Varian

Varian stormed blindly through the Keep, desperate to put as much distance between himself and his chambers as possible. He knew it was wrong, but as much as he hated to leave Auriana, he simply could not trust himself to stay. Not after what he had done. Even as he fled, he could still feel her frantic heartbeat pounding against his fingers, could still see the hurt and confusion in her eyes, and he despised himself for it.

There was no real thought or plan behind Varian's headlong flight, though it was perhaps unsurprising that he soon found himself on the well-worn path down to the arena. His recent duels with Anduin had helped to ease his troubled soul, at least for a little while, and he could only hope that a few rounds against a training dummy would have a similarly calming effect. His entire body thrummed with a sick, jittery energy, and he felt as if he would explode if it were not soon released.

It was late enough in the day that the arena was almost empty, though a handful of guardsmen were still hard at work beneath the watchful eye of their captain. Any other time, Varian might have asked them to stay, preferring as he did the challenge of a living opponent over the stiff wood of a dummy, but today he had no desire for company. His guardsman hardly needed to see their king in such a state of disarray, and nor did he want to risk their safety. He'd already caused quite enough damage for one day, after all.

The guard captain was the first to notice Varian's rapid approach, and he quickly motioned for his trainees to disengage and stand to attention.

"Good afternoon, sire…" he began, only to immediately fall silent at the thunderous look on Varian's face.

"Leave."

He did not need to say more.

Varian managed to contain himself only for as long as it took for the guardsmen to make their hurried departure, then fell upon the nearest training dummy in a frenzy. He did not bother to grab a weapon, instead relying on his bare fists alone. The coarse wood tore at the skin of his hands, leaving his knuckles cracked and bleeding, but Varian didn't care. He lost track of time as he slammed his fists into the dummy again and again; desperately seeking his penance in the pain. He wanted – no, needed – to stoke the flames of his fury for as long as possible, for the moment he stopped fighting, he knew he would be forced to face down the deep, yawning pit of his own guilt.

What on Azeroth was wrong with him? He wasn't the kind of man who jumped at imaginary terrors, or lost his mind to panic. He certainly wasn't the kind to hurl his pregnant wife up against a wall… and yet now he'd gone and done exactly that.

Whack.

Varian's inner voice whispered cruel taunts with every heavy blow.

Whack.

Coward.

Whack.

Failure.

Whack.

Monster.

"... Varian?"

Lost in his dark dolor, Varian started at the sudden sound of his name. He paused in his brutal assault of the training dummy, and glanced back over his shoulder to see Jaina Proudmoore, of all people, making her way towards him through the arena stands. He had no idea why she was in Stormwind, much less why she was in his arena, and frankly, he didn't care.

"Go away, Jaina," he barked. "I don't want to talk."

"I can see that."

Jaina's tone was infuriatingly light, and it took all of Varian's already tenuous self-control not to say something that he would really regret. Instead, he drove another vicious strike into the side of the dummy; letting out a grunt of grim satisfaction as he felt the wood crack beneath the blow.

"Actually, I was wondering if you'd like something more interesting to fight," Jaina added. "That poor dummy doesn't seem to be much of a match for you."

Varian frowned, genuinely thrown by the offer. In his experience, Jaina was more likely to give him a lecture than she was to indulge his darker impulses, and he was intrigued despite himself.

"What do you mean, 'something more interesting'?"

Varian turned around to face her, and folded his arms across his chest. He did not miss the way Jaina's gaze lingered on his bloody knuckles, though she wisely made no comment. Instead, she raised her hands in a familiar casting gesture, and the air around her chilled and shimmered as she summoned three kite-sharped arcane constructs out of thin air. Each was roughly the same size as a training dummy, with a core of ice surrounded by swirling arcane energies.

With an enigmatic smile, Jaina nodded towards the rack of training swords to Varian's left. His desire for solitude warred briefly with his curiosity, though in the end his curiously won out. Ruining his hands on a training dummy was admittedly doing precious little to ease his seething heart, but perhaps the easy familiarity of a weapon would help…

Varian reached for the two longest blades on the rack, and gave them a quick heft. Real steel, not wood, albeit blunted for safety. They were slightly mismatched, a far cry from the perfect balance of Ellemayne and Shalla'tor, but they would do well enough.

Not that Jaina gave him much of a choice. Varian had barely turned back to face her when she sent her three constructs rocketing towards him with surprising speed. Snarling in defiance, Varian deflected the first and shattered the second, but he was too slow to dodge the third. He wheezed as it crashed into his side, bruising his ribs and forcing the air from his lungs.

Evidently, Jaina would not be pulling her punches.

"I thought you were supposed to be good at this?" she quipped, as she summoned another half-dozen constructs out of thin air.

Varian brushed the sweat from his eyes with the back of his hand, and tightened his grip on his blades. He was well aware that Jaina was deliberately provoking him, though to what end he couldn't say. It was working, too, despite the fact that he was cognisant of her intent. He bristled at the insult to his prowess, and charged forward to meet the next wave of constructs with his blood pumping and his blades raised high.

Unfortunately, it seemed Jaina was not content to simply allow him to work out his frustrations on his own terms. As Varian had feared, she wanted to talk, and she would not take no for an answer.

"So," she called, advancing in the wake of her summons, "Would you care to tell me what happened with Auriana this afternoon?"

"Nothing happened," Varian snapped.

A lie, and a rather obvious one, at that. He brought both swords around in a swift arc, slamming them into the nearest construct with far more force than was strictly necessary and jarring his shoulder hard against its socket.

"No? Then why was she so distraught when I spoke to her just now?"

Varian's vision blurred as a fresh wave of guilt washed over him. Once again, he imagined Auriana pressed against the wall of the Keep, her pale face ashen and her body trembling with fear and adrenaline beneath him. He stumbled, and was immediately punished for his sloppiness with another hard hit against his back.

"What happens between me and my wife is none of your business," he snarled.

While Jaina had never been afraid to speak her mind, she was usually far more diplomatic and compassionate in her approach. Such aggression was distinctly out of character, and it had Varian both literally and figuratively off balance.

"I consider it my business when two of my friends are clearly miserable," Jaina retorted sharply, her eyes gleaming in the reflected light of her spellwork.

Varian sidestepped another fast-moving construct, only to walk straight into the path of a second, and he swore. He felt like a green guardsman on his first day, flailing and flopping his way around the arena, and a far cry from one of the greatest swordsmen alive. Certainly. If he'd fought this poorly in the Crimson Ring, he would have died.

"How long do you intend to keep this up?" Jaina demanded, even as she continued to add more summons to her arcane army. "Grouching all about the Keep; pushing Auriana away?"

Light, she was relentless.

"I am not pushing Auriana away!"

Varian hit an oncoming construct so hard that he felt his blade warp and buckle. It was a brutal, messy strike, the kind that would have earned him a reprimand from his old armsmaster – and with good reason. He overbalanced on his right foot, and it was only with a tremendous effort that he managed to stay upright; his leg muscles screaming in protest all the while.

"You're welcome to lie to yourself, if you'd like, but don't try it with me."

"Stop it, Jaina," he hissed.

"No. This has gone on long enough."

There were now so many constructs whirling around the arena that Varian had lost count. He took on a defensive posture as they harried him like a swarm of angry hornets, but try as he might, he simply could not find his rhythm. His vision was clouded, and his thoughts dark and sluggish. He was drifting, untethered; oddly disconnected from his body, his blades, and even the solid ground beneath his feet…

"Why are you pushing Auriana away?"

Varian lunged to one side, narrowly avoiding a blow to the head. Sweat dripped into his eyes.

"Stop. Asking."

Another ugly swing. Another pathetic miss.

"I'll stop asking when you give me a proper answer!"

"Jaina."

Despite his denials and deflections, the real problem was that Varian didn't actually know. It wasn't as if he hadn't asked himself the exact same question a thousand times over the past few weeks, only to keep slamming headfirst into the wall of his own stubbornness. Lately, it felt as if he were watching himself from the outside, making mistake after mistake and hurting the people he loved the most, and all the while being completely unable to stop himself.

Why?

The Light-damned question began to repeat over and over in Varian's mind; a mocking drumbeat keeping perfect time with the rapid pounding of his heart.

Why?

Another construct slammed into Varian's shoulder, but he barely even noticed.

Why?

"Why are you pushing Auriana away?"

Jaina's sharp demand echoed in cruel harmony with the spiteful snarl of Varian's inner turmoil, and something deep inside his heart finally snapped. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. His hands began to shake. His vision went white, and an anguished howl tore from his throat before he even realised what he was saying.

"Because Tiffin was holding Anduin when she died!"

"...what?"

A deafening silence fell over the arena, broken only by the harsh rasp of Varian's breathing. Jaina immediately released her power, and the hum of magical energy in the air diminished. Her vicious little constructs vanished in an instant, leaving a bruised and beaten Varian standing all alone once more.

"I… it's nothing."

"That is not nothing. Varian…"

Jaina's voice was muffled and barely audible beneath the thunder of Varian's heartbeat in his ears. The tremor in his hands intensified tenfold, and he found it difficult to maintain his grip on his swords. He clenched his fists, but his efforts to regain control only seemed to make things worse – a grim parody of his life of late. He ought to be strong, hard, but he simply felt brittle.

"I don't understand. I thought I'd moved on," he muttered, more to himself than to Jaina. "I thought I was better than this. Stronger."

Varian heard the crunch of dirt beneath the heels of Jaina's boots as she approached, though she wisely stopped before she got too close.

"Varian… your grief and pain aren't things that you can fight…"

"Well, they should be!" he roared. "If I can't fight, if I can't win, then what damn good am I?!"

He slashed viciously at the air with his right-hand sword, as if that might be enough to drive away his inner demons.

"Varian, please."

Jaina's voice was soft and strained with pleading; a stark contrast to the barbed insistence with which she had provoked his outburst. It was quite unlike anything Varian had ever heard from her, and it was that, more than anything, that gave him pause. All his desperate fight and fire burned out in an instant, as if he'd dunked his head in a bucket of ice cold water, and his shoulders slumped. Far too late, he realised that Jaina's cocky antagonism had all been an act designed to draw him out from behind his walls – and apparently it had worked a little too well.

"You think that having this child means losing Auriana," she whispered.

It was a statement, not a question, and an accurate one, at that. Varian stared down at the tiny rivulets of blood sluicing between his wounded knuckles, and let out a shaky sigh. He could feel Jaina's eyes upon his back, burning in their intensity, but he refused to look at her. He didn't want to see her censure, or worse, her pity. But nor could he deny that she was right – he could hardly continue on this way forever. He was weak and ragged, frayed to the point of breaking; a state not at all befitting a king or the man he desired to be.

"I know it isn't rational," he muttered. "Auriana is fierce, and strong, but…"

"It's hardly irrational to be concerned for your pregnant wife…"

"It's not that."

Varian shook his head as he struggled to articulate his turbulent thoughts. Try as he might, he had been unable to understand why Auriana's most recent misadventure in Dalaran had troubled him so greatly. It was a hurt he'd buried so deeply that it had escaped his conscious awareness, but it seemed that Jaina's relentless prodding had now done what Varian alone could not, and given him an answer in a moment of stark and painful clarity. He threw his swords down, point-first into the dirt, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

"T-the year Anduin was born, I lost my wife. My son, the light of my life… paid for with a terrible darkness," he mumbled, tripping and stumbling his way over the words. "It… it's as if I cannot have anything bright or beautiful in my life unless I earn it with misery and blood. Never one, without the other."

Even from a distance, Varian heard Jaina's breath catch in her throat. "Oh, Varian… no… that's not… that's not how it works…"

"Isn't it? Now that Auriana is carrying my child… Dalaran proved that it's not a matter of if I lose her, but when. I've already killed her, just like I killed Tiffin…"

The truth of what Varian had done settled over his shoulders like a shroud. Marrying Auriana had been an act of gross selfishness, and having a child with her doubly so. He had thought only of his own happiness, when he should have been thinking of Auriana's safety, of her life…

"Varian. Tiffin's death was not your fault," Jaina insisted, her already strained voice rising another half an octave.

Varian let out a slow, shaky breath. It was not the first time he had heard such a sentiment, and it probably wouldn't be the last. But in nearly twenty years, he had never yet taken it to heart.

"It was not your fault!" Jaina repeated, as if she could read his thoughts. "And if, Light-forbid, something were to happen to Auriana… that wouldn't be your fault, either."

For the first time since she had joined him in the arena, Varian turned to look Jaina properly in the eye. He wasn't sure what he expected to see. Disappointment, maybe, perhaps pity, or even reproach, but her expression was simply kind. A faint crease between her brows marred the otherwise smooth skin of her face, and her lips were pursed in a small, sad frown. Her eyes, however, were bright and earnest, almost gleaming with intensity, and for a moment Varian almost let himself believe her. Almost.

"Is… is this why you've been pushing Auriana away?" she asked. "Because you think it would make it hurt less if you were to lose her?"

"I…" Varian's first instinct was to utter another denial, but he knew there was little point now. He nodded, once. "My marriage to Tiffin was arranged. I never dared hope for anything more than a cordial friendship between us, but she gave me so much more."

It still surprised him, even to this day. He'd married for the good of his kingdom, first and foremost, and he'd always considered it something of a minor miracle that he and Tiffin had fallen in love.

"When I lost her, I thought – that was it. I'd had my one chance at a great love, I wasn't going to get another," he said, shrugging. "And then I met Auriana. I didn't expect to fall in love with her, either. In some ways, I didn't want to. It just didn't seem possible that a man like me could be so blessed, not just once, but twice…"

Varian trailed off. Auriana had found her way into his heart without trying, and by the time he was even willing to admit to himself that he'd developed feelings for her, he had already fallen far too hard to ever let her go.

"And now Auriana is pregnant. I should be happy, but it feels like I'm watching history repeat itself… only this time, I know exactly how it all ends."

For a moment, Varian was a young king again, desperately choking back his own grief while he tried and failed to comfort a squalling infant who could not possibly understand why his mother would never again heed his cries. He turned away, so that Jaina could not see his face.

A long silence followed Varian's confession, broken only by the whistle of the wind through the trees and the distant sounds of the bustling city. It would be dark in an hour or two, what with another storm brewing on the horizon. A bad one, too, judging from the oppressive thickness of the air and the green-grey tint of the clouds slowly gathering overhead. He could scarcely have asked for a more perfect milieu to match his present mood, though the thought brought him little comfort.

Behind him, Varian heard another faint crunch of dirt as Jaina – presumably – made to leave. Not that he blamed her. He'd hardly been his best self today, either as a man, a warrior, or a king. And yet, when he finally dared look around, he was surprised to see that she was now sitting on the lowest tier of the arena stands; her skirts neatly tucked beneath her and her hands folded primly in her lap. She beckoned, and after a moment's hesitation, Varian trudged across the arena to take a seat at her side.

With his bloodied hands and sweat-soaked hair, Varian felt filthy and brutish next to Jaina's cool poise – though if she were bothered by his dishevelled appearance, she gave no outward sign. Indeed, she seemed thoroughly lost in her own thoughts. Her pale brow was heavily furrowed, and she fiddled idly with a loose thread at the hem of her sleeve. Varian did not push her, given that he was not feeling especially conversational himself, and it was a long time before she finally spoke.

"Not long after I was made Archmage of the Kirin Tor, I was having doubts," she said slowly. "I almost went back to the Council, to ask them to appoint someone else in my stead. I was… afraid. I'd already lost one city I was responsible for, what if I were to lose Dalaran as well?"

Varian was surprised by the admission. Not because he was unable to sympathise with Jaina's fears, but because he'd never imagined that she would decline the opportunity to serve the Kirin Tor as Archmage. While they did not always see eye to eye on matters of state, Varian knew she was a good leader, and well-loved by her people.

"Much like you, I felt that loss was inevitable. That I was tempting fate by agreeing to serve," Jaina continued. "But before I went to the Council, I spoke to Kalec. I asked him if he thought I should decline the position. If he thought I was… doomed. And of all things, he said he thought I was lucky."

Her lips tightened in a small, wistful smile.

"'How lucky you are, Jaina, to have something that you are so afraid to lose,'" she intoned, accenting her vowels in a fair impression of Kalec. "And he was right. As difficult as it is sometimes, I would rather live with the fear of loss, than to be made fearless by having nothing at all."

Varian started as he felt Jaina's cool fingers close over his right hand. He wasn't especially comfortable with public displays of affection, but for once he didn't immediately pull away. While Jaina's hands were small and delicate, her grip was as strong as iron, and she stared up at him with a fierce, unblinking conviction.

"Trying to become impervious didn't take away the pain of Theramore's destruction. It just blinded me to all the love and joy still in my life… and all the love and joy yet to come."

Jaina squeezed Varian's hand once, hard, then let it go; perhaps sensing that he would not tolerate the contact overlong. His skin burned beneath her fingers, as if he had a physical aversion to kindness, and it took all his self-control not to scratch at his hand where she had touched him.

"You must think I'm a fool," he muttered, after another long silence.

Jaina was one of the few people on Azeroth who might dare call him a fool to his face, but for once she declined the opportunity.

"No, I think you're human," she countered gently. "When someone has suffered and lost as much as you have… it's only natural that you'd want to protect yourself."

Varian scowled, and let out a low, irritated grunt. She was right – again – but that didn't mean he had to like it. Sometimes being human was damned inconvenient.

"When did you get so wise, hm?"

"Ah, but I've always been wise. You just don't always listen," Jaina quipped. "Though, in fairness, it is a lot easier to give advice than it is to take it…"

"I'll say."

Varian leaned his head back, staring up at the growling thunderclouds overhead. His pounding heartbeat had finally slowed, though he now felt hollow, and strangely exhausted. Physically, he could have kept on fighting for hours, but his weary soul cried out for rest.

"There are still days when I want to shut out the world," Jaina added, unknowingly echoing Varian's brooding thoughts. "To run away; to cut myself off from anything or anyone who could ever hurt me."

Varian's frown deepened. It was an impulse he understood all too well, but it saddened him that someone like Jaina ever felt the same way. Much like Anduin, she was naturally a far brighter soul than he, and it seemed wrong, somehow, that she would ever feel the need to hide her light.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "For Theramore. For all of it. I'm not sure I've ever really… said that enough."

Varian risked a quick glance sideways, and gave her an awkward half-smile. He'd never really been the sort of person that one might describe as comforting, but he hoped Jaina could appreciate that he truly cared.

"You can always come to me, you know. If you ever need to talk, or…" He gestured vaguely to the trail of carnage he'd left in the arena. "I doubt I'm quite so wise as Kalec, but…"

It was a genuine, heartfelt offer, but for some odd reason Jaina found it highly amusing. She threw back her head, her white-blonde hair glinting in the dimming light, and let out a surprisingly raucous laugh.

Varian scowled. "What? What's so funny?"

"You. You'd – quite literally – turn Azeroth upside down for someone you cared about, but you'd never dream of asking for that same consideration for yourself," she observed. "It's one of your most endearing traits… if also somewhat irksome."

"I suppose I ought to be grateful that you consider me endearing…" Varian grumbled.

"You should. Though I must say, right now you're trending decidedly more towards irksome."

Jaina looked up at him expectantly, and nudged him with the point of her shoulder. Her eyes were kind, though Varian could see a hint of steel glinting beneath the pale blue. While she may have abandoned her façade of arch belligerence, she clearly still intended to make him talk – by whatever means necessary.

Varian sighed.

"You're right. I have been pushing Auriana away," he admitted, after a long pause. "She's been nothing but patient and kind, and I… I've tried, Jaina, but every time I go to talk to her, to explain myself, I choke on the words."

Guilt churned in Varian's gut, black and viscous. He wasn't blind; he knew how hard Auriana had been trying to draw him out of his melancholy, and how it crushed her every time he turned her away. He had convinced himself that such distance was necessary for her own protection, a means to keep her safe from his tempestuous heart, though deep down he knew all he'd really done was hurt them both.

"I think it's harder, sometimes, to open up to the people that we love the most, because we always want to be our best for them," Jaina mused, with a slow, thoughtful nod. "I know that Kalec's love for me is unconditional, but I'm always afraid that if he sees me at my weakest, at my worst, that he'll…"

"... run away screaming?" Varian supplied, raising an eyebrow.

"Something like that." Jaina let out a soft, wry chuckle. "It's a difficult fear to overcome."

Varian rubbed a weary hand across his eyes. It was oddly comforting to know that he was not the only one who harboured such intrusive thoughts. Though while Jaina had her ghosts, as they all did, Varian strongly suspected that her worst was not quite as bad as his.

"Auri deserves someone who is so much more than me," he murmured, running his thumb over his knuckles and smearing a line of crimson blood across the back of his hand. "Someone not quite so… damaged."

"Varian…" Jaina started, but he waved her into silence.

Varian's throat tightened as his defensive instincts threatened to overwhelm him, but he forced himself to keep talking. It had been difficult enough to start, and if he stopped now, he feared he might never try again.

"That day, after the attack on Dalaran… I wasn't in my right mind. I was… cold. Cruel," he confessed, his neck and ears reddening in shame. "I accused Auriana of being reckless. I told her that it was all her fault, that she had put our child at risk… Light, Jaina, what kind of a man says something like that to his wife?"

Varian could picture the sorry moment as clearly as if it had happened only yesterday: Auriana's enormous blue eyes glistening with unshed tears as she stared up at him in bewilderment and dread. A sharp pain lanced through his chest.

"And after all that, do you know what she said to me?" he added, forcing the words out from between gritted teeth. "That if she had the power, she would bring Tiffin back to me. She meant every damn word…"

That, more than anything, had been a dagger in Varian's heart. He had loved Tiffin deeply, but that did not mean his love for Auriana was somehow lesser. She was his wife, not a consolation prize, or a second choice to be discarded on a whim.

"I know I'm not the romantic sort, but I didn't think I'd failed quite so badly in making her understand how I feel about her… and now all this mess…"

Varian ran a hand back through his damp hair, and shook his head.

"I've hurt her. I'm the one person in the world she should always feel safe with, and I… I've failed her…"

The admission cut Varian to the bone. He did not take failure lightly, and even less so when it came to Auriana. He would have torn apart anyone on Azeroth who dared hurt his wife, but what was he supposed to do when he was the cause of her pain?

"Varian," Jaina said gently, "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because you…" he started heatedly, only to cut himself off as he realised what she was really saying. "Ah. You're not the Archmage I ought to be talking to."

"No, I'm not. I'm a touch too blonde, for a start." Jaina's taut expression relaxed into a soft, encouraging smile. "If you can say it to me, you can say it to her."

"I'm not so sure about that. Do… do you think she'd even be willing to hear me out?" Varian wondered, trying not to let his voice crack.

He feared he'd already damaged his relationship with Auriana beyond the point of repair, though Jaina remained undaunted.

"I would stake my life on it," she said firmly. "Auri loves you. In fact, she's the reason I'm here."

"Was she… did she seem alright?"

It was the question Varian most dreaded to ask. He had not meant to cause Auriana harm when he had pushed her up against the wall. He had acted on instinct, out of a desire to protect her, but given his size and the delicacy of her present condition, his good intentions likely counted for very little. And if he had hurt her… or their child… Varian clenched his hands into fists.

"She's a little shaken, I think, but fine. I insisted she return to your chambers to rest, but she refused unless I promised to go chasing off after you."

Varian carefully studied Jaina's face for any trace of a lie or exaggeration. She generally wasn't the type to prevaricate in order to spare him, but in this particular case he found it difficult to believe that she wasn't overstating Auriana's feelings.

"She loves you," Jaina repeated firmly, as she caught his worried eye. "All she cared about was finding you, making sure that you were well. Why would she be so concerned if she had no intention of ever speaking to you again, hm?"

It was a reasonable argument, and Varian's heart lurched with sudden hope despite himself.

"Now, I can't say I see the appeal myself," Jaina mused, "But I suppose there's no accounting for taste…"

Varian barked out a short, throaty laugh. "Am I really so poor a sight?"

Jaina did not hesitate. "You're unreasonably large, Varian."

"Maybe the rest of you are just too small, did you ever consider that?" he retorted, though there was no real heat behind his words.

Oddly enough, Varian appreciated the gentle teasing. After such an intense conversation, a moment of levity was sorely needed, and it seemed that Jaina agreed.

"I will concede," she added, with a sly sideways glance, "That you have a rather handsome smile, when you're inclined to use it."

"Is that flattery, Archmage?"

Jaina shrugged. "Everyone knows the most effective way to assuage a king is by appealing to his ego."

"Ah, I see," Varian snorted. "Well then, consider me… assuaged."

Jaina's smirk widened into a bright, genuine smile; bright enough to make the gathering stormclouds overhead seem a little less grey.

"I know it's hard. But it takes a great deal more strength and courage to open your heart than it does to close it off," she added, more seriously. "And you're one of the bravest men I've ever met. You can certainly be brave for her."

Varian nodded, as much to convince himself as Jaina, and let out a slow, deep breath. He had managed to talk to her, after all, even if he had been somewhat lacking in eloquence. Much to his surprise, it had helped, too. Some of the crushing pressure in his chest had eased, and he felt more grounded than he had in weeks. He knew it would not be easy to explain himself, or to earn Auriana's forgiveness, but it no longer seemed like quite such an impossibility, either.

"I suppose we ought to get back to the Keep…"

Varian grunted as he stood, and rolled his shoulders back. His muscles were already tightening up after his abysmal showing in the arena, and he had no doubt acquired an impressive collection of bruises. It would be even worse tomorrow, though he figured a little pain was a fair trade for the insights he had gained.

"That storm is getting awfully close," Jaina agreed.

Varian offered his arm, grimy and blood-stained as it was, and Jaina gracefully accepted. He helped her back to her feet, but before she could turn away, he slid his hand into hers and gave it a gentle tug. If Varian had learned nothing else today, it was that he didn't want to be the kind of man who held in all his hurt and rage and guilt until it ate him alive. He might not ever be an open man, but he could be better, and he was determined to make Jaina understand how much she had truly helped him.

"Jaina…" he murmured. "Thank you."

"What for?" she asked, her eyes widening.

"For… this."

"Think nothing of it. Really." Jaina shook her head, and curled her fingers around his. "I'd be a poor friend indeed if I only stood by you in times of fair weather."

"Be that as it may… I want you to know that I'm grateful," Varian insisted. "I'm… well, I'm not an easy man, but you have always shown me far more grace and kindness than I've deserved."

"Luckily for you, I happen to think it is deserved." Jaina's eyes took on a faint, misty sheen, and for a brief moment, she seemed very far away…. but then she blinked, and graced him with a soft and sincere smile. "As always, Varian… I'm proud of my king."

Varian ducked his head, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment, though he did not let go of Jaina's hand. His grip tightened, and he then thoroughly surprised the both of them when he leaned forward and kissed Jaina gently on the forehead. It was an impulsive thing, and not a little bit awkward, but for once it seemed he had done right. Jaina went crimson, and for perhaps only the first or second time in their friendship, she appeared truly at a loss for words.

"Thank you," he repeated. "And should you ever need the same from me, you need only ask."

Varian released Jaina's hand as he turned back towards the towering white walls of the Keep. His heartbeat immediately quickened, and he grit his teeth in defiance of his guilt and fear. Somewhere up there, Auriana was waiting. She would be confused, certainly, and no doubt distressed by his actions, but he would not let her continue to suffer for his stubborn guardedness. He would prove Jaina right, and he would be brave.

For Auriana, nothing less would do.