moonshadows

Not two months after my permanent arrival in Stormwind, and a mere two weeks after Broll’s visit, my lord husband apparently feels secure enough – or foolish enough – to indulge in the wine served at the ball being held to celebrate the beginning of summer. Seeing his lovestruck expression when my smile is fake turns my stomach, and it would not do to see the queen scowling angrily at her king during a celebration, so as usual we split up to mingle. The perfumes thick in the air, as well as the scent of alcohol on so many other men’s breath, serve to disguise the state of Varian’s sobriety when we meet up briefly at the tolling of each hour. They can only hide so much, however. At the first slurred word, my blood runs cold. I still remember how swiftly he moved that day during my first visit, how grim his face and how firm his grasp was. Should he get it in his head to take certain liberties with me, I would not be able to stop him.

The combination of fear and being in public knock me back to Durnholde Keep and I smile sweetly at Varian, keeping my body language relaxed and a little inviting as I did when Blackmoore was in his cups. It works just as well on my husband’s wine-muddled mind as it did on Blackmoore’s, and we split up again for another hour. As soon as he is out of sight, however, I make a slightly-hurried retreat to the washroom. Golthak follows and plants himself in front of the door, allowing me privacy for my panic attack.

“Bin mog g’thazag cha, Taretha,” he calls softly through the door, repeating the mantra until I am calm enough to face people again.

“I need to leave,” I tell him in orcish. “Varian’s drunk. I can’t…”

“I will protect you.”

Taking a deep breath, I put my best face on and sweep confidently back into the maelstrom of nobility, searching for the man I would sooner not find. Instead of staying against the wall, Golthak trails after me which naturally attracts attention, but that can’t be helped. Without his bulk looming behind me, I wouldn’t have the courage to do this.

When I finally find my errant husband, he has reached the stage of blinking owlishly and leaning casually against a table to hide the fact that he is swaying. The easy smile he directs at me does not thaw my icy calm any.

“I am retiring for the night, my lord,” I say before he can open his mouth. “I’ve had enough, and so have you.”

I let my displeasure show briefly before I turn and hurry away, but I doubt it penetrated the fog of alcohol muddling him. Four Royal Guard fall in behind me as I leave, and the trip to my suite is uneventful. Once the door to my sitting room is closed behind me, I feel safe enough to relax a bit. Clara answers the bell promptly, and stripping out of my formal gown relaxes me further. She takes my hair down and brushes it out so that I can put it back in its single, loose braid. Feeling much more secure now, I wrap myself in a dressing gown and curl up on a couch with a book.

Just as I’m starting to yawn, there is a muted scuffle outside the door to my sitting room. I’m not sure how long it’s been; I wasn’t paying attention to the bells while I was reading. I look up from my book to listen, but whatever was going on seems to have ended. As I go back to my place, however, my door rattles. The fact that it’s locked doesn’t seem to make a difference to my heart, which starts racing. Fingers scrabble against the door and a very familiar voice mutters something slurred and unintelligible, then a heavy weight impacts the door gently and slides to the floor. Where is Golthak? Is he asleep?

“Tareeeeeeeethaaaaaaa…”

…judging by tone of my lord husband’s voice, somewhere between confused and petulant, it is likely that my protector is watching and trying not to laugh.

“Taaaaarethaaaaa…”

Now he sounds forlorn. Knowing that he’s unable to stand up right now soothes the fear that had started to claw at me.

“Tareeeeethaaa?”

There’s an odd catch at the end of my name, that time. Quietly, I put my book aside and creep closer until I am right next to the door. On the other side, it sounds as if Varian were…crying.

“Ta-a-a-aretha-a-a-a…”

Yes, as improbable as it is, the king of Stormwind is blubbering at my door. My heart softens at how miserable he sounds. I know that alcohol brings out the truth of a man’s nature; is he really so unhappy in our sterile marriage? He’s babbling incoherently between sobs now. The words I can make out seem to indicate that he wants to see me, but he’s never made a secret of his attraction for me so that’s hardly a surprise. Ancestors, I don’t want him to suffer like this. When he’s sober, yes. When he’s being a jackass, yes. But not when he’s so drunk that he can’t stand, and weeping.

“Go to bed, Varian.”

“Ta-taretha? I-I l-love y-you…” He takes a shuddering breath and keens just long enough that I wish he’d shut up. “Wh-why d-don’t you l-love m-meeee?”

The brief spurt of coherency is lost in a wail that sounds like a cat being inexpertly tortured. I don’t want him to suffer like this, but I don’t want to have to listen to it, either.

“Go to bed, Varian.”

Taaaaarrreeeeeethaaaaaa…”

Blessed ancestors, make him stop! I turn the key in the lock and jerk the door open, ready to knock him unconscious and put us both out of his misery, but he looks up at me with the saddest, most trusting eyes I could have ever imagined, and I just can’t.

“Go to bed,” I sigh.

“Taretha-a-a-a?”

“Yes?”

“I-I love y-you,” he hiccups.

I resist the urge to rub my temples. “I know.”

I’ll d-do anyth-thing for y-you.”

“Go to bed, Varian. That’s all I want right now. Just…please, go to bed.”

“F-for you, Tare-etha.”

His hiccupping seems to be calming down now that he can see me. He scrabbles at the floor, trying to make his legs work, but has no success.

“Golthak?”

My faithful shadow steps out from the door he’d been hiding behind and easily lifts the limp king of Stormwind to his feet. It takes a long minute before he finally gets his balance, although not without the aid of the wall.

“G’night, T’retha,” he slurs, sounding more collected now that he’s on his feet, and starts shambling down the hall and out of my suite.

I roll my eyes at Golthak, who grins. “I’m going to bed, too.”

“Goodnight, Taretha,” he says solemnly, then grins broadly.

“Good night, Golthak,” I grin back at him.

===============

The next morning is blissfully quiet, with nothing scheduled until early afternoon. The day is nice enough that I don’t want to waste it cooped up inside, but I don’t really want to go through the fuss of leaving the castle. A page sent to the kitchens results in a small basket of picnic foods, and I settle under the apple tree in the library’s courtyard to while away the hours most pleasantly.

A throat is cleared awkwardly. “Taretha?”

Startled anyway, I whip my head around to look at Varian, ready for any hint of danger. He holds his hands out slightly, showing me that he is unarmed, trying to be as unthreatening as possible. A glance at his clothes is enough to tell me that I am not yet needed in an official capacity; he’s wearing simple, sturdy garments. Judging by his shadow, it’s just past mid-day.

Again he clears his throat awkwardly. “About last night…”

My expression drops into icy. “Yes?”

He colors. “I…had too much and I…don’t remember much past when you left. Did I…that is, what…”

I wait until he has stumbled to an embarrassed silence, then arch one eyebrow. “You really don’t remember what you did?”

Varian turns a darker red. He’s choking down a good portion of his pride and swimming in shame; that much is clear. “I really don’t remember.”

The silence stretches. I don’t particularly care to tell him that he fell down and cried at my door. “If you don’t remember,” I say at last, “then I’m not going to tell you.”

He pales. There; maybe that will spook him into not doing it again.

“Was I really that bad?” he asks in a very small voice.

I stab him with my displeasure.

“…I see. Taretha…whatever I did, I’m sorry.” He looks desperately sincere. “I’ll leave you alone now.”

Once he’s well out of earshot, Golthak grins at me. “Not as sorry as he was last night.”