Chapter Text
They had, at last, a chance at a decent night’s sleep. Horace had been offered a separate guest bedroom that he initially accepted, but quickly found himself unable to doze off in. He was wholly unused to there being actual silence when he went to bed instead of soldiers moving about or drunk Defias trying to get out of paying their bar tabs. It was tempting to fall back into his usual routine of staying awake, but really what was there that could keep him occupied until dawn?
So it was that he found himself opening the door of the next room over, hugging a pillow with a blanket draped over his shoulders, and giving Saskia a gentle nudge as he wriggled into bed with her and Natalie. Before he was even aware of falling asleep, the morning songs of birds and the light filtering through the window were encouraging him to get up.
Saskia and Natalie were already wide awake and getting ready for the day. He noticed several full packs sitting by the door to their room. In the distance, the bell tolled nine. His groggy mind slowly cleared and processed the fact that the two women were going somewhere. He mumbled the obvious question of where to them.
“Silithus,” Natalie told him. “Wrathion told us that we could do a lot more good for Azeroth there.”
He supposed that he should get back to Westfall, as well. No doubt there were a million more problems waiting for him. But first: “Who’s Wrathion?”
“Huh-hoo; great question!” Saskia replied with a chuckle.
“He was a friend of ours when we were younger. Although, I guess he sort of still is.” Natalie shrugged.
Saskia also shrugged. “After the ‘trial’ of Garrosh Hellscream he went AWOL for a couple years and is now apparently researching ways to help Azeroth and rid the black dragonflight of the Old Gods’ corruption,” she added. “A suave-looking disaster of a dragon who thinks he’s more influential than he is.”
“...And you’re going to go work with him?” he wondered incredulously, lurching upright and trying to tame his epic bedhead.
“Well, him, Brann Bronzebeard, Archmage Khadgar--”
Horace turned towards the two with an imploring look. “Are you sure you wanna do that to yourself?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “I’m sure it’ll be okay. It has to be, right?”
Saskia laced their fingers together and gave her a reassuring smile. “It will be,” she said softly. Raising her voice, she added, “And if there’s in-fighting, we can always bring our infamous paladin-spy in to mediate!”
“Don’t even joke about that.”
Anduin put a temporary hold on his current war meeting to say goodbye to his friends. Horace, at the behest of Saskia, had kept the armor, in anticipation of a naga attack in Westfall, as well as to look more official. He did look more regal in it, Anduin thought. Paired with the blue cape he had been awarded for his actions in Stormheim, he appeared every bit a paladin of the Light… even if he hadn’t quite managed to comb his hair into submission. Although the way it fluffed up and stuck out at odd ends was quite cute.
He embraced Saskia and Natalie. “I’ll miss you both terribly, but I know you’re going to do good work in the name of Azeroth,” he said. “With people like you coming to her aid, her recovery will surely be swift.”
“I’ll keep you updated--as your friend and sister, instead of your agent,” Saskia told him.
She no longer wanted to be one of his personal spies? He was surprised for a moment, but knew that she was focused on Natalie and Azeroth, not endless government paperwork and the faction war. He nodded. “I understand completely. Just let me know when the wedding is,” he replied lightly.
“Oh, you’ll be the first to know.” She grinned. “We want you to officiate.”
His brows shot up nearly to his hairline. “I-I, Light, I’d be honored!”
Horace joined their final group hug. “Be careful out there; never know what jobs Khadgar is going to try and pawn off on you. And, you know, the Old Gods and Azshara and whatnot.”
Their mirthful laughter echoed through the throne room as they disappeared into the portal to Silithus.
A smile still on his face, Horace said, “You should come to Westfall soon. Meet my family properly, see the fall harvest.”
He took his hands into his own. “I’d like that very much.”
Moving a hand up to Anduin’s cheek, he rocked up onto the balls of his feet and leaned in. Anduin’s heart began to race. Guards were watching. Genn Greymane and the entirety of his war council were watching. And yet he inclined his head and met his partner’s lips gladly, and it felt wonderful.
“Until we meet again,” he breathed.
“It won’t be long,” Horace assured him.
They let go of one another as he stepped into the waiting portal, a smile still on his lips and his eyes shining. Anduin lingered for a moment after he was gone before turning and heading back into the map room, his heart full.
Genn’s usual hard stare had become stony. “Are we ready to continue?” he asked curtly.
Refusing to give any ground, he said, “As a matter of fact, we are.” Then, “So, what’s next?”
“Well, the world is dying, we’re at war with the Horde, a bevy of Ashvane’s people await trial, you have some very angry letters from the citizenry, and I hear we have an Old God problem again. I’m sure whatever you pick will be exciting.”
*
Legs gave him a two-fingered salute off his brow upon arrival in Moonbrook. “Some fancy duds you’ve got there,” he remarked.
“Courtesy of some guy in the Stormwind Barracks who is probably scratching his head right about now,” Horace replied. “Have you seen Vanessa?”
“Look behind you.”
He did, and what do you know! “Good news: we’re probably under attack from N’zoth and Azshara!”
She pursed her lips, nodding slowly. “Uh huh.”
They walked and talked, ambling around Moonbrook in a circle. Stormcaller Mylra and her Westfall Revitalization Project people were welcomed warily, but at least they were welcomed. Work was beginning on a new town hall. Just to the left of that was the skeleton of what was to become a schoolhouse. Horace noticed the faded red paint on the pile of reclaimed boards delegated to the building with a smile.
A scream tore through the air as they passed by the hospital. Heart rates spiking, they entered, fearing the worst. “Is everything alright?” Vanessa called.
Doc Milo and a gathered crowd of volunteer nurses blocked their view of someone in one of the beds. When they parted to regard Horace and Vanessa, there were broad grins on all of their faces. Then a series of thin, reedy cries filled the air. An exhausted woman lay on the bed, holding a baby flush against her.
They both stopped in their tracks, unsure of what to do. Horace averted his eyes so as to not see anything the woman didn’t want him to see, but he couldn’t stop himself from mirroring their joy. The first baby to be born in their hospital, safe and healthy. A proud warmth bloomed in his chest.
“Oh, I-I-I, um, we apologize for the intrusion,” Vanessa stammered.
“That’s alright,” the woman assured her gently.
“Have you thought of a name?” one of the nurses asked.
Kissing the soft little whisps of dark hair on her baby’s head, she said, “Hope.”
Tears pricked at his eyes. He put a hand on Vanessa’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. They looked one another in the eyes, Horace grinning so hard his face hurt and Vanessa stunned into silence.
“That’s a wonderful name,” he told them. “Congratulations.”
*
Silithus was hot and sandy and filled with the biggest, most disgusting bugs imaginable, but Natalie would rather be nowhere else. Khadgar was delighted to accept their help. He immediately launched into a briefing about the situation in Silithus, from the moment Sargeras’s sword had struck Azeroth to their current goals for healing her.
The blade loomed unfathomably large and terrible above them. Natalie steeled herself and gazed up at it. Whatever it takes .
They were relegated to a large tent housing twelve other people. Explorer’s League, Reliquary, freelance adventurers, known champions, and members of the various smaller factions… almost a hundred of them had turned out to lend a hand to the world they called some. It was heartening to see. Natalie instantly fell in with the Explorer’s League. The Rashids were prominent archivists; many were pleased to hear that their daughter was following in their footsteps.
“And this is my fiance, Saskia Rastout,” she announced, grabbing her hand and pulling her into a sidelong hug.
“Young love; how exciting!” a gnomish man exclaimed.
She giggled, and felt Saskia squeeze her hand. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, she knew in her heart that this is where they were meant to be. Together.
*
In the dead of night, Saskia gripped her hearthstone and focused. When she opened her eyes, she stood underneath the entrance to the Darkmoon Faire. The massive, enchanted eyeball stared down at her; nodding, she made her way down the wide path. The summons had been brief and urgent. She had slipped out of the tent the second she knew that everyone was asleep.
She could see Silas Darkmoon stationed alongside Bertha on the stage. Her report on the events in Stormwind had clearly not been the only one, or this meeting wouldn’t have compelled every single Faire member to attend. She hung back next to Sayge and gave her ears a gentle scritch. The old gnoll rumbled appreciatively.
“My friends,” Silas began.
Everyone fell silent.
“The worst has come to pass. N’zoth has made his first move. Attacks by naga and creatures of the Void have been reported from multiple key locations across Azeroth. With the weakened state of world soul, he is finally close to being unleashed. We will not stand for that. ”
The Bone Witches hummed in agreement.
“We will send Azshara back to the depths from whence she came! We will purge this realm of every trace of Old God filth! And we will tear Ny'alotha asunder!”
A cheer went up amongst the gathered.
Through the din, Silas Darkmoon threw his hands skyward and roared, “The time to rally our forces and defend our world is now ! Victory. Will. Be. OURS.”