moonshadows: (Warcraft)
Moonshadows ([personal profile] moonshadows) wrote2011-09-09 11:40 am
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09. Taretha arrives in Stormwind - Impasse

To my surprise, Joric leads me to a sort of balcony courtyard where a table and three chairs have been set up. Past the parapet, Stormwind spreads out in all its glory. Joric beats a hasty retreat while I am distracted and I drift away from the doorway, leaving Golthak and the two Kor'kron Elites to arrange themselves as they wish. The rhythmic sounds of plate armor inform me that I will soon have company, but I am caught up in watching the city.

"Lovely view, isn't it?"

Varian's voice at my elbow births panic. I whirl, one arm out in a half-formed gesture of either attack or defense, but his browned hand is suddenly around my wrist, painfully tight, and there is nothing of gentleness or mercy in his expression. A scream dies of fear in my throat, my bones turning to water even as my blood turns to ice. In a heartbeat, the warrior formerly known as Lo'gosh drops my wrist as though burned and backs up several steps, both hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

"Back away from her," Golthak barks in orcish. "Further. Further. Turn your back. Do not speak common."

Amazingly, Varian obeys the angry commands. He retreats almost to the door and turns to face my faithful shadow. "What I did?" he demands in broken orcish.

"He used to beat her. No, don't look. Give her time to calm down."

I can see those browned hands clench into angry fists, see the powerful muscles of his back and shoulders tense and tremble with suppressed fury beneath the blue doublet. Already, the calm of surrender flows from my dry eyes down my tight throat, leaving me numb and empty in the wake of terror. When the last bits of visceral fear have been smothered beneath emotional ice, I nod.

"Now you can look and speak," Golthak growls.

At first, Varian does not move. Head bowed, he seems to be struggling with himself. When he does turn, his hands are held open and away from his body and he advances slowly, eyes begging for my forgiveness. "Taretha, I'm sorry." His thick, unruly hair flutters in the breeze, a few errant strands glowing like burnished copper in the sun. "I should have known better than to startle you like that." He stops just out of reach, leaving me plenty of room to either side should I try to flee. "If you would rather eat alone after that, I'll understand."

Beneath his tan, the places where I struck him are still faintly discolored. Languidly, I take a step forward and brush his cheek lightly. He inhales sharply and flinches, but otherwise does not move.

"I believe this round is a tie, my lord." There is no inflection in my voice.

"No," he says shakily. Blue eyes bleed apology. "I forfeit."

Later, when the defensive detachment wears off, I will be able to appreciate the vulnerability he is displaying - and the power over him that he has just revealed I possess. The sound of more guards approaching, however, effectively breaks the tension in the air.

"Father?"

"Anduin."

Eyes still on me, he backs up a few paces before turning and sweeping his son into a fierce hug. While they are occupied, I seat myself at the table, choosing the seat that gives me a view of both the door and the city. Anduin gives me a curious look over his father's shoulder, but says nothing. When Varian has gotten himself under control again, they take their seats at the table and this seems to be the signal for lunch to be served.

If not for the presentation, it would be a very simple meal: roast chicken and bread, fresh lettuce and bell peppers and sharp yellow cheese. However, the chicken is game hens; the bread is rolls shaped like ducks floating on a lettuce pond with green pepper lily pads and red pepper flowers. The cheese, sliced into thin sticks, has been arranged into a nest on the 'shore' for the 'ducks'. When the servant bearing a bottle of wine approaches the table, Varian frantically waves him away, then looks at me with ill-concealed panic. With the reminder of Blackmoore's attentions fresh in his mind, it seems he would prefer to avoid any further comparison.

"That's a neat dress, Taretha," Anduin says after the last servant has left. "Are those feathers in your hair?"

With no signs of danger, the protective numbness begins thawing. "Tail feathers of a hawk. The Runetotem tribe made the dress for me."

"Tauren."

At the half-question, I glance at Varian but his eyes are firmly on the bread-duck he is holding. "Yes, tauren. When the Horde first landed on Kalimdor, the tauren people provided us all with cloth or clothing."

The duck loses its crusty head.

"Something wrong, Varian?"

The look he gives me is indecipherable. I can tell that words are swarming inside him, but he clenches his jaw and none of them come out. He looks at the decapitated roll as though unaware that he had mangled it, and drops it on his plate.

"Just disappointed in myself." With a visible effort, he forces the churning emotions from his expression. "You look lovely in that. Very fierce."

My lips form a smile I do not feel. "Thank you, my lord."

For a moment, he looks about to strike the table in frustration, and then he puts on an equally false smile. "I trust you slept well, my lady?"

"I thought we'd been over that point, my lord."

The slight edge to my tone brings a hint of genuine amusement to his eyes. "You still haven't given me your answer on that, you know."

"I have some reservations about accepting a gift that will tie me so tightly to the enemy."

He frowns. "You're not my enemy."

"Maybe not, my lord, but you have made yourself the enemy of my brother. I will not forswear the ties of blood."

Anduin watches silently as his father draws me neatly out of my shell of indifference.

"You forswore your ties to the race that birthed you," Varian points out with the slightest hint of a growl.

I smile sweetly, but my voice has gained an edge. "Need I remind you of what humanity gifted me with, my lord?"

"Damn it, woman, I-" he breaks off and shoves himself away from the table abruptly, pacing to the parapet where he stands with his hands on the stone, glaring down at the oblivious city. After a minute or two, he comes back and calmly takes his seat again. "I'm trying to right the wrongs committed against you, but you're not making it very easy," he says quietly.

"Have you given me a reason to?"

He gapes at me.

"Why should I forgive the race that displayed so much cruelty to me, and to the race of my clan? Just because you feel bad about it? If that is the case, my lord, I have to wonder what course of action you would take, were I to roll over and let you have your way with me." I stab a red-pepper-flower with more force than is absolutely necessary. "You wish to make amends to me, specifically, and I can't help but ask myself why that is. Is it because I am human? Is it because I am a woman?" The petals of the flower are broken off one by one while I pin him with my glare. "Is it because you are attracted to me?"

The look of hurt pride tells me all I need to know.

"Is my brother not worthy of reparations because he is an orc? Because he is male? Because you do not look at him and think 'there is someone that I feel needs my protection'? Why is it that you feel you are entitled to declare war on a race who went out of its way to leave humanity alone? What entitles you to wave your brief enslavement under our noses and ignore the fact that the vast majority of the orcish race has endured more years of slavery than you did months?"

Anduin cringes and mouths 'ouch'. Varian stares at me stoically, jaw set, as though I were pummeling him with my fists rather than my words.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better, Taretha," he says, and he sounds torn between hopeless resignation and genuine relief. "I beg you, let's discuss what can be done to make this gift more suitable. I would not want you to feel that accepting will tie you to me against your will."

"Maybe take out the oath of fealty, Father?"

Hearing Anduin's voice breaks the tension between Varian and myself, and I nibble on the mutilated flower whose petals adorn my plate. The king blinks as though such a thing hadn't even occurred to him.

"Of course," he agrees. "In fact, why don't we just make the land a sovereign nation? It's not like there's any Alliance presence in the area strong enough to enforce anything, and the tax revenues haven't been counted in any budget for ten years."

"I have a better idea."

Varian looks at me expectantly, hints of delight at my lack of hostility gleaming in his eyes.

"Which parts of Alterac are unclaimed?"

Re: unForgiven Re: Ankokugai22@yahoo.com

(Anonymous) 2016-09-10 01:43 am (UTC)(link)
A well detailed counter argument. A lot of the things we disagree on came from the RPG books.

Re: unForgiven Re: Ankokugai22@yahoo.com

(Anonymous) 2016-09-10 04:06 am (UTC)(link)
http://wowwiki.wikia.com/wiki/Half-orc