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Another meeting. Maybe the last, at least out here in the Ghostlands. So long as it all goes according to plan.
Arator had never thought himself a diplomat but, given the circumstances, he supposed it was an accurate title. Though Arator the Diplomat didn’t have quite the same ring as Redeemer. Perhaps Redeemer was just the paladin equivalent of it, and he was simply embracing his vows. He wondered how proud Jaina would be when she found out what he had done…
Arator Windrunner, the man who brokered peace between the Alliance and Horde. With a title like that, he might be capable of becoming the High King’s Champion. He couldn’t help but sigh at such a marvelous prospect. Not that his actions were being motivated by personal reward, no, peace itself was the reward. But if he could ask one thing in return for all of the hard work, the thing he, at most, could ask for is to be Knighted. Not because he wanted the title but because it was the King that bestowed the honor. To say vows to the King, and have his blessings…that was a reward worth the risk and something he could ask for.
He was deep in his thoughts when the second party to this two-man meeting arrived. Sylvanas Windrunner was a formidable foe when it came to plans and few could match her wits. As such, few even dared tried to.
But it was not uncommon for her to find a challenge with other Windrunners; no, challenges within the family were, after all, what had honed her skills in the first place, it was just ironic that her most challenging foe among the Windrunner clan had been the most unassuming one of them all.
Though when Arator visited it was rarely a challenge she encountered, more often there were hugs (secret hugs, which he swore to take the existence of with him to the grave).
This time their meeting would be marked by curiosity. She recognized that look. How distant he seemed to be, as though his head had detached and all he could see now was what existed in the clouds. He had always been a daydreamer, so had his uncle. It was always fun to see he had not lost the ability to get lost in his head.
“What are you thinking about?”
Arator had gotten caught in his thoughts. Deep in the idea of things he could never have nor should ever hope for. Daydreaming indeed, but how could one not at a time like this when dreams were becoming reality?
He couldn’t tell her the truth. The idea of Anduin and him was a joke at best, an absurdity at worst. As though a half-elf would ever be allowed such a thing. Windrunners, however, had a habit of speaking in riddles and jokes, a habit which was that much worse when around each other. Though he had never quite mastered the art of lying, he was getting better at manipulating the truth.
“Mmm…getting myself a crown.” Was his response, close but vague enough even Sylvanas couldn’t figure out exactly what he was thinking. It wouldn’t stop her from trying for figuring out how her nephews mind worked was enjoyable. He was deceptively straightforward, but kept his true desires well hidden.
“I’d be happy to get you one. Which would you like?”
Going straight for the throat because she knew he tended to be an open book. Which is why it was fun when he deflected.
“Well, I wasn’t thinking of an actual crown; at least not one that already has a claimant.”
He hadn’t intended for it to happen but Arator had accidentally made it a game. She wanted, no needed, to know what was going on in that normally so upfront and sweet mind of his. So, Sylvanas was quiet and waited. Waited for him to continue, so she could find more scraps to this puzzle. Everything he said, due to his infallible honesty, was a clue she could use if she just deciphered it correctly. Something she also knew was she could stand the silence much longer than he could.
And his brain was mulling over the idea. If he did want a crown, what would he want? Since it was a gift from his aunt, his priority would be ensuring it was a crown that was beneficial to her. Nearby, perhaps a trading partner. That was, after all, what they had been discussing the last few weeks. How to open the lines of trade between Horde and Alliance. How to impose proper and fair pricing, as well as punishment for any attacks or thieving across borders. The need for subduing acts of vengeance while promoting fairness so everyone could begin the actual process of trading together was…complicated.
But, hopefully, they had figured something out. Something that would benefit both sides. His mind was still working on strategy mode, which is why his response was…
“Maybe, Gilneas? It has nice harbors, and proximity to the Undercity.” It was a logical choice, but that wasn’t what his aunt was thinking of.
“Oh, Gilneas? That would just be perfect!” She agreed, but he knew that sound in her voice and exactly what she was thinking. The absolute delight she was feeling at the idea of ousting Genn Greymane from his throne and putting a Windrunner atop it. Delicious!
“That was just a joke!” For legal and ethical reasons, she had to know that. He had to make sure it was very clear that he did not want her to actually get him a crown, least of all Genn’s.
She understood his disclaimer but was having too much fun now. “Oh come on, we can throw the old wolf into the sea. No one will know.” And her fun only increased the more shocked Arator became. Shock because the boy, whilst being her second favorite Windrunner, was too easy to convince she was being serious.
“You cannot kill Genn Greymane.”
“Arator, c’mon, let’s put the old sea dog down.”
“Sylvanas!” It was at this point she started to laugh, unable to continue convincing him she would do it. Especially not when he was so woefully concerned. She had to let him off the hook, and remind him that she was still on board with this whole proposal.
“Okay, okay, you’ve convinced me: We won’t murder Genn Greymane.”
He seemed satisfied with this answer, and a bit relieved that she stopped pressing his buttons. For no matter how many times she may have teased or fooled him, in the end he was the one to win. That’s why she was here.
A meeting between the dead and living that had started out just to restore old bonds had accidentally become more. It had started with an argument, one of those rare times their love for faction became an issue for the Horde Warchief and her ‘neutral’ nephew. She should have known better than to challenge the perpetually optimistic ray of sunshine, because whenever they discussed politics and, worst of all the impossible notion of ‘peace’, his argument always boiled down to her inability to trust the living. Her goal was, first and foremost, the safety of her people. The ones she had chosen in her undeath, and whose safety (both emotional and physical) was threatened by the living. But if she truly wanted what was best for them, for their safety…how far was she willing to go if she could not trust outside of her people?
He had argued it was this lack of trust that would eventually lead her people to ruin.
‘Would you even be willing to go so far as to work with the Alliance? To save your people, would you go that far?’
Her answer had been (begrudgingly and shockingly) yes. From that moment on, Arator had trepidly acted as ambassador for the Alliance on behalf of Anduin, to begin discussions with the Horde Warchief about a joint-treaty. It had gone quite well, and tomorrow their conditions would be brought to the table and hopefully signed into an agreement. A pact of sorts between factions, to encourage fair trade and rules against acts of vengeance. An agreement that would create an atmosphere of mutual trade and growth, in exchange for letting go of past grievances and fair punishment for any future wrongdoing. They had spent weeks on it, each requesting their own needs of assurance and fairness. It had been difficult but through it all, Arator the Redeemer acted as emissary and consul to both sides. As a child of the Alliance, but family to the Horde Warchief and Dark Lady, he was in a unique position to be impartial and promote fairness.
“Thank you.” And he was relieved.
“And I promise tomorrow at the signing I won’t attack the old wolf.”
That did pose a problem and he sighed. “I swear I tried to have the meeting be private, but Genn demands there is a need for at least one guard.”
It would have been so much easier had he not come. There was too much animosity to allow for peace if he was ready to attack at any moment. But he understood why people wanted Anduin to have a guard…because Arator was likely the only member of the Alliance willing to trust her alone with his King.
“I know you tried your best.”
“If it’s any consolation, you can have a guard too.”
Her first thought was, as always, that Nathanos could fulfill that role but…“Hmm, not much of a successful treaty if the dogs are barking the entire time.”
“Well, you have till tomorrow to choose one.” He knew she was smart enough to have other people she could bring, even if Nathanos was not the best option. “Perhaps Anya.”
“How about I choose you.” Well that put a sudden and screeching halt to his train of thought.
“Me?”
“Yes, this was your idea, so who better to defend me? And if something goes wrong, say this doesn’t work out and someone dies, it can be all your fault.”
“Don’t say things like that.” She knows she shouldn’t have for he would take it seriously. But it goes to show how confident Sylvanas was about the treaty being accepted. It was, after all, a very generous offer. For all of Anduin Wrynns postulating, if he truly wanted peace then this was too good of an offer to give up.
And Sylvanas…she would have what she wanted. A secure future for herself and her Forsaken. Certainly, as Warchief, the other members of the Horde would benefit from the trade agreement as well but that honestly hadn’t been too important. Yippee, good for them.
Though if everyone was getting what they wanted, how about Arator? While she loved her nephew, he rarely showed ambition or a desire for reward and yet the past few weeks of negotiating had shown an unusual amount of passion, so back to the question at hand.
“So…which throne did you want?”
“I don’t want a throne to sit on,” She had been honest, so he was in return. “But I wouldn’t mind serving one.”
“Which one?” With how quickly he started to blush, his entire face turning a humorous shade of pink, all the way up to the tips of his ears, there could be no doubt in her mind who he was thinking of. Someone very close to him because, of course, who else would he try to show off to by unifying Azeroth? Who else would he be embarrassed about having feelings for?
“You’re kidding! The little lion? Oh, Arator, you could do so much better.”
“It’s not like that!”
“Then what is it like because your face is red.”
It really was not fair having Sylvanas Windrunner as an aunt. She had poked her way into finding out his secrets and if he ever wanted any end to this conversation and torture, he would have to be open with her.
“All I want, really want, is to be his Champion. To protect and serve him. I can be happy with that.”
“…No you can’t. I recognize that look on your face.”
What look? His face, too young and alive to have learned how to hide every emotion, blanked for a moment.
“See? And you’re too naïve to even realize it. Dear nephew, you might think that you can ‘be happy with that’, but a day will come when you realize the truth. For your sake, I just hope you won’t be too late.”
She spoke from experience which was not unusual for Sylvanas, the woman had experienced most things in her long life, what was unusual was that she spoke about matters of the heart and refrained from mocking him about his shortcomings. Calling him naïve was allowed but only because it was true. She hoped he would live long enough to grow out of that horrible innocence, but she also dreaded the day. He didn’t deserve what pain it would take to break such a kind heart.
Ugh…and now he was blushing and thinking about his precious King. He was so alive it made her want to puke but she would also murder the entire family tree of anyone who tried to harm him. Caring about someone was terribly exhausting when death set one's default emotion to anger.
“Arator, if you wish for him to see you in a more agreeable light, I am willing to help my favorite nephew out. I could kidnap the High King and allow you to rescue him. All you must do is swoop in, scoop up your King, and fly off into the sunset with him.” What concerned him is he couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.
“That is the OPPOSITE of what I want you to do!”
“Alright fine; no kidnapping the little lion.” That seemed to relax him, but it was all she could agree to. She didn’t have to kidnap him to get what she wanted.
His face had calmed down some, but it was still a disgusting show of vulnerability.
“Arator, I implore you to think about what you want from all of this. With how much work you’ve put into-“
“Peace if the reward, Sylvy.” She could have hated him if he wasn’t being so honest. Of course, for him, peace was what he wanted. For people to get along and hold hands and sing merry little songs- ugh he was too sweet. Even the nickname he used was a callback to a time she was desperate to forget but just him saying it reminded her. It was truly unfair.
“I hate you sometimes.” She scowled at him.
“No, you don’t.”
A grumble from the Banshee because, not for the first time, he had put her in an uncomfortable position. She could lie, even jokingly, but not about that. Sylvanas didn’t hate him. Doubt she ever could when he reminded her so much of Lirath and everything, in life, she had ever fought for. Even in death, he was trying to remind her of those times.
“Well, if you have a request-“
“I don’t.”
She glared at him, not quite satisfied with that answer. All he wanted was peace and all she wanted was to make sure her family, living and Forsaken, received a life worth enjoying.
“Then I suppose we’re done here?”
He balked at that. Her abruptness in ending the meeting despite not going over the treaty that was being proposed stunned him. Sure, they had now progressed to a final draft but...
“I suppose we are if you’ve already decided on your terms.”
“I have if you’ve nothing of your own to add.”
She was so certain and to the point that he was afraid he might have hurt her feelings. So many argued that the undead didn’t have feelings but…he could see it in the way she smirked and toyed with people. Sylvanas Windrunner, despite being undead and claiming to have no attachments, still cared and felt. It was just harder now, especially when so many had abandoned her.
“Then I suppose…I’ll see you tomorrow. As your guard.”
She gave him just the barest of smiles, small enough he could never prove it had actually existed, and once again Arator felt he was a fool who had been swindled by the more masterful tactician among them. He just didn't know how she had fooled him yet.
“I will see you then, nephew.”
And with that, the meeting was over.
Later, after the day had been lost to travel and the sun was beginning to set over Stormwind, Arator arrived home to deliver word to his King.
“Everything seems to be in order.” One should never make assumptions when dealing with Sylvanas Windrunner. Seeming to understand her was the most he could claim. “There were no additions she wanted to go over, so I believe your terms were considered agreeable.”
“She didn’t ask for anything else?” Despite a touch of trepidation, or perhaps just anxiety since they were on the eve of beginning the process of unification, yet with Arator there…it felt so easy to accept. Easy to feel such optimism, such hope that the pieces would fall this easily into place. As a Redeemer, it was his sworn duty to help people find a second chance and now, every person on Azeroth would have it. Really, a job well done.
Peace and yet Anduin felt, for the Redeemer who helped make it happen, something was lacking.
“What about you?” Anduin asked, unknowingly echoing Sylvanas’ earlier sentiment. The similarities were not lost on Arator who once again had a hard time answering it truthfully but for completely different reasons this time.
He didn’t believe Sylvanas was right, and that Arator couldn’t be happy asking for less than what his heart wanted. Even if she was right, it was inappropriate to request such a thing.
Ahh yes, I helped arrange peace on Azeroth because I wanted your reign and life to be a peaceful one, your kindness remembered and revered for generations to come. Not because I wanted anything from you.
But his King had asked, and honesty should come first and foremost when speaking to one’s monarch. Yet he couldn’t be honest with himself, let alone with Anduin.
“I would like to be Knighted.”
For Anduin, who had practically been waiting on the edge of his seat to know what Redeemers wished for, his reaction was simply…Oh.
That was it? A new title? It felt anticlimactic. Such a pompous and disappointing reward given what he had been doing and yet Anduin could tell from the touch of red on the paladin’s face that asking for Knighthood had even felt like too much of a reach.
Clearly there was something else he wanted but would not say and, as much as Anduin wished to know what it was…he wouldn’t push the man. He would, however, figure out a way to find out. Even if it took him time. But, so long as it was within his powers, Anduin would try to grant it. Arator had proven himself worthy of at least some reward.
“I’ll see what I can do, Arator. And thank you for all of your hard work.”
Tomorrow they had a date with destiny, and hopefully, she was kind.
The meeting that would secure peace of Azeroth was held in the abandoned Kingdom of Arathor, between Stormwind and the Undercity, and was attended by only four people. The leaders of the Alliance and the Horde…as well as two guards to ensure neither were harmed during any argument. Sylvanas and Anduin had agreed to no weapons except for those held by their guards. Guards who, because they both cared about potential peace, would not fight and were there simply to defend.
The final draft of the treaty, written by Sylvanas with an impeccable elven flourish, was a culmination of agreements regarding concerns both leaders had. Since the Warchief had written it based on their conversations, all that was left was for Anduin to do was carefully read over the official document before both parties and witnesses signed it.
Every once in a while, Anduin would leave the parchment to ask a question and make a point of something that might need to be added. Such as the clause regarding sovereign nation being responsible for punishing any rule-breakers, but not allowed to punish people outside of their own. They had agreed the goal was so people would face punishment for crimes, but not at the discretion of the opposing faction. There was too much room for abuse, but Anduin noted there was also the potential for abuse on the part of the sovereign nation …just because it was under their authority to punish someone for transgressions didn’t mean the leader would enforce it upon their own people.
Arator was overjoyed (and fiercely proud) when these questions would come up and his Aunt would propose an elegant solution. Such as discussing ‘universal punishments’ for certain crimes.
Someone convicted of thievery would face the same punishment regardless of faction. They agree to a punishment that both sides would employ for the same crime, and the agreement would be because both sides feel it is fair enough of punishment while something they are willing to enforce upon their own citizens. In other words, they would never agree to remove an eye because they would then have to take the eye's on their own people for that crime as well.
They were no longer thinking as enemies for the treaty would make them trade partners. Arator's idea, she was proud to admit. For as a paladin, it was he who realized how the Order of the Silver Hand saved gold on all of their purchases and benefited from having members of both Horde and Alliance.
An example he had given when making his argument was coffee beans. Oft times difficult to get but the paladins apparently loved to roast and drink them. It used to be more expensive to get because the only good source was an Alliance company that shipped them in from Stranglethron Vale. Then Pandaria was discovered, and members of both factions brought back word of a drink used by some of the people in Kun’lai and a company that produced this drink, called Keenbean Kafa Co.
A bean with similar properties to coffee, being imported by both factions. Whoever brought it in cheapest, the paladins would buy from. It also gave them options. Some of the paladins still preferred the beans from Stranglethorn, but competition drove the price down and they saved money while having new variety.
It was a joyous day indeed for the paladins, who were apparently all a bunch of coffee addicts.
Sylvanas had been stunned but not entirely surprised at how her nephew proposed resolving bonds. He had always been clever, and as long as ‘fairness’ reigned supreme then…it provided a path forward. Had it not, she never would have agreed. But that was Arator for you. He truly was the worst Windrunner to fight against, not just for the optimism, but because he thought every step through and considered every outcome then planned accordingly. It’s, from what she had heard, why the paladin order had elevated her nephew to a leadership position before his 25th birthday. ‘Young’ was almost as much a title for him as was ‘redeemer’. But he never failed to prove why he deserved it.
For as proud as she was of him, Sylvanas was always prouder of herself. Even if every once in awhile Sunshine found a way to win. This time, victory was hers. She waited for them to realize that and, magnificently, it finally did.
Anduin neared the bottom of the treaty, quill in his hand twirling and eager to place down his signature until he got to something. As though added in as an afterthought was something none of them had discussed or agreed to. Nothing to do with trade but still a valid negotiation request…
“Wait, what…” He wasn’t sure what to say, and it was the first time Anduin actually sounded nervous about a clause or proposal. All he could do was quote what she had written. “As the final step for solidifying bonds, The High King of the Alliance is to wed Warchief Sylvanas Windrunner’s nephew, Redeemer Arator Windrunner, and thus forth be known as High King Anduin Windrunner. You…you’re asking for a betrothal?”
As he spoke it out for those around to hear, three things happened. First, Sylvanas fucking smiled, thus causing the Firelands to freeze over and Arthas to roll over in his grave, then Genn looked full of horror as though the Banshee queen was suggesting murder. Then there was Arator who at first could not comprehend what he was hearing and mimicked Anduin’s own initial thought.
“Wait...what?” He moved away from Sylvanas, leaning over the table to read the document, which Anduin was kind enough to point out at the bottom.
Anduin was honestly relieved that the paladin seemed as shocked about this as himself. He had never mentioned it and it felt underhanded to put in the treaty something that was so advantageous to oneself. But from the shock, followed by blush creeping over his cheeks, as he read his name and the part where it said Anduin Windrunner, Anduin could tell he too had been oblivious to Sylvanas’ addition.
But even more interesting than that was the mere inclusion of it, and how Arator’s face was red enough to at least speak to a hint of understanding as to why she did this.
It reminded Anduin of the night before, when he had asked the half-elf what he wanted as a reward. He had blushed then, too. Had he spoken freely, what would the paladin have asked for? Surely not Knighthood.
Arator was mortified enough by the situation that he had to say it. Shocked and pleading golden eyes went to Anduin, wide and terrified that he might not believe him. “I had nothing to do wi-“ But someone else wanted to make their opinion known.
“HE WILL NOT DO THAT!” Oooh, Genn was pissed. Like enough that his face had turned an angry red a split second before he lost control and shifted to his furry form.
Sylvanas wasn’t showing it but she was happy. As someone who had experience reading her, Arator could almost feel the internal laughter seeping from her in waves. It was a little scary, to be frank. Anduin and Genn, however, couldn’t. No, they were shut out by her poker face and the blatancy in her response. “I think that’s the King's choice.”
Her audacity made his red face burn crimson, and she would have laughed had it not spoiled how serious she was about this.
Genn yelled loud enough for Ironforge to hear, “It is NOT AN OPTION! Anduin, you CAN’T do this! ALL OF AZEROTH would be under the control of…of WINDRUNNERS!”
One way or another, Sylvanas was going to get her nephew a hand in marriage. “Its either him or Jaina.”
If it wasn’t one blonde he liked, then she was willing to settle for another he liked.
“I TOLD YOU THAT IN SECRET!”
“Fine, fine. You marry Anduin and I’ll marry Jaina. Should we add that to the treaty?” She even reached for the quill, just to poke Arator’s buttons. This was…oh, she hadn’t had this much fun in years. Better yet, she was still in control of the situation because, from the look on the High Kings face, he was considering the proposal.
Before she could grab it, even before Arator could stop her, something else incredibly entertaining to the Banshee Queen began to happen.
Genn Greymane looked angry enough to attack her despite not being allowed to. The temptation to commit treason was great but he still struggled to maintain himself. It didn’t help that the banshee’s idiot paladin of a nephew had a hand resting on his sword’s hilt, ready to defend her should the wolf pounce. He was so angry, so frustrated, and so struggling with the situation that the only thing to stop him was a pain in his chest. Genn began gasping then leaned over, a clawed hand raising to his chest and he began panting, shortness of breath hitting him. Sylvanas’ eyes narrowed and she watched, eager to see this scene play out.
It must be my birthday.
“This can’t…I won’t….” The worgen dropped to his knees, his eyes wide and jaw slack before…he slowly began to fall to the side, collapsing on the ground.
A very soft, “Oh no…” Soft, but not enough to cover the hint of entertainment in her voice.
Both blonde men’s shock over the treaty quickly gave way to a different kind as Genn fell to the ground.
Anduin, when it finally became clear to both men what was happening, instinctively began to stand and reach towards Genn to heal him, but his path was quickly blocked by another. Arator was faster and had more experience on the battlefield, so on reflex he was at the gasping mans side. It took him seconds to have his hands splayed out and pressed to Genn's chest, Light encircling his hands and quick to respond to his call.
Sylvanas, for all of her help in this situation, stayed sitting with her legs crossed; thoroughly engrossed in the show. She had either already written Greymane off, or did not care if they could save him. It might be suspicious if Anduin returns with the King of Gilneas dead, but who better to declare Sylvanas innocence than A redeemer and a King?
Arator continued to heal, unaware of the eyes on him. Entirely oblivious to how interested his King was in his attempts to revive Genn Greymane.
Oh, Arator. The one man fighting you, arguing against something you clearly would want, and yet you save his life…
And watching Anduin was Warchief Sylvanas, quietly pondering when was the right time to tell Arator that his King was curious about what marriage to the paladin might look like. If Anduin Wrynn was as good and kind as everyone claimed him to be, then it would be a fulfilling relationship to say the least.
But maybe she should leave that revelation to them. Or at least give them a few months before she really did kidnap Anduin and make them confess. Either way, it appeared the King of Gilneas was going to make it to the wedding.
Arator’s quick healing had done the job and encouraged the clot to break up. Blood was now flowing and any structural damage to his artery repaired.
She waited until the old man was lucid enough to sit and respond so he could hear her remark, “If peace negotiations are so detrimental to your health, then perhaps you should begin sitting them out.”
Arator glared at her and Sylvanas gave a shrug. It was her nature, what did he expect?
“A bastard Windrunner will NEVER be on the throne! I won’t allow it!”
He was furious, still red in the face, and if Arator hadn’t just healed his chest he might’ve been likely to have another heart attack. For all the wolfs bluster, however, no one seemed entirely concerned. After all…
“That’s not your decision to make,” Anduin said, his voice calm and decisive. No, it was his choice…and the offer presented to him was a good one. If it worked, then it would sow the seeds of peace for generations to come. A way for Horde and Alliance to prosper together and reduce the barriers that existed. Genn was right, it would unite all of Azeroth under one name but with Anduin at the helm.
And the request for marriage well…it wasn’t uncommon for arranged marriages to come from political decisions. Joining houses ensured both sides had a vested interest in their future and working it out, which had been the theme of the entire treaty. Anduin had always been vocal in his determination to marry for love, but to marry for peace was… well, it wasn’t a bad choice, either. Anduin might be forfeiting his own happiness but, as a King, it was a small price to pay for his people’s own future. He wanted, no he needed, more time to think it through and yet he feared that walking away, even for a day, might end negotiations and this opportunity was already too valuable to pass up.
He should have suspected Sylvanas was already a few steps ahead of him, for before Anduin could agree to the marriage, she interrupted him.
“You are correct, High King Wrynn,” Ooh, a formal use of his title without the sarcasm. Someone was trying to play nice. “It is your decision; but also Arator’s. Since I have not discussed this portion of the treaty with any parties involved, I understand it might be too sudden and difficult to have a wedding anytime soon. So how about we agree to a betrothal? The treaty can move forward, we can begin declaring neutral towns and encouraging trade, then in a year we can have a wedding that will serve as the celebration for all our hard work.”
Anduin was oddly surprised at how reasonable that was, and oddly looking forward to a year of dating Arator; the paladin who was too relieved to have a year that he wasn’t thinking about how he would still have to marry. Even Genn was happy and acting certain that a year was a long enough time to sabotage any attempts at marriage and still maintain the integrity of the peace treaty.
With all three men relaxed, seemingly placated by her suggestion, the pieces were finally in place for her ultimate victory. Sylvanas was confident enough that she would have gambled on Genn being vehemently opposed to the wedding for the next year. He will be annoyingly vocal about it, too, thus pushing the clearly smitten and interested High King into sweet Arator’s arms. The marriage would then go off without a hitch but may be followed by Greymane’s funeral after Anduin was declared ‘Anduin Windrunner’. Sometimes it was no fun being this smart.
Both sides would have their peace, Arator would have his King, and Greymane would have a conniption.
Sylvanas 2 – Greymane 0.
Anduin, not exactly happy but at least content enough with that agreement that he picked up the quill and signed the treaty. He felt a little numb about the prospect of signing himself into a marriage but…there was also a considerable number of butterflies at the thought, as well.
For Sylvanas the only question now was…how to get them to name their first child after her?
The End