Anduin considered himself in the mirror. He looked regal enough, he supposed: all Stormwind blues and yellows, a cloak of cloth-of-gold, the so rarely worn silver crown with the blue diamond atop of the blond locks he'd inherited from his mother. Somehow, he still felt that it wasn't sufficient for the occasion - or the bride.

Whatever it was, it would have to be enough - he had no more time to waste on getting dressed. Anduin turned to Aerwyth, his gray-haired attendant, and nodded. "This will do, thank you."

"At your service, Your Majesty," the man said, bowing.

"Please see if Valeera has returned with the Queen Regent. I would see her as soon as she arrives."

"Yes, my King." Aerwyth hurried out, leaving Anduin alone in his tent.

Calling the tent "his" was a stretch. It was the second-largest tent in the Horde camp and given to him for temporary use by his fiancee. Previously occupied by the Mag'har general Geya'rah, who had surrendered it with more than a hint of displeasure, it was sparsely decorated according to orcish taste, all red cloth and leather skins. The bed itself was just a pile of furs instead of a frame with a mattress, and the mirror had been used as a clothes hanger until it was cleared. The air inside was heavy, a musty mix of metal, lanolin, leather, and sweat. Anduin had noticed Aerwyth wrinkling his nose as he'd dressed him and muttering more than once about forgetting to bring incense.

He sat down on the only stool in the entire tent, by the side of a small wooden table. He'd had little time to pause and think since his meeting with Sylvanas in the forest this morning. It was now the late afternoon and he felt several years older than he did when he woke up.

Panic threatened to rise up in his chest, voices of doubt at the edge of his conscious mind. He tried to channel his father's confidence to stay calm. In retrospect, thinking of his father was probably not the wisest idea given the circumstances. If anything, his father was probably turning in his grave at the news that his son was marrying the woman responsible for his death. If Varian was alive, this marriage would not have happened. Would his father have been more successful against Sylvanas's Horde? Somehow, Anduin thought not. Peace: that's what this marriage was about, regardless of who it was with. And there was no going back, not at this point. The only choice ahead of him was to see his plans through, deal with the inevitable setbacks, and pray that it all worked out for the best.

Nevertheless, he was grateful to be interrupted by the opening of the tent flap and Valeera stepping through, still armored like a quilboar. Anduin stood to greet her with a smile.

Valeera curtsied formally and indicated with her head to the tent entrance. "The Queen Regent is here, Your Majesty."

He felt his shoulders straighten. "Thank you, Valeera, please let her in."

Moira Thaurissan entered, her curtsy more a formality than a real expression of deference. "Yer Majesty, it has been a while." He could sense a twinkle of warmth in her tone despite her stern expression. "A surprising occasion for a reunion, if I may add."

Anduin felt himself smile. "Indeed it is. I'm so grateful that you were able to come."

"I had to satisfy my curiosity, of course. So? What is happenin' here? Sanguinar has told me some of what has passed, but I would like to hear it from you."

He nodded and provided her with a brief summary of his reasoning for the proposal, Tyrande's agreement and Genn's more questionable consent, as well as a basic outline of the peace agreement. Moira listened carefully and quietly, only asking a few questions where needed.

"Well," she said when he finally fell quiet. "Far be it from me to prevent you from giving peace a chance. Yer father, may he rest in peace, brought unity to the dwarves of Ironforge once… with the help of a certain son of his." She gave him a pointed look. "Perhaps this son will now unify all of Azeroth. I will support your mission and pray for its success, and I will do my best to convince the Council to join me in that."

Anduin inclined his head gratefully. "Thank you, Queen Regent. It means a lot to have your support."

"Please, it's just Moira. No need for titles between us." He nodded his consent. "As for this weddin'… I cannae say I've officiated a lot of marriages. But it is a priest's duty, I won't deny. Tell me what you need done."

"Only the very basics. This ceremony is a formality to ensure both of us keep to our ends of the bargain. There will be a proper royal wedding in Stormwind in three months' time. All we need here is a ceremony whose validity could not be called into question."

"Right. Well, thank the Light, I know enough to be able to do that. So? When does it all happen?"

"Uh, well, I believe the camp is being prepared for the ceremony and the feast afterwards as we speak. So we will begin as soon as the other two officiators and the bride are ready." He turned to Valeera. "Any news of Lor'themar and Lonetree?"

She nodded. "I believe they're with the … Warchief at the moment."

"Ah, good. Moira, Valeera - will you accompany me to the place of the ceremony?"

Moira smiled. "Aye, Anduin, I'll come with. It's only right for me to meet them as well."

Aerwyth was waiting outside and Anduin sent him to Sylvanas's tent to inform her party that he would be waiting for them at the wedding "venue". He had to slow down his pace to match Moira's shorter strides, but he was glad for the extra time and turned to Valeera.

"Have any tips on how to make a good impression on a blood elf? I need to make a good start with Lor'themar. The sin'dorei look upon the Alliance more favorably than any other Horde faction."

Valeera shrugged. "We are a proud and vain race, Your Majesty. Favor him above others, admire his opinions, avoid disagreements as much as possible, and you'll make a favorable impression."

Moira chuckled. "Sounds mortifying." She gave Anduin an empathetic look. "How did the Horde manage to retain their loyalty? I cannae think of many warchiefs who would've tried to appease their massive egos."

"More a result of politics than ego-stroking, I believe," Anduin said. "This is exactly the point. The sin'dorei are a much better cultural fit with the Alliance, but have been part of the Horde due to politics. Hopefully this marriage will make things more conducive to having them shift their favor to Stormwind."

Moira raised an eyebrow, smiling. "I thought there would be no more Horde or Alliance once this marriage is done?"

Anduin returned the smile. "After a generation or two, perhaps that will be true. But there is no telling how long this arrangement will last. I have to make headway now, and that means accepting the reality that many will continue to see Azeroth divided in two."

Moira's smile grew wider. "I'm glad to see you've got a brain on you, Anduin."

"Thank you. As the only other Alliance leader present, I hope you will aid me in making this first interaction a pleasant one?"

She shrugged. "Never been one for flattery, but I'll do my best."

"That is all I ask."

The center of the Horde camp was a vast open square at the meeting place of three major roads. Peons and ghouls ran to and fro, hastily erecting a pavilion and nailing together long benches and tables. Several orcish overseers and a Forsaken necromancer directed the process with shouted commands and occasional curses that even Anduin recognized despite his poor handle on Orcish.

In the end, they didn't have to wait long. The sin'dorei procession was a small river of red down the avenue leading from the Warchief's tent, almost entirely composed of elves in their signature color. Lor'themar Theron walked at the front, his remaining eye glowing a bright green and his ponytail swinging with every rapid step. Behind him came a train of at least a dozen blood elf mages. A single orc - likely Zor Lonetree - walked just behind the Lord Regent's right shoulder.

The elven ruler addressed him while still several paces away. "Well if it isn't the man who got Sylvanas Windrunner to say 'yes'!" He halted so suddenly in front of Anduin that some of his entourage bumped into the people ahead of them.

Anduin smiled and extended his hand. "Regent Lord, it is an honor to make your acquaintance."

The elf returned the handshake firmly, but pulled his hand away too quickly for Anduin to clasp it with both of his. "Likewise! I'm rather pleased to have a leader such as yourself among us. The Horde is full of aging warriors, myself included. Your youth would be a refreshing change among our ranks!"

Was that a subtle putdown? "Indeed! The Horde certainly could use a refresh." He paused to look pointedly at Lor'themar. "I pray that my marriage with your Warchief will do just that."

Lor'themar smiled like he saw through Anduin's retort and was sufficiently pleased with it. "Ah yes, your marriage. What an occasion! I could not have been more surprised when I heard why the Warchief was summoning me to Ashenvale." He shot Valeera a side glance, frowning briefly.

"Would it be strange to say," Anduin asked, "that I was just as surprised as you when she accepted?"

The elf laughed heartily at that. "Strange? No. Smart, I would say. A man who proposes to Sylvanas while assuming her acceptance is a fool. And believe me, I've met plenty of such fools, although most are dead now."

"The war with the Scourge has taken much from your people, I'm afraid."

Lor'themar's face turned somber. "Yes indeed. Too much. But," his smile returned again, wider than ever, "we are not here to speak of tragedy! There is a wedding to perform, I hear!"

"Yes, and may I take the opportunity to introduce you to the other officiator?" He inclined his head to Moira on his right. "This is Moira Thaurissan, Queen Regent of the Dark Iron dwarves."

Moira offered a shallow bow. "Delighted to make your acquaintance, Regent Lord."

"Oh?" Lor'themar's bow was full of elven flair, as he bent low to kiss the dwarf's hand. "Enchanted, my lady! You're a priestess, I presume?"

"Aye, that I am."

"Wonderful!" He turned to Anduin. "I see you're covering all your bases."

Anduin inclined his head. "It is the only way to guarantee a universal recognition of the marriage."

"Very clever indeed! And speaking of this 'universal recognition', let me introduce you to Zor, Elder Far Seer and shaman trainer of Orgrimmar." He gestured to the orc next to him, who thumped his chest without any further words.

Anduin mirrored the gesture. "Lok'tar, Zor Lonetree. Well met."

The orc simply grunted as a reply. Lor'themar smiled. "Well, I've had my fair share of human weddings. Drab affairs, if I am to be honest. Orc weddings are far more colorful, although disappointingly light on ceremony. What do you have planned for us, King Anduin?"

Anduin resisted the urge to scratch the back of his neck. "Honestly, only whatever is necessary to make this marriage legitimate. We will have a formal wedding in Stormwind in a few months - this one is only needed to solidify the agreement between us."

Lor'themar nodded, gesturing to Zor. "Orcish customs I am well familiar with - the only required parts are the hunt and the shaman's blessing. What is the requirement among your priests?" He turned back to Moira with that question.

"The essentials are simple too," she replied, shrugging. "A few blessings an' a few commitments voiced by the couple should suffice."

"Ah, well and good. So Zor gives his blessings, you give yours, our couple say a few words, and that satisfies both of you." Zor let out a questioning grunt in response. "Yes, yes, I know, Zor," Lor'themar said. "They'll go on the hunt the very next morning. Is that appropriate?" The orc nodded in the affirmative. "So that leaves me."

Anduin didn't like the glint in Lor'themar's good eye. "And what do the sin'dorei require for the ceremony, Regent Lord?"

"Oh, not very much at all. But there must be an entrance ceremony at the very least. And a binding ceremony. Oh, and the ascension, of course, couldn't do without that."

"Are these all necessary for the marriage to be accepted amongst the elves?"

"Let me explain it to you this way - a proper sin'dorei wedding that would be appropriate for both of your stations would require at the very least a hundred mages and three months of preparation. I have brought a dozen mages with me and they have had no preparation aside from their prior experience in coordinating weddings. Anything less and I'm afraid my people may ask if you got married at all."

Anduin glanced at Valeera, who blinked at him and barely perceptibly shook her head as if to say, "Don't argue." He decided to listen to his friend's advice.

"I will do whatever is necessary, Regent Lord. But I am not familiar with these ceremonies. Can you tell me what I should expect so that I don't make a fool of myself?"

"You don't need to worry so much, young King. The entrance ceremony concerns our Warchief alone. In fact, perhaps it's best if you don't know what to expect." He smiled conspiratorially. "The binding is simple: your hands are bound with magic as blessing is asked for your marriage. This can be the moment the others give their blessings as well. And as for the ascension, it is the departure of yourself and the bride together as one. My mages are more than familiar with these spells, so you do not have to worry."

Anduin did not like how much uncertainty remained, but he also did not want to push the elf and risk irking him. So he simply nodded in agreement. "Very well. I will follow your lead then. Shall we begin?"

Lor'themar chuckled. "Not so fast, my dear King. My mages will need time to get everything ready. Plus, you'll need an audience. Give me an hour."

It was dark by the time Lor'themar finally announced that all was ready. The pavilion was lit with a multitude of magelights in all shapes and colors, brightly illuminating the area with a festive glow. The attendees had gathered by this point: Anduin's small little band of followers along with Tyrande and Moira, and a sea of Horde. Orcs, trolls, elves, goblins, undead, and even a handful of pandaren swarmed the little square, spilling out onto the avenues leading up to it. Lor'themar did have the wisdom to station a ring of Kor'kron and Deathguards three men thick around the pavilion and the high-ranking dignitaries, including the entire Alliance delegation. Several of Sylvanas's dark rangers observed from tree and tent tops, but they were more difficult to spot.

Lor'themar gestured for Anduin to stand just in front of the pavilion, facing the benches of attendees. The look the elf gave him was missing the feigned jovialness of their previous conversation. "This is the moment, young King. Are you certain you are ready?"

Anduin gave a nod that looked far more confident than he felt. "I'm ready, Regent Lord."

"It is a serious affair you are committing yourself to. It's not too late to withdraw if you are doubting yourself," the blood elf whispered. "I can have you and your company teleported to safety before anyone raises an alarm, if you so wish."

He wasn't sure if it was a test or a sincere offer of help, but Anduin shook his head firmly. "I thank you for your concern, but that will not be necessary. My reasons for doing this have not changed. Plus, it would be cowardly of me to escape now, not to say anything about the dishonor it would bring to my bride. No. I have made my choice. You may begin."

The blood elf listened to him without interrupting, then made a solemn bow. "As you say, young King. Let us welcome your bride then."

He clapped his hands twice and the mages stationed around the pavilion began to cast. A small spherical magelight appeared above Anduin, making him crane his neck to look up. The magelight grew both in size and luminosity as more and more mana was channeled into it, until it glowed with the bright yellow color of sunlight. Red and blue streaks began to dance across the expanding sphere. Soon, many in the audience started to shield their eyes from the bright light.

It was then that a figure appeared in the middle of the glowing orb. A delicate feminine frame, dark against the painfully bright sphere, was suspended upright at its center. The orb with the figure began to descend slowly, still growing in brightness as it did. Anduin's eyes burned and he forced himself to keep them fixed on the dark silhouette - the darkest part of it all - to keep his eyes from tearing.

The descent seemed painfully long, but eventually, the glowing sphere enveloped him as the figure stepped onto the ground a few feet away from him. The inside of the orb felt surprisingly cool, but tingled his skin with magic. It finally began to recede, the glow weakening. In a few seconds it disappeared altogether.

For a few moments Anduin stood night-blind, unable to see much of anything. Then, as his eyes slowly adjusted, he began to make out the features of the figure in front of him. And when he did, he nearly gasped. It seemed that he wasn't the only one, as a loud murmur carried itself across the entire audience.

He recognized the crimson glow of her eyes, the delicate set of her jaw, and the dainty nose. But this… this couldn't be her, surely?

Gone were the dark cowl and the deathly red armor. Gone was the dark lipstick. Sylvanas stood in front of him, dressed in a dizzyingly tight emerald green ranger's armor. Places that most rangers normally covered with chainmail were instead bare: the midriff, part of the thighs and calves, the right arm. The gorget was conspicuously missing, exposing a decolletage that plunged to depths that made his head spin. A ruby teardrop pendant hung proudly at its center, matching the glow of her eyes and keeping him staring longer than was polite. Voluminous blonde hair spilled down her shoulders and back in lightly curled locks, framing the delightful oval of her face in a glowing aura of its own, matching ruby teardrop earrings shining in the magelight. Her elegant lips were colored a light shade of pink, one corner slightly curved up. Remnants of the orb's magic pulsed on her skin, giving it a healthy, almost living glow.

Of course, Anduin had heard the tales: Sylvanas, a beauty even among her own kind, suitors beating down her door in droves. But it was one thing to know it in theory. It was another to witness it in front of his eyes. He stood there slack jawed - surely, every man in the audience must've been too - and wondered if falling in love from just one look wasn't only in fairy tales after all.

The smirk she gave him was Sylvanas through and through, however, as was the caustic line of Thalassian thrown Lor'themar's way: "We could've won the war in the time it took you to arrange this spectacle. Was there a need for this?"

The blood elf only grinned in response and sent a brief glance at Anduin. "Oh Lady Windrunner, but I think there was."

She approached Anduin with a mouth-watering sway of the hips and faced Lor'themar who stood between them and the audience. "Very well. Let's get this over with."

The Regent Lord approached them, taking Anduin's right hand and Sylvanas's left in his own. "You have to be holding hands for this," he instructed, and placed her hand in his. Despite the magic glow, her skin felt ice cold, but it burned his own all the same when they touched.

A wave of the blood elf's hand produced a band of red, gold, and blue light that began to wrap itself around their joined forearms. It wound around them slowly, then tightened, bringing their forearms together and pulling them close until even their shoulders touched. Anduin praised the Light that it was her covered bow-arm he was touching, not her bare right arm.

Lor'themar turned away to face the crowd. The Alliance bench was right ahead of them, Tyrande staring at their bound arms with a scowl. Valeera sat wide-eyed, her eyes on the bride, an unreadable expression on her face. Moira seemed to be trying hard to hide a grin at Anduin's reaction, eventually pointedly averting her eyes to observe the magical decorations instead. Behind them he spotted Vereesa. He hoped that the smug satisfaction the elf exuded was a sign that his little scheme worked.

"Oh ye people of Azeroth!" Lor'themar cried out in Common, his voice amplified by spells to reach every single person in attendance. "Behold! Before you stand the mightiest of your rulers who have chosen to lay down their weapons, set aside their animosities, and instead form a union built on the strongest foundation that is known to exist: love." Sylvanas scoffed next to him. "And as they embark upon this journey, seeking to bring peace to war-torn lands, I ask all of you to bless the path they tread. Whoever or whatever it is that you pray to, pray that they be blessed and given all that they seek and more in this union! Pray for their long lives! Pray for a love between them that knows no bounds! And pray for yourselves, that you may see yourselves, your families, and your nations thrive in this new era of our history. Let us be silent for a moment so that we may all make our supplications." He bowed his head reverently.

The hush that fell over the square made the thumping in Anduin's ears seem so loud that he was sure Sylvanas could hear. If she did, she gave no sign. In fact, for all her apparent nonchalance, she stood stiffly next to him, as if uncomfortable too.

Lor'themar raised his head again. "And now, I invite the shaman Zor Lonetree to give his blessings to the couple," he announced.

The orc stood up from one of the benches closest to the pavilion and walked slowly towards them. He was dressed in a shaman's ceremonial robes, with a plain woolen hood over his head and a large staff in his right hand that he leaned on heavily. Anduin frowned, remembering the orc from a few hours earlier. He had not seemed so frail then.

Lor'themar's mages maintained the amplification spells, so the orc's voice also easily carried across the crowd. "The spirits are wise," Longtree began, and Anduin was surprised to find that he spoke a clear, accentless Common. "And may they bestow wisdom upon you." He thumped his staff on the ground and a soft breeze blew across their faces, ruffling Sylvanas's hair. "The spirits are strong. May they grant you strength." He thumped his staff on the ground again, more strongly this time, and it emitted a roaring flame that shot up to the sky before dying out, its heat washing over them for a brief moment. "The spirits are honorable. May they grant you honor." He thumped his staff once more, and a drizzle of rain fell on them, chilly in the cooling Ashenvale air. "The spirits endure. May they keep this union enduring through the vicissitudes of life." He raised his staff high this time and brought it down with the great force only an orc would be capable of. The earth shook under them and they had to lean on each other for balance until it quieted.

"You hunt together now," the orc concluded. "Go and never hunt alone henceforth."

Once Zor retreated to his seat, it was Moira's turn. The dwarf had to ascend the steps of the pavilion behind them in order to be at the same height. They turned around to face her.

The priestess addressed the audience first, her voice steady and calm. "We are gathered here today to witness this man and this woman enter the holy union of marriage, sanctified by the power of the Light itself. We learn from the Light the love and concern for every being." Anduin noticed Moira's tactful omission of the word "living" from the standard priest's speech. "And marriage is what helps us learn both how to give that love and concern and how to receive it. For as the great sage once said, 'The best of you are those that are best to your spouses'. Indeed, mankind's greatest test lies in those closest to us: we may fear mistreating others in public, but we often have no shame in doing just that with our families behind closed doors. The real test of character - and thus of faith - is how we treat those we promise to love." Another subtle change: the original words said "claim to love," which Moira cleverly edited to better suit the situation.

She looked at them now, but her voice still carried across the square. "And with that wisdom in mind, I will now ask you, Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, Banshee Queen of the Forsaken and Warchief of the Horde, do you promise to devote yer body and soul to King Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind, through joy and through grief, until death do ye part?"

"Who says that death must part us?" Sylvanas said and Anduin heard rather than saw the smirk in her voice. The Horde roared until his bride raised her bare arm to silence them. "I do," she finally replied.

Moira ignored the comment and turned to Anduin. "And do you, King Anduin Wrynn, accept Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, Banshee Queen of the Forsaken and Warchief of the Horde, and promise to stand by her side and shield her body and soul from harm, through joy and through grief, until death do ye part?"

His heart thumping against his chest and her hand in his no longer feeling cold, he breathed in heavily and confirmed, "I do."

"I believe that both parties have agreed to a nuptial contract that they will now sign."

Two young elven boys rushed forth, carrying a quill and an inkwell each, running after two large scrolls floating in the air towards Anduin and Syvanas. The scrolls halted in front of them and unfolded into full length, displaying their peace agreement with all of its clauses. An impressive work, if one didn't look too closely and notice the hurried handwriting of his poor scribes as they rushed to note everything down in time for the ceremony. Anduin felt their binding relax to allow him to pick up a quill and sign his contract. After Sylvanas had done the same, the scrolls floated in the air to exchange places, allowing them to place their respective signatures once more.

With the final stroke of the quill, the scrolls rapidly rolled shut and were promptly grabbed by the pages, who collected the quill and inkwells and retreated back into the audience to hand them to a mage archivists from each side.

Moira smiled. "With yer oaths freely given and yer contract wilfully signed, I now bear testimony, as do all those present here, that from this day henceforth, Anduin Wrynn and Sylvanas Windrunner are husband and wife. May the Light bless yer journey together." She paused only for a brief moment. "And you may now kiss the bride."

The magical bands that had bound their arms together earlier began circling around them, nudging them towards each other. Anduin stepped forward, uncertain, but Sylvanas didn't tarry. Her hand shot out and grabbed him by the back of the neck and nearly shoved his face into hers. Anduin had attended many weddings in his life. The public kiss - if there even was one - was usually a timid, shy affair. This one was no such thing. His wife's mouth assaulted his, a cold tongue darting inside, tasting of stale cinnamon. His own eyes widened in surprise and he vaguely heard murmurs and gasps of surprise from the attendees, followed by some awkward laughs and eventually, clapping.

Their surroundings began to grow brighter and he recognized the same magical orb that Sylvanas had descended in. Soon, it was too bright to look anywhere but at her. In the relative privacy of the glowing sphere, their kiss slowed. He was surprised to find himself enjoying the physical contact that didn't seem all that different from what he imagined kissing a living person would've been like. Their kiss lingered, but the hunger that it started with slowed into a pace that made his body respond. Her mouth was no longer cold, having warmed rapidly from his touch.

He felt his feet lift off the ground and panicked slightly, but the firm hand on his neck and her mouth on his kept him grounded. Shielded from the audience by the light of the orb, he dared to bring his hand up and place it on her cheek. If she minded, she gave no hint of it. Her mouth was no longer cold, having warmed rapidly from his touch, and he found his body beginning to respond.

And then just like that, they appeared in Anduin's tent. The glow was gone and the noise of the crowd was now only a distant hum. Sylvanas finally broke away, but her hand stayed on the back of his neck. She met his eyes and grinned devilishly.

"Remember, Wrynn," she said quietly but firmly, "you are mine now."

He gulped, the taste of cinnamon lingering on his tongue. "I don't think I'm likely to forget, my lady."

She stepped away, examining their surroundings. "Figures the bloody elf would teleport us to your tent and not mine. Ridiculous."

Anduin's heart still raced… Was it from the kiss? Or from the fact that he was alone in his tent with his wife? Or was it perhaps how that wife looked?

She noticed his staring. "Cat got your tongue?"

He blinked. "You are astoundingly beautiful," was all that came to his mind to say.

She scoffed. "Dressed up like a doll and made to look like I am alive. Don't get used to it, Wrynn. You will never see me like this again."

"I found you beautiful when we met earlier today, too."

Her eyes focused on his. "Yes… You did, didn't you? You are a strange little lion," she said as she drew near again and placed a hand on his chest. His heart thumped against it and Sylvanas smiled. "Perhaps you will be more entertaining than I expected."

If he spoke at this point, Anduin knew he would've stammered and probably said something incoherent. That wasn't how you talked to the Banshee Queen, even if she was your wife. If there was anything he learned that day, it was that Sylvanas liked boldness.

So, he would act bold, even if his heart was in his feet. Steeling himself, he grabbed hold of her waist, pressed himself into her, and dove in for a kiss he hoped came off as forceful as her earlier one at the ceremony.

A finger on his lips stopped him in his tracks. It was lukewarm and smelled of rosewater.

Despite preventing his advance, she didn't fight against his embrace and simply quirked an eyebrow in response. "We're expected back at the pavilion." Her tone was neutral, as if stating a fact.

Anduin allowed himself to be led out of the tent. The magical bind wound again about their arms, forcing them to walk side by side with their joined arms extended forward, hers resting on top of his. He wondered briefly at the magic spells that governed this bind that seemed to be able to respond to various situations without being controlled by a mage. But then, the sin'dorei must have had centuries of tradition to hone these spells.

Moonlight streamed down, illuminating the camp and making their path to the pavilion easy to see. Anduin's mind struggled to find an appropriate topic for conversation. Frankly, he needed sleep. He was quickly losing mental edge after what turned out to be a very long day.

Sylvanas on the other hand… the undead didn't sleep, did they? Did she ever feel fatigued or experience brain fog? Anduin did not claim to be an expert on undeath, but he didn't think so. A perfect Warchief, then. Indefatigable, always alert, always sharp, unburdened by the need to eat or sleep and thus always focused on the matter at hand. Was there any surprise that she had outwitted them all?

His wife kept silent for the time being. Was she hatching another plot? He hoped not. Anduin dared a glance in her direction. The moonlight cast deep shadows across her face that returned the eeriness to the crimson glow of her eyes, but it did not diminish her beauty. He tried to memorize every little feature - she'd told him he would never see her like this and he took at her word, but she couldn't exactly erase his memory. Her skin was still shining with magic and her hand felt warm on top of his, making it difficult to shake the illusion that she was a living sin'dorei woman.

And what a woman at that.

A dark ranger condensed from the shadows as they neared the rows of Horde soldiers furthest away from the pavilion. They were already gathering around rapidly erected tables, the aroma of roast meat and alcohol spreading through the chilly air. The ranger made sure the crowd parted ahead of them as they walked and Anduin couldn't help but notice the looks of surprise on some of the soldiers' faces as they recognized who was walking by his side. Few stared, however, the fear of their Warchief overriding curiosity.

They passed through the circle of Deathguards, the Kor'kron seemingly allowed to join the festivities now that the ceremony was over. The pavilion was full of guests, those closest to the married couple in rank or relation. They were yet to take their seats. He noticed Tyrande cut her conversation with Moira short and stare at Sylvanas as they entered.

Lor'themar was the first to greet them with the typical elven flair. "Your Majesties! You have been sorely missed and we are delighted to welcome you back. Please, take your seats! They have been prepared for you." He gestured to the table at the back of the pavilion with two large ornamented chairs in the middle.

Anduin started to move, but Sylvanas didn't budge, forcing him to stand by her side. "Anya," she commanded.

The dark ranger who guided them through the crowd stepped closer. "Yes, Warchief."

"It's 'Your Majesty' now, ranger. Find Varok and Nathanos in Felwood and convey my directive to stand down and return to Ashenvale. Tell them the war is over and that we've won."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The ranger vanished into the night as swiftly as she had appeared.

Anduin glanced at Tyrande, who had the same shell-shocked expression as he did. So that's where Varok was! Felwood meant a surprise attack on Darkshore, just as the Horde had the kaldorei pinned down here. How soon might this all have been over if we didn't sign the peace? Darnassus could've been besieged as early as tomorrow!

Anduin's eyes found Sylvanas, who looked back at him as if nothing had happened. She had all of them - even Shaw - fooled with the invasion of Ashenvale. She had them fooled with Darkshore. He had married her to prevent further bloodshed, but Anduin couldn't help but wonder if she was fooling him again somehow.

"Shall we sit down?" his wife asked with a feigned sweetness and led him past Tyrande to their seats.