all inhibition had been thrown to the wind, and those who made up Stormwind's third regiment had quickly turned from disciplined soldiers into drunken louts.

Thankfully, some had taken precaution, including Val, and appropriately lined their stomachs before the binge had begun, so there was still a shred of sensibility left within them.

She was sat in the corner of the tavern's hall with her feet rested upon a table sticky with spilt beer, nursing a gin and tonic that was mostly water now the ice had melted into it.

"Oi, misery guts, what you sitting over here on your todd for?" questioned a rowdy Carson, who'd ingested enough booze to knock the average man out cold. It was only due to his large stature that he was still standing upright.

"I'm just thinking, that's all," Val replied, knowing full well that wasn't going to satisfy him.

"Thinking?! Tonight of all nights?! How very dare you," he joked, dropping onto the chair next to her.

"I know- bloody sod, ain't I?" Val retorted, well versed in the jovial, boisterous conversations that normally took place between someone who was sobering up, and someone who'd become a bit too merry.

"Yes you are," Carson affirmed, watching the same thing she was and grinning from ear to ear.

"Reckon they'll actually do something tonight?" he asked, making Val wrinkle her nose.

"It's not likely. Hem's only had one drink- said he doesn't like the privvy here, " she explained, waving over to Kay as she was twirled by said blonde.

"I'll have to see if the barkeep's got a funnel we can stick in his gob," schemed Carson, who drained the rest of the ale sitting in his hand.

"They'll 'do something' when they're good and ready," Val chided, and that's when one of his bushy brows rose.

"Oh, right, so that'swhat's given you a face like a slapped arse," he declared, as if he'd just figured out the deepest secrets of the universe.

"I have absolutely no what you mean," smirked Val as she put her glass down upon the table.

"Yes you do. You're pining after your fella," Carson accused, and while Val wished she could argue with him, she knew deep down that he had her bang to rights.

"Oh, 'pining' is a strong word for it…" Val muttered, trying to smother the smirk that was tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Where is he? This man of yours?" Carson queried, thoroughly confusing Val.

"Why d'you want to know?" she asked right back, taking her cigarette case from the pocket of her trousers and offering him one.

"So I can book you a wagon and get you off for a good bonk before we leave," Carson proclaimed, bumping her chin. "Might cheer you up a bit."

"That's going to be a tad difficult," Val replied, quickly trying to conjure what was probably the hundredth lie she'd told since coming to camp.

It was exhausting, keeping the stories straight in her head, but it was for both her, and Varian's benefit…no matter how much it felt like the opposite.

"He's probably already locked the shop up, put his slippers on, and is opening a bottle of wine to nurse over a book at this point in the day. Meaning he won't answer the door for the gods themselves."

"We'll break the fucker down," Carson suggested gleefully. "Or toss you through the window. Poor bloke won't know what hit him."

He stuffed the cigarette in his mouth, and leant forward so that Val could light it for him. She had a limited amount of matches, so he made sure it was burning before pulling away from the small, flickering flame.

"A 'good bonk' can't make me feel any better about what's to come, Car," Val said gravely, feeling the familiar tang of Samarkish spices mixed with velvet smooth smoke as it travelled down her throat.

"Oh, can we not bloody talk about the war? I'm bored to death of it already," Carson whined, blowing a cloud into the already musty air.

"Well I don't want to talk about the lack of bonking in my life either, so if you've a better subject to discuss, then I'm all ears," Val chuckled, making him sputter hard enough to nearly fire the cigarette from his mouth.

"See, that's why I like you," Carson declared, tapping his ash into a nearby, empty glass.

"You don't fudge things with fancy words." He pointed over to Hemming, telling Val exactly what he was about to say before he'd even opened his mouth. "Sometimes I need a fucking phrase book for the shit he comes out with."

"Oh come on, he's hardly the ponce of the century," Val chided, crossing one leg over the other.

"True, but compared to us, he's a bloody king," Carson replied, and Val started to laugh alot harder than perhaps she should've.

What she wantedto say was that she'd met numerous kings in the past two months, and Hemming was nowhere near their level of elocution. But of course, due to her own stupid rules, she couldn't.

So instead, she said-

"I'd rather listen to a bloke that speaks really well, compared to one who does nothing but slur and swear. I had enough of that in Stranglethorn Vale."

"D'you know, that's the one place I haven't been yet," Carson lamented, nearly forgetting that his cigarette was still between his lips as he lifted his tankard to them. Thankfully, he caught himself, and managed not to pour flaming ash down his throat instead of his ale.

"You should- it's bloody beautiful," Val said, smiling dreamily as she sipped her gin.

"That's not what I've heard," Carson remarked, and Val's nose scrunched in annoyance.

"That's because you've probably only heard about Booty Bay. But once you go through the tunnel and get into the Vale proper…that's where you start noticing the green," she said wistfully.

"There's a town called Cliffmore, not a couple of miles west from Brinewick, where my Grammy lives. Only a few people live there- it's mostly countryside. But It's one of the most beautiful, peaceful places I've ever been."

She sighed, leaning back in her seat.

"There's a small patch where the trees are bent over, so when their foliage comes in the spring, it canopies the entire space. Makes you feel like you're in a fairy land."

"Well then- maybe if we get through the next week or so, we can pack a few bottles, hop on a ship, and I can see it for myself," Carson suggested, bringing the smile back onto Val's face.

"Sounds like a plan," Val agreed, holding her glass up and clinking it against the rim of his tankard.

"I took my Vince there once, for my cousins wedding," Val told him, and for once, only about two percent of what she'd said had been a lie.

"I must've only been…oh, about fifteen? Yeah, cause he'd just celebrated his eighteenth."

Thankfully Carson had chosen to simply sit back and listen as she rambled. What astounded her even more was how invested he seemed in her every word.

She had to admit, it made a nice change to just recall things as they were, and not have embellish, or twist what she was remembering.

"We snuck out about halfway through the reception- he says it was because he wanted a moment with me. I still reckon it's so he didn't have to listen to my Grand-da telling him war stories anymore," she chuckled, finding it pleasant to see Carson doing the same thing.

"Sounds like you two have quite the history," Carson observed, and apparently so pickled was his brain, that he'd forgotten all the other times that Val had gushed about 'Vince' in the time they'd been in camp.

"That's one way of putting it," Val replied, feeling too exhausted to even try and go into many details today.

"I'd be right pissed off if I were him," Carson piped up, and consequently, Val's eyebrow did the same thing.

"What? Why?" she asked, using a discarded plate as a make-do ashtray and resting her cigarette on the lip.

"Well it can't be nice, being away from your woman for two months," Carson explained, putting his hands behind his head. "It's exactly why I made sure I didn't fuckin have one when Icame here."

"I managed to last alot longer when he went on his tours," Val argued, feeling her gut wrench in all the wrong ways.

"When did you write him last again?" Carson questioned, making a huff leave Val's throat.

"When I…well, when I…Fuck," she stammered, running a hand through her loose hair.

She would never be able to explain what made her push her chair back at that point, but she did it with such a ferocity that even Carson seemed surprised by the sound. "Where you going?" he demanded to know.

"For a fucking walk," Val muttered.

"Wait- hang on, I'll come with ya," Carson offered, stubbing his cigarette out.

"No, you stay here and make sure that Arin doesn't vomit on anyone," Val protested, glancing over at the Gilnean, who'd somehow been roped into a game of six-cups with other members of their regiment, and seemed to be losing at quite the alarming rate.

Every time Val had watched that ball bounce upon the table, it'd landed in one of his tankards, and he'd downed it's contents quicker than even she and Carson had managed tonight. It wasn't going to end well, and she would feel the ultimate fool if she left him completely unsupervised.

…At least, that's the reason she was giving herself for bequeathing Carson the absurd command.

"Oh, you always give me the lovely jobs," Carson said, with sarcasm dripping from every letter. His disgruntled look was only made the worse when Val stood on her tip-toes and kissed his stubbled cheek.

"I know, and you absolutely love me for it," she teased, patting that same cheek and snatching her coat from the back of her chair.

"Just be careful, yeah? I don't want to be scraping you off the ground tomorrow morning because you've tripped on a rock," Carson retorted, gladly returning the one-fingered salute that Val gave him as she left the warm, lively tavern for the near-silent, cold night air.

Varian's tent was easy enough to find; it stood ten foot wider, and three foot taller than the rest of the shelters that dotted the camp. The smell of the royal blue dye that had been freshly applied to the linen wafted on the breeze when it kicked up, and its bright hue acted as a beacon for Val as she trudged towards it.

To her dismay, it wasn't Jon standing guard at the entrance, which meant she couldn't simply walk in. Instead, it was two burly men with armour bearing the insignia of Lordaeron, meaning that Terenas had assigned them, and probably (or conveniently, thinking about it) forgotten to inform them of her and her relationship to the king.

"Evening, soldier. Bit late to be wandering, isn't it?"

"My regiment decided to have a bit of fun tonight," Val explained, glad to see them both chuckle, for it meant her chances of winning them round weren't at zero just yet.

"So we heard."

"I'd like to see King Varian, please," Val asked, choosing to cut the small talk short and simply get to the point.

"You know we can't let you do that, lass. Only the highest-ranking personnel are permitted to enter his quarters."

"Oh come on, you can make one exception, surely?" Val bargained, but something on his face told her that it hadn't worked.

"No can do. Now move along."

'Come on Val, think. You don't want to piss them off…but you have to get in there. Think.'

"What about a message? Can you just pop a message in to him?" she asked instead.

"I…suppose so…" said the guard, who seemed rightly suspicious of her.

"Good. Tell him that Val's here, and she hopes he has some decent tea leaves and a packet of Goodwins in there, or she's going to clump him," Val dictated, much to their horror.

"We can't convey that! Really, we should arrest you for threatening the king!"

"Don't worry, mate. I have a funny feeling you'll be absolutely fine. Please, just tell him. It's bloody freezing out here and I've not got long," Val pleaded, and with a great reluctance, the taller of the guards turned towards the tent flap after sharing a wary look with his companion.

He kept giving Val nervous glances as he recited her message, and there was a moment of complete and heavy silence when he finished.

…Until there was laughter.

Bright, booming laughter made the guard's shoulders relax, and one actually muttered a 'thank the Light' before they turned back to their post.

"Send her in."

With Varian's jovial command, the guards stepped aside, each taking a section of the tent flap with him. "In you go, Miss," one of them said, even though Val was already crossing the threshold before he'd opened his mouth.

Once she was inside, she found Varian standing at a small table that'd been assembled nearby a cast iron fire pit that hadn't been lit yet. Instead, the warm, dull light was coming from two lanterns situated on barrels either side of the bed, which sat dead centre of the tent.

He had something in his hand, and it took Val half a second too long to realise he was gearing up to throw it towards her. She fumbled as it hit her chest, but eventually, she gathered her wits, and turned a small, cardboard box over in both hands.

"Did you honestly think that I'd come all this way and notbring you a present?"

Val opened the box as Varian told his joke, and took a deep, satisfied inhale.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you," she said, hearing another round of that deep, rumbling laughter.

"Are you talking to me, or the cigarettes?" Varian asked, sidling around the edge of the table in order to close the gap that stood between them.

"Both," Val admitted, tossing the box onto a nearby stool.

"You look well," Varian observed.

"So do you," Val replied, and without another word said, they both entangled themselves into a fierce embrace that rivalled all those they'd shared before.

"How is everyone?" Val asked, burrowing her nose into the crook of his neck and drinking in the scent of his cologne.

"They're fine. Tiffin sends her love," Varian replied, resting a cheek on the crown of her head and rocking her as if they were dancing.

"She knows that you're here then?" Val questioned, playing with the tie of his tunic, which was hanging loose.

That's when she felt it. That minute twitch in the muscles of his forearm that meant she'd breached a subject he'd really not wanted to touch. But that wasn't about to stop her.

"Varian, does Tiffin know that you're here?" she asked, using a much firmer tone this time around, as if she were asking a child if he ate the last muffin.

"Peace, woman. Yes, Tiffin knows that I'm here," Varian answered, seeming less pleased about the fact than Val had expected him to be.

"In truth, she encouragedmy departure. I think even she was sick of looking at my miserable mug."

"What about the wedding? Will you go back for it? I know you said in the grounds that you're coming to Hillsbrad with us…" Val questioned, but her frazzled, and still slightly intoxicated brain eliminated all space between her words, and she rather sounded like a babbling infant.

Varian must've noticed, for a long, gentle shush left his parted lips, and he brought her back to his chest with firm arms.

"I'm here only for a day, to see how everything is progressing. Then after the ceremony is done, I'll return for the battle, and stay in camp until you all go to Westfall," he explained, looking off into the distance.

"Considering the fact that neither of us want this, I see no point in lingering for a party I'd rather not attend, and she thankfully shares that opinion."

"Good…that's good," Val mumbled, finding it difficult to string a cohesive sentence together. She couldn't even blame the gin this time- all she'd spoken to had admitted that they too were struggling to come to terms with the upheaval they'd all been subjected to today.

To be told that their training was to be cut short, and that a battle was to take place that none of them were remotely ready for was enough to make even the strongest of them weary.

"Come and sit down, love," Varian suggested, clearly noticing her fatigue and wanting to address it in what he thought was the least smothering way possible. She didn't argue with him, which told him all it needed to, and soon they were sat in two rickety chairs that provided only a strap of stapled velvet for their comfort.

"How have things been here?" he asked, choosing to get the small talk completely out the way, so that they could simply enjoy what would probably be the only night they'd have together before the camp was shipped off to Hillsbrad.

"Do you mean generally, or with me specifically?" Val asked, crossing her ankles and resting her feet upon the crate in front of them.

"You," Varian clarified with a small smile. "I've already gone cross-eyed reading the reports sent to me about everything else."

"Well…where do I start?" Val muttered, asking herself the question more than she was Varian.

"The beginning, perhaps? Seeing as I've heard nothingfrom that point on," Varian teased, making Val's cheeks turn a dusty pink.

"Yes, alright, I realise that I did the thing I have a go at you for," Val moaned, wrinkling her nose and finding it rather vexing when Varian started outright laughing.

"Oh, shut up, you smug git," she demanded, but that just egged Varian further on.

"I'll be as smug as I damn well want, woman. You've finallyrealised that all your accusations of me being a neglectful bastard back then were horseshit. I'll be damned if I let you snatch this moment from me," gloated Varian, who was clearly in it just to wind her up at this point.

To him, this was the greatest entertainment he'd been presented with in a while, and he wasn't going to let it fizzle away in under a minute.

"I neversaid you were 'neglectful'! Definitely a bastard, but never 'neglectful,'" Val protested, and that was when Varian noticed the corners of her lips twitching. She too noticed, and pursed them as hard as she could to smother whatever notions of a smile her subconscious was harbouring.

"Oh, forgive my colossal mistake," Varian pleaded, letting his laughter flow as freely as a river. "Please excuse me,my love, for not understanding every word that you used to scream at me, and getting the wrong idea."

"Are you quite bloody finished?" Val asked, finding his sarcasm rather irritating.

"Almost," Varian admitted, grinning like the cat who'd discovered an entire vat of cream, and not just a dish. "I've about three more witty anecdotes left in me."

"Right," Val said, slowly nodding her head and taking her feet from the crate. "I'll just sod off back to the tavern then, I think."

The move was intended to give him a taste of his own medicine in regards to how much he was winding her up. It apparently worked, for not a second after she left her seat, she heard the horrid squelch of grass seperating from mud as his chair was forcefully pushed back.

"Don't you bloody well dare," Varian warned, clamping his arms around her waist in order to stop her in her tracks. It had the desired effect, and before she knew it, she was leaning back into his chest as if she'd never even suggested leaving.

"I take it that you've missed me?" asked Val, who closed her eyes despite having no intentions of sleeping.

"I thought I'd already made that abundantly obvious," Varian growled, moving the baggy, untied collar of her shirt to the side using the tip of his nose.

Val couldn't stop the shudder that crept it's way up her back as his lips planted tiny, restrained kisses along her shoulder, and a satisfied purr made her lips vibrate against each other.

"Is it too early to ask you to take me to bed?" Val questioned, feeling an amused huff warm her skin.

"Never. Isthat you asking me?" he clarified.

"Aye, it is," Val affirmed, opening one eye and giving him a suspicious smirk. "I'm absolutely knackered."

A chuckle of realisation was the only cognitive response Varian could conjure. He let go of her, and extended an inviting arm towards the bed.

"Then be my guest," Varian said, finding it impossible not to give her backside a firm pat as she walked past. To him, it was worth the narrowed eyes and unamused tut.

She didn't bother to strip her top half. In fact, all she did was pull off her boots and breeches, which soon pooled next to the bed in a haphazard pile. Varian waited patiently until she seemed completely comfortable, and when he deemed her so, he shucked his own boots from his aching feet, and flopped next to where she lay.

"I'd almost forgotten what a proper mattress feels like," Val purred, burying her face in the silken pillow.

"You can have one every night you're here, if you wish," Varian said, linking his fingers upon his stomach.

"No I can't, Varian," Val said, using a gentle tone that totally opposed the exasperation she felt at such a statement.

"I had a horrible feeling that you would say that," Varian admitted, trying not to meet her eye, lest his emotions on the matter get the better of him.

"Because you know why it's a terrible idea," Val stated, and something on his face told her that she was completely right.

"Garside informed me of the story you've concocted," he told her, and finally, he managed a small smile. "You just hadto make me a fucking florist, didn't you?"

"I needed a vocation that was the complete opposite of 'soldier king', Varian, and that was all I could come up with!" cried a defensive Val, whose bubbling giggles betrayed her annoyance almost immediately.

"And let's not even start on the damn nameyou picked," Varian continued, causing Val's olive skin to turn a very interesting shade of red.

"Well I'm sorryif there's not many names beginning with 'V'!" she argued, but Varian wasn't letting her off that easily.

"It could've been anything! Fred, Bob, Jim- just not Vincent,"Varian moaned, barely registering the half-hearted thump she struck his chest with.

"Oh shut up," she muttered.

"I'll do no such thing when the woman I love has made me out to be a complete turn-nosed twat to her friends, knowing full well that I can't set them straight," Varian ranted, catching her as she flung herself sideways and perched herself at his hips.

"Look, icebrain- it was the only way I could talk freely about us, alright? Stop giving me shit for something that's made my life a hells of alot easier," she demanded, and within a millisecond, the humour dissolved from Varian's face.

"...You shouldn't have to do those sorts of things, you know," Varian said, putting his arms back around her when she lay down on his chest.

"I know. But I'm doing it anyway," Val said, listening intently to his heartbeat.

"I'll never understand why," Varian murmured, taking the tie from her hair and running his fingers through it.

"Because I love you, you big idiot," Val replied, without missing even half a beat.

"You love a man who forces you to lie?" Varian huffed.

"You're not forcingme to do anything, Varian Wrynn," Val protested, lifting her head just enough to look him in the eye.

"Now hush. I didn't come here to argue, I came here to see you."

The look on his face told her that he wanted to argue further. He wanted to scream, shout and bellow about how the situation was the most unfair that he'd ever experienced. He wanted to march her to her so-called 'friends', and demand that she tell them the truth- a truth he was immensely proud of.

The only reason he didn't was how this could well possibly be the last night they'd ever have together. If things at Hillsbrad went badly, which was a fervent possibility, They'd never get a moment like this again.

Such a thought made him come to a concrete decision; he wasn't about to mar the one night that the Light had given them with frivolous arguments.

"I know you did," Varian conceded, reaching to cup her cheek. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Val insisted, holding his hand with both of hers. "How about we start again, eh?"

"Sounds like a plan," Varian agreed, letting go of her face as she brought it closer to his. Their kiss was soft, sweet, and left the tang of lemon gin on Varian's lips.

It proved to be the perfect tonic for the dread that was starting to slither its way through his veins and into his heart.