09. Taretha arrives in Stormwind - Advance

[moonshadows]

I never thought that I would ever have a use for the overly-elaborate blue and white gown Jaina gifted me with three Winter Veils back, but if being sworn into the nobility isn't a good time to wear it, then I am a loss as to what would be. My Alterac maids - Clara and Pauline - are happy enough to help me into it, and Pauline takes a near childlike delight in putting my hair into an intricate arrangement while Clara critically adds cosmetics to my face.

"You look like a doll," Golthak says in orcish as he and four Kor'kron Elites follow me down the hall.

The page leading the way to the throne room looks nervously over his shoulder, but says nothing.

The throne room is not what I was expecting. Instead of an imposing hall, it is an airy chamber with a high, vaulted ceiling pierced by clerestory windows that bring in sunlight to splash against the pale stone and light the room without blinding anyone; truly the work of a master architect. Royal Guard are positioned between the seven doorways that open into this circular chamber. A magnificent starburst mosaic of lighter and darker stone draws all eyes to the center of the room, where the throne perches on an octagonal dais. Through one open door, I can see a campaign table and map stand. Through another, a conference table gleams. This room is not so much a statement of ultimate power as it is a hub of activity; an expression of the idea that the king is but part of the larger machine of government, albeit a central and integral part. Knowing that nearly the entire city had been rebuilt after the Old Horde tore through it, it is also a window into a younger Varian's idealism: that a king should work with his kingdom, rather than ruling absolutely.

Knowing what happened after the city was rebuilt, I feel a surprising amount of sympathy for the younger Varian.

"Taretha?"

Having learned his lesson, Varian is well outside of even the most generous definition of 'personal space'. He looks slightly concerned, and I realize that I have been staring.

"It's beautiful," I say softly, trying to ignore his relieved smile.

He offers me his arm. "We're just waiting on you, my future lady."

I cannot deny his hopeful eyes, not with the specter of his slain idealism floating in every golden mote of dust illuminated by the light from those clerestory windows. Face a blank mask, my fingers alight on his arm and I allow myself to be led into the small chapel in the room to the right of the entrance. A clerk with a portable desk sits off to one side, quill and parchment at the ready, while a man in sober black robes makes small talk with an elderly bishop, who smiles kindly at me.

"For the record, Sire," the clerk says in a reedy voice, "could you announce those present?"

"Certainly. Varian Wrynn, king of Stormwind. Taretha Foxton of the Frostwolf Clan, formerly of Durnholde. Archbishop Benedictus. Magistrate Collins. We are here to enact, bless, and witness Taretha's ascension to the nobility as Lady of Durnholde."

"At your request, your Majesty, I have investigated the title to Durnholde." The black-robed magistrate consults a paper while the clerk scribbles madly. "The title was last held by Lieutenant General Aedelas Blackmoore, reported slain in battle. With all due respect, Sire, I must protest that there is no justification for the title to pass on to anyone. Blackmoore had no living relatives; no heir, and no wife."

"Archbishop," Varian says pleasantly, "If a man remains faithful to a woman for more than two years, bringing no other into his bed and providing for her, would that constitute a faithful relationship in the eyes of the church?"

The old man's eyebrows rise. "Certainly, your Majesty."

"I must concur; the laws of Stormwind and Lordaeron are clear on the responsibilities a man has in such a situation." Magistrate Collins eyes me doubtfully, but says nothing.

"Taretha, will you swear before these exalted gentlemen that for the seven years before Blackmoore's death, he had relations with no other?"

My fingers dig subtly into Varian's arm, expressing my displeasure for the situation he has put me in, but my voice is calm and cool. "I give my word that from the moment he first took me to his bed until the moment of his death, he was faithful to me and provided for both myself and my family."

The magistrate looks about to say something, but instead presses his lips into a grim line briefly. "In that case, there is considerable weight to the idea that his title could pass on to his surviving...partner. Is this the precedent you wish to set, your Majesty?"

"It is," Varian answers firmly.

"The church smiles on the law rectifying a situation that was not addressed in life," the archbishop says mildly.

"Then it's settled. The lands and title of a man may pass to his common-born mistress if he has remained faithful to her and provided for her for a minimum of two years." Varian waits for nods all around, and for the clerk to finish writing, before he continues. "By the power granted to me by the first conclave of allied human kings, in the absence of my brother king of Lordaeron, I appoint to Taretha Foxton the title formerly held by Aedelas Blackmoore. I further declare that the lands and the privileges they grant revert to the Lordaeron Crown at the lady's request, and as such there is no need for any oaths of fealty to be sworn. Archbishop Benedictus, will you give your blessing to Taretha Foxton of the Frostwolf, Lady of Durnholde?"

The old man smiles. "Of course."

I bow my head while he chants, feeling the Light wash over me.

"Magistrate Collins, I call upon you to bear witness to this event. Do you recognize this woman?"

"I do, Sire. The woman before me is Lady Taretha Foxton of Durnholde and of the Frostwolf Clan."

The clerk finishes scribbling madly, blows on the parchment, and offers it to Varian.

"Excellent. My lady, I will have a copy of this made for you by the end of the day." He hands it back to the clerk. "In the meantime, my lady, may I have the pleasure of your company for lunch?"

My fingers dig into his arm again. "You may."

He nods to clerk, magistrate, and archbishop before leading me out. I hold my tongue until we are alone in the courtyard overlooking the city, then snatch my hand back - which does not seem to surprise him.

"I do not appreciate having those seven years brought up without warning, your Majesty," I hiss, glaring at him with such heat that his head turns slightly and his eyes close. "I try my hardest to forget that period of my life, and you have made my shame a matter of public record." My fists and jaw clench in attempts to restrain the rage that has me fairly vibrating.

"If you have more to say, my lady, I beg you to not hold back." Varian opens his eyes slowly, facing me as though preparing himself for execution.

"No." The single word cracks like the impact of hand to cheek. "I know why you did it. I appreciate the weapon you have given other girls who may suffer my situation. However, I would have appreciated it more had you had the courtesy and respect to enlighten me as to what your little plan entailed beforehand." My breath whistles through my nose as I again attempt to rein in my anger.

The chagrin in his face nearly derails my temper entirely. "I'm sorry, Taretha. I wasn't thinking." His face flushes, scars standing out in pale glory. "I won't ask your forgiveness for this because I don't deserve it. You are absolutely correct, and I was an arrogant fool."

Abruptly he clenches his jaw and stalks over to the wall of the castle. One fist lashes out to strike the rough stone, and he grunts in pain but does not pull his hand back for a long minute. By the time he turns back around, we have both gotten our tempers under control.

"I forgive you," I verbally trample over whatever he had been about to say. "because you realize what you did wrong and I believe that you will not make that mistake again."

His expression goes from apology to shock to gratitude. "...thank you. You are indeed merciful in your victories, my lady." He sweeps me a deep and formal bow. "I beg you, keep holding me accountable when I do something stupid like this." Almost shyly, he smiles at me.

I do not smile back. "Your hand, my lord."

Confused, he holds out the hand with which he had punched the wall. I take it in both of mine, probing gently for broken bones and examining the abused skin. He doesn't seem to have scraped it badly enough to cause bleeding, although he is going to bruise. His hand is very warm and strong.

"Punching stone walls isn't very intelligent, my lord."

That distant adoration is back in his eyes at my quiet words. "I'm torn, my lady. I don't want to repeat my mistakes and lose the little bit of respect I've earned from you, but at the same time, your actions seem to be rewarding me for that act of idiocy."

Face flaming, I drop his hand.

"Taretha!" Anduin slips into the courtyard, smiling broadly. "You look beautiful. Archbishop Benedictus says you're Lady of Durnholde now...?"

"I am." It's impossible not to smile back at him.

The prince stops and gives me a deep, formal bow. "My lady."

I dip him an equally deep and formal curtsy. "Your Highness."

That impish grin flits across his face briefly before he schools his expression. "Did Father do anything stupid?" he deadpans.

"Anduin!" As much as he tries to sound shocked, Varian is struggling to hold back laughter.

"He did. Two things. However, I have faith that he will not repeat them."

"You have my word on the first, my lady. I make no promises on the second." He moves to the little table and pulls out a chair for me. "I would much rather punish myself than have anyone else suffer."

I allow him to seat me. "Just remember, my lord, that I am neither priest nor shaman. If you break your hand, I will not tend to your injury." I wait until he has seated himself, then catch his eye and give him a wicked little grin. "However, if you ask very nicely, perhaps my brother will see to your wounds."

"Heal them, or cause them?" Varian asks, eyebrows raised.

"I suspect that depends on how nicely you ask."

He inclines his head, conceding the point, and then gestures for lunch to be served.

Comments

Nice Re: Ankokugai22@yahoo.com

[(Anonymous)]

Sorry bout my earlier rants, OVERALL, I like and rather enjoy your story. It's pretty well written for fanfiction and the characters are believable...mostly. (I rather think Varian's bending over backwards and being OOC, but eh)

I just don't like it when canon or fanon characters/plots are so...sooo... Hypocritical. I'm not sure what annoys me more really, the ones who are hypocrites and should know better or the ones who are oblivious.

Re: Nice Re: Ankokugai22@yahoo.com

[moonshadows]

You're absolutely right; Varian IS bending over backwards in this story. But I sat down and thought about his character as it had been presented in all forms of canon at the time (everything in Tariverse was written before the end of 2013) and realized that he was being portrayed pretty solidly as an Aries: loud, brash, leaps before he looks, do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do, and with a double helping of charm that makes him likeable despite all of that. Whether you put any stock in astrology or not, there's been a lot written on the subject and it's very helpful in fleshing out characters. Aries likes a challenge and is drawn to the prize held just outside their reach; by turning him down before he could even broach the subject, Taretha grabbed his attention and he's waging a campaign to change her mind - but first he has to convince her to participate. And he does, canonically, use being underestimated to his advantage.

As for Taretha... *shrugs* She's flawed, she has issues, and as a writer, I'm okay with that. She doesn't have the broad, world-wide history of Azeroth the way we do; the information she got is biased, and she's biased herself. She's anti-patriarchy, raging against the system that treated her so poorly because that's all she'd experienced of humanity. The prince even saw the condition Blackmoore kept her in and did nothing about it; that sent a powerful message that she was on her own, the crown freaking prince was siding with her abuser, the laws of the kingdom were okay with what she was going through. But the orcs heard what Blackmoore did to her and made it clear they did not approve, that they were siding with her and actively helping her. Naturally she's going to have a grudge against the system that kept her powerless and side with the ones that got her free of it - even if it means turning a blind eye to unsavory things they may have done in the past, and while under demonic influence. Especially because she can see them struggling to be better than what the demon's blood made them.