//------------------------------// // 13.The Prince and the King // Story: Sunset in Azeroth // by RIPoste //------------------------------// Summer was in full blaze, and the merciless sun beat down on His Royal Highness Prince Arthas Menethil as he rode through the streets of Stormwind. He was in a foul mood, despite the fact that this was a day that he was supposed to have been looking forward to all his life. The sun glinted off the full plate armor he wore, and Arthas thought he’d bake to death before he reached the cathedral. Sitting atop his new charger only served to remind him that the horse, while powerful, well- trained, and wellbred, was not Invincible, his personal mount who had sadly passed away in a riding accident a few months ago last winter. And he found that his mind had suddenly gone blank regarding what he was supposed to do once the ceremony began. Beside him rode his father, who seemed completely unaware of his son’s irritation. “This has been a day long in coming, my son,” Terenas, king of Lordaeron, said, turning to smile at Arthas. Despite the heat and the weight of the helm he wore, Arthas was glad of it; it concealed his face, and he wasn’t sure he could fake a convincing smile right now. “Indeed it has, Father,” he replied, keeping his voice calm. It was one of the biggest celebrations Stormwind had ever seen. In addition to Terenas, many other kings, nobility, and famous personages were in attendance, riding like a parade through the city’s white cobbled streets to the massive Cathedral of Light, damaged during the First War but now restored and even more glorious than before. Arthas’s boyhood friend Varian, king of Stormwind, was now married and a new father. He had opened the palace to all the visiting royalty and their retinues. Sitting with Varian last night, drinking mead and talking, had been the highlight of the trip for Arthas so far. The hurting, traumatized youth of a decade ago had grown into a black-haired, confident, handsome and centered king. Somewhere along about early morning, after midnight and before dawn the previous day, they had gone to the armory, fetched wooden training swords, and gone at each other for a long time, laughing and recounting memories, their prowess only a little the worse for the alcohol they’d consumed. Varian, trained since early childhood, had always been good and now he was better. But so was Arthas, and he gave as good as he got. But now it was all formality, incredibly hot armor, and a nagging sense that he didn’t deserve the honor that was about to be bestowed upon him. In a rare moment, Arthas had spoken of his feelings to Uther the Lightbringer, his mentor. The intimidating paladin, who, since Arthas was old enough to remember, had been the very image of rock- solid steadfastness to the Light, had startled the prince with his reply. “Lad, no one feels ready. No one feels he deserves it. And you know why? Because no one does. It’s grace, pure and simple. We are inherently unworthy, simply because we’re human, and all human beings—aye, and elves, and dwarves, and all the other races—are flawed. But the Light loves us anyway. It loves us for what we sometimes can rise to in rare moments. It loves us for what we can do to help others. And it loves us because we can help it share its message by striving daily to be worthy,  even though we understand that we can’t ever truly become so.” He’d clapped a hand on Arthas’s shoulder, giving him a rare, simple smile. “So stand there today, as I did, feeling that you can’t possibly deserve it or ever be worthy, and know that you’re in the same place every single paladin has ever stood.” It comforted Arthas a little. He squared his shoulders, tilted the visor back, and smiled and waved to the crowd that was cheering so happily on this hot summer day. Rose petals were showered upon him, and from somewhere trumpets blared. They had reached the cathedral. Arthas dismounted and a groom led away his charger. Another servant stepped up to take the helm he tugged off. His blond hair was damp with sweat, and he quickly ran a gauntleted hand over it. Arthas had never been to Stormwind before, and he was impressed by the combination of serenity and power the cathedral radiated. Slowly, he moved up the carpeted carved stairs, grateful for the sudden coolness of the building’s stone interior. The fragrance of the incense was calming and familiar; it was the same as that which his family burned in their small chapel. There was no giddy throng here now, just silent, respectful rows of prominent personages and clergy. Arthas recognized several faces: King Genn Greymane of Gilneas, who still looked like a bear in armor, Thoras Trollbane, King of Stromgarde, Admiral Daelin Proudmoore— Arthas blinked, then his lips curved into a smile. Jaina! She had certainly grown up in the years since he had last seen her. Not quite a drop- dead beauty, but pretty, the liveliness and intelligence he’d responded to as a boy still radiating from her like a beacon. She caught Arthas’s look and smiled a little in return, inclining her head in respect. Out to her side, however, Arthas espied a girl that seemed not that much older than Jaina. She had a head full of red hair and was also a beauty in her own way, but what caught the young prince’s attention was her eyes. By the Light, Arthas had never seen eyes that gleamed with so much ambition in his life, and there were no shortage of those in Capital City. Not to mention, who was she? Why was she standing next to Jaina? A close relative or somebody with ties to the crown of Kul’Tiras perhaps? It was not unheard of for favored members of the family to accompany the royal bloodline to these sort of occasions. There would be time enough to wonder about this enigmatic girl . First, Arthas had a ceremony to attend to. Arthas returned his attention to the altar he approached, but felt a little bit of the trepidation leave his heart. He hoped there would be a chance for him to talk to Jaina after all the formalities were taken care of. And perhaps he would find out who this mystery girl was. Archbishop Alonsus Faol awaited him at the altar. The archbishop reminded Arthas more of Greatfather Winter than of any of the rulers he had hitherto met. Short and stout, with a long flowing snow- white beard and bright eyes, even in the midst of solemn ceremony Faol radiated warmth and kindliness. Faol waited until Arthas approached him and knelt before him respectfully before opening a large book and speaking. “In the Light, we gather to empower our brother…” Sunset looked on at the ceremony with barely concealed interest. She watched as the young prince of Lordaeron knelt before Archbishop Alonsus Faol, an aging man with a white beard that could give Starswirl a run for his title. She watched as the priests of the church gave Prince Arthas their blessings and draped him with a blue stole and rubbed some sort of liquid onto his brow. “Holy oil,” Jaina whispered when Sunset inquired her as to what the substance was. “Blessed by the priests.” Ah. Sunset frowned as she pondered what was the point of it before shaking her head. There would be enough time to research this later. “By the grace of the Light.” Archbishop Alonsus Faol, “may your brethren be healed.” Sunset’s eye narrowed as the Archbishop turned to the group of men on the prince’s right. The four of them were extremely well-known, powerful members of the Knights of the Silver Hand. In fact, the four of them were all that remained of the five founders of the order. There was Uther the Lightbringer, a large man with only a sliver of grey in his brown beard to indicate his age, but otherwise looked as hale and healthy as the next Knight. Tirion Fordring, also aging, but still apparently still strong enough to be the governor of Hearthglen and continue to be a paladin of the Silver Hand. There was also ,Saidan Dathrohan, easily the tallest of the four, clad in red and white colors of his house, and Sir Gavinrad the Dire, a stern looking man who was one of the few knights to survive the sacking of Stormwind in the First War. All four were armored and, with the exception of Saidan, had blue and gold stoles draped around their armor, which glinted silver in the light of the sun shining through the great glass panels of Stormwind Cathedral. Sir Gavinrad was the first to step forth, placing an enormous hammer in front of Arthas. Even from her place so far from the spectacle, Sunset could feel the power pulsing from the runes etched into the mighty weapon. She watched as Gavinrad step back, only for Uther the Lightbringer to take his place, holding a couple of shoulder plates. “By the strength of the Light, may your enemies be undone.” He intoned in a powerful voice that echoed within Sunset’s ears as he affixed the plates onto the prince’s shoulders before stepping away. Sunset’s eyes followed him for a bit, his was a different power from the magi, but she could feel the strength within him very clearly now. She would not want him as a foe. “Arise and be recognized.” Alonsus Faol said, and Sunset returned her gaze back to the proceedings. Silently she watched as Arthas rose and gave his vows to the Archbishop. “Brothers and sisters,” the archbishop said once the prince’s vows were given. “You who were gathered here to bear witness, raise your hands and let the Light illuminate this man.” Sunset’s excitement peaked as the assembled members of the church, the priests and paladins, raised their hands and pointed at Prince Arthas. She involuntarily took a step forward, her curiosity piqued when their hands glowed with a warm golden light which flowed towards the Prince. She had only seen the Light at work twice. Once when Brother Mandin had wielded it to save her from an orc warlock, and another when she had to bring poisoned peasants to a church to be healed. Even then, those works were nothing compared to this. The Light was wrapping the prince in a warm golden glow, illuminating him and empowering him. She watched as the prince bent down and grabbed the hammer. “Arise, Arthas Menethil, paladin defender of Lordaeron.” Archbishop Alonsus Faol intoned, his voice echoing about the cathedral, “welcome to the Order of the Silver Hand.” Sunset stared in amazement as Prince Arthas lifted the hammer, as though the weapon weighed no less than a feather in his hand. A triumphant cry erupted from the golden haired prince’s mouth, which was immediately filled with the sound of applause and cheers. Sunset hung back as Jaina and her father moved forward along with the other royals as Arthas was embraced by the other members of the Church, welcoming him into the Order. The young prince was immediately lost in the crowd of royalty and nobility that mobbed him in an attempt to congratulate him. Sunset however, stayed back. She had no ties to the prince, and was only here at the behest of Jaina Proudmoore. One day, she would be one of those that were deemed influential enough to offer their congratulations to Royalty, but not yet. So she stayed behind and watched the spectacle with amusement. Some things never change, even when you are across worlds. Sunset chuckled. Even in Equestria, nobles that were thought to be dignified and aloof would lose their composure in events such as this. Even Celestia would become an undignified mess when cake was invo- Sunset suddenly felt a prickling upon her neck and looked up. Someone was looking at her… She looked around, trying to find her sense of unease, before she found it. Prince Arthas. He wasn’t blatantly obvious about it, but Sunset could tell that the Prince’s eyes were focused upon her from time to time. At times, he would give her a passing glance, at others, he would focus on her even when talking to others. Sunset blinked. Why would the Prince be so interested in her? Then their eyes met. Curious. Those were the first words that filled Sunset’s minds. His eyes were an interesting blend of blue and green. However, Sunset had no time to let her mind wander as she remembered her manners. She dipped her head in a bow of respect at the prince, but when she looked up, he was already no longer looking at her, his attention drawn by Jaina Proudmoore. Grateful to Jaina for drawing the prince’s attention, Sunset turned and began making her way out of the cathedral. She would wait for her companions outside.  After all, she was not here for this ‘Light’, which was clearly a form of benign magic similar to the Elements of Harmony in Equestrian myths. Jaina had promised her that she would bring her to the Stormwind Castle’s library later in the day, and that was Sunset’s primary goal here. Definitely not this ‘Light’ or any fair-headed princes for that matter. Hopefully this trip would not be a bust. “This trip is such a bust.” Sunset groaned as she all but threw the thick leatherbound book in her hand down on the table in frustration. Opposite her, Jaina chuckled apologetically  as she flipped a page in the tome about the geography of Stormwind. “Sorry, I honestly thought that there would be more on portals here.” “Well, I for one would be surprised if my castle’s library have any books on magic that Dalaran does not have.” The pair of girls turned to the end of the table, which sat the King of Stormwind reading a scroll. King Varian Wrynn was young for his position, which he had inherited when his father had died in the first war, killed by an orc assassin. A man with an athletic build, the raven haired king of Stormwind was quite the looker by human standards. However, unlike a noble back at Sunset’s home, King Varian had proved himself to be quite the intellectual as well. Not on the level as scholars, of course, but enough that he was not ignorant of the crafts of his citizens. Still, he was very unusual, in the way that he seemed so casual even around a non-noble like Sunset. Not that Sunset minds, it just made it much easier for her to concentrate on her work. “Yeah. I would be inclined to agree with his highness here, Jaina.” Sunset sighed as she looked about the room. The Royal Library of Stormwind Keep was surprisingly much larger than what Sunset had expected, with an extensive collection of books ranging from history to myths to religion. “Still, forgive me if I step out of line, your highness,” Jaina turned to face Varian, “but aren’t you supposed to be meeting the other nobles in the dining hall?” Sunset watched as Varian’s face paled slightly, but only for a brief moment before he composed himself. “Well, it’s not really that important.” He coughed, “besides, I am just looking over you at Admiral Proudmoore’s request. I’m sure that takes precedence over meeting some stuffy nobles and masons with their complaints.” It took all Sunset had to suppress the snort lest she appeared disrespectful. It seemed that wherever she goes, nobility would always be that corrupt, annoying bane in your side that one would do anything to avoid. “I would disagree, dear.” A voice rang out clearly from the entrance of the library. “Tiffin!” Varian smiled, before paling significantly in realisation. “Oh.” Sunset studied Queen Tiffin Ellerian Wrynn as she made her way into the library. Possessing long blond hair that runs past her shoulder, the queen cuts a slender figure, more so than Jaina, clearly showing that she was a woman born in comfort. Still, she had strong features and her eyes shine with determination, if nothing else. “Seriously,” Queen Tiffin sighed as she made her way over to her husband, “while I would commend you for taking care of these two girls, may I remind you that we still have our duty to ensure that the Stonemason’s guild and the House of Nobles would work out a favorable outcome to their dispute?” “But both of them are so…” King Varian waved his hands in the air in frustration, “stubborn! It’s like they don’t even know the word ‘compromise’!” “Indeed, and that’s exactly why we need to help them see reason.” She turned to the two girls in the room. “I believe that the both of you fine ladies would be capable of avoiding trouble while you’re here?” “We’ll be okay, your majesty.” “I can look after myself just fine, your highness.” “Thank you.” Queen Tiffin nodded as she turned back to King Varian. “Now, please, dear.” She turned and the king, defeated, stood up and sullenly followed his wife. It was only after they had left the room when Sunset’s ears picked up a giggle from Jaina. “Aren’t they a cute couple?” Jaina smiled. “Urgh, gag me.” Sunset rolled her eyes as she returned her attention to another book on spell matrixes. She did not have high hopes on this one for teaching her anything new, but it beats doing nothing. “Still, don’t you kind of want it, Sunset?” “Huh? What do you mean?” “Having a person to love,” Jaina said wistfully. “A companion that you can trust?” “Huh,” Sunset stopped for a second to think before she returned back to the paragraph where she had left off, ”nope.” “Oh, you’re not interested in that sort of thing, are you?” Jaina said sadly. By Celestia there she goes again... “Come on, Jaina.” Sunset sighed as she set her book aside, before meeting Jaina’s blue eyes with her own. “I have my priorities to meet. And it just so happens that falling in love is very low down on the list. While I would not discount the possibility that it might happen, knowing me, I am not going to have plans on being lovestruck in my list of priorities.” She opened her book. “It’s just not feasible.” She barely got past two sentences when another giggle broke her concentration. “What?” “Nothing,” Jaina smiled. “Just imagining you being in love. I just can’t see it.” That… Sunset chuckled as the image came into her mind. That is actually pretty funny. The pair laughed at the thought, their task forgotten, unaware of the events the years to come was going to bring.