Aurelia's first summer quickly turned into her first winter. Before her parents knew it, her sundresses had been replaced by thick, woollen gowns, and the pram's parasol had been switched with a warm fur blanket.

Strolls through the park had been discarded for nights by the fire, and the elder Wrynns found that they'd risen even before the sun on some days, despite the time change making them leave their beds an hour later than usual.

The child herself seemed to follow the same pattern, and had changed as drastically as the leaves covering the floor of Elwynn Forest.

She was starting to grow more independent, in both play and practicality. Shechose the games, instead of Varian and Val initiating them, and if Aurelia decided it was done, then there was no arguing with her.

Her personality was blossoming more with each passing day, and despite the odd moment where she'd become the greatest terror Stormwind had ever known, she had won the hearts of all those around her.

Especially that of her Father, who was counting the seconds before he could end another tedious council meeting. As usual, simple problems were being drawn out and questioned to the point of irrelevancy, and Varian felt as if he were talking to a room full of children who couldn't decide what they wanted for dinner whenever he suggested any form of solution.

His head was hurting, his coffee mug was annoyingly empty, and the notepad in front of him was covered with incoherent scribbles that he'd probably have to sit and decode later on…meaning less time with his family, and more time wishing he'd just given the crown to whatever idiot crossed his path.

"...And the Gnoll known as 'Hogger' was taken into custody yesterday, courtesy of a bounty hunter who's chosen to remain anonymous," informed Hartfield, who was looking over the daily newspaper, as the rest of them were want to do nowadays.

They were finding that these so-called 'correspondents of important events' were finding out about the workings of the world quicker than even the city guard were. So it'd behooved them in recent years to use the publication to garner information and see whether it needed either addressing, or rectifying.

Although, Varian was sure that the older of the men surrounding him shared his personal thoughts on the journal; to him, it was nothing but gossip-fuelled drivel that only occasionally held stories of any worth.

But on the other side of the coin, he wasn't going to turn away anything that would potentially aid them in making the kingdom better for those inside it. And if that meant reading articles about the newest hat that was taking the city by storm, or how ale prices were rising, in order to do it, then so be it.

"Too humble to make their name public, but not enough to refuse the reward," Remington commented, reading the same page and grimacing as if it'd personally offended him.

"In their defence, Milord- I'd want to be paid just for going nearthat loathsome creature, let alone capturing him," retorted Lord Lescovar, and a round of chuckles erupted about the table.

"It's the damn noise they make that irks me the most. It sounds like nails on a chalkboard," Varian added, flipping the page and deciding that they'd drained the days resources from the paper when he started reading about how someone called 'Two-Shoed Lou' actually owned threeshoes, and apparently that was considered rather scandalous.

"Better that, than listening to a gaggle of murlocs, Your Majesty," piped up Lord Morley, who only had a seat on the council because his elder brother had refused it.

He was among the youngest in the room, but that hadn't stopped him from integrating himself into the fold like he'd been doing it all his life.

"Too true, Milord. Too true," Varian agreed, using a thumb to scrub at a ring that his mug had left upon the table.

"Your Majesty, forgive my impetuosity, but I've been reading over the the plans concerning His Highness' visit to Cathedral Square later on today," piped up Katrana, whose thin, painted lips pursed as she took pause to assess Varian's expression. Once she was satisfied that he wasn't about to bite her head off, she continued.

"I'm not entirely satisfied at the number of guards that Your Majesty has assigned. I fear they won't be enough, should those attending become…for lack of better word, 'riotous'."

"I appreciate your concern for my son's safety, Milady. But I highly doubt that a group of hungry vagrants will choose to spoil their chance at a decent meal," Varian replied, gathering his papers and attempting to organise them.

"Both he and the Queen will be attended by the usual guards, and to soothe any further fears you may harbour, Spymaster Shaw has assured me that riflemen will be situated nearby, should anyone try anything."

"I have to commend His Highness- not many children would forsake a birthday gift in way of charitable works," commented Hartfield, and Varian's smile widened because of it.

"That's my son for you, Milord- always eager to help those who can't do it themselves," Varian boasted, tying his binder shut.

"And with that, gentlemen, I think we can call this meeting adjourned. We'll reconvene in two days time, unless an emergency crops up. Good day to you all."

There was a chorus of scraping chairs as each councillor stood, and no sooner had they done it, then they fell like dominoes into bows as Varian passed by them. The King waited until the chamber doors were firmly closed behind him before letting his shoulders finally sag, with a deep exhale causing the only noise in the corridor.

"I swear, the older I get, the longer those damn meetings seem to go on for…" he muttered, already untying the collar of his doublet to give his constricted throat some respite.

"On the contrary, Your Majesty, I rather thought today's session was quite the success," protested an ever tactful Gregor.

"Aye it was…when we finally found something to bloody well agree upon," moaned Varian, who clearly didn't feel the same way as the groom. He passed his binder to the ebony-haired man as soon as he'd put his hands out for it, and pulled the gloves from his own straight after.

"Honestly- I would've accomplished more had I spent the morning teaching my daughter how to say 'Papa' properly."

A knowing chuckle escaped Gregor's lips, and although it held the same humour as the one Varian answered it with, its pitch and tone were completely different.

The latter's was low, and rumbling, like a distant thunderstorm. The former's was sharp, and ended quickly enough for anyone to wonder whether it was genuine or not, no matter the circumstance.

"Speaking of the Princess, Your Majesty…" Gregor started. "Will she be accompanying the Queen later on? If she is, I must echo Lady Prestor's fears about security surrounding the excursion."

Varian was already raising a reassuring hand before the man had even finished speaking.

"There's no need to echo anything. The Princess will be with mefor the duration of her mother's absence," Varian clarified, and he looked particularly proud of the fact.

"I've not spent nearlyas much time with her as I would've liked since my duties have resumed, so a few hours of papa time will be just what the healer ordered."

"Very good, Your Majesty," Gregor replied. "I'll make sure that your schedule for this afternoon is cleared." Varian appreciated that, and he was sure that it was evident on his face. But that didn't stop him from making his point as clear as humanly possible.

"See that you do- unless it's a world-ending, absolutely direemergency, I don't want to hear about it," he stressed, swearing he could find no difference in Gregor's chuckle than he had with the previous one.

"Understood, Your Majesty," was his assurance. Varian decided to take it, and spare himself a further headache.

The two of them parted ways once they reached the throne room, with Gregor retreating to his office, and Varian ascending the winding staircase towards the residential wing.

The muddle of voices wafting from downstairs dimmed the nearer he got to his chamber, and the harsh light of the Keep's braziers were replaced with a cool winter sunlight shining through the many windows lining the corridor.

"Morning, Majesty," greeted Jon, who for once had forsaken the night shift, and seemed all the better for it. The tired drawl was gone from his voice, and Varian noticed that the same bags that he himself had under his eyes had faded a little.

"Morning," Varian returned, clapping the guard's arm. "How are things up here?" Jon shrugged, which Varian thought a good sign.

"Been relatively quiet. Everyone's up and about, if that's what you mean," Jon said, putting his pole-arm against the wall.

"It is indeed. Now, tell me truthfully…is Anduin at school?" Varian asked, folding his own arms and tapping one bicep. Thankfully, Jon put him out of his misery with a firm nod.

"Saw him leave myself, Majesty. Protested all the way, but to Her Majesty's credit, she stayed firm with him," Jon snickered, bringing a smirk to his master's face.

"Oh, did she now? That makes a damn change," Varian jested, putting an ear to the door and making sure there wasn't a baby leaning against the other side.

Satisfied that wasn't the case, he still practiced caution as he pushed the dark oak open, and after bidding Jon farewell, retreated into the one place he could truly call his sanctuary.

Almost instantaneously, he was besieged by an eight month old girl who was clearly taking advantage of a new freedom. Aurelia hadn't had her walker long- a few days at most, but already she was zooming to and fro like an expert.

In fact, she only stopped her relentless circuiting when she noticed the door close, and after realising who'd come through it, she pelted towards Varian like a bat out of hell.

"Pap! Pap!"

Varian couldn't hold back a smile as he bent down, and once his knees had been nudged by thin wood, he lifted Aurelia out of the seat, and held her to him with a relentless embrace.

"Hello, you," he said affectionately, ignoring how Aurelia wriggled in protest at the kiss he planted upon her ruddy cheek.

The protest didn't last long, however. Not two seconds afterwards, Aurelia showed off her growing talent for mimicking, and opened her mouth wide as she tried to return the gesture to her father.

"Aw, thank you, Sweetness," Varian said, using the sleeve of his doublet to wipe his face.

"I think she missed you," teased Val, who was putting an array of discarded toys back into the box sitting in the middle of the rug. It was a futile endeavour, and Varian was sure she knew that, but he wasn't about to anger his wife only a minute after his return.

"Good- because I bloody well missed her," Varian replied, taking his hair out of Aurelia's mouth and stepping over the walker in order to join her mother.

"Morning, Sweetheart," he added, giving Val the same kiss he'd just given their daughter.

"Morning," Val purred, gently scratching the underside of his chin.

"How's she been?" Varian asked, patting Aurelia's back.

"A little shit when she wants to be, and a little angel most of the time," Val told him, seeing no point in sugar-coating it, which Varian honestly appreciated.

"Oh? What have you done then, baby goblin? Hm? What have you done?" he questioned, giving Aurelia's side a tickle and putting a chirpy lilt to his voice.

"Say: 'I got into the bum cream again, papa!'" said Val, who'd decided that now he was back, she had time for a hot cup of tea, instead of a lukewarm, forgotten one.

"Oh sweet hells," Varian moaned, taking Aurelia's hand so she didn't keep batting his face with it. "We're going to have to put that damn jar under lock and key before long."

"That won't stop her, and you bleedin' well know it," Val scoffed, taking two mugs from the stack and spooning coffee grounds into one.

"So come on, what did you paint this time, you little monkey? The walls, or Mama's chair again?" Varian teased, poking Aurelia in the stomach as he walked across to the closet.

"Oh, if only. No, for reasons I will never understand, our little Aurelia decided that she wanted to match Anduin's snowman, and smeared it all over herself," Val whined, and although he could tell from her tone that she was utterly exasperated by the whole experience, Varian couldn't help but sputter in amusement.

"I see," Varian hummed, looking his daughter straight in the face.

"So…you wanted another bath that badly, eh?" he asked accusingly, and from the way Aurelia started kicking her legs and flapping her hands in glee, he'd come to the correct conclusion.

"I would say she won't need one tonight now, but I dread to think what bedtime will be like if you miss it," Val said, stirring in the milk until each drink turned a light brown.

"So do I, which is why I have no intentions of doing so," Varian replied, searching the shelves for a tunic that was both comfortable, and dark threaded, so he could at least tryand hide whatever stains Aurelia's mealtimes brought with them.

He eventually found one, and slung it over his arm before coming back to the main chamber with them both.

"I suppose I'll just have to get my trunks and snorkel ready."

Aurelia had a wide smile on her face as he plonked her onto the bed, but Varian was sure that she was only doing it to match his own.

"Oh, you're so funny," said Val sarcastically. She left their mugs on the table, and instead brought over a few painted blocks for Aurelia to occupy herself with whilst Varian discarded his doublet completely.

"It's going to be strange, not doing bedtime myself tonight…" Val lamented, and while he was sympathetic, Varian wasn't about to let her change her mind about the only plans she'd made since Aurelia's birth.

"A little time away from the usual routine will do you good, love," Varian pointed out, and from the wrinkle of her nose, Val agreed with such logic, but didn't want to admit it.

"She probably won't even notice I'm gone, to be fair," Val muttered, stacking the blocks so that Aurelia could knock them over.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. She'll realise it as soon as the door closes behind you and you know it," Varian chided, but there was a chuckle dancing upon his lips as he said it.

"If we had a letterbox, I'm sure she'd use it as a peep-hole to look for you, just as her brother did."

"Ma-mam," Aurelia piped up, but both Varian and Val knew she wasn't adding to the conversation- rather, she was asking Val to stack the blocks again.

"You always have an answer for everything, Varian Wrynn," Val said drily.

"Of course I do- I'm a politician," Varian retorted, and before he could even finish his snicker, one of Aurelia's blocks hit his forearm, and caught itself in the sleeve of his tunic.

"Oh well, that's a smart move to teach our daughter, isn't it?" he scolded, shaking his arm so the block fell back onto the bed where it belonged.

"She wasn't even looking, ice brain!" Val shot back.

"Light I cannot wait to get rid of you later," Varian muttered, but Val could tell he was joking from the smirk he was horrendously hiding.

"You won't be saying that when she has an explosion just before bed," Val said smugly, and that was when Varian's eyes narrowed.

"Don't you dare jinx me like that, you witch," he hissed.

To his chagrin, Val decided to play on what he'd said, and she sat up with her fingers wiggling 'menacingly'.

"I put a curse on ye, Varian Wrynn. Before the clock strikes the seventh hour, your daughter's arse will blow like a bomb, and only youwill be here to clean it up!" she trilled, ending with a wild cackle that unsurprisingly, startled Aurelia.

It didn't take long for her shock to turn to tears, and Varian scooped her up before Val could even extend her arms properly.

"Aw, Sweetness, did mean old Mama scare you? It's alright, Papa's here to protect you from her evil ways," he crooned, clearly winding his wife up.

It worked, as was the norm between the two of them.

"Give her here, you twat," Val demanded, climbing down from the bed as Varian made off towards the table.

"Come and get her, shortarse," Varian mocked. Soon, Aurelia's cries turned to peals of laughter as her mother gave chase, and her father used the chamber as a race track in order to evade his wife's snatches and keep his daughter to himself just for a little bit longer.

"I didn't expect this many people to be here, mum."

Anduin's heartbreaking confession wasn't met with a reassuring smile. Val knew better than to patronise the prince, who was already tying an apron around his waist as if he'd been doing it all his life. Instead, she passed him a stack of wooden bowls, and rolled the sleeves of her tunic up.

"Neither did I, mate. But we should have enough food to go around," Val half-lied, hoping that would placate him, even if it was just by a slim margin.

"I hope so," he murmured, thanking one of the sisters for the stool she gave him to stand on, and climbing up onto it.

"I know that you and father said that there were more homeless nowadays, but I didn't think it would be this bad," Anduin added.

"Anduin, I can almost guarantee that not everyone here is homeless," Val said, using a metal ladle to stir the large pot sitting in front of her.

"Some are here because they can only just make ends meet, and need a little help with the rest."

"But surely there are better ways to help?" Anduin asked, and braced himself as the first few people came forward.

"If there are, we certainly haven't heard about them," Val replied, serving up a bowl of steaming Westfall Stew and passing it over. "So for now, this is the most we can do. And it's greatly appreciated."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," said the middle-aged man who'd taken the meal from her, and Val waved him off with a small, sad smile.

"Did you know him, Mum?" Anduin asked, recognising the pained expression of remembrance that he'd seen alot during the war.

"Aye, I did. Not very well, mind you, but he used to own the chip van in Old Town when you were a baby," Val explained, already readying another portion. "You're probably too little to remember, but whenever you and your father met me from work, we used to get a portion of chips to take home."

"Why doesn't he run it anymore?" Anduin questioned, giving his first bowl over and smiling at the boy who'd received it.

"I have no idea. But from the looks of him, he's been through hard times since then," Val mused, leaving the ladle in the pot and pouring out ten cups of water. "And that much, I can empathise with."

"But you've always had Father to look after you," Anduin pointed out, and although she couldn't exactly grow angry at him for it, Val still gave him a hard frown.

"Not always, I haven't. Remember, Little Lion, your father's only three years older than me. So when we were kids, I had to struggle, just as any of these people do," Val snapped, corking the jug back up.

There was an awkward silence between the two of them as Anduin slowly realised exactly whyhis stepmother had taken such offence to what he'd said.

"...Did youever use places like this, Mum?" he asked meekly, and Val fingers tightened around the cup she was moving onto a large wooden tray.

"Things never got that bad for us," she murmured, passing the tray over to another of the volunteers. "But there were some weeks when your grandfather hardly made any money, and we had to consider the idea."

"Does father know about those times?" Anduin pressed, and Val's nose wrinkled, which was always a tell-tale sign.

"He knows what I want him to know," Val admitted, getting back to the task at hand.

"But you're married- shouldn't you tell him everything?" Anduin said, and finally, a smile appeared on Val's face.

"What's the point of dredging up the past, and making your father feel bad for something neither of us had control over?" Val rebutted, taking a swig of the tea she'd been given.

"I suppose you're right," Anduin said, spooning another bowlful of stew. "What about the things that happen now?"

"Oh, well, that's a bit different," Val agreed. "Now, I tell him everything, because he's normally involved in it all." Anduin seemed placated by that, and the worry that had been brimming in his blue eyes started to ebb.

"Is that why you've been together so long? Because you talk?"

"It's alot of things that have kept us together," Val said, giving out another bowl to a haggard looking dwarf.

"Like what?"

"Well…" Val trailed off, and while Anduin thought that a negative reaction, it was quite the opposite. "To start with, we know each other's little ways, and how to handle them. Then there's the fact that he makes me laugh until i cry…"

"That can't be it, surely?" Anduin protested, finding her smirk even more infuriating.

"Your father would say it's because we don't put on fronts with each other. He's not afraid to tell me when he doesn't agree with me, and I'm willing to confront him when I think he's being an ass. A couple that can do that can last forever."

"So your arguments are sometimes a good thing?" Anduin summarised, making Val chuckle hard enough to make a small cloud appear in front of her.

"I wouldn't go that far, Little Lion. But sometimes they're necessary."

"What's the worst argument you and Father ever had?"

Val's smile dropped rather quickly, and her throat tightened as she focused on the ladle sitting in her shaking hand.

"I'd rather not discuss such a thing, Anduin. Not in public," Val mumbled, taking a loaf of bread from a passing priestess and promptly slicing it.

"Oh please, mum. Father wouldn't answer me when I asked him the same thing," Anduin whined, and Val's brow furrowed appropriately.

"And you didn't assume that there was a reason for that?" Val said, counting the amount of slices she was cutting as she did it.

"Only that whatever it was over was probably really, really bad," Anduin replied. "I can handle whatever that was, if that's what you're worried about."

"Anduin, if I know grown adults who are confused by that story, an eight year old sure as hells isn't going to follow it," Val argued, putting the knife down and brushing her hands off.

"How do you know, unless you tell me?" Anduin challenged, sloshing the contents of the bowl he was holding as he started bouncing with anticipation.

On a normal day, Val would know better than to engage her stepson in a staredown, but with a mix of both cold and the need to simply get on with her night, she found it impossible not to do exactly that.

"...You're not going to let this go anytime soon, are you?" she asked, making damn sure that he could hear the exasperation in her voice. But apparently, Anduin wasn't one for picking up on large hints.

"If I say 'no', will I get in trouble when we go home?" Anduin retorted, with a hopeful smile that drew a long, heavy sigh from the high queen.

"Oh, fine, you little goblin," she conceded, but before Anduin could thank her for caving in, she held up what she hoped was a threatening finger. "But you are notto pester your father about any of what I tell you, understand? That man has enough on his plate without you making it worse."

"Deal," Anduin declared, holding his gloved hand out and barely feeling the half-hearted squeeze Val gave it.

Val made sure to serve at least one more bowl of stew before she started retelling the lengthy tale, simply because she didn't know how to. Anduin watched her intently, and noticed how many times she mashed her lips together, or swallowed as if there were something blocking her airway.

"Mum?" he prompted, wondering whether she was simply trying to distract him enough that he forgot about the whole thing.

"Yes, alright, give me a minute," Val snapped. Thankfully, Anduin didn't take to heart how touchy the subject had already gotten her, and she had the chance to give him a small, reasurring smile that she was sure neither of them believed was genuine.

"I want you to understand before I go any further, that we were both young when this happened. And we've grown up to realise it was nobody's fault," she started, putting emphasis on nearly every word so it was drummed properly into the boy's head. Anduin looked more concerned than confused, but that was to be expected with such a cryptic heading to her story.

"I understand," he said, but Val was sure that wasn't to be the case by the time she was through.

Another deep exhale crystallised in front of Val, and finally, she let her shoulders sag.

"You know already that your father and I have been together for years," she said, somehow managing to keep going with her task at the same time.

"I do- Father makes no secret of it," Anduin said brightly, mimicking her actions and passing small plates of bread over the table.

"I know he doesn't," Val affirmed, and there was more of a warmth to her smile now. "Well, when he was about eighteen, and I sixteen, your father asked me to marry him."

"Did he?! I didn't know that!" Anduin cried, but his excitement at the revelation faltered at Val's loud shush.

"Anduin, please. I'm not going to tell you anything more if you keep screaming my business to all and sundry," Val warned, knowing full well that some, if not most, of the people lined up in front of them already knew the gory details of her and Varian's history.

"Sorry," Anduin muttered, giving her the most innocent, wide-eyed look that Val had seen in a fair while. She chose not to openly accept the apology. Instead, she simply carried on, telling him in no uncertain terms that all was well between them.

"Anyway…so your father asked me to marry him, and being the wide-eyed, lovesick girl I was, I said yes before he'd even finished talking," Val continued, avoiding his gaze without really meaning to.

"But you two only married before the Northrend War. How come you didn't do it back then inste…oh."

And there was the small, sad noise of realisation that Val had been dreading ever since he'd brought the subject up. She finally looked at him, and found his face long as a fiddle.

"Remember what I said, Little Lion. It was no one's fault," Val reminded him, trying her best to stress the point as much as possible.

"My mother wasthe reason though?" Anduin questioned, and Val started to regret ever starting this conversation with him.

"In a way, yes, she was. But not by her own choice," Val affirmed.

"Not long after our own engagement, your father found out about the betrothal. It was rather sprung on us, and…honestly, we didn't take it very well."

"Is that why father is so dead set against me having one? Because he had one and didn't want it?" Anduin added, and Val had no choice but to nod.

"He wants your choices in life to be exactly that- yourchoice," Val confirmed, spooning out another bowl and checking how much stew she actually had left.

"I can't lie to you, Anduin, as much as I desperately want to…the betrothal ruined things between your father and I for a long while."

"And that's when you argued really badly?"

"Aye. It was. But then, we solved it by going our separate ways for a while," Val admitted.

"Wait- is that when you lived with Grammy? Uncle Robin said you did before the First War," Anduin pondered, and for the millionth time in the past ten minutes, Val meekly nodded.

Anduin's lips pursed as he considered his next question carefully.

"So were it not for my mother…you and father would've been really happy for a long time, instead of just a few years," he glumly concluded.

Val put the ladle down at that point, and bent to hold Anduin's shoulders.

"Now listen to me when I tell you how much that's not the case, Anduin," she scolded, moving one hand to his cheek. "Your father and I would've been damn miserable, were it not for your mother. Because not only was she the one that banged our heads together and got us back on track…she gave us you."

"You know how long it's taken for us to have your sister, Anduin. Do you not realise that the only thing that kept us going during that time was having you with us?"

That seemed to work, and Anduin brightened a little.

"I didn't do anything though, Mum. I was just there," he pointed out, giving her a smile that showed just how many teeth he'd lost.

"That's exactly my point, you little monkey," Val chuckled, giving his nose a poke.

"So you weren't miserable when it was just me, cause I wasn't yours?" Anduin asked, and Val could understand the innocent curiosity in his voice.

"Not for a minute. And having Aurelia doesn't take any of our happiness for having you away, if that's what you're afraid of," Val said, making his eyes drop to the floor, confirming her suspicions.

"Promise?"

"Pinky promise," Val replied, holding said digit up and grinning when he hooked his own about them.

"Can I ask you one more thing, Mum?"

"Go on," Val said, finding it hard not to raise an eyebrow in suspicion.

"...Well, when Aurelia's bigger, she's going to be calling you mother, won't she, and I don't want to confuse her by calling you something different from her," Anduin explained, and suddenly, Val's chest began to tighten in realisation.

"Right…Where is this going?"

"...I want to call you 'mother', too," Anduin blurted, putting both hands up before Val could even open her mouth.

"This isn't me forgetting my real mother- far from it. But Wyll told me that lots of kids have two mothers, and that it's not going to make my real mother angry…if that makes sense."

"It does make sense, Little Lion, but you have to make sure that this is reallywant you want to do," Val insisted, swallowing back the pinpricked tears that were starting to sting the corners of her eyes.

"It is, Mother. It feels right. And it makes us a proper family…I won't be the odd one out anymore."

"You were never the odd one out, Anduin," Val said, giving him the hug he leant forward for. "...Was this why you asked about your father and I? Did you plan all this?"

"Sort of. I knew I wanted to ask you, and I thought talking about the marriage would help it make more sense when I did," Anduin confessed, resting his head on her shoulder. "Sorry about that. I know you don't like talking about it."

"It's a good thing you made it worth it then, eh?" Val said, kissing his temple.

"Do you think Father will approve?" Anduin asked, making no move to leave her embrace.

"I think he'll be over the damn moon," Val assured him with another laugh. "You might even see him cry."

"I doubt it- he doesn't cry at anything," Anduin mumbled, finally stepping back and climbing back onto his box.

He looked up at her as she did the same, and a large, ecstatic smile lit up his baby-ish features.

"Love you, Mother."

Val returned his smile, and felt a rush of warmth pool in the centre of her chest, and spread like a pleasant spider web throughout her entire body.

"Love you too, mate."