World of Warcraft: The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm Page 0,26
the sermon, she found herself with her head bowed, tears slipping down her cheeks as she mourned those who had given all to stand against evil; mourned the young, earnest man Arthas Menethil had once been. And through the tears, she found a sense of peace she had not known until that moment.
As for the other …
She returned to the small room where Varian had received the Sentinels. The elves were gone, but the king of Stormwind was still there. He sat at a small table, his head in his hands. He looked up at her approach, even though she had been quiet, and gave her a weary smile.
“I am sorry I so lost control earlier.”
“You should be.”
He nodded, acknowledging the truth of her comment. “I am. What I said was inappropriate and untrue.”
She softened a little. “Apology accepted. And I’m not the only person who deserves one.”
He grimaced at that, but nodded. “I would rather he not have seen that, but what’s done is done.”
She slipped into the chair opposite him, ready to listen. “Tell me what happened.”
He did. He had agreed to send several alchemists to Ashenvale to assist the night elves in looking over the site of the slaughter and examining the blood and clothing. An emissary, unarmed and no doubt sweating bullets, would be sent to Thrall to conduct an inquiry.
“That’s very … restrained of you,” Jaina commented.
“My actions should depend on what I know, not what I suspect. If it turns out that Thrall is behind this atrocity, rest assured I will march on Orgrimmar and have his head. I don’t care if I’m authorized to do that or not, I will.”
“If he is, I’ll be marching beside you,” Jaina said. She was certain Thrall would be as shocked and horrified by the attack as Varian and Jaina had been. Even if he was not Varian’s friend, he would always be an honorable foe. He would never have authorized a violation of the treaty, let alone so gruesome an attack.
“I wanted to talk about Anduin,” she said, changing the subject.
Varian nodded. “Anduin is a born diplomat. He understood the necessity to go to war in Northrend, but he yearned—still yearns—for peace. And I seem to be unable to cease yearning for war. Things were good when I came back, but …”
“Well, he is a teenager,” Jaina said lightly.
“He took Bolvar’s death hard. Very hard.”
At the name, Jaina shifted uncomfortably.
“I realized how close they had become while I was gone. Bolvar was like a father to Anduin.”
“Does … he know?” Jaina asked quietly.
Varian shook his head. “And I hope he never does.” When the Lich King was finally slain, dreadful news came with the victory—the revelation that there must always be a Lich King, or else the Scourge would run rampant across the world. Someone needed to don the helm, become the next Lich King, or else everything they had all fought for would be for nothing.
It was Bolvar—his life saved by the red dragons’ flames but his body hideously deformed, seeming a living ember shaped vaguely like a man—who had insisted on undertaking the dreadful task. And it was Bolvar who now wore the Lich King’s crown, sitting atop the roof of the world, forever destined to be the jailor of the undead. Even now, Jaina’s blue eyes filled with quick tears at the thought.
“Anduin has had a difficult time of it,” Jaina said, her voice thick. She cleared it and resumed. “But Bolvar was not his father. You are, and I know he’s glad to have you back. But—”
“But he wants his father back, not Lo’Gosh. Completely understandable. But Jaina … sometimes I’m not sure where one ends and the other begins. I … do not like having the boy around, living with me, while I try to determine this.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing. And I have an idea. …”
Jaina slipped her hood over her head as she exited the cathedral. It was still raining, and in fact had picked up. It did not distress her unduly; living in Theramore, she was well accustomed to such damp weather.
Having teleported to Stormwind, she had no palfrey, so she strode quickly through the wet streets toward Stormwind Keep. It was not a long walk, but her feet found a few puddles, and when she did arrive, she was quite thoroughly soaked and shivering.
The guards knew her and nodded politely as she entered. Servants stepped up to her quickly, offering to take her cloak and get