Christie Golden - War Crimes

They must be beautiful boys.

She had not thought of them, not really, in a long time. First she had to deal with the Sunreavers and Lor’themar, then the Siege of Orgrimmar, then the trial. She had barely spent any time with them in recent years, not even right after—

They were beautiful, with Rhonin’s red hair and her eyes: Giramar, eldest only by a few moments, and Galadin. Vereesa suddenly realized how much she had missed their laughter. How wild they both used to be, but kindhearted, her boys, and their father would be so proud of how bravely . . .

She tried to picture them in the Undercity, and . . . couldn’t. Where would they run and play and laugh? Turn their faces up to the sky for its kisses? How could they learn anything about life in a city of the dead?

“Vereesa?”

Lost in the images of her vibrant children in the gray, dark Undercity, Vereesa started violently.

“Anduin,” she said, laughing a little. “I am sorry—I was lost in thought.”

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you all right?”

She came back to the present, face to face with another beautiful boy, though this one much older than the twins. But he had the same kindness and good heart, this fair-haired prince. “I am fine, just fine,” she said. “What are you doing down here?”

He looked a little sheepish. “Going to see Garrosh. He asked for me, a while ago, and we’ve been talking after court each day. After Alexstrasza’s testimony, I didn’t want to see him again, but . . . well, this might be the last opportunity I ever have. I feel I should go, even if he just yells at me again.”

Vereesa stared at him, and thought of her laughing boys. Before she could change her mind, she suddenly lunged for Anduin and grabbed his arm. He peered at her, confused.

“Vereesa?”

“I believe the Light is at work here,” she said, the words tumbling out quickly, quickly, before fear and hatred closed her lips. “I surrender my choice to you. Garrosh’s food is poisoned. Do with the knowledge what you will.”

Without waiting for an answer, she raced down the corridor. She would find Yu Fei, and go to Dalaran, and hug her boys—her warm, lovely, living children—tightly, and never, ever think of forsaking them again.

Anduin stared after the high elf ranger, his mouth open with astonishment.

Poison? Vereesa had been about to poison Garrosh? He could scarcely believe it. Then he thought of how bitter and harsh she had been since Theramore, and how she and Jaina had fed off of one another, and painfully realized that, yes—he could believe it.

He was jolted into action with a sudden thought—what if the food had come already? He sprinted down the hall, sliding to a stop in front of the door to the ramp.

“Dinner,” he panted. “Has it come yet?”

“No, Prince Anduin,” Lo said. “Perhaps you should go eat yours and return when you are calmer.”

He felt weak from relief and laughed shakily. “Sorry. Can I see him?”

The brothers eyed one another. “He is . . . in a very disagreeable mood,” Lo said.

“Very,” Li agreed.

Anduin’s giddy relief that he had been in time was replaced by solemnity. “He is facing death,” he said, “and not the sort of death he ever envisioned for himself. He has acted brave, but now, all he can do is wait. I can understand being . . . disagreeable. I would like a few moments alone with him, perhaps?”

“As you wish, Your Highness,” Li said with obvious reluctance, and opened the door.

Garrosh was not seated on the furs, as he usually was. He was pacing the short length of his cell, his feet only able to move a few inches at a time. He looked up angrily as the door opened, and his face grew even darker as he saw who it was. Anduin braced himself for a verbal barrage, but the orc said nothing, merely continued his constrained pacing.

Anduin took his chair and waited. Clink-clink-shuffle-drag, clink-clink-shuffle-drag . . .

After several minutes, Garrosh halted. “Why are you here, human child?”

It was not what Anduin had expected. Garrosh sounded not bitter, not raging, but—resigned. “I came in case you nee—wanted to talk to me.”

“Well, I do not. Run along, now.” Contempt began to replace the resignation in the orc’s voice. “Go back and play your little games with the Light and wave your little mace Fearbreaker. At least Baine was enough of a tauren to return your toy.”

“You’re trying to anger me,” Anduin said.

“Is it working?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, go.”

“No,” Anduin said, surprising himself. “You asked for me once. Some part of you wanted a priest, but you couldn’t face talking to someone from the Horde. Because then that desire, that need , would be too real. Better to ask for me, your so-called enemy. Better to play word games and trade insults than to really face the fact that guess what, you might just be executed . But what you don’t understand, Garrosh, is that I believe in what it means to be a priest. I’m going to stay with you, whether you want me here or not. Because there might come a minute, just one minute, when you might be glad of my presence.”

“I will rot in the darkest reaches of the Twisting Nether before I will ever be glad of your puling presence!” Garrosh changed, right in front of him, and Anduin realized how much the calm façade must have cost the orc. It was gone, now, dropped like a cape Garrosh no longer felt suited him. His eyes did not glow red, but the rage inside them was visible nonetheless. He was seething, his manacled fists clenching and unclenching.

“You sit there each day, all smug and sanctimonious,” Garrosh continued, the words dripping disgust. “You and your precious Light. So certain that by enduring my words and watching my fate play out in front of you that you’ll be able to make me change my ways. Everyone wants something from me out there, boy , and you do too.”

“I’m only here to try to help you—”

“Help me what?” His voice rose. “Help me die? Help me live like a pet wolf, whimpering for pats and the occasional scrap of meat? Is it not enough for you that I cannot even stride like a warrior, but must be chained like a beast? Is that what you want your Light to do to me?”

Anduin felt as if he were being physically bombarded by the words. “No, it’s not that at all. The Light doesn’t work that way—”

“Because of course an adolescent human boy knows all about the Light,” the orc sneered, and he started to laugh.

“I know enough,” Anduin said, his own temper rising. He fought for patience. “I know that—”

“You know nothing. Boy . You are still wet behind your ears, so recently did you leave your mother’s womb!”

Anduin jerked as if stung. “My mother has nothing to do with this, Garrosh. This is about you, and the fact that you’ve likely got just a few hours to go before you know—”

“This is about what I say it’s about! And I say it’s about your arrogance, your cursed Alliance arrogance , that you know what’s best, and you know what’s right, for everyone, including me!”

Anduin was breathing quickly now, and his own fists clenched. The door opened, and Yu Fei and the Chu brothers entered, looking as serene as if they had heard nothing of the orc’s ranting. Garrosh snarled at them.

“Stand back, Garrosh. You know we have no wish to harm you,” Lo said. Little Yu Fei stood by, and Anduin suddenly knew that she was the threat in this situation, not the Chu brothers. Garrosh stared at them and bellowed impotently, then retreated while the mage deactivated the spell and his tray of green curry fish was placed inside. Yu Fei reactivated the spell, and with no other word, the three pandaren left. The door closed and locked behind them.