If Varian had thought that watching Lor'themar—the Regent, he corrected himself—gracefully rise from the furs and dress was the end he was slowly proving himself mistaken. He tried to tell himself it was, of course, tried to re-write his memories to believe that was all there was. An ill-advised fling, nothing more.

But he was never successful; the truth crept in like trickling water, ready to freeze at a moment's notice and open all the cracks. Laying awake at night he was beset by the same feeling that had possessed him after he had come to his senses: the knowledge that he should feel guilt and reproach but the inability to grasp those feelings. Like some kind of infernal memory aid reliving those feelings brought what had really happened into his mind's eye.

Lor'themar stretched out beside him, practically glowing. His own hand, fascinated and clumsily tracing where the delicate lines of a tattoo were intertwined with old scars on the elf's hip. Watching as Lor'themar sat up and worked deft fingers through his hair, tying it into a loose braid again. Both of them rising to search out their strewn clothes, passing retrieved items to one another. The bite mark on his shoulder beginning to ache and Lor'themar noticing; leaning down to seal his mouth over it and lap at the few beads of blood that had welled in the impressions of his teeth before pressing a bandage onto it. Varian nearly undoing all their work for the thrill that ran down his spine seeing Lor'themar run his tongue over his bottom lip afterwards. When they were finally dressed again—sword belts and cloaks and armour back in place—and the elf had pulled him close and kissed him breathless one last time before smiling regretfully and striding out into the chilly evening.

The traitorous thought of what it would be like to have Lor'themar again plagued him. The more rational but infinitely crueler thought that Lor'themar might have gone back to Silvermoon and merely cast his memory aside was just as harsh. Varian's knowledge of the Sin'dorei court is shaky at best, but he'd heard the same scandalous rumors that swept Stormwind whenever a neutral trader made port with a precious cargo of fine silks, rich wines, rare potions, and intricate jewelry. It made him sick with worry to think that perhaps one day the traders would bring not pointless gossip about the Magisterium or tales of some wild festival but the story fresh from the lips of some courtier that Lord Theron had bedded the King of Stormwind.

Varian tried to soothe his anxieties by reassuring himself that the Regent was more honorable than that, but his niggling doubts and guilt conjured an even worse thought. Himself and Lor'themar in conference; the elf leaning forward and quietly telling him that unless his demands were met the world would find out just how the Alliance's leader upheld his own law of 'no fraternization'.

It was a nightmare. He was a fool. Torn between the memory of laying with Lor'themar at night and the fear of having it discovered in the day. Varian had never been able to stand hypocrisy, yet here he was, the worst kind of hypocrite.

Slowly, after months of waiting for it all to explode in his face, Varian began to relax. His fears were eroded by time, although his fantasies remained as vivid and guiltily focused on the Regent as ever. When Jaina sent him an invitation to the Kirin Tor's annual Noblegarden party he accepted without a second thought.

It was only after he had arrived in Dalaran that it occurred to Varian the Regent had likely been invited as well. He briefly considered finding a mage to portal him back to Stormwind but then rebuked himself. He wasn't going to run away.

Seeing Jaina happy made him feel guilty for wanting to leave, and Varian accompanied her into the ballroom. It seemed that they were immediately surrounded by cheerful people celebrating the holiday and for a while Varian forgot his worries entirely.

His untroubled state came to an end when Jaina steered him over to a an unfamiliar Sin'dorei. For a moment he was so distracted by the strange mask the elf was wearing he didn't notice who was standing beside him, but he saw a sparkle of silver out of the corner of his eye and turned. Lor'themar was here. For a few seconds he simply stared at the Regent; distantly he heard Jaina introduce him to the masked elf, 'Archmage Sunreaver', and he greeted him distractedly.

If Lor'themar was perturbed by his staring he didn't show it, merely smiling faintly and nodding to Varian as Jaina and the other Archmage distracted each other with conversation and slowly drifted away.

"King Varian, I'm glad to see you well," the Regent said when they were relatively alone. Hearing Lor'themar's voice again snapped him out of his reverie and he finally, truly registered the other's presence. The last time Varian had seen him Lor'themar had been wearing plain mail and leathers. Not so, now: the Regent looking effervescent in a long emerald green coat with an embroidered design of flowering vines done in silver and spring green, the rich brown leather of his breeches and boots complementing it. Instead of the loose braid of before Lor'themar's hair was pulled back and seemingly secured with a jeweled pin, falling forward over his shoulders like a wash of starlight. The sight of him hit Varian like a brick to the face.

"Lord Theron," he said at last, feeling like a bumbling fool. There was no reason the Regent should have this affect on him, after such a long time. "Thank you, you're looking well yourself."

He looked more than well. He looked like everything Varian had dreamed of for months.

Lor'themar laughed, the corner of his visible eye crinkling slightly as he smiled. "It's kind of you to notice," he said, mouth quirking upward again at one side.

Of all the things Varian had expected when he met Lor'themar again this casual greeting wasn't one of them. The Regent gave no indication that what had transpired between them had happened at all, and for a moment Varian had the mad thought that it might have been a fever dream. They spoke to each other for a few more minutes—idle chatter about nothing of importance—before Lor'themar gracefully excused himself. Varian watched him wind through the crowd and then step through the wide open doors leading to the large gardens outside.

Varian stood there for a few moments before snagging two glasses of champagne from a waiter's tray and heading out into the garden himself. The terrace that overlooked the garden was empty so he continued down the stone steps into the garden itself. The garden was much larger than it seemed from the terrace; following a path that seemed to lead somewhere through the planters and towering shrubberies, Varian wondered what exactly had possessed him to come out here.

Deciding that if he didn't find Lor'themar soon he would drink both glasses of champagne and go back to the party to get spectacularly drunk, Varian forged onwards. Emerging from the hedges into a small courtyard with a fountain, Varian nearly startled. He supposed he had almost been hoping not to find Lor'themar, that he would be able to tell himself that he had searched but not found and salvage his pride as well as stopping his traitorous fascination. But there Lor'themar was, staring contemplatively at the gently trickling water.

Varian cleared his throat awkwardly before saying, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

Lor'themar looked over to him and smiled, "Not at all, although I must admit this is most unexpected."

Varian approached him and offered one of the glasses; Lor'themar accepted, his nails clinking against the glass as he took it. Offering a silent toast to Varian, the Regent sipped delicately from the glass. Flying in the face of all the common sense he possessed, Varian was suddenly upset.

"What…" he began, "what if I'd poisoned that." As soon as the words were out of his mouth Varian began to mentally kick himself. Why had he said that?

"You didn't" Lor'themar said with a certainty that only fueled Varian's ire.

"How do you know that?" he snapped.

Lor'themar looked at him with amusement shining clearly in his eye and took another sip from his glass, "Because only a fool would waste such good champagne on poison, and you don't strike me as a fool."

"I…" Varian couldn't think of anything to say, his anger fading as quickly as it had come upon him. Finally, he tasted his champagne as well. Lor'themar was right, damn him, the champagne was too good to waste on poison. They stood silently together for a while, savoring their drinks.

After he drained his glass Lor'themar set it down on the rim of the fountain before wandering in the direction of the wilder part of the garden—the barely tamed foliage making it seem more like a small forest had grown. Varian found himself following suit, admiring how the Regent moved soundlessly with a fighter's grace.

It was only after they had gone a way into the thicket that Varian thought to ask where they were going. Lor'themar arched one of his very impressive eyebrows at him, "Do you often follow people with no idea as to where they are going?"

Varian scowled at him, mentally devising an insult to hurl back, when Lor'themar laughed again. "To be perfectly honest," he said. answering Varian's question, "I haven't the slightest idea, but it is a wonderful garden," he reached out and pressed a hand to one of the trees surrounding them, "these trees sing with so much magic that you could probably hear them if you listened closely enough."

Ignoring the emphasis the elf had put on 'you', Varian glanced around at the trees, "They're singing?" he asked skeptically, "Is it normal for trees to sing?"

Lor'themar looked at him as though he couldn't believe Varian had to ask, "When they're happy, and well cared for," he clarified, one side of his mouth quirking upward once again. Varian had the distinct feeling that he was being made fun of. He wanted to punch the elf and find his way out of this garden. He wanted to watch as that small quirk slowly grew into a smile. He wanted to kiss Lor'themar senseless.

He settled on the third option, catching one of Lor'themar's wrists and pulling him close. One of his hands went to the back of the Regent's neck while the other settled at his waist, Lor'themar throwing his arms over Varian's shoulders as their lips met.

Notes: So, the saga of Varian and Lor'themar's outdoor sexcapades continues. Varian is bad at wooing, Lor'themar thinks his lameness is cute, and if only they were on the same side they would be such bros I can't even.