With no definitive word on when exactly the Horde would arrive at Lordaeron's shore, the tension within the Alliance barracks was on the verge of bubbling over. Every shadow was treated with hostile intent, until those who'd jumped into action would realise it was a trick of their eye, and cautiously return to whatever mundane task was filling the precious time they had before battle.

What didn't help was the overwhelming size of the Hillsbrad camp, compared to Brill. With the reinforcements from Khaz Modan and Samarkand arriving just before the Stormish and Lordic armies, there were three times the soldiers than there had been two days ago, which presented an entirely new set of problems.

Already, Val had lost count of how many fights had been broken up. Some had been over stupid things, such as bed spots and places in the mess tent line. But others had proved more serious, with both race and routine being brought into it. It made the idea of a 'true Alliance' seem rather far-fetched to those who'd simply kept their heads down. But they had no choice but to hope that once they all settled in, things would get better.

What made it worse was the personal turmoil that she had been going through on top of it all. She'd made every effort to not let it affect her, but it was proving more and more difficult as time went on.

Varian had arrived in camp the sunrise before. It'd not been a grand entrance this time- in fact, Val hadn't even realised until Garside had told her. That had been strange enough, but ever since, she'd heard nothing from him. No greetings, no summons...nothing.

But what she had heard were the whispers. At dusk, when the usual courier had been and gone, and left a lucky few with fresh copies of the Lordic news-sheet, conversations had started up about the contents of the front page- the wedding.

Most complained about how much it cost, or the pompous nature of it. But others had started gushing, with swoons about the 'lovely couple', or coos on how they 'look so happy together'.

They hadn't concerned her at first. But then, the dark, twisted side of her mind had fit together a blackened puzzle, and convinced her that this was the reason why Varian was avoiding her.

It'd finally happened. Her worst fears had been realised, and he'd decided to completely commit himself to Tiffin. He just had no clue how to tell her.

It was unthinkable, but not impossible. If the boot was on the other foot, she would've considered just accepting that she was married, and making the most of it, without the trouble that having a mistress brought with it. So she couldn't rule out that Varian had done the same.

She'd not plucked up the courage to confront him yet, in case she was right. Instead, she'd thrown herself into her duties, and tried desperately to convince herself that her world wasn't about to fall apart, should she survive whatever the Horde was about to throw at them.

Such an endeavour had proven exhausting. So much so that she actually managed to sleep through the morning bells, and found dawns light well and truly enswathing her by the time her eyes found the drive to open.

Normally, that would be a colossal error on her part, and her superiors would suitably punish her for it. But with battle looming so close, the Generals, including Garside, had become far more lenient. So there was no sense of panic in her as she sluggishly sat up, and excavated the crust from her eyes with the butts of both hands.

It turned out she wasn't the only one catching up on rest. Every couple of bedrolls down, she could see the telling lump of a human body recharging itself. It made the laborious nature of an army preparing for their first affray all the apparent, and Val could only sit there and pray that it would end up being worth it. Because right now, it certainly didn't feel that way.

Her palm was caught by the rough texture of parchment as she put it down next to her, and she found it to be a note, left by her friends in anticipation of her being late for drills.

'Tinkerbell.

Thought we'd let you sleep. Told Garside you ate something dodgy at the Samark tent last night. Bring you back some breakfast.

Talk to Varian.

Love, Car.'

" 'Talk to Varian'...who are you, my bloody dad?" Val muttered, folding the note up and stuffing it into her satchel, which she'd been using as a makeshift pillow. Now it was daylight, it changed roles, and became a treasure chest- one containing both cigarettes, and a small bottle of rum that Cillian had somehow snuck into her last care package.

She quickly took a swig, anxious of the fact that Garside or his other captains could walk past at any moment, and swapped it for the cigarette carton before it'd even hit the back of her throat. The smoke disguised the smell on her breath beautifully, and clung on even as she got up and dressed.

Merely a stub was hanging from her lips by the time she found her friends, who were, unsurprisingly, coming the opposite way, with the breakfast that Carson had promised wrapped up and being passed from hand to hand in order to hide it from authoritative eyes- ones that permitted no food be taken to their quarters in fear of infestation.

She took it from her mouth and threw it aside, where it fizzled out before it even hit the ground.

"Mornin', sunshine," greeted Carson, who was glad to receive a kiss on the cheek from her. For three days, she'd showed absolutely no affection whatsoever to any of them, so foul had been her mood. So this was a vast improvement, and one they would enjoy while it lasted.

"How did you sleep?" Kay asked, making a not-so-subtle attempt to study Val's face and determine the answer to her question before the latter could give it to her.

"As good as can be expected," Val shrugged, taking the package from Arin and thinking nothing of sticking it in the waistband of her breeches. "Thanks for covering with Garside."

"Oh, we didn't have to in the end," Hemming told her. "It turns out he's in meetings all day, so they've cancelled all drills. We have the entire day to ourselves."

"Nice of them to tell us that."

"That's what we said," Arin concurred, but Val was confused by the grin that was slowly but surely growing across his face.

"So what are we going to do then? Tavern?"

"Well, actually, we had a good chat about that on our way here," Hemming said, after receiving a light push from Carson, who'd obviously nominated him to start the conversation about to take place.

"Oh?"

"We've caught wind of a dance hall somewhere in Southshore. Now, we know you love a good dance- you proved that in Brill. So we thought that we could all pitch together, get a wagon down there, and celebrate your birthday properly, rather than sit about here all day."

By the way he didn't even flinch as she did it, Val had to presume that he'd been expecting her grimace to deepen.

"But my birthdays not until tomorrow."

"Well yeah, we know that," said Carson. "But think about it, Tinkerbell. The Horde's on the move- His Majesty as good as said it. So we have absolutely no idea when they're going to land. We can plan all this for tomorrow, but be dead by lunchtime. So why not do it now, and go out with a bang?"

"I'm fairly sure we sounded a lot less morbid earlier..." Arin grumbled, looking a tad green about the gills.

"Come on Val, please say 'yes'."

Val thought about it. She thought about it long and hard. Long enough, in fact, to warrant the pleading faces watching her to change into frustrated, impatient ones.

"Oh, you know what, fuck it- let's do it," Val decided, bracing herself for the over-zealous embrace that Kay gave whenever she was excited. It came in full force, and in her tired state, nearly knocked Val over. But she was so welcoming of the distraction coming with the trip that she really couldn't find it within herself to feel annoyed by it.

"Right then, let's get to that wagon station before anyone sees us and decides they've a job need doing," Carson suggested, rubbing his palms together quite gleefully.

"Hang on, Car," Kay said, still holding on to Val's arm, as if she were anticipating an escape attempt. "Val, why don't you go and invite Varian, and we'll wait for you here."

That was when all traces of joy fell from Val's face.

"Why would Varian want to come dancing?"

It sounded like an absurd question, considering the occasion that they were going to the dance hall for in the first place. But it was valid, when concerning the King of Stormwind. He'd proven in Brill that any sort of physical revelry made him uncomfortable, so to ask that he join them in a place dedicated to it was rather insensitive, especially coming from someone who knew him personally.

Of course, Val knew deep down that the dancing had nothing to do with it. It was more to do with the fact that she and Varian hadn't spoken, and her friends (Kay) were growing overly concerned, to the point where meddling (in her mind) was more than necessary.

"Because it's your birthday?"

"Kay."

"What? I'm just saying that it'd be nice."

"It'd be nice to see him sitting at the side on his own while we dance?"

"No!"

"Then what would be nice?!"

"It'd be nice for you two to stop being stupid and speak to each other like normal humans!"

There were visible cringes as the Westie finally exploded, and let go of Val simply so she could side step and end up in front of her instead.

"Nice one there, Kay..."

"Completely subtle, as always..."

Their observations were lost on Val, who was concentrating far too hard on making sure that the anger bubbling within her was kept in check. She let a few drops of it slip, with her jaw clenching, and her fist shaking as it curled by her side. But aside from that, she merely stared her companion down, in a bubble of awkward, heated silence.

"It's been nearly two days Val..."

"Don't you think I know that?" Val snapped, feeling her nails dig deep into her palms as a result of her actively trying not to throw a punch.

"Then why haven't you done anything?"

"Because it shouldn't always be up to me."

"But he's just-"

"If you say 'he's been through a lot', then I swear to the Light, I will floor you."

"Whoa now, there's no need for that," Hemming warned, raising both hands and deftly inserting himself between the two of them.

"I think you can understand that we'd be a little...concerned, with how you two are handling this entire 'wedding' mess."

"Which is 'not at all'," added Carson.

"Did you really expect us to?" Val asked, still keeping her shoulders squared.

"We expected the two of you to at least handle it badly together."

"Varian has made it entirely clear that he doesn't want to talk to me about it."

"Well, answer me this then," challenged Hemming, who was acutely aware of how she was still poised to strike.

"When, in all the years you've known him, has Varian ever come to you first about a problem?"

Val's mouth opened. Then it closed. Then it opened again, but no sound emitted from it. Nothing even resembling a counter-argument managed to form upon her tongue, and she ended up standing there, dumbly looking at Hemming as if he'd grown two heads.

"...That's not the point."

"It's entirely the point."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Oh for fuck sake, just go and talk to the cunt so we can go!"

Carson's loud complaint sliced through the admittedly childish back-and-forth, and with great, sulking reluctance, Val stepped back.

"If I do, and it goes as wrong as I think it will- you lot have to grovel when I get back. For as long as I say is enough."

"Deal," Kay said, sounding far more confident than Val felt at that moment.

"Fine. Wait for me by the wagons- this won't take long."

Her every footstep felt heavy and sluggish as she grew closer to Varian's tent. It was like there'd been a hard rain, and nothing but mud surrounded her, enveloping her legs and making it near impossible to move.

Her body shook with dread at what was about to come, and a lump had formed in her throat that choked her more with each breath.

Apparently, even his guard noticed that she was a complete wreck, for he asked her outright if she needed medical assistance before he'd even announced her. Touched by his concern, she declined, and merely asked again for him to do his job, so that she didn't have to spend another handful of precious seconds mulling her situation over.

"...Send her in."

Varian sounded quiet. Which was so unlike him, that it scared her.

She thanked the guard, and forced herself to move forward, until she heard the telling 'thud' of the flap falling to a close behind her. Even then, her eyes stayed screwed shut, as if she'd find him in a compromising position when that obviously wasn't the case.

"Val."

That was it. No greetings, or warm nicknames. Just a sharp acknowledgment that she was there.

"Garside gave us all the day off."

"So I've heard."

"My friends want to spend it dancing."

"Good for them."

"With me. For my birthday."

That was the point in which the hand travelling across the page in front of him stopped dead in its tracks, and Varian's head slowly rose until his royal blue eyes met hers. Behind them, Val could see him frantically interrogating his own mind, and whilst she was acutely amused by his fear, she felt it unnecessary.

"It's alright. You haven't missed it. They just wanted to celebrate early."

"Ah."

More silence befell them, and it was agonising. Her thoughts grew louder within it, and each one jabbed harder and harder at her, until she simply couldn't take it anymore.

"If we're done, can you just fucking tell me please?"

This time, the quill fell with a clatter, just as Varian's chair did as he all but leapt to his feet.

"Excuse me?!"

"I mean it, Varian. If we're over, please, just put me out of my misery."

"Over? Why in the hells- over?" Varian sputtered, confusing Val with just how truly bewildered he seemed.

"Well, you've chosen Tiffin, right?"

"Chosen Tiffin?!"

"...You mean you haven't?"

"No I bloody well have not!" Varian bellowed with his full chest. His face was red with anger, and his arms quivered as if he were debating whether to strangle her or not.

"Where on Azeroth did you get such a ridiculous notion?!"

"From the fact that you've not said a damn word to me since you got here!" Val exclaimed, with adrenaline pushing her voice to a decibel that meant everyone outside would hear her every word.

"So you immediately assumed that it was because I'd chosen Tiffin?"

"Well I don't know! Maybe you just decided you liked being married all of a sudden!"

"Do you not realise how Light-damned absurd that sounds?!"

"Now I've said it out loud, yes!"

They stared each other down, with heaving shoulders and furrowed brows, for what seemed like a millennia. Eventually, Val decided to be the one bestowed with the honour of continuing the admittedly stupid conversation, and she let her arms drop from where they'd been firmly planted about her hips.

"So why then? Why have you not spoken to me? Is it something I've done? Is it something you've done?"

"Why does it have to be anything at all? Can't it just be that I've been busy?" Varian countered, but there was something in the way he said it that caught Val's curiosity. She couldn't quite place it, but a certain inflection somewhere in his questioning made her think once again that he was hiding something.

"No, because even when you're busy, you send for me. Yet you haven't. So there's obviously something going on," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"Was it the wedding? Did something go wrong?"

His grimace didn't give her any clues.

"Did something go right?"

"The wedding went as it should. Nothing more, nothing less," Varian snapped, picking his chair back up.

"Sit down, Val."

"Why?"

"Because I do have something to tell you."

Her fears started bubbling at the pit of her stomach again, but still, she obeyed his command, and carefully lowered herself onto the seat opposite his own. All was quiet whilst he poured an ale for them to share, and set aside whatever work she had interrupted.

"Before I left Lordaeron, Tiffin took me aside," he began, taking the first swig, and pushing the goblet toward her once he was done. "I was vexed with her at first, for she knew how eager I was to leave. Eager to get back here, to my men...and to you."

"That still doesn't explain freezing me out the way you have," Val pointed out, choosing not to partake for the moment.

"It will when I tell you what she said," Varian assured her, drumming his large fingers upon the table's edge.

"Val...she's pregnant. Tiffin's pregnant."

He may as well have declared the Horde victorious. In fact, that probably would've been less devastating to hear.

"I had no clue how to tell you. Hence why I've been...distant. Rest assured, that it's absolutely nothing you've done..."

She couldn't hear him properly. His voice was garbled, as if she'd put her head underwater, and even the way he held her hand felt wrong- like she was made of sand, and disintegrating before her very eyes.

"Val, please say something."

She didn't want to, from fear of what exactly she would say to him. She knew that if she opened her mouth, all the wrong things would tumble from it- horrible, nasty things that he didn't deserve, because by all accounts, she should've known this was coming.

It'd been no secret that he and Tiffin had been 'trying'. In fact, some would say that Val had been too involved in the discussions concerning Stormwind's eventual heir. So she couldn't claim to be blind-sided by the news.

She just wished it hadn't happened this fast.

When she'd agreed to their attempts to conceive, she'd been of the view that it would take months for any positive results. It would give her time to both process, and even more importantly, time to accept it. But it had barely been two months since they'd landed in Lordaeron. This was too soon. Much, much too soon.

Which left her with one agonising, burning question.

"How far?"

Her voice was so small, so meek, that as a man with one ear that didn't function properly, Varian had to lean forward and strain every muscle in his head in order to hear her.

"How far what?"

"How far gone is she?"

Apparently, Varian understood why exactly she was asking. He was appropriately sympathetic in his features, but underneath, Val could see the brushed tones of offence creeping its way to the surface.

"Five weeks. So well within the margins of when this was talked about."

Val supposed it was reassuring to know that the deed hadn't been done in Stormwind. If that'd been the case, her reaction would be far more explosive, with catastrophic effects, for all of them.

"And it's yours?"

"Yes."

She slid her hand from his, and the fear that the gesture brought was as obvious as the nose on Varian's face.

"Are you sure you only found out at the wedding? Because if that's just an attempt to make me feel better, it's not going to work, so you may as tell me the truth."

"Val, I swear on the spirit of my father, I had absolutely no clue until two days ago."

Another silence fell. It was a contemplative one this time- Varian could tell by the glazed, faraway look in Val's eye that she was thinking about every word he'd said with the utmost scrutiny. Her fingertips started plucking at the edge of her sleeve, which was already frayed from days of worrying about everyone and everything, and her throat swelled and ebbed with swallows meant to keep scathing words at bay.

Even when she did look at him, it was in the way an automaton would it's master- stunted, slow, and calculating.

"So you chose to completely blank me, and make me feel completely awful, because you what, felt guilty?"

"How could I not feel guilty, Val?" Varian retorted, but the bite to his tone had completely disappeared, and his eyes turned soft, contradicting the furrow to his brow- one that exaggerated the new, jagged scar that ran across the bridge of his nose.

"Not only did I marry another woman, but now I have to burden you with the idea of a baby that isn't yours, just before we go to a battle we may not come back from. If you were in my boots, you'd want to spare you from all of that as well."

She seemed completely dumbfounded, and truthfully, he could understand why.

"...That's really stupid. Really, really stupid."

"It may shock you to learn that I'm a very stupid man sometimes. This apparently being one of them," Varian said, moving his chair so that it was next to hers and slamming himself down upon it. "I'll be completely frank with you, Sweetheart-"

"Don't you fucking 'Sweetheart' me, Varian Wrynn-"

"I decided to keep away, so that you could concentrate completely on the battle. It's what I needed you to concentrate on."

"Oh, right, because I wasn't thinking about the wedding and nothing else already."

"Be as sarcastic as you want. My intentions were good."

"Fuck your intentions," Val snapped. "What would your intentions have done if we'd come back from battle, and some random told me about the baby instead?"

"That would be unlikely, seeing as I haven't agreed to announce the pregnancy yet."

"And when you did eventually agree, would you have told me then? Or would we just go the rest of our lives tiptoeing around it, with you avoiding me, and me sitting here wondering what the fuck I did wrong?"

Varian sighed, and used the time it took to drain the rest of the ale to conjure an answer that would satisfy them both.

"...I'm an ass. A colossal ass. I went about this the complete wrong way, and ask for nothing but your eternal forgiveness."

To others, he'd be deemed sarcastic, or blasé. But for Val, who knew full well how difficult it was for him to even acknowledge his errors, let alone apologise for them, he was the most genuine and sincere that a man could be.

So much so, that it was growing increasingly difficult to be furious with him.

"To be fair...I think I would've been pissed off, no matter what you did," she admitted.

"I was trying not to say it."

Her nose wrinkled, a sure sign that she was still annoyed with him.

"So I suppose the next thing I should ask is whether you're happy about it," Val said, taking the reins and pouring another ale. Once the goblet was near full, she set it down between them and reached into her pocket for her cigarette case.

As further proof that his mind was addled, Varian accepted the offer of one, which he very rarely did. Unlike Val, who was ashamedly addicted to the narcotic, he was what one would call a social smoker; it was only really on special occasions, or dinners with important persons that he would partake in a cigar or two.

"Would it upset you if I said 'I am'?"

"Not a bit."

"Then I am."

"Good."

More puffs, more sips...more silence. It was becoming cumbersome, having to break it every other minute. But they still did it; whether it was for the sake of each others sanity, or their own, they had no clue anymore. Yet they still did it.

"Who else knows?"

"Aside from you?" he asked, getting an affirming nod in response, and using the precious few seconds that it took to flick his ash away to mull his answer over. "Just us, and the Menethils. Although, that wasn't by choice."

"Let me guess- Arthas forgot what knocking was again."

"Got it in one," Varian confirmed, with a refreshing chuckle leaving his chest.

"I keep telling you to lock the door."

"I would, but maybe walking in on me bare-cheeked and cock swinging will be just the thing to shock him into never doing it again."

Finally, finally, there was genuine laughter between the two of them. It's volume could probably be deemed inappropriate considering that Varian had only been half-joking, but they didn't care. They were simply too relieved to hear it that they let it go for as long as their lungs allowed it to.

"I sincerely hope you don't have the same philosophy for when the baby does it. Poor thing will be scarred for life."

"Oh, that's different and you know it. The child won't know any better- whereas Arthas damn well does."

The ice between them was thawing- they could both feel it. Weights were lifting from their shoulders, and the air felt lighter.

"I really am sorry, love."

"I know," Val said, allowing him to take her hand again, and even managing to curl her lithe fingers about his.

"Not just about the 'shutting you out' aspect of this mess...I mean the whole thing."

"Varian. I know," Val repeated, strengthening her tone in order to get her point across.

"It makes me wonder why you put up with it all."

"Because when you look at the big picture, I've got it pretty damn good."

"Explain."

Val swallowed, wondering exactly how she was going to do that exact thing. A contemplative drag of her cigarette helped her immensely, and she put it in the dish with a small, but confidently sturdy smile.

"Well...I get to sit here drinking with a king, who has proven time and time again that he loves me beyond all reason. Enough to find it near impossible to tell me what is quite possibly the best news we ever get, because he's terrified that I'll hate him for it. When actually, it's the opposite, because he's getting something I can't give him-"

"Val, we don't know that for sure."

"-but I still get to call him mine afterwards, and care for that child as much as I want. So I get that, an essential husband in you, and what amounts to a big sister in Tiffin. What more could I want?"

Varian barely needed to pull on her hand to get her to her feet. But when he did, he ensnared her into what was possibly the tightest embrace he'd ever given in all the years that Val had known him. She could feel every twitch of the muscles nestled beneath the linen of his shirt, the slow, emotional rise and fall of his chest beneath her ear, and the way his throat bobbed with held back tears.

There was no need to say any more. The gesture was enough. Val did her best to return it in kind, but the difference in build between them would always make such a thing challenging to say the least.

When they eventually peeled themselves apart, Val reached up, and wiped his cheek with her thumb, ridding it of the tear that was tracking through his thick, unkempt stubble.

"If you ever feel that it's too much..."

"I'll tell you," Val promised, letting her smile widen with the kiss he planted against her knuckles.

He cleared his throat, embarrassed by the emotion he was allowing to manifest, and wanting nothing more than to pretend it'd never happened.

"Right then. We mustn't keep the others waiting," he declared, snatching his cloak from a nearby chair and swinging it about his shoulders.

"They said there's no rush," Val told him watching him move from one end of the tent to another as he readied himself with the speed of a fretting fox.

"Well, maybe I want to rush. Come now, it's not every day you turn twenty, Val. I'm eager to celebrate your transition from adolescence as soon as humanly possible."

"Why, so you won't be the dirty old man anymore?"

"Oh ha bloody ha," Varian huffed, sweeping a brush through his hair, debating for all of a second whether to bother tying it, and dropping the idea as quickly as it came.

"It's alright, you can say it."

"Fine! Yes, it would be nice to not tell people that I'm courting a teenager. Even if our gap is absurdly small, it still didn't sound great."

"Well now you don't have to be so ashamed," Val teased, giving his cheek a pat on her way to his dresser. A quick glance in the tiny, free standing mirror on top of it confirmed that she didn't look absolutely light-awful, which was perfectly fine with her, so she didn't even bother stealing his brush or scents.

"Now just when did I say I was ashamed?" Varian retorted. "I couldn't have cared less. It was the opinions of others that vexed me enough to even think about it."

"As always."

"I'm getting better as I get older. I no longer want to punch them the second they open their mouths. I at least let them say their piece beforehand."

"Oh, well, aren't you the epitome of maturity?" Val purred sarcastically, finding his glare all the more amusing when it was paired with the folding of his arms.

"You know, if you wish for me to actually partake in any dancing today, you're going the entire wrong way about it," Varian warned, relenting almost immediately once a kiss was planted on his cheek, and gladly giving her the same arm that he was just scolding her with.

"I had absolutely no hopes of you even thinking about it. So I can do what I like," Val countered, kissing his bicep with a triumphant grin.

"Yes well...It is your birthday tomorrow, and your gift hasn't arrived yet, so I have little to no choice but to get off my arse and show everyone the secret of 'the wonky Elekk' instead."

"Oh no, not that one. Please, Varian, anything but that one."

"It's the only one I know, woman. So live with it."

"...Can't you just give me the gold? That and a card will do just fine."

"Cheeky bitch."

"Arsehole."

"Cow."

"Cockhead."

"I love you."

"I love you too, you big idiot," Val said, resting her head against him once they were out in open air, and smiling contentedly.

Varian, however, wasn't smiling, and he was glad that her height made it near impossible for her to witness it as they crossed the camp.

Her quick acceptance of his news scared him deep into his core. No woman on Azeroth should (in his mind) be so gracious and calm when hearing that their partner was having a child with another. So it was clear that her kind words had been nothing but a facade, and her true feelings were hidden well within the recesses of her heart...a heart that he was sure was breaking.

Worse still, was that he had no idea what to do to make it better. All the reassurances and promises in the world weren't enough to ease the hurt he was obviously putting her through.

"Val?"

"Hm?"

"Once the wars done, and all's settled...I want us to go away for a while. Just you and me."

"Why?"

"Because I think we more than deserve it."

Her nose wrinkled in a way he didn't like.

"What about Tiffin?"

"She'll be fine. If anything, I think she'll be all for it."

"Where were you thinking?" Val asked, pulling a feather from his sleeve pretty much the second it landed.

"Anywhere you want. Azeroth is your oyster."

She let out a low, thoughtful hum, and drummed her fingers hard enough for him to feel every single beat.

"Oh! I know! Let's go t-"

She would never be able to finish her answer, for the loud, droning moan of the rampart horns pushed through the morning air, washing over them and bringing every single body in the camp to where they stood.

"Horde sighted at the Western Strand!"

"Light damn it," Varian muttered under his breath. He looked down to find Val already disengaged from him, with a knowing look in her eye.

"No dancing for us, then. Sorry, Sweetheart."

"Don't be. There's always tomorrow," she replied, sounding more hopeful than he could ever feel.

"Go on, rally the troops."

Invigorated by her determination, Varian cleared his throat, and puffed his chest with the insane belief that it would make his baritone as loud as it needed to be.

"All soldiers, to arms! Ten minutes is all you have to suit up, make peace with your gods, and fall in to your generals!" He bellowed, and thankfully, all in the vicinity answered him with a rousing 'yes, Sir!'.

"We finally have the chance to extinguish the Horde from Azeroth once and for all. They've taken our lands, the lives of those we love! So in return, we will give them every ounce of power the Alliance has! Give them hell, then send them there!"

"For the Alliance!"

It was a vain cry, but one that Varian would never punish, for it did what it was meant to, and raised both the morale, and the voices of his soldiers, until their repetition grew in volume, until the trees above them shook.