The deep rumble of night elf horns announced their little ragtag party's approach. Stormwind trumpeters - the more appropriate choice to herald the King of the Alliance - were in short supply in Ashenvale, so he had to contend himself with the more primal instrument of his Night Elf allies instead.
Horses, as it turned out, were in short supply too, but they did scrounge one up somewhere. The white filly was pretty enough, even if a bit too on the small side to give Anduin a royal appearance.
He rode at the head of the party, dressed against all advice in no armor but an enchanted tunic of royal blue with the Stormwind lion emblazoned on its front. Shalamayne hung at his hip, more for decoration than use - or so he hoped. Genn's concession of Gilneas, tied into a neat scroll, was burning a hole in the pocket of his tunic.
In contrast, Valeera rode at his side armed to the teeth, in full battle armor, and carrying enough blades to outfit a small troop. Anduin hoped to present this as a peaceful mission, but she had insisted that the bodyguard was supposed to be armed in case things went south.
Tyrande rode Ash'alah not too far behind, followed by Shandris Feathermoon and a hand-picked contingent of her huntresses. Unlike Tyrande, whose furrowed brows almost met in the middle, Shandris sat leaning back comfortably on her nightsabre, an amused smile on her lips. Thankfully, the night elves carried their shields on their backs and their moonglaives fastened to their panthers' saddles.
All in all, a bit too small and underwhelming for a royal delegation, but then nothing about this situation was normal.
The Horde, on the other hand, was out in full force. Ranks upon ranks of orcs, trolls, and forsaken stretched out as far as the eye could see, ready to resume battle once the ceasefire expired.
Sylvanas sat atop a massive death charger at the head of her army, Rae'shalare slung over her back, looking at their procession with the imperious glow of her scarlet eyes. The horse under her stood absolutely motionless with that uncanny stillness of the undead, as did the rider herself. Only the hem of Sylvanas's cloak and the few strands of blonde hair that spilled from her ranger's cowl swayed in the gusts of Ashenvale wind. A dark, unmoving colossus against the backdrop of the ever-moving living army of thousands, she radiated danger and authority from a mile away. Anduin's eyes did not leave her as they approached and he wondered (not for the first time that day) whether he had bitten off more than he could chew.
"Do you see Saurfang or Nathanos anywhere?" he asked Valeera quietly enough so that the rest wouldn't hear. She shook her head, brows furrowed in concern. The absence of Sylvanas's most trusted lieutenants made him more than a little nervous.
I hope that there are no surprises with those two.
As they drew near, it dawned on Anduin that this entire affair would be witnessed by the entire Horde.
Well then…
Sylvanas arched an eyebrow at him as they came within speaking distance.
"King Wrynn," she called out, loud enough for her soldiers to hear. "My generous ceasefire is about to finish and you are not dressed for fighting."
So that's how she wants to play it. Very well.
"Indeed, Dark Lady, I am not. I come to offer you peace instead."
"Peace?" she turned to her army and they snickered at her tone. "My warriors, have you tired of slaying your enemies? Do you wish for a rest and a return to your homes?" Passionate howls and growls answered her to the contrary. She turned back to him. "Your majesty, my Horde has not yet tired of this war. Did the boy king perhaps come to surrender?" More hoots and laughter from her side. Tyrande growled quietly and bared her teeth. Shandris scoffed.
"No, I have come to offer something better."
"And what is that?"
"I've come to offer you to sit beside me in Stormwind as its Queen."
A silence fell over her troops. You could hear some further back asking what happened.
"Indeed?" She finally dignified Tyrande with a look. "And will your pet elves approve a peace under such interesting conditions?"
The night elf woman snarled. "Watch your tone, witch! The kaldorei stand behind our King and whatever terms he agrees to."
"So brave," she drawled. "An entire race hiding behind an 18 year old."
Her troops roared in laughter and Anduin had to place a hand on Tyrande's arm to prevent a new war from breaking out.
Sylvanas looked around theatrically. "Your night elf pets are welcome to cower behind you, of course. But it appears that some of your other friends are missing. A certain dog, perhaps?" More laughter and jeers.
"King Greymane was unable to come, but he instructed me to give you this." Anduin produced the letter from his pocket. "If I may approach?"
She inclined her head slightly in agreement.
He spurred his mount onwards and stopped by the side of her death charger. He couldn't help his heart starting to race at the proximity - whether from fear or excitement (or both), he didn't quite know. She extended her hand out to him, but instead of turning it upwards to receive the scroll, she kept it elegantly facing palm down. A smirk in the left corner of her mouth told him what she expected.
A power play, of course, but he couldn't but feel a certain smug satisfaction in being asked. Taking her gauntleted hand in his, he bent down and placed a kiss on the cold metal. The Horde army in front of him cheered.
As he turned at the noise, Sylvanas snatched the scroll out of his hand. Cutting it open with the tip of her gauntlet, she unrolled it, scanning the contents quickly, and observed the signature at the bottom. Then, nodding, she rolled it back up and hid it away in a pocket in her armor.
"You've done well, little lion," she said quietly enough so that only he could hear. "Although it seems that the dog wasn't as compliant as your elf pet."
"No, I'm afraid not."
"The hound that bites its master's hand gets put down. Did your father never teach you that?"
"It didn't come down to biting."
"I see. Well, boy king, you seem to be full of surprises."
"Thank you, Dark Lady." He bowed lightly. High praise indeed. "I've brought you certainty, as promised. I will uphold the terms I voiced to you at our last meeting - will you consent to our marriage?"
The crimson of her eyes found the blue of his and it seemed as if she was peering into his soul. Despite the discomfort, he willed himself to match her gaze, his heart continuing to beat rapidly.
Finally, the corners of her lips curled slightly upwards. "Very well, your majesty. It appears that we have a wedding to plan."
Anduin expected to feel more than he did at her response. The treaty was yet to be signed, of course, and the wedding had to be still officiated. But a few hours ago he found it difficult to imagine even getting this far.
Still, a little ember of hope lit in his chest - a hope that his dream of peace and prosperity on Azeroth wasn't an empty dream after all. The fact that he received Tyrande's agreement - and Sylvanas's now too - nursed that ember to life.
She moved to turn back to her troops, but he snapped his hand out to grab hold of hers to stop her. "I uh… brought you something."
Her eyes darted to his in surprise. He reached under his tunic to pull out a golden ring he wore on a chain around his neck.
"This was my mother's engagement ring," he told her. Sylvanas blinked at him. "She died many years ago when I was still very young. I'm not sure if my father would approve of my choice today, but I know my mother would. I don't know if the elves have the same tradition as the humans in Stormwind, but I brought it with me to give this to you if you accepted. May I?"
The look she gave him was hard to interpret, but she turned her hand over in his, revealing the buckles that held her gauntlet in place. He gulped. It felt strangely intimate to undo the clasps on a piece of armor in front of such a large audience. Thankfully, he'd had plenty of experience with his own plate to know his way around a gauntlet.
He put the ring back around his neck temporarily to devote himself to her armor. The leather straps that held the gauntlet in place were supple and well-oiled, his own unarmored fingers finding the two buckles easy enough to undo. Under her intent gaze, he found the little metal pip that kept the gauntlet shut and, using both of his hands, pressed on it to open. Then it was as easy as simply giving the armor piece a tug and it came free, revealing a pale elven hand with long, elegant fingers.
Removing his mother's ring from the chain, he held her cold hand and gently slid the ring onto her fourth finger. The fit was remarkably comfortable. A few whistles came from those who could see what happened. Her expression remained unreadable throughout.
He meant the gesture and his words, of course. But it didn't hurt that the entire Horde was now witness to her agreement.
"I didn't know your size," he explained to her. "We can have it resized if you wish, although it appears to be a good fit without that."
"No need." There was a pause. She pondered the ring on her finger and for a second, Anduin lost that sense of danger that he always felt in her presence. Was it sadness that replaced it? Either way, it disappeared quickly. She half-turned to her troops with a smirk and raised her voice so that they could hear. "I think, Anduin," she said silkily, "We should discuss this further… in private."
Her troops roared, Anduin felt his cheeks redden, and Tyrande seemed to choke on something. Unperturbed, Sylvanas called up Geya'rah to command her to announce an extension of ceasefire and to ensure the King's escort had appropriate accommodations. Then, without further words, she rode off into her camp, her troops saluting her as she passed. Anduin had nothing else to do but to follow.
A/N: Thanks to all the readers for keeping up with this story. I'd love to hear what you think (both good and bad), so please leave a comment! And I'm still looking for betas, so if you're interested in getting "early access" to new chapters, drop me a PM please :) I'm open to swapping betas.