A/N: Still looking for a beta - please PM me if interested!
For a moment, she stared at him, dumbfounded by his gall. Was this some elaborate ruse to catch her off guard? She scanned her surroundings for signs of an impending ambush one more time, but once again could find nothing unusual.
"Explain," she commanded.
"A marriage between the King of the Alliance and the Warchief of the Horde is surely the most secure guarantee of peace that can be made. I've researched this matter thoroughly and there's precedent for political marriage in nearly every race's history." He looked at her intently. "Marry me, Sylvanas. End the war. Become my Queen in Stormwind and I'll give you terms far more favorable than continuing this conflict would get you."
He can't possibly be serious.
"Is that it? Your brilliant plan to stop the war? To offer me, the Warchief of the Horde, Varian Wrynn's run of a son in marriage?" She scoffed. "You've lived fewer years than I've had lovers - what interest could I possibly have in marrying you? Killing you would be far more enjoyable - but neither option is particularly enticing."
To her annoyance, the boy showed no sign of being offended or deterred. Instead, he gave her a lopsided grin.
Who was this person standing in front of her? Sylvanas stared at him again. Whoever this boy was at their last meeting some years ago, this was some other man entirely. He dared to ambush her on her own territory. Didn't flinch when she nearly killed him, didn't panic when she strangled him, didn't react when she insulted him. And now he was asking her to marry him? She wondered if any members of the Horde would ever dare to do the same. She thought it unlikely.
Well. My day has certainly gotten a lot more interesting. And I better keep an eye on him in the future. The boy king clearly has more guts than I gave him credit for.
"As much as it pains me that you do not find my personal charm attractive, Dark Lady, I think you're missing the big picture of what I'm offering you. To be the Queen of Stormwind and the Warchief of the Horde is to rule all of Azeroth. Who else could boast of something like that?"
"Being the Queen of Stormwind means taking orders from you."
The boy shrugged. "In Alliance matters, I guess that's true. In the Horde you'd retain your primacy and in Stormwind… well, your word would be law only second to mine - no one else's."
An image came to her mind unbidden and she snorted in amusement. "I suppose ordering the mutt around until he apoplexies could provide some brief form of entertainment."
He gave a bark of laughter. "I see you're coming around to my way of thinking."
"What I'm coming around to is the fact that you are very eager to give your throne away to your enemy. How are you supposed to benefit from this foolish endeavor?"
He looked at her strangely. "Is peace not enough as a motivation?"
"Ours is a cycle of hatred, little lion. We make peace only to fight another war later. Peace solves nothing. War does."
"We've never had real peace, Sylvanas. A break in the fighting or a temporary alliance to fight a common enemy isn't peace. But you and I… our marriage could bring our nations together long enough for them to become one. We could break the cycle you speak of and forge a new one. A cycle of friendship and cooperation."
She had to scan his face for tells, but the boy was so flushed with passion that it was obvious he believed every word he'd said. Is it possible to be this much of an imbecile while being smart enough to ambush me like he did?
"I have never heard anything so idiotic. But then, I have not been spending time around you much either. It seems that it comes with the territory."
He shrugged. "You don't have to share my ideals, Dark Lady. You just have to accept my terms."
"Yes, you mentioned 'terms' before. I was wondering when you would condescend to finally voice them. Well? What are these brilliant terms your runt brain has come up with?"
"An immediate cessation of hostilities," he replied. He had obviously prepared for this speech ahead of time. "No retributions or reparations on either side. Borders frozen as they currently stand de facto. The Alliance and the Horde united into a single nation under our joint rule, but with the administrative control remaining split between us." He rubbed his chin pensively. "You probably don't need reminding that while the Warchief's Mate is a position of honor but not power, the Queen Consort of Stormwind is second only to the King, at least when it comes to Stormwind itself.
"If you and I disagree regarding a matter that affects all of Azeroth, then we'll need some kind of tie-breaker. I suggest a council composed of leaders of each race, but we could discuss this further. As for azerite - I believe it would be safest for our world for the control of it to be handed over to a neutral party that could be mutually agreed upon. The Cenarion Circle, perhaps. There are a number of trade agreements I believe would go a long way in bringing our nations together.
"And…" he paused, hesitant. "Gilneas. I offer to transfer Gilneas to the Forsaken for perpetuity."
She looked at him, considering. The 'terms' were clever as advertised, she had to admit. He was giving her everything she would have taken by force: Ashenvale and Gilneas, the latter a trade for the soon-to-be-captured Darnassus. The azerite clause was a non-issue: the Horde could easily continue research in secret and once they were confident of weaponizing it, the Cenarion Circle alone would not be able to stop her from retaking full control of Silithus. If anything, such a treaty would give her the time to research the substance carefully instead of rushing to turn it into an advantage.
Not only was he offering her all this without having to do battle - and yes, risking her Val'kyr - he was also giving her the Stormwind throne. Even as second in command, there was so much she could do to destabilize the Alliance and strengthen the Horde - and the Forsaken especially - as the Queen of Stormwind. The endless possibilities were already bouncing around in her head.
Surely, even an idiot like Anduin would know that this is what she would do. Was he really such a fool as to believe that the "peace" he would gain would be worth giving her all that power? Did he perhaps think he could outplay her at her own game? Whatever it was, it was a brainless gamble that she could easily win.
Yes, the terms were far more advantageous than settling everything through war - if she could trust the terms. The idiot King seemed sincere - Sylvanas had a keen eye for lies - but this may have been somebody else's plan. A distraction, perhaps, to pause the conflict long enough to land more troops and shore up defenses. Or an even more elaborate plan to isolate her and remove her as Warchief. She had to make sure. And not seem too eager about it.
"You disappoint me, little lion," she said to him, tinting her voice with boredom. "You offer what you do not have. Your night elf friends will hardly accept ceding us more territory for perpetuity. The Worgen will certainly refuse. No. The Horde will take what is ours by force. It is the only way."
The boy was adamant. "I am the King of the Alliance, Sylvanas. I decide what territories we cede and which we do not. They will be bound by my decision."
"And if they leave your precious Alliance? What then?"
He looked at her as if she was an idiot. "If you and I are married and Tyrande invades your lands, she would be declaring war on both of us. The Alliance will fight by your side."
"Against the night elves? You will not be king for long if you do."
He furrowed his brows. "What if I get you their consent, Dark Lady? Is this the only obstacle to your acceptance?"
Sylvanas laughed. "The obstacles to my acceptance are your runt face and your idiotic terms. What, more what ifs and more promises, Wrynn? I do not wish for any potentialities. War is certain and it is how I will take everything I want."
"Two hours," the boy pleaded. "Give me two hours, Sylvanas. I will have Tyrande's and Genn's consent."
"And what then?"
"We discuss the terms in detail and upon signature, prepare for the wedding."
"Which would be held when?"
"In Stormwind it is common to wait a month after engagement."
"Do you take me for a fool, boy? What, am I to wait for a month while your troops recover and gather strength? How do I know you will not simply use this as a ruse to delay our victory?"
"Does my word mean nothing to you?"
"What do you think, runt-brain?"
Anduin sighed. "Fine. Give me two hours to have Tyrande's consent and the basic terms drafted. Once we sign, we can perform the marriage ceremony immediately and then hammer out the finer details after."
"And then what?"
Anduin raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
"Perhaps your father didn't get the chance to tell you about the birds and the bees, boy king? There are certain… pleasures the married enjoy with each other." She walked towards him slowly, putting a practiced cat-like sway of the hips into her stride. His eyes titled down to observe her before he looked away in embarrassment. She stepped closer, now less than an arm's length away. "You're inviting death into your bedchamber," she whispered sultrily. "Are you man enough for it?"
His eyes returned to her and stayed there, moving slowly over face and then sliding further down. She expected him to balk away from her like most of the living did, but after a few moments of silent examination, he stepped forward, closing the gap between them such that they were nearly touching. His eyes looked into hers intently, as if they were locked in place. She could see fear there, insecurity well-hidden by a facade of bravado, and more than a pinch of naivete. But there was also courage reminiscent of his father's, undeniable intelligence, sincerity, and… desire.
"I admit," he said quietly, his eyes still intently fixed on hers, "that I have little experience of that kind. But I would be happy to learn from you… if you would have me."
Sylvanas smiled inwardly. Were he one of her subjects, he would've been an excellent tool. Like the best of her followers, he desired her and feared her at the same time. He was sincere enough to be loyal and intelligent enough to be useful. He did come with a frustratingly unbending moral compass, but she'd had plenty of experience manipulating desire and loyalty to make a person more… flexible. The boy king wasn't exactly a follower… but perhaps could become one, if they were to be married.
She traced the sharp tip of her metal-clad index finger along his sternum, and felt his living heart beneath respond to her touch. "Perhaps I have to teach you everything there is to know about leading a kingdom, boy, but one of your responsibilities as king is to produce an heir. As much as I may be amenable to trying, I think my current condition makes it impossible to bear a child."
A light blush bloomed on his cheeks at the mention of trying. "I… am aware," he stammered out. "And… I want one thing clear, Sylvanas. If we are to wed, I would be a loyal husband, in every sense of the word. I won't take my vows for granted. As for the issue of an heir to the throne… well… I wouldn't be the first King to adopt someone into my bloodline. When the time is right, I will search for candidates. But I believe that peace in Azeroth is more precious than having my direct progeny sitting on the Stormwind throne a century from now."
"A marriage proposal and a promise of undying loyalty," she fanned herself with her hand mockingly. "I shall swoon."
"I am being sincere, Dark Lady."
Sylvanas was about to continue with her snarky remarks, but she nearly choked on her words instead. Her hand was still on his chest and it radiated a tingling sensation that spread further down her arm and into her chest.
A sensation. She felt it earlier when she choked him in anger, but she brushed it off as an effect of his magic leaping to his defense. But standing so close to him now, she could sense that he was not casting anything. There was no protective aura, nothing at all that could possibly create this effect.
Yet she was feeling. It was light, ephemeral, but it was there. A light tingling sense of what was it? Warmth?
Sylvanas was unlike most of her Forsaken subjects: she was a banshee. Although she recovered the body Arthas stole from her, she did not truly inhabit it. She was simply puppeteering a corpse that she maintained in the best physical condition through magic. She felt no pain, no taste, no smell, no physical pleasure or distress. Perhaps this is why she also felt few emotions aside from anger.
And now, standing next to the boy-king of the Alliance, she felt something for the first time since her undeath.
Was whatever was happening a conscious effort on his part? She didn't think so - she would've detected some attempt to cast or to otherwise manipulate magical currents. He seemed oblivious to what he was doing to her, and as good as his poker face was, it was not good enough to hide something like that.
"Two hours." Anduin's voice brought her out of her thoughts and into the present moment. Her mind must've wandered off for some time. "Give me two hours to speak with my allies and I will bring you their consent. You could be the Queen of Stormwind by this afternoon. What do you say?"
The palm of her hand resting on his chest felt warm, making it difficult for her to think of anything else. She shoved him hard, sending him stumbling away, and flexed her hand instinctively. The tingling began subsiding immediately, leaving an unpleasant coldness in its wake. She forced herself to focus on her present conundrum.
It could still be a trap. She didn't see how, but the boy was clearly not an idiot. Perhaps she was underestimating him. But his terms were as advertised: advantageous enough to be more attractive than continuing the fight. She could win this war with one word, preserve her forces, and claim a trophy in the form of Stormwind and its runt of a king. There were undeniable risks. It would be more certain to face him in battle and take it all by right of conquest.
But her curiosity nagged at her urgently. His proposal offered far more potential… and entertainment. And this strange sensation that she felt… she would not be able to understand what it was and why it was if she couldn't be physically close to its source.
This wasn't a decision she could spend days or weeks pondering. It had to be made now or it would be made for her.
She looked at the boy standing there after she pushed him. He looked despondent, but met her gaze eagerly enough.
"Two hours, Wrynn. No more."