So - as it turns out, this is the last chapter of Lion's Rise! A huge thank you to everyone who has read, commented, followed, or engaged with this story in any way! I am immensely grateful, and (somewhat ironically) cannot express how much your support has meant to me. Much love, and please let me know if you would be interested in reading the sequel!

Varian

Varian stalked back and forth across his war room, making a poor attempt to disguise his irritation as he waited for Mathias Shaw to finish preparing his papers. He was not armoured, though he had nevertheless taken to carrying Shalamayne with him wherever he went, even within his own Keep. For now, the great blade rested along the length of the war table, its sharply honed silvered blade glinting up at Varian as he paced. He was not expecting violence at this particular meeting, of course, but there was something oddly comforting about having his faithful weapon in easily reach.

Genn Greymane was also in attendance, leaning up against the far wall with his sharp wolf's eyes tracking Varian's every move. Varian valued the older king's counsel, and more than that, he was one of the few people Varian trusted to care for Anduin and Auriana as if they were his own. Broll had remained upstairs, standing guard over Varian's chambers, while Jaina had returned to Dalaran to investigate the theft of the magebane that had been used to poison Auriana. They had both been somewhat reluctant to leave Varian alone, given the state he had been in for the last three days, but they had similarly understood the importance of their respective tasks.

Shaw had been hard at work interrogating a captured assassin in the dungeons of SI:7, while Varian had largely fretted over Auriana as she slept. Part of him had wanted to assist in Shaw's inquiries, to confront one of the would-be killers for himself, but in the end he had found it too difficult to tear himself from Auriana's side. Even today, he had been reluctant to hear Shaw's report, and it had only been because of Broll and Anduin's reassurances that he had finally made his way down to the war room.

"Are you ready yet?" Varian barked, coming to a halt beside the short end of his map table.

"Yes, Your Majesty," the spymaster said, hastily shoving the last of his papers beneath the rest of the pile. "My apologies for the delay."

"Just get on with it," he snapped, pointedly ignoring the admonishing look that Genn shot his way. "What have you learned?"

"Unfortunately, not much beyond what we already knew," Shaw said worriedly. "The assassin was paid a considerable amount of money - more than I would have expected, actually - but he does not know the true identity of his benefactor."

"You've had him for three days, Shaw, surely you can do better than that," Varian grunted. "SI:7 losing their touch?"

Shaw bristled ever slightly at the implication, but he was too clever and too well trained to lose his temper.

"With respect, Your Majesty, I could interrogate him for a year and I doubt it would make a difference," he said evenly. "He cannot…"

Shaw's words were cut off by a sharp rap at the door. Varian stood up straighter, wondering who could possibly have need of his attention now, and his fingers reflexively twitched towards Shalamayne's hilt.

"Come!" he snapped.

Varian inhaled sharply, somewhat looking forward to unleashing his irritation on whoever had been so bold as to interrupt his crucial meeting with Shaw; only to immediately deflate as Auriana, of all people, entered the room, supported on either side by Anduin and Broll. Her eyes widened as they met his, and a million different emotions flashed across her face.

"Auri…" he breathed.

Varian's heart seized in his chest at the sight of her, and he inadvertently let out a long, ragged sigh of relief. Yet as much as he wanted to go to her, to take her in his arms and kiss her until they were both gasping and breathless, he was suddenly very cognisant of the fact that they were not alone. He was not generally one for public displays of affection, and he suspected that Auriana, too, would be mortified if he were to fuss over her properly in front of all the others.

"You needn't hold back on our account, Varian…" Genn urged, sensing his uncertainty, but Varian remained stubbornly in place.

"Later," he muttered awkwardly.

For now, he would have to be content with inspecting Auriana from across the room, as Anduin carefully ushered her inside. Broll followed close behind and took up a position on Auriana's left side, frowning down at her like a large, protective guard bear. She was leaning heavily on Anduin for balance, Varian noted, but otherwise she stood straight-backed and clear-eyed. The colour had returned to her cheeks, and if not for the bandages around her wrist and the few visible cuts and bruises along her arms, she would have seemed entirely unfazed by her adventures.

Normally, the sight of her looking so well recovered would have given Varian great comfort, but instead it only served to remind him of how close he had come to losing her.

"You shouldn't be out of bed," he growled.

"I tried to tell her..." Anduin insisted, though it was clear that there was little he could have done to prevent Auriana from doing exactly what she wanted.

"I'm well enough," Auriana said firmly, staring across at Varian as if daring him to disagree. "And I'm here now, so there's little point arguing about it. Have you learned anything from the man you captured?"

Her attention shifted to Mathias Shaw, and her eyes narrowed. Evidently, Anduin and Broll had filled her in on what had happened in the time she had been unconscious.

"Unfortunately not," Varian snapped.

He hated to admit failure at the best of times, even more so when it came to Auriana, and he made a poor attempt to hide his irritation by staring down at the war table instead of directly at her face.

"As I was just explaining to His Majesty, our prisoner has not been especially forthcoming," Shaw elaborated, "But I now believe that is because he doesn't actually know anything."

"Who would accept a contract to kill someone without even asking why?" Anduin wondered, clearly baffled by the idea that someone would kill for nothing more than money.

"Most hired blades," Varian corrected sternly. "Who needs answers when one has gold?"

"Whoever is running this operation is smart," Shaw agreed. "The man we captured was paid handsomely to kill Prince Anduin and Lady Auriana, and to bring the bodies to a location in Westfall. He would not have been told anything else."

"You truly believe that?" Varian scoffed.

"It's how I would have done it," Shaw confirmed, his mouth drawing into a thin line. "Mercenaries, working in cells. None told anything more than they needed to know, so that they could not give anything away should they be captured."

"And what is the price of treason these days, do you suppose?" Varian said darkly.

He picked up a wooden lion marker from the war table, and idly turned the small figure over between his fingers.

"Considerable. Whoever is ultimately responsible for the attacks is both well funded and well armed," Shaw said grimly.

A strange expression crossed Auriana's face as he spoke, and she seemed suddenly nervous.

"I… I spoke with one of them," she said slowly. "A man. Possibly the leader."

"What?"

Varian's hands stilled, and he leaned forward across over the war table with great interest.

"Did he tell you anything of value?" Shaw asked urgently.

"Honestly, it's a little hard to recall the details," Auriana admitted, touching a pale hand to her temple, "But my suspicions were right. He was a member of the same group who were attempting to start a faction war on Draenor. Their plans have not changed."

She glanced across at Shaw, and her expression softened.

"I also think I know why you've been having so much trouble finding him," she added. "And I perhaps owe you an apology. I have been frustrated with the lack of progress in finding these attackers, but I understand now that this espionage business is… more complex than I gave you credit for. I am used to a different kind of enemy. It is not a simple matter to fight those who deal in lies and shadows."

Shaw was not a man who often showed his emotions, but even he could not hide the brief flicker of shock that crossed his face at Auriana's words. Their relationship had always been tense, ever since Shaw's agents had failed her during the Draenor expedition, but it seemed her experience had given her a new appreciation for the enormity of the burden placed upon Stormwind's spymaster.

"Thank you, my lady," he muttered, still looking a little baffled by her change of heart.

"It's nothing," she mumbled, though it was clear she was pleased that he had accepted her apology so readily. "Really."

The moment of reconciliation was short lived, however, as Genn immediately drew their attention back to the critical matter at hand.

"What did this man say that concerned you?" he asked.

"Something about… having been a spy for a long time," Auriana explained, glancing briefly across at Varian. "I… I think he's one of yours, Master Shaw."

A wave of shock rippled across the room, though of course Auriana's allegation made a great deal of sense. Getting into the castle or tracking Anduin and Auriana's movements so accurately would necessitate some kind of inside access, and who better than one of Stormwind's most elite spies? Unfortunately, it also suggested that these attacks were solely an internal problem. Varian had no particular desire to start a war, but in a way it had been easier to believe that the Horde or some other outside force had been responsible, rather than that he had once again been betrayed from within his own house.

"Could you describe this man, my lady?" Shaw asked Auriana.

He reached for his papers, and began to rifle through them with lightning fast fingers.

"Shaw? You believe this is plausible?"

"I began to consider the possibility after the bombings," the spymaster admitted, never taking his eyes off his papers. "As much as I hate to admit that one of my men would turn traitor, it would explain a great many things..."

"Why was I not informed?" Varian demanded.

"It was only an inkling. I had no proof, Your Majesty. Until now," Shaw replied levelly. "And when hunting rogue agents, it is best to keep one's suspicions as quiet as possible."

He paused, and looked up at Auriana.

"Describe him, please."

"He was tall," Auriana supplied quickly. "Actually tall, not just… tall relative to me. A few inches shorter than Varian, maybe, though not nearly as heavily built. Salt and pepper hair. A crooked nose. And he was… strange."

"Strange?"

"His mannerisms. He was odd. Overeager. Frantic, almost," she explained, shivering uncomfortably at the memory. "He struck me as being… not all there."

Shaw's face grew paler the longer she spoke, and the entire room suddenly swelled with a tight, nervous energy.

"Shaw?" Varian prompted.

The spymaster sighed, and withdrew a single sheet of parchment from his haphazardly stacked pile. He held it out toward Auriana with a grave expression.

"Like this?"

Upon the paper was scrawled a rough charcoal sketch of a gaunt-faced man with sharp, dangerous eyes and a badly broken nose. He looked vaguely familiar, though that was perhaps to be expected. SI:7 were answerable to Varian alone, and he had met many a rogue during his years as king. The artist had done a rather excellent job of giving the picture an uneasy sense of menace; so much so that Auriana actually gasped in recognition.

"Yes, that's him exactly!" she exclaimed, her eyes going wide. "How…?"

"He's SI:7," Varian said flatly.

It wasn't a question.

"As I said, after the bombings I began to investigate the possibility of an inside job," Shaw said wearily. "I compiled a list of everyone within my organisation who would have the necessary skill to pull off these sort of attacks. The only reason he was not at the top of my list is because I genuinely thought he was dead."

"Who is he?" Genn asked curiously, reaching out to take the parchment from Shaw so that he could inspect the portrait up close.

"His real name was Reid Ashton," Shaw explained, as the picture was passed around the room. "Or is, I suppose, now that we suspect he may no longer be deceased."

"I think his men called him differently, but I can't quite remember…" Auriana said, her forehead creasing in a thoughtful frown.

"An alias, most likely. Ashton was one of my finest rogues. He had been in service to the Crown since your father was king, Your Majesty."

"I think I recall the name, now that you mention it. He distinguished himself greatly in the Northrend campaign," Varian spat bitterly. "He was loyal. What changed?"

Shaw shook his head sadly, and he suddenly seemed to find it difficult to find the right words.

"He had family in Southshore. A wife and two young children," he murmured, his green eyes darkening with memory. "They were killed when the Forsaken unleashed their Blight and destroyed the town. He arrived too late to the save them, and he himself was injured by inhaling the Blight that dissipated through the area after the attack."

Anduin winced in open sympathy, and it was clear that he was not the only one who felt remorse for the loss of Ashton's family. Genn's mouth drew into a thin, angry line, while Broll and Auriana exchanged a troubled look. There were many painful ways to die in Azeroth, but death by the Forsaken Blight had to be one of the worst. Whatever Ashton had become, his losses had been tragic, and even Varian felt the slightest bit of pity flicker beneath his mounting anger.

"It took him nearly a year to recover; physically at least, but as I came to learn, he had become… unhinged," Shaw continued gravely. "Whether it was the horror of losing his family, or the effects of the Blight itself is anyone's guess - perhaps even some combination of the two - but he was never the same man again."

"What became of him?" Genn asked.

"He became increasingly aggressive toward the Horde, engaging in actions unsanctioned by either SI:7 or the Crown," Shaw explained. "I had no choice but to intervene. I had planned to… retire him - forcibly, if necessary - when I received word that he had been killed in action."

He did not say it explicitly, but forced 'retirement' from SI:7 clearly meant death. It was not a part of Shaw's job that Varian envied, though he knew the spymaster held the safety of the royal family and the security of the kingdom above all else. Even if it meant killing a man who had once been a comrade in arms - or a friend.

"You believed his death to be genuine?" Varian probed, raising an eyebrow.

"At the time, the evidence was… most convincing. A mission gone wrong. In our line of work, it happens more often than I would like," Shaw confirmed.

"When was this? His alleged death, I mean."

"Perhaps two months before the bombing of Theramore," Shaw said, frowning slightly as he made the calculations in his head. "I can check my records for the exact date, Your Majesty, if you would like…"

Varian waved a hand dismissively. The detail was not important. All that mattered was that there was a madman after his son and consort; a man who would even go so far as to fake his own death in order to have his vengeance on the Horde.

"Why did it take him so long to resurface?" Genn mused, scratching thoughtfully at his short beard. "Why not after Theramore's fall? Or during the Siege of Orgrimmar, when anti-Horde sentiment was running high? He would have stood a better chance of rallying people to his cause while we were still at war."

"He had no money," Auriana interjected quietly. "You said it yourself, Master Shaw. Attacks like these require coin. And connections. Two things which he did not gain until fairly recently."

She was surprisingly confident in her assertion, and Varian could tell from the tight set of her jaw that there was something she wasn't telling him.

"Auriana?"

"I had my suspicions before, but the rogue confirmed it."

She swallowed.

"Rohas Anguile is bankrolling the attacks."

Varian stiffened, his fingers tightening around the wooden lion figurine he still held in the palm of his hand. It was an allegation Auriana had made many times in the past, but one he had never truly believed. Anguile was a clever, ambitious man, to be sure; but he was also cautious and proud, and Varian had always thought him far too fond of his own neck to risk outright treason.

"A leading member of the House of Nobles financed an attack on the heir to the throne of Stormwind?" Genn repeated, his voice clipped and sharp. "That is a serious accusation, Auriana."

"I know, my lord. But I also hope that you would know me well enough by now to understand that I would not say such things lightly," she said, nodding respectfully towards the Gilnean King. "No matter how I might feel about the man personally."

"I'm not calling you a liar," Genn assured her, "I am simply pointing out that such accusations carry serious political weight. I have never heard him express an particular enmity towards the Horde, or a desire for another war."

"Anguile doesn't care about the Horde. He bartered his wealth and support in exchange for… for my head. Anduin would have been the sole target, if not for Anguile's desire to see me dead," Auriana said, her eyes flashing dangerously. "He despises me for my relationship with Varian."

"It's true," Varian confirmed, trying and largely failing to swallow his rapidly rising anger. "You should see the way he looks at her in court sometimes, when he thinks I'm not paying attention…"

"More than that, he would do anything to prevent me from becoming Queen of Stormwind," Auriana continued. "He envisions his daughter in that particular role."

Varian blanched as he imagined being wedded to Cathelora Anguile. She was pretty, perhaps, but vapid and self-centred, and not at all deserving of the title of queen. He glanced briefly at Anduin, and from the look on the boy's face, it seemed he was equally unimpressed by the prospect of marrying Anguile's daughter. Before Varian could speak, however, Anduin gasped, and his eyes widened in sudden realisation.

"Anguile knew we were there," he whispered. "In Elwynn, I mean. His daughter overheard us talking about our plans, I didn't even think about it at the time…"

"I'd forgotten, too," Auriana hissed, looking up at him in horror. "We left so quickly, no one else knew where we were going. But if she had alerted her father…"

It was circumstantial evidence, perhaps, but for Varian, it was enough. Anguile had a bitter hatred for Auriana, and if he had known where they were, when no one else had… the coincidence was too great to ignore.

I'll kill him. I will tear him apart with my bare hands…

The bubble of rage that had been steadily rising in Varian's chest abruptly swelled and popped, and he was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to do great violence. His hands reflexively clenched; and he squeezed so tightly that the wooden figurine cracked and shattered beneath his iron grip.

I will teach him what it means to harm my family...

"Excuse me," he muttered, his voice sounding surprisingly calm out loud.

He opened his fist, and the splintered remains of the lion figurine tumbled down onto the war table. It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, and no one even dared breathe as Varian collected Shalamayne with a cold, deliberate determination. He would not kill Anguile quickly, he decided, but with aching slowness. Varian knew how to kill a man instantly and painlessly, of course, but such a death would be a kindness.

Anguile did not deserve his kindness.

"Varian…"

Varian was so lost in thoughts of vengeance that he failed to realise he had already made it to the door to the warm room. He looked up at the last moment, and was both surprised and infuriated to see Broll moving quickly to block his path. The archdruid stood stall and square shouldered, his muscles tensed for a fight, though his golden eyes shone with sympathy.

"Get out of my way, Broll," Varian growled harshly. "Or I will make you."

"You cannot kill a lord of Stormwind in cold blood," Broll insisted, his voice quiet but firm. "Even I know that. I would not have you do something that you cannot take back."

"Watch me," Varian snarled.

The archdruid did not move, however, even as Varian raised Shalamayne for effect. He never would have harmed Broll, of course, but he would have his way. He would claim Anguile's head, as was surely his right, and then Anduin and Auriana would be safe…

"You cannot do this, old friend," Broll repeated.

"No? You lost your child. Would you see me lose mine?" Varian snapped. "You of all people should understand why I must do this!"

It was a low blow, perhaps, but Varian was not above doing whatever it took to protect his family. He could make his apologies later, if necessary, but right now he needed to act.

"I do understand," Broll said coolly, drawing himself up to his full height. "And I am standing here regardless. Think, Varian."

"Dammit, Broll! Do not make…"

"You are not a murderer, Father."

Anduin's voice was soft, but the weight of his words cracked through the air like a whip. He was not upset or demanding, just a steady and intractable presence in the room; the calm at the centre of Varian's storm. He stood as a stark contrast to his dark and furious father, but despite the gentle earnestness of his plea, Varian could not let go of his anger quite so easily.

"He tried to have you both killed! You are my son, Anduin, my only son!" he roared, his chest heaving with the effort of containing his fast burning rage as he rounded on the prince. "I don't care about politics, or titles…"

"Or consequences?"

Anduin's words were sharp, but his blue eyes shone with compassion, and for a moment he looked so much like his mother that Varian could not even look him in the eye. He snarled in frustration, and tightened his grip on Shalamayne in an effort to still his trembling fingers. He stole a sidelong glance at Shaw, stoic as ever, and Genn, who looked tired and troubled, though he could tell they were both mostly in agreement with Anduin. Ironically, Auriana was the only one he could not read, her face as pale and still as if it had been carved from marble.

"Auri, please… surely you understand…?" he demanded, hoping that she, at least, could see the truth of things. "I cannot suffer him to live!"

Of all the other people standing in his war room, competent and brave as they were, she was the truest warrior; the only one who could really understand the depths of Varian's fury. She was certainly not afraid of bloodshed, and yet she hesitated in the face of his seething anger. She exhaled and closed her eyes, and she seemed to be struggling with something deep inside herself as she considered his desperate plea. Varian saw the pale scars on her arms flare very briefly with her magic, but when she finally looked up at him once more, her voice was surprisingly steady.

"I… I can't prove that it was him," she said haltingly, with a hesitant shrug of her shoulders. "I was… hallucinating. Light, even I'm not entirely certain that my conversation with the assassin actually happened. And if you kill a member of the House of Nobles without trial, on nothing more than the word of a woman who was half dead and seeing things… you're going to cause irreparable damage to your position as king."

"She is correct, my lord," Shaw agreed carefully. "A seemingly unprovoked attack against an influential noble could cause the whole lot of them to rebel against the Crown."

"And it would ultimately be the people of Stormwind who would suffer for it," Auriana continued, the confidence in her voice growing as she spoke. "You've seen it before. They could withhold stone, or grain, or money… they would do whatever they could to hurt and punish you for taking the life of one of their own without cause."

It was a good answer, a queen's answer, and Varian found himself reluctantly impressed, both by her reasoning and her willingness to stand tall before him. Unfortunately, she was absolutely right. There was not a noble alive who would dare confront Varian to his face, but they were certainly not above using their wealth and influence to make their displeasure known. Not to mention that if the House of Nobles were to take their frustrations out on the population of Stormwind as a means of punishing Varian for his actions, Auriana would be hated by the common people as the cause.

Of course, no matter how much he tried to tell himself that what she was saying was rational and right, it did little to soothe his tempestuous heart. Lo'Gosh howled for blood, and it was difficult to silence his voice. Not even a few years ago, Varian would have already been out the door and halfway to Anguile's quarters. He wasn't sure this was an improvement, brooding in his war room as the two sides of his personality warred with each other for control… and yet he had promised to better. For his son, and more recently, for her.

He sighed.

"Hmph. Fine," he conceded, though the thought of leaving Anguile for someone else to kill left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He turned away from Broll and strode back over to the war table, fingering the edge of Shalamayne's blade as he walked. The archdruid did not move, however, and cautiously remained to block the doorway even after Varian had laid the sword back down upon the table and stepped away. Evidently, he did not entirely trust Varian's stated intent to stand down - which perhaps was not unreasonable, given that Varian wasn't entirely sure whether he could trust himself.

"We make it look like an accident, then," he resolved.

It would not be the first time SI:7 had arranged for someone's demise in a set of unremarkable circumstances, though it was not an option Varian typically preferred. He felt there was a certain cowardice in assassination, and he would have much preferred to kill Anguile face to face, to make sure the noble knew exactly who had come for him, and why. Still, in this case, dead was damned sight better than alive, and if Varian could not be the one to swing the blade, he had no qualms about using a proxy.

Anduin's lips drew into a thin, disapproving line at the suggestion, though Varian was surprised to find that Genn, Broll, and Shaw each looked similarly reluctant. His heated gaze swept across the room, daring them to object aloud, and one by one they all looked away. All, that is, save for Auriana.

"We can't do that, either, Varian," she murmured wearily.

"No? Last time I checked, you hated this man more than anyone!" he glowered, thrusting a finger bitterly in her direction.

"I do. But my anger isn't the most important issue here! I can't…"

She trailed off and took another deep breath, her grip on Anduin's arm tightening as she wrestled with her own latent fury.

"Anguile… Anguile is symptomatic of a larger problem," she continued, struggling to keep her tone calm and measured. "Some of the things Ashton said… I think there's a more extensive conspiracy than just he and Anguile alone. He may have been bluffing, of course, but I think there's a good chance there are other nobles involved in this plot."

"There are many people in the Alliance who would turn a profit from a war," Genn agreed, his heavy brows drawing together in concern. "Not to mention there are those who would support any action against the Horde."

There was an unspoken addendum to his words, and Varian knew that the older man was thinking of Sylvanas. While Genn may not have been willing to start an all out war between the Alliance and the Horde for no good reason, Varian did not doubt that he would contribute rather enthusiastically to any campaign that would give him a chance to kill the Banshee Queen.

"That's exactly my concern. Why take out one man when we have a chance to get them all?" Auriana reasoned. "Killing Anguile alone is not enough to keep Anduin safe. He is cunning, I'll give him that, but he's also coward. He's afraid of you, Varian. He would turn on his co-conspirators in an instant if it meant saving his neck from the chopping block."

"You're starting to think like a spy, my lady," Shaw observed, his sharp eyes raking her from head to toe as if he were seeing her for the first time.

It was high praise, especially coming from one of the greatest spies Stormwind had ever known, and it was clear that Shaw meant every word. Auriana gave him a brief smile, but her expression soon grew grave as she turned her attention back to Varian once more.

"What would you have me do, then?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"We need evidence," Auriana said thoughtfully, glancing over at Shaw for confirmation. "Something more than my word alone. Something that cannot be disputed or explained away."

"You're suggesting that we have… patience," Varian growled.

"Until such a time as we have sufficient evidence to link Anguile to this shadow group, yes," she confirmed. "Genn?"

"I agree," the older king nodded. "There is little point lancing a single boil while a greater infection lingers underneath. They want you to destabilise Stormwind, Varian. Do not give them the satisfaction."

"I do not need to be lectured on how to run my own kingdom, Genn," Varian scowled warningly.

"Of course you don't. But you would not have asked us here if you did not value our insight," Genn countered. "It is one thing to move against the Duke on a whim, it is quite another to charge him with attempted regicide and treason, and to prove his guilt at a trial."

"No one would dare deny your right to kill him then, Your Majesty," Shaw agreed.

Varian studied each of his friends and advisors in turn, and he felt some of his blind fury fade as he did. He was no fool, and he was certainly not so far gone that he could not see when he was being counseled wisely. He himself might have even suggested a similarly considered plan, were the issue not so close to his heart. And yet patience alone would not cool the fierce fire burning in his veins; nor would it slake his primal, lusty need to see his mate and child protected...

"Bah. If I agreed - and I'm not saying that I do - what do you recommend, Shaw?"

The spymaster took a moment to consider the question, his green eyes narrowing shrewdly as he calculated possible alternatives.

"We execute our prisoner as a Defias. Publicly," he suggested. "We allow these traitors to believe that their ruse in Westfall worked, and that we know nothing of their real motives. In the meantime, we gather what evidence we can. As soon as we can prove Anguile's involvement, we move against him."

"While his men continue to make attempts on the lives of my family?" Varian demanded.

"Perhaps not. It may be some time before they are able to regroup for another attack. We killed a number of their men in the forest during the initial ambush," Broll supplied. "At least five, by my count, and then there were the three killed by wolves."

He and Auriana exchanged an oddly significant glance at the word 'wolves', though neither made to comment further.

"Another died in the cave," Anduin said, his expression wracked with guilt as he stared down at his hands.

"And I killed one, too," Auriana added hurriedly, perhaps to spare Anduin the pain of discussing the incident further.

It seemed to have worked, for her admission drew several disbelieving glances, and she shrugged.

"What?"

"As I understand it, you were badly injured, and unarmed," Genn marvelled. "How?"

"I… ah… I had my boot knife. I… well, I jumped out of a tree and stabbed him in the throat," she said sheepishly.

Genn grinned in approval, baring his teeth in a distinctly worgen smile, and despite everything, even Varian found himself smirking with pride. The assassins may have been skilled, armed, and well paid, but they could not hold a candle to Auriana's courage and ferocity.

"So, there are ten dead, and one captured," he concluded. "Out of how many?"

"A dozen, perhaps?" Auriana guessed. "I didn't really have time to count…"

"Nor did I, but I believe your estimate to be reasonably accurate," Broll agreed. "We also killed a number of their men in Westfall."

"What about this Ashton person, then? What if he is not the ringleader?" Varian wondered. "Or worse, what if he is not dead?"

"I can't say for sure," Auriana admitted. "He was ambushed by a very angry pantheress, that's how I escaped, though I've lived on Azeroth long enough to know that if you don't see someone die right in front of you, there's a good chance they're not dead."

"He has 'died' once before," Shaw said grimly. "He was one of my best. I would not count him out just yet, but I think Broll has the right of it. They gambled, and they lost. It will be some time before they can recover."

"Hmph," Varian mused. "Genn?"

"As difficult as it may be, I agree that in this case, patience is the best course of action," the older man said. "I understand the desire to protect your son more than anyone, but if there is a chance you can stop them all… I believe you must take advantage of that opportunity. Men who feel confident and secure are those most likely to make mistakes, and we know what we're looking for now."

"I still don't like it," Varian muttered, though the cloud of red that had plagued his vision grew slowly clearer. "Auriana?"

She hesitated for the briefest moment, lost in thought, and when she spoke, she looked not at him, but at Anduin.

"These men have earned their deaths," she murmured, "But we do it the right way. We are not murderers, or cowards. We must be better than those who would seek to tear us down."

Anduin gave her a small, approving smile in answer, and together they turned to watch Varian as he stalked back over to his war table and stared down at the carefully drawn map of the Eastern Kingdoms. He could have drawn the map in his sleep, so often had he stared at the gold etched borders and deep blue oceans. He ran his finger up the coast of Westfall, over the curve of the land that jutted out into the sea, and up towards the border with Elwynn Forest. His fingers lingered on the pale marbled tower that marked the location of Stormwind. Stormwind, the city that was his to protect, the city that he had sworn would never again be at the mercy of greedy, self-serving men.

He lifted his burning gaze met Auriana's, and she gave him a short, encouraging nod.

"Bah," he grunted, finally getting a hold of himself enough to relax his warlike posture. "Very well. Though I warn you, my tolerance for these games already grows thin."

"SI:7 will not rest until we have the evidence you need, Your Majesty," Shaw promised, his voice deepening with rarely heard emotion. "I swear to you."

Varian acknowledged the statement with a terse nod, though inwardly he did not share his spymaster's optimism.

"Leave me," he ordered.

Shaw complied immediately, gathering his papers and pausing only to bow respectfully to Varian before he made his way swiftly from the room. The others were slower to move, each staring at him with a range of expressions from mild concern to outright pity. Varian turned away.

"Auriana," he barked. "You stay."

For a moment, no one moved; though a second later, Varian heard the ring of boots on stone as Anduin, Genn and Broll slowly took their leave. He kept his back to them as they departed, taking a moment to compose himself, and he did not turn around until he heard the heavy wooden door close.

When he finally did, only Auriana remained. She was watching him carefully, almost uncertainly, and she was frozen in place as surely as if she had been bound. Varian wanted to go to her more than anything, but something held him back. Auriana had been in danger many times before, of course, but this time felt different. Personal. She had not been in danger because she had been off saving the world or defending the Alliance, she had been in danger because she loved him, and he couldn't help but to feel responsible.

He wouldn't have blamed her if she were furious with him. After all, she had been the one who had been reluctant to enter into a relationship, precisely because of the complications that came with his role as King of Stormwind. Varian had sworn to her that he would keep her safe, but it seemed that he had once again failed a woman that he loved.

And yet… she was still here, staring up at him with those enormous blue eyes. She had sought him out, even despite her injuries. She was still standing here, even despite his anger, and he wondered if there was still some hope for them after all.

"Why are you standing over there?" he asked finally.

"I… I'm sorry, I thought you wanted me to stay?"

Auriana's face fell, and she reached for the door.

"No… no, that's not what I meant," Varian said hurriedly, cursing at himself under his breath. "I meant… why are you standing so far away from me?"

Her eyes kindled with sudden hope, and she smiled shyly back at him over her shoulder. Varian's throat tightened, and he crossed the room in four swift strides. He reached for her, unhesitating, pulling her back to face him and crashing his body against hers. She came willingly, throwing her arms around his neck, and he was so desperate to hold her close that he lifted her clear off the ground.

"Varian…" she gasped, burying her face in the side of his neck.

He growled in satisfaction, the sound echoing deep in his chest. There were precious few things on Azeroth he found sweeter than sound of his name on Auriana's lips, and he held her as if it were the last time he would ever get to touch her again. The last vestiges of his rage slowly began to fade as he cradled her in his arms, and for the first time since she and Anduin had disappeared, he felt truly whole once more.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, tangling his fingers through the lengths of her hair.

Auriana stiffened slightly against his body, and he gently lowered her to her feet.

"You're sorry?" she asked, leaning back so that she could look him in the eye. "What for?"

"All of this…" Varian said bitterly, gesturing at her wounded arm. "I should have listened to you about Anguile. You're in danger because of me. If you had chosen another man…"

"I don't want another man!" Auriana protested.

"But you were right," Varian said stiffly. "About me being the king. It makes things… difficult. It makes you a target."

Auriana stared up at him consideringly for a long moment, then abruptly looked down at her feet and shook her head. Concerned, Varian slid two fingers along the line of her jaw and lifted her chin, only to realise that she was laughing. Her shoulders began to tremble with mirth, though he had absolutely no idea what she could have found so amusing.

"Auri? What…?" he asked, thoroughly bewildered.

"I've been hiding your rooms for the last few hours, terrified that you would be angry with me for what happened," she explained, trying to regather her breath, "While down here you've been worried about the exact same thing."

"You find this… funny?"

"There's a certain... irony to it, don't you think?" she said, shrugging her slender shoulders. "And at this point if I don't laugh, I think I might cry…"

She gave him a wry, weary grin, and Varian couldn't help but to let out a rueful chuckle of his own.

"I suppose laughter is preferable," he admitted, gently tucking a lock of hair back behind her ear. "Though… why do you think I would be angry with you?"

Auriana frowned, and the laughter faded from her eyes.

"Anduin was with me," she said quietly. "He could have been killed."

"He could have been anywhere," Varian reminded her. "Those assassins were after him, too. Besides which, we all thought the threat was passed. Myself included."

Auriana nodded vaguely, but she did not seem convinced.

"From what I understand, you were willing to give your life so that he might escape," Varian added, gently stroking her cheek with his calloused thumb.

"Of course," she murmured. "I would do... anything, if it meant keeping him safe."

Her tone was low and urgent, almost pleading, as if she thought Varian might not believe her.

"It's Anduin… he's…"

"I know. Light, Auriana, you would have died for him," Varian whispered hoarsely. "I knew that you loved me… but that you love my son, that you would protect him just as I would…"

He trailed off, trying to swallow down the sudden lump that had arisen in his throat. Putting into words what her actions had meant to him was an impossible task, but he seemed to have said enough. She blushed prettily at his praise, and pressed a single small hand to his chest, just above his heart.

"Well… it's… if it's anyone's fault, it's mine," he added gruffly.

"Varian. No," Auriana countered. "If I'm not allowed to blame myself… then you certainly can't blame yourself, either."

"I… I couldn't stand it if you were disappointed in me," he confessed.

"Never," she said firmly, "But we cannot spend the rest of our lives arguing over who gets to take the blame. Anduin was right. It isn't your fault, or mine, or Broll's, or anyone else's, save for these... warmongers."

Her fingers traced small, soothing circles on his chest, and she gave him an reassuring smile.

"He's a wise man, your son," she said.

"So I keep learning," Varian agreed.

He covered her hand with his own, and let out a long, shaky sigh. He was still troubled, of course, but it was difficult to maintain his blind rage with Auriana standing safely in front of him. Her presence alone was soothing, and he was grateful beyond words to have her home.

"So. We are playing the waiting game, then. I warn you, I am not a patient man."

"I'm not exactly renowned for my patience, either," Auriana pointed out, "But what choice do we have? The people of Stormwind have to come first. As much as I would dearly love to educate Anguile on some of the finer points of fire magic… we cannot risk the stability of the kingdom by acting prematurely."

Varian was once again struck by her magnanimity and grace, and he found himself smiling despite himself. She was no longer the cold, desperately sad woman he had met in Stormshield so many months ago, and he was unbelievably proud of how far she had come.

"Since when did you become such a deft hand at politics?" he teased gently.

"I'm not, really," she insisted, with a slight roll of her eyes. "I just... I decided that if I was going to be a lady, I ought to learn how to do it properly. So I've been watching you, and Genn, and Anduin. Listening. Trying to be the best I can. Our people deserve that much."

For all Auriana had fought against her noble heritage, and for all her fears about being his queen, Varian knew she had the right kind of heart. She was not the kind of leader who demanded sacrifices from others, but rather the kind to give everything of herself to keep her people safe, and he loved her all the more for it. He was still furious with the cowards who sought to take her light from the world, but in that moment he realised that his anger was perhaps best left for another time. Auriana was alive, and safe in his arms, and for now, that was enough.

"'Our' people?" he repeated, smirking at her slip of the tongue.

"Stop looking at me like that. You know what I mean," she said dismissively, her cheeks flushing bright red.

"Yes, I think I do."

Varian reached down and took Auriana's hands in his, being very careful of her broken arm. His proposal had seemed somewhat unimportant when faced with the possibility of losing her forever, but now that she was home…

He cleared his throat.

"Last time we spoke, I asked you a question…"

"Yes, you did," she murmured shyly.

"Broll told me why you went to Elwynn," he confessed.

Auriana inhaled sharply at his words, and it seemed to Varian as if the entire room were suddenly charged with electricity. The collar of his tunic felt uncomfortably tight, and an unfamiliar sense of nervousness and uncertainty gripped his heart. Asking her once had been bad enough, but after everything that had happened... he found raising the issue for a second time to be a daunting prospect indeed.

"I… I see," she stammered. "Um…"

"Please don't be angry with him," Varian added quickly. "At the time, it very much looked like we would never see you alive again."

"I'm not mad," she assured him, though she was now staring very determinedly down at her own feet. "I… did he mention anything… else?"

Varian took a deep breath, and prayed to the Light that she could not see how plainly nervous he truly was. Despite what Broll had said, there was still a chance that Auriana had changed her mind, and had decided that wedding him was more trouble than it was worth. When he had rescued her from Stranglethorn Vale, he had promised that he would accept any answer she gave him, and he had meant it, but there was no denying how badly he wanted her to say yes.

"Broll said only that you had considered my proposal," he murmured. "And that… that you had considered it… ah... favourably…"

His heart was thundering so fast and so loud that he was certain Auriana had to be able to hear it, but she still would not look him in the eye. She appeared to be deep in thought, and the longer they stood in silence, the more anxious Varian grew. His palms grew slick with sweat, and he vaguely began to wonder if his war room had always been so hot.

"Oh, bloody hell," he growled, throwing caution to the wind. "Auriana. I love you. What I want has not changed, and I believe you still owe me an answer...?"

Varian turned her chin upwards to face him, and was somewhat surprised to see that she was smiling. Auriana rarely smiled fully, preferring instead small grins or sardonic smirks, and the sight of her unashamedly beaming up at him took Varian's breath away. He all but forgot his anger and worry as she reached up and took his face between his hands, and kissed him as softly and sweetly as she ever had. A wave of giddy, uncontrollable hope washed over him, and his hands slid hungrily down to Auriana's slim waist as she whispered against his lips...

"No."

"What?"

He pulled back, completely baffled by her response, and was utterly shocked to see her still smiling warmly up at him. Everything about her body language suggested eagerness and happiness, a positive response to the question he had asked her so many days ago, and yet she had refused him.

"'No'?" he repeated disbelievingly. "I don't… why would you…. why are you still smiling?"

Varian had no idea what had come over her, nor how to reconcile her words with the undisguised love shining in her eyes as she stared up at him.

"Auri…?"

"There is an old tradition in Kul Tiras," she said slowly, tracing her fingers along the line of the scar that bridged his nose. "A man who is truly serious in his intentions must ask a woman for her hand three times. It has not been common practice for many years now, but it was how my father asked my mother."

Her expression grew slightly wistful as she spoke, but the smile never left her face.

"Hmph. And why would a man do such a thing?" Varian growled, his hands tightening possessively around her body.

"To prove himself, I suppose," she explained. "If he is not strong enough to persevere in the face of adversity… if he will not fight for the woman he loves… then he cannot be considered worthy."

Auriana bit her lip mischievously, and Varian now strongly suspected that she was not denying him at all. The first proposal had been on his terms, but it seemed that the second would be on hers.

"Are you suggesting that I should ask again?" he said drily. "Most women would not be so bold as to play such games with a king."

Auriana stood up straighter, her eyes blazing fiercely, and for a second Varian saw a brief, blinding flash of the queen that she could one day be.

"I'm not most women."

He snorted, unable to deny the simple truth of her statement, and he conceded the point with a wry shake of his head. Auriana's willingness to see him as a man first and a king second was one of the things Varian loved most about her, and in that moment, he decided he was more than willing to go along with her family's traditions. He was worthy, and he would do whatever it took to prove it to her.

"Will you marry me?" he rumbled, leaning forward to press his forehead lovingly against hers.

"No," she whispered again, her lips trembling with barely contained excitement.

She was incredibly beautiful, and brave, and brilliant; so much so that Varian's heart all but stopped in his chest as he gazed down upon her. He looped his hands through her hair, his own eager desire surging as he pulled her close and trapped her roughly between his body and the door.

"Dammit, woman, will you marry me?" he half-growled, half-laughed. "I'm not going to ask again."

Auriana blushed happily, though she pretended to consider the question with great seriousness. Her brows drew together in mock concern, but there was no hiding the pure, uncomplicated joy that shone in her eyes. Her smile grew somehow even wider, and she trembled with emotion as she leaned into his embrace and buried her face his chest.

"Yes," she said finally. "I will."