World of Warcraft: The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm Page 0,126

“She’s not fit to be leader! She’s going to destroy all that Magni tried to do! All that he … he died for!”

Anduin stepped forward, a hand outstretched imploringly. “There’s no spell, Father. Magni wanted to believe there was rather than the truth—that he drove Moira away because she wasn’t a male heir.”

Varian’s black brows drew together. “You spit on the memory of an honorable man, Anduin.”

Anduin didn’t flinch. “You can be an honorable man and still make mistakes,” he continued implacably. His father’s cheeks darkened, and he knew he didn’t need to say anything else. “Moira was accepted among the Dark Irons. She fell in love, she married within the laws of her people, she bore her husband a child. She’s the rightful dwarven heir of the dwarven people. They need to decide whether to accept her or not. It’s not our place.”

“She held you hostage, Anduin!” Varian’s voice echoed, and Anduin flinched slightly. “You, my son! She can’t be allowed to get away with that! I won’t let her hold you and a whole city prisoner. I won’t, do you understand?”

His boy, his beautiful son … it was hard not to simply bellow in anger and plunge the blade into the usurper’s neck. To not rejoice in the feel of hot, wet blood spurting over his hand. To know that the threat to his son was forever ended. He could do it. He could do all that. And how he wanted to.

“Then let her answer to the law, to her people, for what she has done to them. Father—you’re a king, a good one, one who wants to do the right thing. You believe in the law. In justice. You’re not some—some vigilante. Destruction …” Anduin paused in midsentence, a strange but calm look coming over his young face, as if remembering something. “Destruction is easy. Creating something good, something right, something that lasts—that’s what’s hard. It’d be easy to kill her. But you have to think of what’s best for the people of Ironforge. For the dwarves—all of them. What is wrong with the dwarves’ deciding how much or how little they want to participate in the world’s politics? What’s wrong with reaching out to the Dark Irons if they are amenable?”

There were some slight murmurings. Varian looked around, nostrils flaring. Rohan cleared his throat.

“The lad speaks true, Yer Majesty. Summat o’ what Moira says is wisdom. Now, how she’s gone about it—right foolish. But she’s our princess, in the end. And once she’s proper crowned, our queen.”

“If Moira dies and there is no clear heir, civil war will erupt!” Anduin continued. “Do you think that’s what’s best for the dwarven people? Do you think that’s what Magni would want? This might bring Stormwind into the war, too—or the night elves, or the gnomes. Can you make the decisions for them, too?”

Varian’s hand was trembling slightly now, and Moira let out a little squeak as the blade nicked her throat. A single drop of red blood dewed the sword.

You’re not some—some vigilante.

Destruction is easy.

I do want to do what’s right—what’s just, Varian thought wildly. But how do I create something that lasts? She is the rightful heir, and, yes, the dwarves might turn on one another. It’s not my place to do this. This is their city, their queen or their pretender. If we could only find Brann or Muradin, we—

He blinked.

“Much as I wish it weren’t true,” he said harshly to Moira, who stared up at him with wide, terrified eyes, “yours is the rightful claim to the throne. But just like me, Moira Bronzebeard, you need to be better than you are. You need more than just a bloodline to rule your people well. You’re going to have to earn it.”

He shoved her away. She staggered back but made no attempt to flee. How could she? She was encircled by the populace of the city she had tried to rule with a cruel, arrogant hand.

“You obviously can’t be trusted to have free rein over Ironforge. Not by yourself, not yet. You’ve made that amply clear. These people aren’t just the Dark Iron dwarves you’re used to lording over. The dwarves have three clans. Dark Iron, Bronzebeard, and Wildhammer. You want to bring the dwarven people together? Fine. Then each of those clans needs a representative. A voice, which, by the Light, you will listen to!” He was working it through as he spoke. The Wildhammers, it was true, had demonstrated little interest in Ironforge and