Journeys - 16
"You know, when you suggested we go out and prepare for the ceremony together, I was a little excited." I grumbled under my breath while giving Jaina a sidelong glare over Trix's head. "The idea of just doing something normal with friends without having to worry about any political machinations going on, maybe getting Vivi into something cute and doing her hair up, it all sounded so wonderful." My eyes slid past Jaina to where her mother was negotiating with the shopkeeper. "And look where we ended up. Should've known this would happen and stayed inside where it was safe."
It wasn't just Lady Katherine bloody Proudmoore either – half a dozen Kul Tiran marines were milling about, half inside and half outside the store. Adding in my own pair of escorts, who'd closed ranks when they showed up, had turned what had been a pleasant and cosy clothier filled with fantastical fabrics and a wide assortment of robes, dresses, doublets, and pantaloons, into something far more claustrophobic.
At least the first part of the day had gone well. Meeting the smiths in the Great Forge with Vivi and watching, utterly enthralled as ever, while she showed off her flowing movements so they could gauge exactly what kind of blade she needed?
The ringing of the anvils, the beat of the hammers, the hissing of metal as it was quenched, had all mingled into the song of the mountain, and Vivi had followed it perfectly.
Even talking with Frazzle over the various uses of different alloys for engineering while Vivi had finalised the commission had been enjoyable – Jaina'd had some good points on where enchantments could make things run smoother too. If only such things would apply to what was happening now.
"Ahah," Jaina laughed weakly, her cheeks red as she at least had the good sense to feel guilty about what she'd inadvertently dragged me into. "It's not all hopeless?" She tried, not sounding too confident in herself as she pulled what could charitably be called a top off of a rack and held it up. "We can still spend time together, even if there is... some awkwardness around the edges."
While I wordlessly grumbled and went back to examining the choices of fabric available, occasionally showing one to Trix for her approval, she went back to shifting through the racks for something to accompany her first choice.
After living in Gilneas for so long I'd honestly lost any familiarity with ready-to-wear clothes – everything had to be tailored to fit, and those that couldn't afford the costs of a professional tailor made due with their own skills. It was... a strange throwback.
Even if it was by a different method than having pre-determined sizes that you tried, and often failed, to match to your body. The top in Jaina's arms was just a demonstration piece – altering its size to fit whoever touched it last while also being self-cleaning, rather than something you purchased; you tried it on to see if you liked the style, then put in an order for another just like it. Possibly with modifications.
Dalaran must've had something similar somewhere, the stretchy feeling of the enchantment being familiar enough to remind me of my time in the city, but I'd never encountered it. Not that I would've had any reason to anyway.
"There you are!" Jaina chirped gleefully as she finished her selection by grabbing a pair of hip-hugging trousers. "Here, try these on! I know it's a bit different than what you normally wear, but Vivianne will love it!" She smiled beatifically as she presented me with the clothes – clothes that closely matched her own attire, just a tad darker green instead of purple.
For a moment I stared in befuddlement at her. "Jaina, as much as I appreciate many things about you, your fashion–"
"What will I love?" Vivi asked, squeezing her way around the racks to reach us, only to pause and blink as she took in what I was being offered. Her eyes zipped between the clothes and Jaina – I couldn't really blame Vivi for lingering on her bosom, it was prominent – before beginning to blush. "Really? You're going to try that on?"
I was starting to shake my head, ready to tell her that I wouldn't be caught dead with my cleavage and stomach exposed so readily, when she continued in an awkward rush.
"It'd suit you!" The words fell out of Vivi's mouth as her eyes raked up and down my body appreciatively. "I mean, you have the figure for it. I don't – not that I mind, but it wouldn't work for me. But it'd look good on you. Very good."
With trepidation I returned my gaze to the... outfit Jaina shook gently in my direction. Her tittering giggle by no means improved my opinion on the matter.
"It's hardly the most daring outfit in the world. You already wear your skirts above the knee all the time, is this really so bad compared to that?" Jaina argued, as if it was at all the same. "Half of my friends in Dalaran dressed as sorceresses, and of the other half, most of them at least tried it – even Adrian, and he didn't even do it for a dare!"
"This wasn't even supposed to be about getting me clothes, it's Trix that needs them!" I whined plaintively.
"What? No!" Trix yelped and backed away, tripping over her skirts and falling on her bum – and nearly toppling one of the racks – in her haste. "I'm not wearing that! No way!" She shook her head frantically, her hood pointing every which way more than a bit oddly.
"Of course you're not. It's me they're trying to make wear the stupid tube-pretending-to-be-a-top and trousers." I shuddered, but my protest didn't stop me snatching the clothes away from Jaina anyway; Vivi's pleading look and the clear desire in her eyes had settled that, but that didn't mean I was going to enjoy the experience.
Much. It was... Jaina owned what she wore and made it work. I just didn't think I could do the same – I could handle a little cleavage, Lorna had seen to that, but I'd never, ever, liked my shoulders or stomach being exposed.
Not in this life, nor the last.
"Daughter, I know that you aren't trying to convince Lady Arevin to match her style to yours come the reunification ceremony." Lady Proudmoore stated imperiously, a single raised eyebrow making clear her disapproval of Jaina's own choice of attire. "It would be unseemly, and misleading – we have yet to select what gown or robe you will wear, let alone seen to its colouring."
"Mother!"
Whatever giddiness, embarrassed or not, I'd been feeling was squashed beneath the Proudmoore Matriach's interruption. "Lady Proudmoore," I stated flatly, "while I appreciate your concern, my attire for the ceremony is already prepared. My presence here today is in regards to my apprentice, who has outgrown what formal clothing she had."
"Even if you did wear it, you wouldn't stand out much." Frazzle opined from her spot on one of the counters, not even looking up from where she was peering at a swatch of cloth through her goggles. "No doubt half of Kael'thas' Magisters will be wearing much the same anyway. Human women pick up the style every so often, usually in order to draw back the gaze of their counterparts from the sorceresses, but it never lasts that long. The restricted diet required to maintain a suitable figure on a human is quite unpleasant – at least as I understand it." She finally raised her head, then tilted it at me. "Actually, Gwen, do you restrict your eating? I don't believe I've ever seen you do so, and yet–"
Vivi let out a snort, throwing an arm around my shoulder and pulling me against her. "No, she doesn't. Nor does she exercise like I do." For all that she had tried to make it seem casual, even relaxed, I could feel the tension in Vivi's frame as she prepared to protect me from anything Lady Proudmoore might attempt – a protectiveness that made the embrace all the more comforting. "Gwen's just lucky like that! Lorna too, though for her it, um, all goes to her..."
"Chest." Jaina began to chuckle, only to break off into an awkward cough. "Mother... I do wish to spend time with you, but you are interrupting time I promised to spend with my friends."
Lady Proudmoore remained stoic, a stern mother figure, before the image broke as she released a weary sigh and let her gaze drift to the side. "I will make no apologies for wishing to take part in seeing my daughter properly attired for such an occasion as this. I never intended... but I suppose what I intended matters little as to how my presence will be taken." She shook her head regretfully.
I leaned into Vivi in order to not snap out all of the things her presence had made me feel, the justified suspicions and paranoia I'd felt when she showed up and barged her way into what we were doing.
"Tomorrow, mother?" Jaina offered softly. "There will still be time if we visit first thing in the morning. I, I do believe I would prefer a Kul Tiran cut rather than a Kirin Tor one." I could hear the smile creeping into her voice as she continued almost teasingly. "Just this once."
"One day I will see you wear something respectable as your day clothes." Lady Proudmoore shook her head amusedly. "Tomorrow morning, then."
She made to leave, a gesture seeing her marines ready to follow – only for the quartet to come to an immediate halt.
Vivi's grip on me tightened as she tensed, her muscles coiling as she seemed about to spring into action. "Oh for the Light's sake, this is absurd!" She hissed angrily into my ear. "What is wrong with this city that this keeps happening?!"
"Princess Moira, what an unexpected pleasure. Did you have business with Mr. Amberstill and Ms. Fourthwright?" Lady Proudmoore asked, managing to sound unphased by the arrival of King Magni's heir.
"Nay, though I do apologise fer the interruption. I did nae expect it to be so... busy." Princess Moira's voice was lighter and clearer than any other dwarf I'd heard, even her father, though her appearance didn't match. The prominence of her nose, along with the tightly wound and clasped wheel-braids over her ears gave her a severe mien. "I had heard Lady Jaina was out shoppin' and had the thought to join her. Share my knowledge o' the city and mayhaps speak a little with my peer."
She paused, and in that pause unintentionally gave the lie to her words. Rather than meeting Lady Proudmoore's gaze, or looking to Jaina whom she was supposedly addressing, her eyes lingered on me for a few moments too long.
"I do hope I have that right, that Lady Jaina is heir to Kul Tiras over her brother?" She asked, gaze finally snapping back to Lady Proudmoore. "My tutors were prone to arguing rather than agreeing on the matter."
"Previously, yes. However, at present, my granddaughter, the child of my eldest, holds precedence over either of them." Lady Proudmoore answered. "Nevertheless, if you are available tomorrow morn, I would invite you to join my daughter and me as we seek out suitable attire for the ceremony – your expertise with the local artisans would be greatly appreciated."
A moment passed, then the princess smiled, her eyes flicking to me once more. "Of course! I would be delighted."
"Not subtle, is she." Vivi muttered darkly, and I nodded my head in agreement. I... scarcely remembered anything about Moira...
Bronzebeard, obviously, so why did I hesitate? It was so wonderful when I got such a blatant sign of something major being missing, like the heir to the throne of Ironforge, having a different last name! The only thing I remembered about her was her being at odds with Falstad and Muradin, and fighting trolls with Anduin?
Nothing helpful, not by any means.
Jaina shared an apologetic grimace with me as her mother finished her pleasantries and made her exit, leaving the princess still in play.
"I do believe the mood is thoroughly ruined. "I huffed quietly, handing Jaina's offerings back to her, much to her disappointment. "We'll... have to do this again. Or maybe I can teach you to use my sewing machines when you visit, and we can make it together."
"That sounds excellent." She answered quietly, and Vivi nodded eagerly, her chin rubbing the top of my head.
"It surprises me how free with expression humans are at times. Does your father truly allow you to wear such clothing?" Princess Moira asked curiously. "Father would crack his anvil if I even considered wearing such as you do."
Humming, Jaina moved a step away from us. "I wouldn't say that my father approves. More that he knows better than to try and argue with me about it."
"My father–" I started, thinking of Gunther before biting my tongue. "Well. He's never said anything – not that he's around much. Plus, he's a mage; probably be happy if I dressed like one too." I shrugged, vaguely amused by the idea of Medivh lecturing me on the 'proper' way to dress – he kept succubi in his tower, and they were better dressed than half the debutantes that ended up enthralled by them!
... And where in the nether did that memory come from? And why in the hells would the controller of that space be called a Maiden of Virtue while being a goddamn watcher?!
Sod my dodgy memories.
"Ah. I did nae mean what the Lady Jaina was wearing, as the priests wear similar robes, it is nothing unusual. I was speaking o' yourself and... Lady Vivianne, at this moment." She glanced at Vivi, then down at the shorts she was wearing due to the heat we were expecting in the Great Forge, then at my own legs beneath my skirt. "Your knees are... visible."
As Jaina turned to me, barely restraining her laughter, I threw my hands up in the air and pulled away from Vivi. "Whatever! I still need to finish what we came here for before we got sidetracked."
Vivi snorted, trailing a hand down my side, but still letting me go. "My mother used to dictate what I wore." Vivi started explaining. "Long skirts, all the way to the floor and covering my ankles – the daintiest of shoes that I could barely walk in, let alone fight! Having to style my hair the proper way, always pinching when it was done. Everything was restraining, restricting, like it was a cage."
"Trix?" I pushed past a rack, following the familiar pulse of both Tricks' and my apprentice's magic.
It wasn't that surprising that Trix was hiding – bad enough Lady Proudmoore had interrupted things and made her even more withdrawn than she had been lately, now we had another bloody princess show up. I wouldn't be surprised if she was having flashbacks.
After a moment I found her sitting behind a rack of heavy coats, looking up at me hesitantly. "Alright, Twix," I whispered, "time to take the hoodie off; let's get your measurements, buy what we need, and get out of here."
And away from the nosy princess who needed better lessons on subtlety.
"Now, though? My mother doesn't mean anything to me anymore – and I'm free." I glanced over my shoulder to see Vivi showing off, standing on one leg as she raised the other up and up, doing the standing splits until her foot was all the way over her head with a wide grin on her face. "My knees are visible 'cause that way nothing's stopping me from moving how I want to."
"Vivianne is not normal for a human, Your Highness." Frazzle chirped helpfully. "Most aren't nearly so flexible!"
"It must be liberating." Princess Moira said with some surprise in her voice. "If maybe too liberating. It be a far cry from wantin' to choose what dresses are bought for me rather than having Cousin Brynno do it."
Trix froze, her arms going stiff in the long sleeves she'd wrapped around herself. Slowly, in little jolts, she turned to face me – her eyes wide and afraid. "Take it off...?" She asked uncertainly.
"I can't exactly get your measurements while you're..." I huffed, trailing off as I realised just how wrong this was. Crouching down I reached out to her, offering a hand. She'd not corrected me when I called her Twix. "I would rather have done it this morning, Trix, but you wouldn't come out of your room." I said softly; I didn't blame her, I knew just how hard it could be to just exist sometimes. "I've given you space, Trix, but..."
Closing my eyes, I sighed. There was no good way to force someone anxious or depressed to do things they needed to do, only a myriad of bad ways. "Even if you don't want to come to the ceremony, you still need–"
My heart stopped as a crash alerted me to something being wrong, and the fitful movement of Trix's magic fleeing from me telling me what it was before I even opened my eyes. My apprentice had up and run away after cowering in terror at the thought of me taking away her security blanket.
Opening my eyes, there was no Trix, no Tricks; just clothes and cloth strewn everywhere as she had knocked over half a dozen racks and one table in her mad dash out of the store.
Whatever she was going through, it was... it was a lot worse than I thought it was.
"Jaina, Frazzle, Vivi, I'm sorry but it looks like I'm going to have to cut this short." I said quickly, a weak thread of Astral weaving through my fingers as I traced Trix's footsteps. The shouting of the dwarves outside, Princess Moira's escorts, made clear she'd gotten past them and made good her escape. "Something is very wrong with my apprentice and I need to find out what it is."
"I'm coming–" Vivi started immediately, but I shook my head at her.
"She's going back to the residence." To hide in her room again, no doubt. The place she felt safest in this city all too bloody full of royals, nobility, and scheming politicians.
Tilting my head at Vivi I gave her a wan smile. "You've got to go back and collect your sword later, and then there was that festival your ranger friends told you about that you wanted to visit – I wasn't too enthusiastic about a drinking competition, anyway." Other than maybe seeing Vivi get drunk and watching whatever antics she got up to, and making sure they didn't get out of control, I couldn't say it held any appeal. I scarcely drank more than a splash of brandy a week with meals – what did I care if a pair of brewers wanted to see who was better?
She paused, looking apprehensive, but eventually nodded. "Okay. But you better be waiting for me tonight! I care about her too, she's like a– like a little cousin I like." She finished lamely.
Taking her hand and giving it a squeeze I smiled, then twisted on the spot; the air swirling around me as I shifted into a raven and flew out over the pre-agitated dwarven guards, two of whom began raising axes towards me before they were shouted down by Princess Moira.
-oOoOo-
While I might've been able to cut Trix off before she got to the residence, catch her before she barricaded herself away, I decided against it. Pinning down someone who was stressed, afraid, and anxious outside of somewhere they considered safe was... a disaster waiting to happen. That I knew from Before, and from all too painful experience at that.
There was a part of me that wanted to be waiting in her room for her, to surprise her, as a second choice, but that was by no means a better option either. Instead, even as my worries, my guilt over neglecting my apprentice grew, I chose to wait.
Making tea, stealing from Admiral Candren's biscuit supply, and collecting whatever treats I could find to make what came next more palatable for the all-too-young girl who was struggling so much.
Struggling when I should've been there for her.
When I should've been teaching her, I'd run off to follow my own goals. It had been such a necessity to leave her behind when I sought out the Thornspeakers; constrained by the speed of horse I would never have found them, make the meagre connection that I did – but as important as that was, that didn't make it right.
Rather than protecting her, I'd let our political schemes use her as a pawn. It had seemed so convenient, an avenue to reach out to fucking Varian and Stormwind, and for what? Making her ever more afraid of royalty and their power?
"Trix," I called out, knocking lightly on her door, "I know you're in there. I can feel you. Please, let me in – I'm not mad, I just want to know what's wrong."
Me.
She'd needed help, she'd needed guidance; whatever had made her retreat into herself had happened under my watch. When she'd joined us in that carriage, so adamantly declared that she was coming with me, my lack of refusal had all but claimed her as my own. My apprentice. My ward.
My responsibility. Considering how often I'd failed her, I couldn't imagine why she still wanted anything–
I cut that thought off by headbutting the door; there was nothing to be gained from getting stuck in a spiral of guilt and self-flagellation, it wouldn't help me and it sure as hell wouldn't help Trix. I'd noticed, I was going to make things right as best I could, and that had to be enough. "I'd rather not break the door down, Trix, but I'm worried enough to consider it. You scared me when you ran." I took a shaky breath, fingers trailing down the stone of the door. "You really scared me."
How long I stood there, just waiting and hoping for a response – any response, I wasn't sure. It was hard to judge the passage of time when simply idle, let alone when you had to fight your own mind to not recount every mistake you've made, every failure you've had, over the course of years.
Did she blame me for what happened to Richard? Had my inability to protect her reminded her of what I let happen to him? If she blamed me... I wouldn't protest. I still did and likely always would.
Just as I felt ready to cry, to break out into tears as I started to think of those I'd lost, the lock clicked and the door opened to reveal the top of Trix's hood; her head was downcast, avoiding my gaze even as she slowly shuffled aside to let me enter.
"'m sorry," she mumbled, scarcely audible with a tightness to her throat that spoke of her own tears, "never wanted to scare you." For a moment she seemed about to reach out to me, twitching as if ready to seek comfort in a hug, before aborting the motion and shuffling away into the darkness of her chambers to collapse beside her bed.
The only light within was the faint glow of Tricks' shimmering form emanating from where she lay curled atop a pillow, breathing shallowly. Atop her head, resting around her ears, was a wreath of jasmine flowers, while scattered all around her lay a dozen wilted and discarded alternatives; yarrow, lavender, marigold – even a single frond of dreamleaf wound into a necklace alongside a string of peacebloom.
But Trix's discarded attempts at empowering her healing weren't the only mess littering the room. One of my primers on healing magic had been cast aside, its spine bent brutally after being thrown into a dresser, and the book itself lay atop a mound of discarded clothes.
All those that would be suitable for summer, light and airy, clothes that weren't... concealing.
Around my shoulders the air stirred, confused at my worry, and I realised that the air within was still. Trix had used what I taught her to ward her room, to secret away what was happening within from my nosiest companion.
"It's not just that you don't want me making clothes for you." I whispered redundantly as I stepped with and knelt beside the bed, setting my collection of treats on the bed I reached out to brush my fingers through the fur of my little – not so little blink fox friend. She wasn't a kit anymore, not quite an adult but no longer just a child. She shifted under my touch, a gleaming eye opening and an amused chirp escaping her muzzle – chastising me for being oblivious for as long as I had.
Tricks wasn't sick, not physically, but she was tired and drained in a way I had rarely seen. Bishop Miller when she exhausted herself healing at the wall, myself after fighting Detheroc, and most similarly... Klinar, when I found her wasting away from a lack of mana.
No matter the difficulty inherent to calling on it this deep below the mountains, I drew on the glittering Starlight that I'd used when I first encountered Tricks in the Blackwald and held it loosely in my hands.
Letting the dissipating mana wash over her.
There was no immediate effect, no sudden drain as she drank up what I offered, and the most telltale sign of her weakness – her second tail – remained wispy and ethereal where it had grown solid over the last year. Even so, she chattered appreciatively and relaxed into her pillow-bed with far more comfort than she'd had before.
"'m sorry. Messed up." Trix hiccuped as she began to cry, a glance showing her watching me with sharp glistening green eyes filled with regret. "My fault."
"No." I shook my head vehemently; I was the one who'd been neglectful. "I should've made more time for you. Both of you. Not made you feel like you needed to handle Tricks overreaching on your own." Smiling fondly, if a little sadly, I began scratching Tricks' ears. "She tried to comfort you after what happened with Stormwind, didn't she? Pushing harder than she should and hurting herself." And when it happened, with me having run away, Trix thought that she needed to handle it alone. To not bother–
"No!" Trix cried, shaking her head wildly. "My fault. I-I messed up." She gasped as she cried, tears flowing freely.
Plucking Tricks from her pillow to keep up my ministrations, I shuffled towards Trix, but as soon as I came close her eyes – her slitted eyes, reflecting so much light – widened and she retreated, falling over herself to make any distance she could.
"Wan-wanted to make– make you proud." She sobbed, reaching up to her hood with shaky hands. "But I messed up. Like I always do."
As her hood fell away a pair of golden ears sprung free, triangular and sharply pointed they stretched inches above her head for just a moment before falling flat and forlorn in an expression I'd had to learn to read from the foxes. The shifting of her skirt, long enough to reach down to her ankles, suddenly became more suspicious – not just her legs as she sat oddly, but a third limb concealed beneath.
Blinking, my head tilted in bafflement as I took in the new appearance that my apprentice had been hiding from me. It wasn't just her ears, eyes, or tail either – her cheekbones were higher, nose shorter, and jaw just that little bit softer. Nothing that couldn't be passed off as her growing up and losing baby fat, but it suddenly became what I would describe as vulpine.
Glancing down at Tricks, her mana – her essence drained so deeply as to leave a lasting mark... it all clicked together as to what my two reckless adolescent wards had gotten up to. Both of them absolutely willing participants.
"Well, they're cute." I declared without thinking as I realised I'd stayed silent too long while Trix continued to cry. Though, as she immediately sobbed harder, it seemed the wrong thing to say. "I'm going to have to redo all of my designs for your clothes – keeping a tail under your skirts like that can't be comfortable. Hoods and hats as well, holes for the ears would make them more comfortable."
Hats weren't something I dealt with much; still, Lorna had half a dozen or so I'd made over the years. Millinery work wasn't anywhere near as tedious as cobbling, but very much more annoying than tailoring.
"Though that depends on whether you want to hide your new features or not. Depending on how flexible it is, we might be able to disguise your tail as part of a belt. If not, looser skirts are a must. Bigger hoods and taller hats will do for–"
"Why aren't you m-mad?!" Trix demanded with gasping breaths as she stared at me in confusion. "I–I messed up! I did this–this to myself! I–I–I hurt Tricks!"
I let out a tired sigh and reached for the treats I'd brought with me, cracking open the tin of twixes Aegwynn had given me. "Why would I be mad? Just to punish you for making a mistake?" Shaking my head I took one out and began nibbling – biting away at the outer chocolate covering the caramel and shortbread, bit by bit. "I'm concerned, Trix. You went and used a ritual I taught you far outside of what it was designed for. When it went wrong you hid the consequences from me, risking yourself in the process."
Looking down at the fox in my lap, now big enough I had to use an arm to keep her from slipping off, I huffed. "And Tricks conspired with you to keep it from me. Even when she was hurt. She could've told me at any time; her being foolish is her fault, not yours."
The innocent little chirp she offered me, trying to claim to be a poor little kit who can't fend for herself, I studiously ignored.
"You're clever. Using the worgen conversion ritual to attempt to gain your fox form? I can see a way to modify it so it works – with someone moderating the ritual from the outside." Now naked of its chocolate coating, I tore the caramel topping away and swallowed the sweet gooey wonder greedily. "Preferably one who has the form already so as to use them as a template."
Recognising my point, Trix winced and hunched in on herself again, another hiccuping sob escaping her throat. "'m sorry." As she pulled her legs in, I couldn't help but notice her feet were different. Not inhuman, but stretched in a way I'd seen on some of the worgen conversions. She'd have trouble walking with her feet flat on the ground... Digitigrade? No, humans were the other one, whatever that was.
"New shoes are a must too, I see." I muttered as I bit off half the shortbread and crunched my way through it. "I'm not mad at what you've done, Trix. You won't make me angry by hurting yourself." My head fell and tears pricked at my eyes. "I just wish you'd trusted me more."
Her hands balled into fists as she trembled, her whole body shaking while tears fell. But, slowly, she started crawling towards me, tucking herself under my offered arm and into my side where she clung on tightly. "Wanted to m-make you proud." She squeezed out in a painfully soft whisper. "They hurt you so much."
So she wanted to make me happy, to show off something impressive so I wouldn't dwell on what fucking Varian had done. Closing my eyes I let out a long breath – even if it wasn't how I thought, it was his fault in the end.
"Twix?" I offered as a distraction, leaving Tricks unattended as I held up one of her namesake treats to my newly-fluffy apprentice.
She glared up at me without any heat, her eyes still full of tears. "It's Trix."
I laughed freely and happily at the return to normalcy, no matter how forced it was. "So you are, but this," I tapped the bar of chocolate to her lips, "is a twix. One of Aegwynn's gifts to me – they're not quite the real thing, but it's close enough to count."
Not like I could remember how the real ones tasted anymore. Too long ago, an entire lifetime away. And I never got to share them with someone so appropriate Before either.
Trix gently took the bar from me, holding it up speculatively. "How'd you eat it?" She asked, giving me a look.
"The best way." I declared with a wide grin, knowing exactly what I'd done to earn her befuddlement. "Which is also the silliest way – I was six when I started doing it, and I never stopped. Nor am I going to let something as minor as an entirely different life, let alone manners, change how I eat my favourite chocolates."
Slowly, and very pointedly, Trix put the end of the bar into her mount and bit down; chocolate, caramel, and shortbread all at once. Not even for a moment did she break eye contact as she chewed.
"It's good." She mumbled eventually, tucking herself in once more as she nibbled away. "Maybe being Twix isn't that bad."
-oOoOo-
"Gwyneth. I am surprised to see you here rather than standing beside Lord Growley as he makes his procession to represent Gilneas." Modera said, placing a hand on the back of a seat to my right; not quite asking for permission to sit, but making her desire known – and offering me the chance to deny her, if I so chose. "Especially as the absence of your paramour indicates she is taking part."
I waved a hand only somewhat reluctantly and she took the seat. Modera, as awkward as things could be between us, that wasn't a good enough reason to be rude enough as to try and dismiss her. "When I told Darius I was done with politics, he took it to heart."
If he had asked me to, I would've. Be he hadn't – and that was something I was grateful for.
Though she hadn't voiced it, I knew Trix was as well. Even within the confines of the High Seat's thick stone walls, the clamour of the crowd gathered in the Great Forge, held back only by the living steel wall made up of the Ironforge Guard, was, if anything, more oppressive than it had been a month ago. Cute as her and Tricks' ears were flicked back and held tight against their heads, it was a sign of discomfort and that neither of them were enjoying the din.
"That is... Lord Crowley has been good to you." Modera said regretfully, and with only a little hesitation. "Did you seek him out knowing his character?"
Not bothering to suppress my sigh at the question I turned and gave her a flat, very much unimpressed, look. Of course I had – but what, exactly, did that matter beyond trying to salve her own conscience for what happened in Dalaran all those years ago?
Her face froze as she caught her misstep, the moment of unfiltered stiffness putting in stark relief the age lines she now sported on her face that I had not cared to notice before. Taking in the rest of the appearance of my one-time mentor, her hair was now marked with silvering strands of grey where, scarcely a year ago, there had only been shining gold. Even her eyes held a timeworn weariness I would have associated with Archmage Antonidas rather than Modera.
But then, though it has not even been a year, it has been a long one. For all of us. "He was, yes. As good a liege as I could have asked him to be, and a good friend now that our old arrangement has come to an end."
Modera breathed, relaxing into her seat as I offered her an out. "Good. That is good. Might I presume that this is the apprentice I've heard of? Patricia, I believe it was."
"It's Trix!" Came the immediate correction as Trix all too visibly bristled as her tail puffed up where it was resting on her lap; it was a relief for her to be mostly back to normal, and impossible not to smile at the familiar refrain. "Trix! It's always Trix! Not that, even Twix is better than that!" She pointed and glared at Modera for several seconds before processing the deep purple robes of an Archmage and the violet and gold of the Kirin Tor emblazoned on said robe's chest. I was proud, if also a little concerned, that she kept up her glare towards one all too able to annihilate her and only slowly lowered her finger as she crossed her arms disgruntledly. "I don't know who gave you that name, but they were wrong."
Modera's eyes flickered between Trix's tail, her general posture, and the top of her head before turning to me questioningly. "A polymorphic accident?" She asked, about to say something more, but stopped and shook her head instead. "She's spirited at least."
"A bit more than that, on both fronts." I snorted with amusement and the beginnings of a grin. "When she first met my father, or rather learned who he was, she kicked his shins and told him off for not being there for me. I wouldn't trade Trix for any apprentice in the world, reckless attempt to impress me–"
What could only be called a wall of noise overwhelmed any attempt on my part to speak, and looking to the source three sets of banners had stopped just outside of the High Seat: Gilneas, Silvermoon, and Stromgarde.
The processions were finished, then. Rising for a better view – something at least half the chamber had the idea to do, though I quickly cheated with magic – I could just make out Vivi's vibrant red hair atop the engine that had carried them from the Hall of Explorers. From what little part I'd had in the planning I knew that it was decorated in carved relief copies of treaties and agreements Gilneas had made with Ironforge over the centuries, dating as far back as the first declaration of friendship between our ancient explorers and the Anvilmar Kings before the Arathi Empire at large knew of the dwarves' existence.
Where ours had been carried atop a marvel of engineering, a bastard cross between a steam tank and a parade float, Stromgarde had gone for something far simpler: Strength of arms, a dozen men in full panoply, hauling an immense wagon bearing what amounted to a small castle which was decorated with dozens upon dozens of swords, halberds, axes, hammers, and suits of armour – some of which must have dated back to the earliest years of Strom.
Leading them out of the Military Ward where they began, King Trollbane preceded the wagon atop the sole horse in the procession, while flanked with what were undoubtedly the greatest warriors his kingdom could spare.
Absent, however, was Strom's common claim of being the true heirs of Arathor – but then, when seeking to rejoin the Alliance all but founded by the last scion of the Arathi bloodline, Anduin Lothar, that would have gone down poorly, to say the least.
Surprising no one at all, Kael'thas and the Thalassian procession came from the Mystic Ward, and did so atop a display of their arcane prowess. A levitating slab of stone, the rim carved with a relief depicting the teaching of the hundred mages and their efforts in the Troll Wars, the sharing of knowledge between elves and gnomes across millennia, and their place amongst the Council of Six of Dalaran.
Little that spoke of a direct connection to Ironforge or its people... but a flight of gryphons, not simply carved into the stone but made into a living tapestry as they swooped and soared, spoke of a different connection. One that made me wonder just how hard Kael'thas had to fight his people to have that much humility put on display.
"Thoras Trollbane!" The announcer boomed, his voice echoing as he bellowed to be heard over the crowd and confirming Darius' suspicion as to how the Alliance leaders wanted things to proceed: The last to depart the Alliance would be the first to return to it. "King of Stromgarde and bearer of Trol'kalar! Slayer of Ironforge's foes, be welcome in these halls!"
Dismounting from his horse with little more than a sharp nod towards Darius and Kael'thas, King Trollbane marched into the High Seat with only two of his warriors accompanying him – one disarmed and carrying nought but a box beneath a sheet of white cloth, the other armed to the teeth as most Stromics were. Still, King Trollbane alone made for an imposing figure in his own right – while not tall as some Kul Tirans, he had to be at least six and a half feet, and moved with a deadly certainty only emphasised by the eponymous sword, the troll slayer itself, that hung from his back, seeming deceptively small for a six-foot long greatsword.
The assembled leaders of the Alliance rose from their seats as one when King Trollbane reached the centre of the hall. With King Magni on his throne as the centrepiece, they spread out to the left with High Tinker Mekkatorque, Calia, and Varian with a single seat beyond, while to the right were Daelin, High Thane Falstad, and Archmage Antonidas with two seats beyond him. The arrangement spoke rather blatantly of the politics of the situation, as did the unsubtle lack of expression on Varian's face compared to the welcoming facade the others put forth.
"It’s been some years, Thoras." King Magni spoke with a measure of fondness beneath a mountain of iron. "Marched beside yer armies an' drove the Blackrock buggers back into their holes near a decade ago. A good fight, man an' dwarf side by side with steel an' powder winning the day." He spread his hands wide, gesturing to the Alliance around him. "Then ye were gone. Nary a word to yer kin south o' the Span."
"I am a man of few words, Magni. I prefer to let my deeds and Trol'kalar speak for me." Wearily, he bowed his head. "Even when they do not speak well of me. Princess Calia. No matter Terenas' foolishness with the orcs, that I was not there beside your father– that my armies were not there to fight beside our brothers in Lordaeron, is a regret I shall carry to my grave."
Calia dipped her head minutely in acknowledgement. "My father long spoke of your friendship. Of the honour and strength of Stromgarde's warriors. He well understood why you chose what you did, and never blamed you for it."
"Blame falls where it must." King Trollbane snorted, then gestured for his weaponless warrior to walk forward with his gift.
"Your Highness." The warrior offers, kneeling before Calia and raising the box he carried above his head. "Recovered from the ruins of the Capital. Alongside his remains."
Even as King Magni nodded, showing he knew what was happening, Calia's eyes widened in surprise – swiftly, but not hurriedly, removing the cloth and shakily lifting the contents so that it was seen by all those within the hall. A bloodied and chipped crown: eight spikes, one broken and a ninth missing, rising from a circlet of gold that bore the signal of Lordaeron and mesmerising cloudy purple gemstones that swirled and shifted of their own accord.
The Bloodied Crown of King Terenas II – somehow stolen from the ruins of Lordaeron and secreted away. As things went, it was one hell of a way for King Trollbane to show his sincerity to the Alliance's cause.
"I have no grand speech." King Trollbane declared as Calia covered her mouth to stifle her voice, Varian putting a steadying hand on her shoulder. "No great words. Only deeds and an oath – so long as my kingdom stands unbroken, the sons of Arathor shall march together once more."
A few cries of 'Arathor' began to rise, the start of a clarion call that could have erupted into so much more, but they were quieted as King Magni raised his hand and the Ironforge Guard – and his loyal subjects – made his opinion known.
With knees and elbows if needs be.
Slowly, King Magni made a point of looking over each of the leaders to his left and right, who nodded in turn, before returning to face King Thoras Trollbane. "Deeds may be lackin', but an oath? It were enough once, it be enough again. Come an' take a seat, Thoras. We be needin' the strength o' Stromgarde in the coming years, that be for certain."
Straightening his back and standing tall, King Trollbane slowly walked his way up the steps onto the platform upon which the Alliance's seats had been laid, applause steadily growing as he took each step until he stood beside Varian. The two warrior kings clasped arms and nodded at each other stoically, then Trollbane set his ancestor's blade beside the seat farthest left before lazily settling into it – with the others following suit.
King Magni mumbled something to High Tinker Mekkatorque, causing the gnome to chuckle and begin to natter back – but whatever it was, was lost buzz of the chamber as events proceeded onward.
"Darius Crowley!" The announcer yelled, snapping my attention back to the front as Darius strode in with Vivi and Admiral Candren at his flanks. "Lord of Crowford and Ambassador of the Kingdom of Gilneas! Honoured ally of Ironforge, ever be welcome in these halls!"
"In truth, he means you." Modera muttered softly, trying – and failing – to distract me from catching Vivi's attention, if only for a moment. "By proxy they may be attributed to Lord Crowley, but the words are meant for you. We could stand for nothing less after all that you have done for the Alliance."
I rolled my eyes at her and waved as Vivi perked up, a slight shift of her stance and movements telling me she had seen me even before her eyes met mine and sparked with happy recognition.
Where Darius strode with stoic poise, presenting the unflinching resolve of Gilneas' nobility, and Admiral Candren walked with the certainty of Gilneas' military might at his side with a pistol better regarded as a hand-cannon on his hip, Vivi flowed. The light bounce of the blade at her hip in such perfect time with each step that it struck nothing, the air not even stirring at her passing, the sense of certain danger she gave off... she was gorgeous.
All the hours, days, making sure she had everything she needed to walk alongside Darius without looking a bit out of place – Gilnean, Mistmantle, to the core, but also graceful and exotic – had been so very worth it.
Maybe it was wrong to find the way my girlfriend looked like she could take on a dozen men, kill them all, and walk away without a worry attractive... but honestly I didn't care terribly much.
Smiling as happily as I was, I all but missed the moment where King Magni and the rest rose from their seats to greet Darius. But even with my beautifully deadly red-headed distraction pulling my attention away, it was still impossible to not see Varian being the last to stand by several seconds.
Petty bastard.
"Let us be the first to thank Gilneas for the aid they have given." Calia said shakily, her hands clasped tightly around her father's broken crown as she held it over her navel. "It was not necessary to grant s-shelter to so many behind the Greymane Wall, and yet it was done. Nor was it needed to grant passage aboard ship to Kul Tiras, or even father beyond, at Gilneas' expense, and yet it was done." She took a deep breath, lifting the broken crown in a shaky hand until it was over her heart. "On behalf of the line of Menethil and all the people of Lordaeron, we offer our gratitude."
"What was done, was done because it was right." Darius responded with a polite nod. "It is in the interest of no nation for their peers to suffer the predations of the Scourge, and no right-minded individual can deny their duty to offer aid to the helpless."
A none-too-subtle dig at Genn as a wrong-minded individual all too eager to leave innocents to be slaughtered en masse without– No. That was my biases talking; I wasn't going to be the only one to have the thought, and Darius certainly worded it so blame could be laid at Genn's feet for what Gilneas did wrong... but he didn't hate Genn in the way needed to actively mean that.
That was more my thing, which I still needed to work on. Darius was just playing the political game to strengthen Liam's position as the righteous son taking over from the perfidious sire.
"Nor were we alone in such acts." Darius raised an arm to encompass the whole of the Alliance. "The wise decisions of Kirin Tor lent much-needed magical aid to the defence of the Greymane Wall, the riders of Aerie Peak helped strike a great blow against infiltrators who acted behind our lines, and the brave men and women of Lordaeron took up arms to defend Gilneas alongside those who call our land home." He turned to the hall, his eye scanning across the assembly in the practiced manner of seeming to meet everyone's eyes if only for a moment. "Though apart from the Alliance, Gilneas did not stand alone. As our soldiers push north to secure the Elem Vale remnants of the Silver Hand join us, as we reclaim the Violet Wood the mages of Dalaran stand at our side. And, of course, hand in hand with Kul Tiras, we see to the rebuilding of Lordaeron's strength in the Hillsbrad Foothills."
Falstad let out a bark of laughter and thumped his fist on the arm of his seat. "If ye put it like that, it hardly sounds like ye even left!"
"Mistakes were made by many in those years. Warning signs ignored and left by the wayside." Archmage Antonidas said serenely, not even a flicker of attention directed my way by him even as Modera's eyes bored into the back of my head. "But even the magic of the Kirin Tor cannot turn back the flow of time and allow us to make our choices anew: What harm Gilneas may have done, they have more than undone."
"Aye. Aye. Yer King may not be here to speak, but his deeds speak more'n well enough for us to hear." King Magni declared loudly. "There be no doubt in any of our minds, Gilneas be right an' true to the Alliance. Lord Crowley, come an' represent yer King an' Country."
As Darius first offered a deep bow before beginning his ascent I stood and began the applause, Trix jumping to her feet beside me and joining in – as did so many more before it filled the hall.
I found myself somewhat annoyed that it was lacking compared to the vibrant and emotional thrum that had come from Trollbane's actions. He'd managed to scavenge a bloody crown while we'd saved hundreds of thousands of lives, and yet they cared more about a hunk of gold than people!
Huffing, I shook my head. As much as I felt the urge to stereotype the dwarves that made up most of the audience it really wasn't that. Trollbane had managed a grand emotional play here and now while our good deeds were behind us and far, far away.
It wasn't dwarves, it was people, and people were stupid.
Passing Daelin Darius they exchanged a brief nod, while with Archmage Antonidas there were a few words, and Falstad jovially clapped him on the back with a laugh at some unheard joke. Reaching the second to last seat on the right, he stood, waiting, until each of the others – rulers of the realms in truth rather than proxy – had taken their place, before at last joining them.
Seeing him there, amongst the leaders of the Alliance and representing Gilneas, brought a triumphant smile to my face. I'd–We'd done it. Brought Gilneas back into the fold a decade early, reunified what was broken and given the Alliance a real fighting chance to make a difference on Azeroth.
Now we just had to not be Varian, stewing in the corner and gnashing our teeth bitterly, and work together rather than fighting over grudges that neither mattered nor made any bloody sense.
At least I thought he was gnashing his teeth... but no, he was just resting his head in his hand as he spoke to Trollbane next to him.
"Kael'thas Sunstrider!" The Announcer bellowed, cutting through the conversations that had begun in the intervening moments. "Prince of Quel'Thalas and heir to the Throne of the Sun! Friend of Ironforge's kin, be welcome in these halls!"
Despite being left for last, Kael'thas showed no sign of impatience as he made his way into the High Seat. On one side he had Magister Voren'thal, the one I had seen with him before, while on the other was a truly platinum-haired ranger with astonishingly bright blue eyes, and a more shapely figure than one would expect for an elf...
I blinked, my eyes widening, as I finally placed the pregnant figure of Vareese Windrunner walking beside Kael'thas, bow in hand and showing not one bit of concern for her condition; not that she had much reason to be concerned, seeing as she was evidently in excellent health and couldn't be more than four months along – did elves even have nine-month pregnancies? – but I was the only one in the hall surprised by her presence at the prince's side.
"Huh, Rhonin must be about somewhere." I mumbled softly. It was actually kind of pretty seeing the two little swirls of magic in her belly, eagerly lapping at their mother's life and magic to sustain themselves as they grew. Life in one of its purest forms as it spread itself anew. "Hope he enjoys raising twins."
"Twins?" Modera hummed with interest. "I suppose I should change my bet. Boys or girls?"
Falstad jumped to his feet ahead of the rest, thankfully forestalling any need for me to respond, and shouted out a greeting of some kind in Khazud – one which spurred a number of shocked expressions around the hall.
That Kael'thas did little more than smile, and Vareesa let out an abortive snort, before replying in kind with something that set the Wildhammers howling with laughter, did well to settle any ruffled feathers – but even so, I could see a number of irritated glares
"Draughty Peak? Really?" Modera translated with a shake of her head. "That's as bad as Your Haughtiness, Kael."
"An' his princeliness proves he's the rarest o' elves, one tha' can take a joke!" Falstad guffawed happily, throwing himself back into his seat with a thump and turning to stare at his fellow leaders smugly over his beard. "If tha' dinnae tell ye he be nothin' like the ol' Sun King, nothin' will."
Archmage Antonidas ran a hand through, then tugged at, his long beard with some amusement. "Prince Kael'thas has often proved himself to be of uncommon thought, it is true."
"When compared to the thought demonstrated by the vaunted Magisters who led my homeland of Quel'Thalas up until the moments of its destruction, I can only take such words as a compliment." Kael'thas spoke evenly where his words implied great disdain. "And I can mince no words: To hear that I bear little in common with my father, though I loved him as only a son can love their sire, is a balm to my soul. No matter the love I hold for him, I must place the fate that has befallen my people at the feet of his policies of isolation."
Smoothly, and without hesitation from him nor from Voren'thal or Vareesa who mirrored his movement, Kael'thas bowed deeper than even a peasant would to their king. Kael'thas had decided, once again, to be entirely over the top with how he displayed gratitude...
Even most of the leaders looked surprised, though Darius and Falstad seemed to have expected it. King Magni didn't look annoyed per se – but he was certainly put off as Kael'thas messed with whatever script had been planned.
"Without the aid of the Wildhammer Clans of Aerie Peak, I would not be here this day. Without the succour of the Kirin Tor and others, there would be no elven people left for which I might speak. Without the aid of the Alliance, there shall be no reclamation of the Eversong Forest which my people have so long called home." He said, holding his bow firmly and with no regard to the mutterings of the chamber. "The arrogance of those who call themselves Quel'Dorei, the Children of Noble Birth, would demand that I ignore these trifling matters and claim superiority in the face of certain doom."
He rose, a visage of anger and fury on his face directed at nothing and no one present. "It is that arrogance which caused Silvermoon to run with rivers of blood. It is that misplaced pride that painted the leaves of our golden woods black with the ichor of Death. Quel'Thalas did not fall in battle, it did not fall from war, it did not fall as its defenders breathed their last – Quel'Thalas fell as those who believed they had the birthright to lead our people refused to answer the call."
"For weeks my sister fought back the armies of the Scourge, at every turn calling for aid from the great Magisters of Silvermoon." Vareesa Windrunner spoke with sorrow, her ears and eyebrows drooping. "In the end she fell, broken before the walls of Quel'Thalas as our prince led an army of children to save those abandoned by those who claimed wisdom."
Voren'thal never rose from his bow. "My brothers and sisters amongst the Magisters did not heed the warnings of our prince and denied the signs written in fate until no time remained. A fate of blood-stained hands avoided only by the kindness of those who ride atop the winds."
"I do not ask that the Alliance allow the return of the Quel'Dorei of Quel'Thalas to the Alliance." Kael'thas said, the burst of energy that echoed his fury leaving him. "Let those who wallow in their arrogance know that they, and they alone, sealed the fate of our fair kingdom. Instead, I ask that the Alliance permit we, the Bela'Dorei, the Children of the Dawn, to enter the Alliance, and hope to rebuild our eternal kingdom under the light of the Sun."
With ponderous steps, King Magni descended from his throne until he stood before Kael'thas. "Aye." He said with finality. "Aye, ye do be welcome. Kael'thas Sunstrider, Prince o' the Bela'Dorei."