10. Marry me - Assert

[moonshadows]

“The first order of business, I think, is settling the issue of citizenship.” Thrall looks around the moderately-crowded room.

The Kor’kron Elites and Royal Guard eye each other warily. The two Kirin Tor magically transcribing every word studiously ignore everyone else. Golthak is a silent but reassuring bulk behind me, impassively warding off the glances with which Varian prods at my shell of calm when he’s not giving my brother a look of mingled hope and wariness.

“She’ll be a naturalized citizen of Stormwind, of course. There are already laws in place allowing the transference of citizenship from the other human kingdoms to Stormwind.”

Thrall raises one eyebrow. “Does this legal protection extend to those who no longer have a pulse?”

Varian’s train of thought stumbles to a halt. “I…don’t know. I’d have to read the exact wording. That’s not the issue at hand, though.”

“What about her status as a member of the Frostwolf clan? Do your laws cover that?”

Uncertain blue eyes flick to my face, begging guidance from my blank expression. For a bare instant I allow stark displeasure to show, and he looks away.

“Okay, we’re going to need something in place to protect that.”

“Indeed. Were you aware that the laws of my people extend clan membership through the joining of mates? In the rare cases of cross-clan joinings, that is.”

“Are you saying that I’ll be marrying into your clan, Warchief?”

“Doesn’t it work the same way with your noble houses?”

“That’s a very slippery slope we’re on. I doubt your people would be happy to have me claim membership in your clan by marrying Taretha.”

Thrall steeples his fingers. “Then we need to decide how we’re going to handle this.”

“Let me think.” Varian covers his face briefly. “I have no desire to find myself in the line of succession for Warchief if anything should happen to you.”

“I don’t think anyone wants that, your Majesty,” Thrall says dryly, “any more than your people would want to have me in the House of Wrynn by marriage.”

“Right. So…in the case of a high-ranking member of the Horde marrying a member of the Alliance with roughly equal or greater rank, both parties will keep whatever affiliations they have at the time but not confer the benefits of those affiliations to their spouse. Taretha will remain a member of the Horde, a Frostwolf, and a citizen of Lordaeron, and I will remain a citizen of Stormwind and a member of the House of Wrynn and the Alliance. Neither of us will confer membership on the other by right of marriage for any of that.”

“Sounds good to me.” My brother’s glance flicks to me, and I nod minutely to show that I saw what he saw. “Do you think that will be enough to keep your people from being afraid that the Horde will try to take over your kingdom?”

Varian lets out a bark of humorless laughter. “Not by a long shot.”

“Then how about we add a provision of mutually supported rulership?”

“What are you thinking?”

“Forgive me if I tread on old wounds, but I asked my Forsaken allies about what happened before the old Horde was defeated. King Terenas spearheaded a movement to support your right to the throne of Stormwind, did he not?”

Varian nods slowly. “The first conclave of human kings arranged things such that each would pledge support of the others should anything threaten their rulership.”

“Could we do something similar?”

“You know,” Varian smiles, scarred face warping with the expression, “I think we could. The idea of marching Alliance forces into Orgrimmar should Garrosh try anything stupid amuses me greatly.”

“As does the notion of coming to the aid of the Alliance should an outside threat attempt to replace you.”

“I never thought I’d say it, Warchief, but I like the way you think.” He catches my quietly smug smile and scowls. “Was there something you wanted to say, my lady?”

“Oh, no, my lord,” I reply with studied innocence. “I’m sure that anything I could say, you’re already thinking of – if not something worse.”

He looks at me for a long moment before turning to my brother and asking curiously, “Is she always like this, or just around me?”

“There’s a reason I brought her with me to the Argent Tournament,” Thrall says, not bothering to hide his amusement. “We can work out the exact wording of those two provisions later, though. Was there anything you wanted to address before we dive into the murky waters of how this will affect Horde-Alliance relations?”

Varian glances at me and averts his eyes. “Do the Frostwolf have any customs regarding dowry or bride price?”

Wisely, he keeps his eyes averted as I attempt to sear my displeasure into his skin.

“No,” Thrall says shortly.

“Good. Then let’s agree that there will be neither.”

Thrall blinks in surprise. “You’re forfeiting the possibility of making any kind of arrangement one way or the other?”

That fierce defiance radiates from the very lines of my future husband’s body. “I will not have Taretha bartered for like a piece of property. She is not a bargaining chip, nor is our marriage some kind of political maneuver. I asked for her hand, not trade agreements or territory, and if you see this as an opportunity to wring concessions out of the Alliance or expect me to try to wring some from the Horde, then I have misjudged you and how deeply you care for your sister.”

He pauses, fists clenching and releasing, as Thrall stares at him in shock.

“I’m not fool enough to think that either of you are just going to let me walk away with her no questions asked, but this isn’t about the Horde and the Alliance, or even Orgrimmar and Stormwind. It’s about you, and me, and the incredible woman sitting at this table with us. And you’re only involved because she said so. No dowry. No bride price. This isn’t about what your advisors want, or what my advisors want. This is about what Taretha wants, so unless the Lady of Durnholde has something she wants negotiated, everything is off the table. I know she’s not doing this out of any kind of affection for me; I effectively offered her a position in the government of Stormwind, and she accepted, so whatever provisions there are to negotiate should relate to that and only that.”

The silence echoes in the wake of Varian’s words and he glances at me, completely unrepentant. When I see his expression shift from defiance to gratification, I realize that my mouth has fallen open in startled respect.

“Well said, your Majesty,” Thrall rumbles, eyebrows still raised in surprise. “Let the record show that unless the Lady of Durnholde says differently, there is to be no dowry or bride price.”

“Taretha?”

A job. I hadn’t thought about it in those terms, but now that he has put it like that, it makes this whole situation easier to think about. I am not being bartered, I am being sought for my skills. Hired for my mind. Employed for my sharp tongue and wit. Varian respects me enough to risk offending the Warchief of the Horde defending my status as a person and not an object. I meet his eyes steadily and incline my head to acknowledge the point.

“Well said indeed. There will be no dowry or bride price.”

“We are in agreement, then. Shall we move on, your Majesty?”

“Yes, Warchief, I think so.”