Naiara Bittertongue

The usual haze of smoke that hangs in the Pig and Whistle has dissipated. Even the chain smokers are careful to light up outside. Bricu and Threnn Bittertongue are at the front of the table, pouring over a map and sipping mugs of tea. Sitting in between them, in a high-chair built to look like King Llane’s Throne in Old Lordaeron, is chubby, happy baby. She smiles and gurgles, occasionally blurting out a few words that may not be appropriate for mixed company. As you get closer, she stops babbling and starts watching you. She has her father’s eyes–today she has her mother’s face–and if she wasn’t a toddler, she’d look like a card player. She’s all together serious while still discerning another’s cards. Toddlers’ cannot be that clever…

Naiara Bittertongue is the youngest, unofficial, Wildfire Rider and does not have a character model. She certainly has a presence in WFR RP. People interact with her through emotes and whispers. Characters watch their language when she’s around–using the phrase Earmuffs instead of their favorite profanities–and they even spoil her with presents. She’s an example of an NPC without a character model that has a direct effect on game play.

Even before Naiara had a name, before Threnn and I discussed how to handle her as an entity, she had stories. Vague stories to be fair, but they’ve all turned into something relating to the game: Diaper changing, post-partum depression, the drive to become better parents. Each one of these ideas stem from discussions on how Naiara interacts with the game world. Sometimes these interactions are for everyone in the circle. For instance, her kidnapping was a huge plot of 2010. Sometimes we resort to forum fic to show another interaction (like tomorrow’s Friday Fic).

Her future is vaguely defined right now, but right now she can do–or become–anything that the WoW universe would allow.

Its child-rearing in abstract, without the downsides of dirty diapers, sleepless nights and the constant worry that new parents have. She is also a way to expand the game in a way that supports RP without breaking lore or game mechanics.

Does your circle have a character like Naiara? Has your circle addressed children and child birth in game before? Fill us in!

The Bittertongue Family Crest

This is the oldest part of Harvest Ball. I’ve been working on it for damn near a year, and this is the first full draft I finished. There’s still more to go… But since its sunday, and no one reads blogs on sunday, I figured I could post it here. Robert, William and the Ruddy Ox will probably make more appearances in Rider Fic in the near future. Till then, feel free to leave comments and critiques in the comments.

The “Bar” was at the far end of the barn. Four stalls had been cleaned and converted into a space for serving spirits, beers and wines. The eternity of the space was festooned with dried apples, stalks of wheat and gourds of all shapes, sizes and colors. The only hint of the bar’s previous existence was the hay and sawdust on the floor. The bar itself, and the shelves that held the liquor, were made out of the de-constructed walls that used to keep the animals separate from each other.

Instead of keeping the animals in separate stalls, the bar separated the barkeep from the rest of the Longwell’s guests. The space in front of her was packed with patrons. The barkeep, an attractive woman, her blonde hair braided down her back, dressed in an red and white checkered dress, focused primarily on two men who occupied three stools at the middle of the bar. Men and women from all over Stormwind were trying to vie for her attention, and yet not a single patron tried to squeeze into that one empty space between the men. That is, until Threnn cleared the crowd. She strode to the empty stool and draped on arm around each of the men.

“William and Robert Bell” Threnn said, “Leave poor Marketa alone. She’s not paid nearly enough to deal with this crowd, let alone the two of you at once.”

“Thank you Threnn,” Marketa said. “Although, to be fair to Robert, it was William who was giving me the hardest time.”

Both Bells’ turned to face Threnn, and both Bells broke into terribly mischievous grins. At first glance, they were identical. Bricu looked for clues as to which Bell was which. He said a small prayer of thanks that one of them wore glasses. The Bells even wore identical green and black flannel shirts and matching denim pants. Both of the Bells’ wore their dark hair short, and held it in place with a thick oil. The one on Threnn’s right had his sleeves rolled up to show-off a bevy of tattoos. The one on her left wore horn-rim glasses, but Bricu wasn’t sure if they helped him see or if they were as cosmetic as his brother’s tattoos.

“Threnny!” The one on her right said as he embraced her, “Be a dear and tell Marketa she would be doing us all a great favor if she would just take William back.”

“At least have her give me another glass of apple wine. She’s saying I’m cut off for some imagined slight.” Said the one on her left. When Robert let go of her, William wrapped his arms around her. “It’s good to see you!” he said.

Bricu stood just behind Threnn, waiting for an introduction. Robert gave him the once over. Bricu smiled as best he could, even as Robert sized him up. After a few moments, Robert extended his hand.

“Robert Bell.”

It was a firm handshake, but one that brimmed with formality.

“Bricu Bittertongue. Nice t’meet yeh mate.”

Robert narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw as he smiled, “The pleasure is all mine.” He picked up his cider and nearly drained the glass.

William let go of Threnn and extended a hand towards Bricu. He didn’t bother to smile as he sized Bricu up.

“William.” He said.

“Bricu. Pleasure ta meet yeh.” Bricu said. William, however, had already returned his full attention to Threnn.

“Where’s Anna?” He asked her.

“She’s praying in the Grove tonight. She’s practicing her Darnassian.”

“Praying.” Robert said smiling, “What’s his name?”

“Honestly, I didn’t ask this time.” Threnn said.

“What happened to that other bloke, Miller?” William asked.

“Nothing happened with him, at least, nothing that she told me about. ” Threnn said.

“We’ve been over this Will. She didn’t tell me anything either.” Robert said.

“What, I can’t ask a friend about another friend? Can’t I be curious as to her…”

“Boyfriend?” Threnn said.

“Interests?” said Bricu.

“People that aren’t William Bell?” Robert said.

William’s glare followed each speaker. “Does it take all three of you to come up with one decent joke?”

“Oh give it a rest William. Its all in good fun, right?” Robert said.

“Good fun is it? Well, in the spirit of ‘good fun’, Robert, did you talk to Threnny about the ‘good fun’ you had with Marisol Nimetz?”

“No, he didn’t.” Threnn said. “Marisol?”

Robert, now a shade of red approaching Bricu’s hair, abruptly changed the subject. “Threnny, dad wants you and Bricu to visit him next week, during lunch.”

“Brilliant.” Bricu said, “Did he mention a place he wanted t’go ta?”

“No.” Robert said, still looking at Threnn.

“Mr. Bell…” Threnn started

“Threnny, call him JOHN already.” Robert said.

“Mr. JOHN Bell packs his own lunch. He’s been doing it for over twenty years. He doesn’t really leave the shop until he he closes it for the night.”

Bricu nodded, “Still, I’d want ta bring him somethin’. Either o’yeh an idea on what I should bring ta yer da?”

“Something sweet.” Robert said.

“Pastries. He’d enjoy a few pastries.” William said.

“I can do that.” Bricu said. He watched as the Bells exchanged a few quick looks.

“I don’t know if he can bake,” Threnn said, “but my Bricu says he can cook. So far he’s only made one dinner for me.”

“That simply will not do,” William said.

“Exactly! You can’t offer up a talent like cooking and not follow through! Our Threnny deserves better.”

Robert was grinning like a cat who caught a canary. [i]At least,[/i] Bricu thought, [i]they’re getting this out of the way soon.[/i]“We’ve not had all that much time fer a dinner at home.” Bricu said, “We typically end up hittin’ the Pig after a job. We’re ta tired ta do much else after we get….”

“That’s weak.” Robert said.

“I know that being ‘An Adventurer’ is demanding, strenuous work. Hells, I’d go so far as to say that its punishing. But to punish our Threnny with dangerous work AND terrible food?” Said Robert.

Threnn sipped at her cider while the Bells and Bricu bantered. She hid her smile behind the mug.

“Och, the two o’yeh have lived in Stormwind longer than me, an yeh know full well that Kendor plans the meals at the pig. He’s a fine chef.”

“Kendor is a one trick pony in Stormwind!” William said.

“No variety!” Robert said.

“He’s the only bloody Southron chef I’d bother with!” Bricu said. He wanted wince at his own gaff, but he wasn’t about to do it in front of William or Robert.

“Better than boiling the flavor out of the meat and vegetables.” William said.

“Better than frying it all in butter.” Robert said.

“Hell, at least Southron cooks use more than mutton as a meat.”

Robert started to say something, but Bricu cut him off.

“Well that’s true. Northern cookin’ is shite. Uttter, despicable shite.” Bricu said. He watched the Bells exchange another series of looks–looks of confirmation, not shock. This was good enough for him. He smiled and held his glass of cider out for a toast. “I’m sure we can agree on that. Cheers!”

Threnn, Robert and William returned the gesture. The clanking of their glasses was barely audible over the sound of the bar. William and Robert took a small, cursory sips where Threnn and Bricu drank deeply. Threnn’s mug had some cider left. Bricu drained his first mug.

William wasted no time returning to the topic at hand. “So you’re too tired to cook?”

“I don’t have a kitchen in me apartment in the Rose, mate.” Bricu said.

“And you end up at the Pig because of Kendor and his cooking?” Robert asked.

“That an’ it’s where all the Riders go.” Bricu shrugged his shoulders. Thick bastard, he thought yer bein’ set up. It was a trick that Bricu was far too familiar with. Someone–usually Tarq–would take one role why Bricu would take the other. The Bells had perfected this set up, nearly completing each others sentences. For a moment, he began to regret finishing his cider.

“What are you, fourteen and going to a church mixer? ” Robert said.

“Only when we got R&R. That’s when I enlisted…”

“Which makes this ‘company outing’ garbage all the more depressing. You, of all people, should be showing our Threnny a night on the town.” William said, complete with sneer quotes.

“Honestly, when do you get any alone time?” Robert continued.

“Like a proper courting couple.” William said..

“Yeh lads are right. We do need t’get away more often.”

“Of course we’re right.” Robert said, “We’re just looking out for our Threnny. We’re the closest thing she has to brothers.”

“Older brothers.” William stated simply.

“Whatever.” Robert waved him off, “We are looking out for our sister. We look after her, she looks after us.” As if on cue, Robert and William both finished their cider. “Speaking of looking out for us,” William said as he put his empty glass on the bar, “would you be a dear sister and bring the three of us more cider?”

“A sister you’re so eager to get rid of?” Threnn said playfully. “Fine, I got this round. You two, however, owe me.”

“And what does Bricu owe you?” William said.

“Oh, he’ll pay up later tonight.” She took William’s glass from his hand, “Stop teasing Marketa
or ask her to dinner.” Robert handed his glass to Threnn, giving her a truely genuine smile. She didn’t care. Threnn looked him straight in the eye, and leveled a finger in his face. “Just don’t destroy him.” She said, “I’m still fond of him.” She walked around and kissed Bricu on the cheek. “The same goes for you, love. Be nice.”

“When am I not nice.” Bricu said.

“And who have we ever destroyed?” William asked.

Threnn waved a free hand at the three men. “Just be here. No black eyes either.” She walked off towards Josiah and the rest of the cider.

Bricu watched Threnn disappear into the crowd, headed for some of the Longwell’s near mythical cider. When he turned back to Robert and William, he noticed a dramatic change in the formerly talkative, welcoming, Bells. William, the quiet one, adjusted his glasses. His laconic smile was replaced with a scowl–as if the last drops of his cider was as bitter as Arathi Brandy. Robert, who had just moments before clapped Bricu’s shoulder like a brother, was staring daggers at him. His arms were placed on the bar, showing off the recent tattoos. He was trying his very best to be threatening. Before Bricu could comment on the ink, Robert voiced his–and his brother’s–concerns.

“If you left now, I think you would be abe to find another harvest ball just in time.”

Bricu sighed, looking from William, to Robert, before responding.

“Och, I figured that when she was outta ear shot, yeh lads might say someth’ bout me bein’ with Threnny…”

William cut him of sharply.

“You don’t get to call her that.”

Bricu kept a straight face, not rising to William’s challenge or trying to goad him on. Threnn told him to play nice.

“Och, an’ why’s that.”

“Bittertongue, we’re not your marks. Threnny is like a sister to us. Her mother might as well have been our mother.” Robert said eloquently.

Bricu nodded at him, letting him finish what he had obviously been practicsing.

“We’ve heard of you and the Riders. We know that our Threnny likes to keep rough company. We’ve seen her army friends. Like that Kaven fellow. You meet Kaven, right?”

“Aye, I have.”

“You know they had a brief history, right?”

“Aye, I know that too.” Bricu said.

“We liked Kaven. He treated Threnn the right way, he seemed nearly smart enough for her and there’s no doubt in my mind that Kaven is a good man. He wasn’t even good enough for our Threnny.”

Robert paused to finish the last of his cider. William continued for him.

“And you, friend, aren’t half the man that Kaven is.”

“So where does that leave you?” Robert said as he set his empty glass down.

Bricu spoke up, cutting off William’s practiced speech.

“Strewth… Boyo, if I had a sister, I wouldnt’ want a bloke like me near her.” He said smiling. Bricu looked each of them in the eyes as he continued. “Hell, I’d even be stupid ‘nough t’challenge ‘im more directly than either o’yeh did.”

“William wanted to puff his chest out more, but I heard about the Blue Recluse.” Robert said.

“Yeh did now?” Bricu looked back at Willam, who was shaking his head, “no.” Robert continued.

“I know on of the fellows you hit on your way down. Hell of a shiner you gave him. How many did you actually deal with before..”

William spoke up, “Robert, we’re talking TOO Bricu, not about him.”

“Right.”

Bricu kept paused, to be polite, but he ignored the brother’s banter.

“As I was sayin’, I should leave. But I’m not gonna.”

“Really?” William said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why’s that?”

“Because boyo, I’m fond o’Threnn, an’ I’m a better fer knowin’ her.”

“What, she makes you a better person?” Robert said while laughing. “What is this, some sort of morality play brought to life?”

“Oi, it’s nothin’ so fuckin’ trite.” Bricu looked past Robert, straight at William. When he had William’s gaze, he continued.

“I drink, I curse an I fight dirty. I could list off my sins t’yeh lads, an’ yeh’d end up thinkin’ me souls more stained than yer brother’s arms.”

“Overly dramatic Bittertongue You sound exactly like a paladin in a morality play now.” William said.

“I had hoped yeh southron’s would appreciate a clever turn o’phrase.”

“When you develop a clever turn of phrase” Robert said, “we’ll let you know.”

“Fair enough,” Bricu said. He continued grinning, despite the Bell’s baiting.

“How’s this: Can we all agree that’s she’s a better person than the lot o’us?”

“That we can.” William said.

“Good. Now, it ain’t not like I met Threnny an’ some o’that morality wore off. An’ she’s not scammin’ folk, gettin’ inta bar fights or anythin’ else that I’ve done.”

“We can agree on that as well.” Robert said.

“So we’re not changin’ each other. Not directly. I just want t’do right by her. She doesn’t ask me t’smile more or tell me t’keep me wit in check, nor does she tell me ta leave off a tosser if they have it comin’. She just let’s me be. So now I want t’be be a wee bit better, just t’match her. So I’m not changin’ for her …it’s somethin else entirely.”

The three men were quiet for a moment. Bricu met their gazes in turn. William turned into the crowd, looking for Threnn, while Robert finally spoke up.

“What the hell does that even mean.”

“It means, Mr. Bell, that I ‘m not a sappy git that is spewin’ pretty words ’bout how I’m bein’ better fer her. I’m tryin’ ta do better ta reach her level. Whatever’s goin’ on here is real, not some bloody stupid infatuation that end with a broken heart or when someone gets bored. ”

Bricu kept his voice low, and leaned in close to the Bells. “It means that I’m not leavin’ the one woman who I want t’be with. While I can appreciate her two well meanin’ friends lookin’ after her, yeh lot would have better luck gettin’ me t’quit drinkin’ than quit on Threnny.”

Bricu sat back up, military straight, and smiled again.

“You mean to stay.” Robert asked.

“Aye.”

“No matter what?” Wililam asked.

“Unless she tells me t’fuck off, aye.”

“Even when Thenia comes calling.” Robert asked.

“Och I’ll buy the o’bird the tea she likes t’drink when she comes callin’ an’ we’ll be just fine. I’ve already met her da. How bad can Thenia be.”

“Bittertongue, you’ve gone from brave to stupid in a matter of seconds.” Robert said.

“If I’m not ‘fraid o’the infamous Bells, I’m not gonna be scared by Thenia AlCair. But I’m not stupid. Instead o’telling yeh lot ta fuck off, I’m asking fer yeh ta give me a chance.”

“And why should we?” William asked.

“Because if yeh don’t try–at least fer tonight–I’ll just tell Threnny that yeh lads tried t’get me t’fuck off on her.”

Bricu smiled wider as he watched both Bells’ faces fall flat. He continued.

“That’s right lads, I’d rat yeh out in a fuckin’ heartbeat. An’ we all know our Threnny is as stubborn lass. She’s full o’fire an’ pride. Women like that are not likely goin’ ta take kindly t’folk meddlin’ when she knows she handle ‘erself an’ her affairs. So if she learns ’bout yer botched chivalry–takin’ her mum’s side over her side–she’ll more’n likely will put yeh lads in yer place…just like she did that Hallow’s Eve years back where yeh scared the piss outta wee Annalea.”

“She told you about that?” Robert asked.

“The haunted house, the fake blood, how yeh conned Jenny Brook t’lie there for hours lookin’ deader than’ a Forsaken, how yeh had her run inta the armoire….”

“Damn.” Robert said . William simply let out a low whistle.

“Was it really the worst fight yeh’ve ever been in?” Bricu said.

“Worse than when you got your arse handed to you in the Recluse.”

“Clever–but not nearly clever enough Robert. Now, yeh thinkin’ she told that story t’Kaven?”

“Hells, no.” Robert said, “If she had, I’m pretty sure he wouldnt’ have asked us to make those armoires without laughing at us the entire time.”

“Exactly. That tell yeh anythin’ bout how our Threnny feels ’bout me then?”

“Maybe.” William said, “but that doesn’t change a damn thing either. You’re going to hurt her.”

Bricu continued to look William in the eyes, “Yer right.” He said. William nodded and started to cut Bricu off. “At some point I’m goin’ ta fuck up. But it wont’ be like yer imaginin’ right now. No, it’ll be somethin’ mundane. I’ll say somethin’ careless or crass an’ hurt her feelin’s, or maybe we’ll just argue like any other couple that tries ta make a romance work.”

“You’re going to…” William started to say.

“I’m gonna do what, squire? Oi, yeh lads have it so clear in yer heads that I’m bad fer her, why don’t yet take it ta her or her folks?”

“Thenia’s planning on talking to Threnn, and Padraig sees our point.”

“Thenia always got somethin’ ta say ta Threnn. An’ Padraig said he isn’t gonna get involved…So while he sees yer point, he’s not sayin’ shite ta Thenia or Threnn, is he?”

Neither William or Robert answered Bricu’s question. He softened his tone and his words as he addressed the Bells.

“Look, lads,” Bricu had his hands out to the Bells, “I know what yer doin’ an it makes perfect bloody sense ta look out after Threnn like this. But I’m speakin’ the truth ta the both o’yeh. I’m completely serious ’bout her. If I wasn’t, yeh think I’d still be here talkin’ ta her infamous brothers?”

“So you’re not leaving.” Robert said.

“No. I’m not squire.” Bricu continued watching William.

“He’s not taking us seriously, Robert.”

“Ballacks, William. This is more important than me runnin’ inta her da. I woudn’t still be sittin’ here with yeh if I didn’t recognie how fuckin’ important this was. But yer not gonna be scarrin’ me away from her.”

“Then what are we going to do?” Robert said. He had settled inbetween William and Bricu, watching the two of them spar. Neither Bricu or William missed this finer point.

“All I’m gonna ask, William, is yeh give me the same shot Padraig did. Can yeh do that?”

“What about me?” Robert asked.

“Robert, yeh’ve already made yer fuckin’ mind up. Yeh already think I’m worth the shot just ’cause I make William a wee bit crazy.”

Robert waited a heartbeat before answering, “That’s true, but if you do hurt her…”

“I’m well aware o’what I have waitin’ fer me.” Bricu said.

“Fine. Tonight.” William said. “You have tonight, but you’re both wankers.”

“Whose a wanker?” Threnn asked. She was holding four fresh mugs of cider, two in each hand. Threnn eyed all the men, looking for fresh bruises or poorly hidden scowls. Satisfied that no one had thrown a punch, or was in a snit, she passed out the cider.

Once all the ciders were passed out, Bricu stood up and exclaimed–a little too loudly–a toast for Threnn.

“Ta Threnny!” He shouted. “Fer bein’ sweet enough ta get us more o’this brilliant cider! OI!” The Bells, Bricu and Threnn slammed their mugs into each others. Cider sprayed them all, including the man directly behind William. He has a large man, taller than Bricu, bald-headed with a ruddy face. He squinted and scowled at the lot of them, but no one paid him any mind. Threnn had already changed focused their attention to her previous question.

“So whose a wanker?” Threnn asked.

“Daniel Morris.” Robert answered, “you know, the mining magnate’s son?”

“How could I forget him. Mother tried to get me to go for tea with him. He had a list of other women to see, so he couldn’t possibly bother with me.”

“His loss.” William said.

“My gain,” Bricu said. He wrapped an arm around Threnn’s waist, and moved closer to her. She followed suit, wrapping her free arm around him. William’s frown was barely noticeable.

“Yes yes, your gain.” Robert said, “Anyway, we were just telling Bricu that Daniel came into the shop today. Seems that his uncle passed away last night.”
Threnn pulled her arm away from Bricu and blessed her self with her free hand. Bricu made a similiar gesture, but he used the mug of cider.

“Light Bless.” Threnn said finally.

“He wanted a mahogany casket, with truesilver inlays. He also wanted it custom made and to be done within two days.” Robert said.

“We don’t stock mahogany. Its expensive, heavy and more suitable for cabinetry and furniture than a casket.” William said.

“And true silver, on every bloody corner of a mahgony casket…” Robert said.

“Strewth, that’ll be be heavy an’ expensive. How many pall-bearers would that bloke get?” Bricu said.

“He’d need at least eight before the casket.” William said. He waved the concern off with another sip of cider. “Enough about work, that’s for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow afternoon at the latest,” Robert said.

“We want to know more about you and your Northman.” William said.

“Really mate, there isn’t much ta say.” He took another sip of his cider.

“Modesty.” Threnn said staring at Robert and William, “What have you two done to him?”

“Nothing.” Robert said.

“Love, we were just talkin’ ’bout work.” Bricu said. “It was pleasant.”

“Pleasent?” Threnn asked.

“Perfectly pleasant.” William said.

“Actually,” Robert interrupted, “We need to finish questioning your your Northman about cooking. We have to make sure he is as good as he says he is.”

“Oh no.” Robert said, “We;re not wasting a free evening before you can at least prove you can talk the talk.”

Threnn shook her head. “What do either of you two know about cooking.”

“I can boil water and scrub a pot.” William said.

“Well mate, what do yeh want ta talk ’bout?”

“Vegetables.” Robert said.

“Really.” Threnn said. She glared at Robert

“Right, fair enough. See, Northern folk’ve got more root vegetables an’ gourds in their diet, while the southrons…”
Threnn cut Bricu off, “I’d like to hear what Robert has to say about southron cooking.”

“Well.” Robert said, “In the north, they have to boil their foods longer, as they need to break down the starches and the structure a bit so they can eat it. But we have more greens in our diet, and they don’t need more than a quick blanching, which we can do either by boiling or with a little oil in a skillet.” In the stunned silence, he took a triumphant swing of cider.

“What…Since when have you known anything about blanching greens?” Threnn said.

“That’s one’ o’the ways ta do it, love.” Bricu said.

Threnn ignored Bricu. Her glare softened, but she continued to stare at him. “Robert, you don’t cook.”

“No, I don’t cook, but do you remember Elly Whitfeld?”

“I remember her cooking for us.” William said.

“The brunette from Westfall who wanted to be a bard?” Threnn said.
“The same. She was a better cook than a bard.” Robert said.

“She’s the one that left him for ‘Shifty’ Livinginston.” William said. A faint smile crept up his face.

Bricu interrupted their reminiscing, “Whose this Shifty?”

“A self important ‘Trader’ who always has a half formed plan for profit playing in his tiny brain.” Threnn said.
“Och, never trust a bloke whose always schemin’.” Bricu said.

Threnn rolled her eyes, “Your plans are fine love.”

Bricu sipped at the cider, a content smile on his face. “No, my plans are brilliant. Go on then, more on this bloke.”
“Obviously, he’s another of our Threnny’s suitors.” William said.

“He was so eager to meet me, even when my dowry was as he put it, ‘far below market value.’” Threnn said.

“Tell me the wanker didn’t say that ta yeh!”

“Every chance he got. He thought he was quite witty. Hells, he even came to our shop to try and ingratiate himself into our good graces, thinking that would help him land Threnny.” William said.

“Strewth, he sounds…”

“Oily?” Robert said.

“Shifty?” Threnn said.

“Like a wanker?” William said.

“That’s it, a right wanker.” Bricu raised his mug to William. He did the same, almost matching Bricu’s enthusiasm. Another spray of cider splashed the party behind William, including the bald, ruddy man. He hunched his shoulders in shock, then turned to stare daggers at William.

“So how’d yeh lads deal with ‘im.” Bricu said. He sat forward, giving the bloke behind William a once-over.

“It was William’s idea.” Robert said.

“Mostly. See, Elly was starting to get serious with Robert. He didn’t know what to do. I mean, he liked her enough to spend a few days with her, but nothing that he considered…”

“…permanent..” Robert said.

“Long term. Anyway, she was asking Robert to go to Darkshire with her. She had some sort of a job in one of the taverns. I just told Shifty that Elly had a very promising career in music, and she need a person to help her manage her finances and keep her safe.”

“That was it?”

“Well.” William said.

“No, it wasn’t it. He also told shifty how much the contract was for.” Robert said.

“Techincally, I mistakenly told him that she was going to be making three gold a week in Darkshire.”

“Gold, silver, what’s the difference?” Robert said, “My brother, who extracted me from a complicated situation with one clever mistake.”

“Ta William, the problem solver!” Bricu raised his glass, the rest followed suit, in yet another toast. Once again, the man behind William turned around and glared at him. This time, Bricu and Threnn both noticed his stare. Threnn stood up and let Bricu move their stools back a few inches. Robert moved up a step, while William scooted his towards his brother. Apparently appeased, the man nodded and turned back to his own group of friends.

“But once again, we’re pulled off topic. We’re spending too much time talking about us and no where near enough grilling Bittertongue.” Robert said.

“Ask away mate, I’ve got nothin’ ta hide.”

“What is it about our Threnny that you love the most?” Robert asked. He grinned, clearly proud of himself and his question. Threnn took a triumphant sip of her cider, smiling all the while. William waited patiently for Bricu to speak. Bricu looked at each in turn, then gave his answer.

“Lads,” Bricu said, “What isn’t there ta like ’bout our Threnn? She’s got beauty, grace, brains an passion. She’s also deviously cunnin’, an’ brilliant when under pressure. Either o’yeh lucky enough ta see her operate that way before?”

“On occasion.” William said.

“Only when she’s dealing with Thenia.” Robert said.

“Och, William, Robert, yeh should’ve seen her the day we met. All o’those qualities came inta play at once.”

Threnn’s smile faltered. “Oh you wouldn’t.” She said.

“Wouldn’t what?” Robert asked.

Bricu paused for sip of cider. He looked at Threnn briefly, before turning back to the Bells. He leaned in to the Bells, his mug of cider in one hand, the other free to gesture.

“I remember it perfectly. Our lovely Threnn was standin’ on the balcony o’the Pig. It was a packed night, yeh see, an’ she was just a few steps from the top o’the stairs. Folk were walkin’ by her, some gettin’ ta close. So I walked near her, just as someone else came up the stairs. She started ta shift her drink an she committed the most grievous sin in the Pig.”

“Oh stop.” Threnn said.

“What did she do?” Robert asked.

“Mate, she ended up spillin’ some o’her drink on the southron war hero, Christoph Faral.”

“She what?” William said.

“It was an accident, mind yeh. Not like an entire mug. Just enough that he noticed. Wet his hair, down his back. Och, it was a wee bit o’a mess.”

“No it wasn’t.” Threnn said.

“Threnny, love, lemme finish for the Bells, aye?”

Threnn responded by taking another sip of her cider. This time, she didn’t smile triumphantly. She briefly stared daggers at Bricu, before turning on the look on the Bells. Neither William, Robert nor Bricu gave it any attention.

Bricu continued, “See lads, that look is the kinda fire that drew me ta her. But she didn’t unleash it on Faral. Yeh know what she did do?”

“What did our Threnny do?”

“It is nothing.” Threnn said.

“She went down ta apologize ta him. Not meek an’ mild, but a proper apology.”

“That is our Threnny,” William said, “Doing the right thing.”

Threnn took another sip of her cider. She continued to glare over her mug of cider.

“I would have just blamed my brother.” Robert said.

William rolled his eyes as he took another sip of his cider.

“But Threnny isn’t the kind o’woman ta blame another fer her own failin’. No, she’s quite serious ’bout these matters. An one would hope that a hero such as Faral would see the intent an’ forgive her. But yeh know what the wanker did?”

“What did he do?” Robert asked. He turned from Bricu to watch Threnn take another sip of her cider. William, for his part, watched Bricu carefully.

“He walked away.”

“NO!” Robert said dramatically.

“The bastard.” William said.

Threnn simply sighed.

“So here’s our lovable Threnny, who committed two terrible sins: Spillin’ her beer on a Southron war hero. Yet she puts on a brave face an’ walks down ta express her deepest apologies. What does the Hero o’the second war do? He brushes right fuckin’ by her. ”

“Ayup. No big deal.” Threnn said.

“Never liked the blowhard myself.” Robert said.

“So this is what drew you to her.” William asked, “A failed apology?”

“Och, yeh don’t get it mate! She has the willin’ness ta go down an apologize. Then he blows her off an’ whta does she do? Threnn doesn’t fold like some milk maid. She hold her head high an’ walks back up with another drink in her hand. It’s not often yeh see a lovely girl who does the right thing with that much fire. It was enough ta ge me attention. Bein’ a generous bloke I was able ta forgive her fer spillin’ the beer, an we all know that spillin’ beer…”

“Is a sin.” William.

“Cardinal at that, boyo. Remember, I’m a servant o’the Holy Light.” Bricu said.

Bricu turned in his stool to look at Threnn, “An’ that’s how I fell fer Threnn Al’Cair. ” When he finished, Threnn leveled a punch square into Bricu’s shoulder.

“That’s for blasphemy.” Threnn said.

“I’m not the one that spilled the beer on the war hero.” Bricu said.

“All this attention over spilt beer.” William said dryly. “It must be true love.”

“Beer is a magical thing mate. Spillin’ it gets attention.”

“Bricu has a point, William. I mean, how much shit did Threnny and Anna give you when your spilled your beer at their house warming party.”

“I will hit you too, Robert Bell.” Threnn said.

William glanced from Robert to Threnn. She held her mug of cider in front of her face as she met his gaze.

“So instead o’forgiveness, yeh gave another man trouble” Bricu said.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Threnn said.

“Not that bad? Robert, what happened at her house warmin’ party?”

“Robert Bell…” Threnn started to say.

Robert shrugged his shoulders. “Well, Bricu, my dear sister doesn’t want me to tell you what happened. Who am I to turn against my oldest friend.”

Threnn narrowed her eyes, waiting for Robert to finish.

‘”So yer loyalty runs that deep, eh?”

“As deep as the great sea.” Robert said. “So don’t push. No matter how hard you try, you will not here the brilliant story on how the Al’Cair girls mocked William out of true love.”

Bricu looked from Robert to Threnn, a look of fake shock plastered on his face.

“This isn’t a love story. This is far more pedestrian. Someone,” Threnn turned toward William, “had far too much to drink and spilled and was nearly sick. The end.”

‘”So why won’t yeh let one o’the Brothers Bell tell that story, eh?”

“Bricu has a point, why won’t you let me tell the story?” Robert asked.

“William doesn’t need to be embarrassed like that. Again. In front of Marketa. Again.”

“Was Marketa involed last time?” Bricu asked.

“I’m sitting right here.” William said finally. “I’ll tell the damn story.”

He scooted his barstool closer to the Robert, and spoke just above the din of the barn.

“I had a bit too much to drink. I was talking about one of Annalea’s newer friends…”

“Cute brunette from the North.” Robert said.

“My story, brother. Not yours.” William shook his head, “Regardless, I went to talk to her. I sloshed my beer all over her…”

“This is gettin’ ta be a pattern with yeh Southrons. Spillin’ yer beer when yeh should be drinkin’ it.” Bricu said.

“I have no trouble.” Robert said, draining the rest of his cider. He put his empty mug on the table and slid it towards Marketa. She missed it by an inch. It crashed to the ground, shattering into a dozen fragments.

“Robert Fucking Bell!” She shouted. The Ruddy man behind William leaned into say something, but Marketa shook her head. The Ruddy man stared daggers at the Bells, but neither of the brothers noticed. Threnn placed a hand on Bricu’s leg, then nodded with her head. Bricu gave her a wink and a nod.

“Damnit Robert, I am telling a story here.” William said.

“Now wait a second, that was Bricu’s fault for interrupting me and Marketa’s for not catching the mug. I am innocent here..”

“Robert.” Threnn said finally.

“Fine.” Robert said, “Marketa, dear, can I get another drink?”

Marketa, busy with the Ruddy Man, gives Robert a quick nod. The Ruddy man turned with Marketa to glare at Robert. If Robert noticed, he paid him no mind. Bricu and Threnn did notice. Both gestured their apologies, but before either could say a word, the man snorted and turned away. William sat patiently, nursing what was left of his cider.

“Please, William, finish.” Threnn said.

“I’m sure you both would rather hear more about Robert’s antics.” William said.

“Usually, they probably would. But you insisted on telling this one.” Robert said.

“Och, William, I’m listenin’. Don’t let either o’them distract yeh from the story.”

“What’s this about ‘either’ of them?” Threnn said.

“Ta my memory, love, yeh didn’t want William ta tell the story.”

“That’s my memory.” Robert said, “I was truly hurt by the attack on my brother’s person.”

“Now hold on a moment, I was preventing William from being embarrassed by the two of you.” Threnn stated.

“So now my brother is an embarassment?” Robert said.

“Och, ta turn on William like that, love. That’s a cruel cut.”

“I didn’t…”

“Threnn, I expect this from Robert…and I should expect it from the Northman.” William said, nodding to Bricu. “But you?”

“I get you drinks, and this is how you repay me?”

“So now we are friends to be bribed, not brothers to be cherished?” Robert asked.

“I’m an embarrassment you have to pay for?” William said. He leaned forward, his palms up and out, with a plaintive look on his face. “Threnn, how could you?”

“Truly, Threnn, you should be ashamed of yourself. Look at how you’re destroying William.”

William rubbed his eyes. “Please, robert,” he said in sotto-voice, “Don’t draw attention to it.”

“Love, this is a terrible thing yeh’ve done.”

“What I’ve done!” Threnn interrupted, “how is this my doing. How did you turn the Bells against me?”

“And now you blame Bricu, our newest friend? Threnn, maybe you’ve been on the road too long.” Robert said. “You should stay home and relax a while. Maybe Bricu would cook for you.”

“Och, that’s a brilliant idea mate.” Bricu smiled sweetly, “Love, yeh should let me take care o’yeh. Yer obviously stressed ta the point o’breakin’ if yer turnin’ on these wonderful lads.”

Threnn narrowed her eyes and looked at Robert and William. “You two were supposed to help me with Bricu, not turn on me. And you!” Threnn said, turning toward Bricu, “Took away my two dearest friends and turned them on me.”

“Love, a Northman always inspires loyalty in a bar. Its our blood-heritage.”

“It’s true Threnny. I mean, the only way we can trust a Northman is if they’re drunk.” Robert said.

The shattering of a wooden mug interrupted William and Bricu’s responses. The ruddy faced man, sparying everyone near him with the remainder of his cider, held the broken remains of his mug and glowered at Robert.

“Yeh great fookin’ arsehole. Yeh bump me, spill me cider an’ then call me race cra’en drunkards?”

“I didn’t say craven. I said untrustworthy.” Robert said. He did not flinch from the man’s glower, but he had to look up to meet his eyes.

Neither Bricu, nor Threnn, have Antisocial Personality Disorder. While Bricu might score as high on the checklist, he has far too many protective factors to have high levels of psychopathy. Threnn’s scores would be, at best, average. Regardless of their scores, Harvest Ball is a newish story from the early days of their relationship. They’ve arrived at the Barn, but they have yet to meet the infamous Brothers Bell.

The Longwell’s barn was packed by the time Bricu and Threnn made their entrance. Unlike most Southron parties, it was not a servant that announced the couple. Instead, Josiah Longwell, the heir apparent of the Longwell’s farms and orchards, greeted them the same way he greeted every invited guest: With a mug of cider.

“Threnody! Bricu!” Josiah said. He plunged two mugs into the barrel of the amber liquid. The cider sloshed into the mugs, and the scent of spiced apples grabbed their attention.

“Thank you both for coming.” He handed the first mug to Threnn first, the second to Bricu. Josiah took his mug, topping it off with ladel of cider, and toasted the couple’s health. Threnn and Bricu returned the gesture, careful not to spill any of the cider back into the barrel.

“Thank you for the invite.” Threnn said. She took a healthy swig from her mug.

“Cheers mate!” Bricu said before slamming half of the cider.

“I’m glad you both could make it, although…” Josiah gave Threnn a wink, “Your mother did not say you would be bringing Master Bittertongue.”

“Did Thenia say who my date would be?” Threnn asked. Bricu could hear the irritation creep into her voice. Either Josiah didn’t hear it or he didn’t pay any attention.

“Oh, she had a list. Thomas Maunt was at the top of it. I was in the middle.” Josiah laughed, “No offense Threnn, but your mother has no clue about my tastes. My ‘guest’ is hobnobbing with the gentry.” Josiah nodded to well dressed, man at least ten years older than Bricu or Threnn. He looked back at Josiah frequently. “I mean, we’ve been together for five years. You would think she knows.”

Threnn said, “She knows, she just hopes for something else.” Bricu took another sip of his Cider. Josiah gave Bricu another ladel.

“Yer a brilliant host.” Bricu said. Josiah smiled and winked at him.

“Now tell me” Josiah placed a hand on Threnn’s forearm. “is she going to give you any trouble for bringing our Bricu?” asked Josiah.

“She can’t get pissed if two folk show up t’the same party.” Bricu said.

“Bricu has his own invite…”

“That’s right!” Josiah said, “How dense of me! You helped the family address some … unpleasantness a few months ago. Where are your friends?.”

“They’re indisposed.” Bricu said, sipping at his cider.

“That’s a shame. Give Makarah my best, will you?”

“Certainly boyo, certainly.”

“How many more were you expecting?” Threnn asked.

“Oh, we invited at least another twenty adventures of various stripe and station.” He looked past Bricu and Threnn to the couple that just entered the barn. “Oh look. Lady Gontaut has yet another new young escort. She’s old enough to be his grandmother. Still.” He dipped two more mugs into the barrel, “Excuse me while I talk the blue bloods up a bit more. You two go enjoy the party!”

“Of course.” Threnn said

“Cheers mate.” Bricu slid his arm around Threnn’s waist and led her away. Josiah gave them a polite nod before greeting Lady Gontaut with the respect due her station.

They waded into the sea of guests and party goers. Bricu craned his neck, scanning the crowd for the infamous Bellsm while Threnn made a bee-line to the bar.

“Yeh see ‘em?” He asked.

“No, I can’t see anything but the back of the crowd. But I know where they’re going to be.”

“An’ where’d that be love?” Bricu pulled his arm from her waist to let her lead the way.

“By the bar. Willliam will be flirting with Marketa Longwell.”

“Sounds smart.” Bricu said.

“It is. This way, he keeps her company and he gets cheaper drinks.”

“What’s Marketa think ’bout it?”

“Usually, she prefers the company, and the flirting is mostly harmless.” Threnn said. She continued to snake through the crowd.

“Really?”

“Oh, they both prefer flirting to actually being with each other.” Threnn said.

“Nothin’ serious then?”

Threnn nodded, “This way they can flirt, keep off underiserables and make each other feel better. It’s a win-win.”

“Sounds clever.” Bricu said.

“It was William’s idea.” Threnn said.

“Yeh’d figure that one o’them wouldn’t be pleased with the idea after they gave it a shot.”

“No.” Threnn said, “Love, it’s hard to stay mad at a Bell for long.”

“Och, I need t’learn their tricks.” Bricu said.

Threnn glanced over her shoulder. “It’s innate love.” She said, “If you haven’t managed to do it by now, I don’t think you’ll ever get it.”

“Strewth, the more yeh tell me ’bout the Bells, the more it sounds like I’m in way o’er me head.”

Threnn smiled back at him, and for the first time that night, Bricu started to feel a hint of worry. “The bar is this way.” She said. Threnn weaved in and out of the crowd, with Bricu following her lead.

The rest of the details–picking up the shirt and pants, having a laugh at, or with Del (Bricu wasn’t exactly sure which)–was as immaterial as the last of his cigarette. What mattered was that he was smartly dressed with someplace to go. He crushed the cigarette underneath his boot and smoothed out the front of his shirt before he knocked on the door to Threnn’s apartment. Nerves aside, he flashed the best grin he could muster.

Bricu picked through the bouquet while waiting for Mrs. Stone, the land lady, to open the front door. Threnn explained that Mr. and Mrs. Stone were fixtures in Old Town, even more beloved than the vaunted Pig and Whistle. When Mr. Stone passed away, she converted the top of her house into apartments. Mrs. Stone did this more for the company and comfort of others, rather than a source of income. The Stones had done quite well for themselves after the Sacking, but they never moved from their family home. Threnn and Annalea treated Mrs. Stone like she was their grandmother, and for good reason. She rented her apartment to the Al’Cair girls well below its going rate, had dinner waiting for them on certain nights and always invited them down for cookies or cake. Mrs. Stone even gave Bricu cookies, after he helped her move a new bed frame into her house.

Eventually, he found one rose whose petals were not yet completely open, and held it out for in front of him. By the time she had opened the door, Bricu had the rest of the bouquet behind his back.

“Bricu, don’t you look dapper!” Mrs. Stone said cordially. She took the flower he offered and said, “Oh dearie, how sweet of you! Roses are my favorite!”

“Mrs. Stone,” Bricu said. He bowed at the waist, as per current court fashion. “I’m just here ta escort the lovely Threnn Al’Cair ta the Longwell’s Harvest ball, an truth be told, I’m just tryin’ ta match her. Although, now I’m havin’ second thoughts…..”

Mrs. Stone’s face fell. “What do you mean?”

“Why, Mrs. Stone.” Bricu said with a grin, “Say the word an’ I’ll take yeh in me Threnny’s place.”

As quickly as her face had fallen, Mrs. Stone burst into laughter.

“Master Bittertongue that is quite enough. Now go on upstairs! Threnn and Annalea are waiting for you”

“Thank yeh Mrs. Stone. Cheers!”

Bricu bounded up the stairs for Threnn’s apartment like a boy half his age. When he reached her door he smoothed out his shirt and pants with his palms. He ran a hand through his hair, either to fix the part in his hair or to calm his nerves. Steady yer self yeh fuckin’ wanker. He though to himself. This isn’t your first lady friend nor is it yer first ball. He rapped on her door gently, chastising himself for still having nerves about her.

It was Annalea who answered the door. It was clear from her modest attire that she was not attending the Longwell’s ball. She was dressed in a plain robes of a Darnassian initiate, and her hair was braided down her back. She did her best to look serious and somber. Even dressed like an initiate, she failed miserably.

“Bricu.” Annie said. Her eyes darted to the bouquet he held in his hands.

“Annie.” He said with a nod.

“Were you being chased upstairs?”

“Strewth, was I that loud?”

“Blessed Elune, we thought the Watch was coming to kick the bloody door down!” She said.

“What were doin’ that yeh feared the Watch?”

“Oh, fear had nothing to do with it. You know Pomeroy has a bit of a crush on Threnny…”

“No, I didn’t.” Bricu said. He paused, momentarily taken aback by this news. “It’s a good thing yeh opened the door then.”

“Really, why is that?”

“Cause otherwise, I’d have ta knock the door in meself. So, who’d yeh piss off ta get prayer duty tanight?” Bricu asked.

“I haven’t pissed anyone off, but I am hoping to practice my Darnassian,” Anna said with a grin that screamed mischief. She moved out of the doorway and let Bricu into the apartment. As he walked in, she looked back at the flowers.

“If you give me just one flower,” she said with the same grin, “I’ll tell you which are her favorites.”

“Sorry Annie, I gave the spare ta Mrs. Stone.”

“So you can’t even give me one flower?”

Bricu looked over his bouquet. “I’ve got some baby’s breath fer yeh.” Bricu said.

“Information like this is extremely important, and here you go offering me a weed? I’m insulted.”

“Lillies. Threnny likes Stargazer Lilies.” Bricu said, “Theresa said they were out o’season, so she gave me a deal for this one.”

Annie’s grin fell slightly, letting Bricu know he was right on the mark. He bit back his customary gloat and smiled. Annalea, slightly crestfallen, asked, “Did you figure that out or did she tell you?”

“A wee bit o’both. I saw her eyin’ some a few weeks back, so I asked ‘er bout ‘em.”

“That’s clever of you.” Annie said.

“I know. ”

“Threnn has a weakness for clever, but she does not approve of cocky..”

“Annie, lass, that ain’t cocky. That’s confident. Confident an’ clever, that’s she’s with me.” Bricu said.

Annalea grinned again. “That’s not the only reason why she’s with you. I’ll go get her, she was having a hell of a time with her hair…”

“You’re not flirting with my paladin, are you?” Threnn shouted from the back room. “You said you had your eyes on that priest…”

Annie rolled her eyes, then shouted back, “He’s not my type. He’s too clever by half.”

Bricu didn’t answer Threnn either. Instead, he tried to look down the hallway, towards the sound of her voice. When he finally saw her, he held his breath for just a moment. She was wearing a deceptively simple blue and white checker patterned homespun dress. The neckline was a tad more revealing than she would normally wear on one of their outings.

“Threnny” Bricu finally said, “yer brilliant.”

“I helped get her ready…” Annie said, but Bricu had already started to move past her. “Her hair…”

“You’re looking quite handsome tonight.” Threnn said

“I also helped with her make-up” Annie said.

“Och, its nothin’ that Delion didn’t fret o’er fer hours on end.” Bricu said.

“Well he did a fine job. It’s perfect for tonight’s party.” Threnn turned her attention to the flowers, “More flowers, for me?”

“Aye. Well, all but one. I did give Mrs. Stone a rose.”

“You didn’t give me any flowers.” Annie quipped.

“Anna.” Threnn said, handing Annalea the bouquet, “Why don’t you be a dear and put these in some water.”

“Sister-mine, are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Yes. And I’m doing it nicely. Now put those flowers in some water, unless you want to watch me thank my gallant paladin for being so thoughtful.”

Annalea grabbed the flowers from Threnn–pausing to take a brilliant, long stemmed yellow rose for herself–and stormed off down the hallway.

“You could have at least included me in the conversation!” She shouted back at her sister.

“Sorry Annie!” Bricu shouted back. “Yer black hearted villain’ o’a sister seduced the manners straight outta me.”

Threnn took a few steps towards Bricu, eyes cast downward. “Do you really think I’m a black hearted villan?” She asked.

“That depends, love, on how yer plannin’ on thankin’ me fer those flowers.”

In response, Threnn closed the distance to Bricu, standing close enough that Bricu could smell the perfume she had in her hair. Threnn, smiling like her sister, draped her arms around his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her waist. Bricu leaned slightly, just close enough to whisper.

“This is typically where the villain does somethin’ ta distract our noble hero.”

“Oh, I know what the villain would do, and I could even tell you what this particular villian wants to do.” Threnn whispered back. She nibbled at his ear and kissed down his cheek till she reached his lips. Bricu started to kiss her back, but Threnn pulled her arms off of his shoulders and pushed him away.

“Now that’s black-hearted villainy right there, love.” He said.

“Of course it is. And its all part of my plan. You wouldnt’ to ruin my plans this early, would you?” She asked, grinning wildly.

“That depends.” Bricu said. Threnn was standing at the door, waiting for Bricu to compose himself. He took Threnn’s cloak off its hook and draped it over her shoulders.

“Depends on what?” Threnn asked.

“Depends on how devious yer plans are gonna get.”

Threnn continued walk down the hallway, chuckling all the while. When Bricu caught up with her, just outside the door, she was facing the door way, still smiling.

“Love,” Threnn said, “my plans involve throwing our hapless hero to the villain’s favorite henchmen. You aren’t not afraid of the Bells, are you?”

“I’ve only heard stories on how clever they are. I’m not afraid o’clever blokes.”

“Then my plan is going fantastically.” Threnn said.

“Touche love, Touche. So are yeh gonna tell me ’bout ‘em on the carriage ride then?”

“Only if we have time love,” Threnn said with a wink, “Only if we have time.”

“More o’yer devious plan?”

“You’ll have to escort me to the carriage to find out.” Threnn replied.

Threnn held her arm out for Bricu. He bowed low, in the southron style and said, “Miss Al’Cair, would yeh do me the honor o’hurryin’ t’the carriage? Seems we have a lot ta accomplish in a painfully short time.”

“Master Bittertongue, it would be my pleasure.”

The two paladins walked through the streets of Stormwind, arm in arm, all the while smiling at Threnn’s devious plans.

–

“Kara, I don’t have time to talk! Have you seen him?” Edgar Pomeroy folded his arms over his breastplate, and glared at the Gilded Roses’ waitress as he would any common criminal. Kara Thompson did not ignore the implication, she did not fully grasp them.

“Och, no Sir Pomeroy.” Kara stammered. “Not since this morning when he told me…”

“When he told you that he bought a commission?” Pomeroy said.

“Well…” Kara stammered.

“Yes or no! YES or NO?!” Pomeroy shouted.

“YES!” Kara shouted back. She flushed with obvious embarrassment, then took a few steps back. She smoothed her hair and the front of her dress.

Pomeroy stood his ground, but softened his tone. “Good. Now, is he here?”

“No, he went to the forge to see Mrs. Bittertongue. He has Naiara too…”

“Thank Mrs. Thompson.” Edgar cut her off, “You’ve been very helpful.”

“Next time, Edgar, you don’t need to shout. It wasn’t a secret. Mr. Bittertongue told me…”

Pomeroy waved Kara off. “Please. Let me talk to him directly about what he said. Because if its true, he can have my commission right then and there.”

Naiara Bittertongue

Naiara Bittertongue exists as a series of emotes, drawings and exquisitely timed phonetically spelled swear words. She doesn’t have a class. She has no profession. She does not even have an avatar. She does, however, consume a significant amount of RP. In return, she generates more than her fair share of Bricu/Threnn stories, ideas and vignettes. It should be no surprise, then, that Naiara was a huge factor in how the Bittertongues decided to deal with Arthas. This is how the Bricu prepared for war.

Thenia refused to think of her daughters and her son in law. Both daughters, her no good son-in-law and her nearly-perfect granddaughter had arrived to tell her, in person, that the Highlord had called the banners. The Riders were going to war, which meant her daughters were at risk… Instead, she focused on her still limping husband, who was stubbornly insisted on putting their granddaughter to bed.

“Sit and relax Thenia.” Padraig said, “You worked all day. Besides, I usually put her to bed. You can get her ready when she gets up in the morning.”

She noted that Padraig didn’t mention how Naiara did not want to come near her, or how Naiara fussed when he left the room. She was thankful that Padraig didn’t use the words, “phase, stage or fussy.” He just left it alone. Thenia almost smiled at her husbands kindness.

To keep her thoughts from drifting to Dalaran–and worse–Thenia kept herself busy by sorting through Naiara’s bags. Threnn and Bricu left her: sets of clothes, cloth diapers, homemade snacks and more stuffed animals than any little girl really needed. Each bag was meticiulously packed and ordered, and contained far more than what was necessary for “one last battle.”

At the bottom of the biggest bag, she found a large enevlope. It was addressed to Naiara, not to her, in Bricu’s hand writing. Thenia didn’t need instructions on how to take care of her granddaughter, and as clever as Naiara was, she was still years away from learning her letters. Her son-in-law left her a mystery. A mystery she carried with her to the kitchen, where she made herself some tea. As the kettle boiled, she checked to make sure no one in the house was watching her–a useless precaution given that she could hear Padraig reading a story to Naiara–and steamed the envolpe open.

She took out a collection of letters. Some were short notes, others were multiple page affairs. Some were written in Threnn’s handwriting, some in Bricu’s. All of them were dated. Most were dated for Naiara’s birthday, but Thenia found one with today’s date–a long letter written by Bricu–and read it.

My wee girl,

Your Da.

Thenia folded the letter up and put it back into the envelope. She listened for Padraig or Naiara, but neither was making a sound. For the moment, Thenia was completely alone in her home. She sat in her chair and let herself worry about her family, in the North.

A woman led the procession of mourners from the great Cathedral in Stormwind to the back alley of the Pig and Whistle. Some of the mourners, those farther away from the front, wept. Those in the front, all of whom were decked in the Black and Red–even if the edges were torn and the colors faded from age–were as silent as the grave. In between the mourners and the Riders, the occasional Agent of the Crown could be seen, studying the faces of the assembled mourners.

When they reached the back alley, the woman turns to address the crowd. She has auburn hair and northern eyes. She does not cry nor does her voice crack with emotion. She says these words with practiced ease.

My father was a bastard. Some of you, the more forgiving of you, might credit this to his childhood: Growing up on the streets of Lordaeron with the other refugees and orphans. While he was quick to point out that he was an orphan, I would be remiss if I did not remind you all that he was, in his heart, a right bastard.

He was a solider of so loyal to his Prince that he put his own countrymen to the sword and burned down his home. While many men would repent this sin, or follow their prince to the bitter end, my father did neither. He marched his way south, to Northshire Abbey, where he cheated and conned his way into what was left of the Order of the Silver Hand. Maybe he mentioned his liege–a landed knight who lived near Stratholme–or maybe he begged for sanctuary. He never spoke of it to me. He did tell me how he spent his days sneaking out to Goldshire and drinking away his memories. He did tell me how he challenged the faith of his instructors and mentors, how he was punished for heresy–twice–and yet he managed to charm his way into a set of spurs.

What kind of Paladin is a founding member of the Black n’Red? Maybe the Light he worshiped is the light reflected off gold and silver coins that he helped steal.

That’s how he taught me about the Light–A story of how the Fox stole enough the Light to hunt for food for her kits, another to keep her kits warm at night–stories that he swore were told to him by his own parents. This is how I was raised: with the criminals of Old Town, and taught fantastic heresies from the Old North. Only a bastard would raise a child this way.

He was smart enough, to put down his bourbon long enough to see my mother for who she is. Threnody Al’Cair is as beautiful and clever as the day she met my father. Bricu had no chance against her. To his credit, from the day they stood watch at my family’s shop, my father put ahead of everyone else…until I was born.

My father was there to kill the Bloody Prince–the bogeyman that still haunts those who have Northman blood. Then he hosted his wake. My father was there to help the people of Stormwind when Deathwing appeared. Then, once the dust settled, he delivered the Riders’ Bill For Service to the King’s steward.

A good bastard keeps account of who has what coming. No one could do that better than my da.

I’m sure that many of you here, in front of the Pig and Whistle, are part of the King’s Service. The illustrious organization that my father refused to call anything but Seven, or the Bloody Arseholes of Seven. You locked him away before I was born. You took him away from me when I was just a girl. You may even have had something to do with us being here today. So it is for your benefit today that I remind you of how my father, Bricu Bittertongue, was a right bastard.

He wouldn’t mind you lot speaking ill of him–he didn’t have a kind word to say about you either–and he would be offended if you lied about him.

But he was my bastard, and I would rather have a right bastard with me then King or Country behind me.

Good bye Da. I love you. We’ll miss you.

He felt that the fox was close.

The panther had hunted the fox for hours as she ran through Elwynn forest. The chase led him to a clearing, halfway between the forest and the hills that surrounded the human city. The fox sat on a rock, looking towards the hills. The panther approached slowly, crouching low to the ground, his belly rubbing againt the twigs and leaves of the forest flooor. His tail swished, once, before the pounce. The fox’s ears perked as the panther’s tail hit the ground. She jumped from the rock and bounded off into the hills. The panther pounced and landed where the fox was. She was yards ahead, looking down on the panther from the top of a hill. The panther gave the chase.

He gained on the fox quickly, closing into pounce once more. The fox ducked right. The panther lunged, falling for the feint. She bounded down another path on the left, forcing the panther to slow and turn. It took a moment for the panther to track the fox, but the moment was all the fox needed to disappear into the hillside. The panther smelled the fox–she had ran down this path–but the scent trail ended in front of a small, narrow cave.

He could feel the fox was nearby, but his senses focused on closer prety. The sounds of mewling caught his ear. He smelled somethign similar to the fox–her kin–but he could not see them. Her kits were close, in a cave too small for the panther to reach them. So he waited. The kits would eventually stop mewling and look out for their mother. When they would, the panther would be there, ready for them.

The kits didn’t stop mewling. He walked a few paces away, downwind, so the kits couldn’t smell him, but not a single one looked for their mother. As the panther waited, the moonset behind the hills. The mewling grew fainter. Soon the panther walked back to the cave and listened for the mewling. The cave was silent. While he smelt the fox still, the kit’s scent was fading. Another smell, sickly sweet, filled his nostrils. Something above the cave cracked and shattered. The panther lept backward, dodging the falling rocks and debris, sealing the cave completely.

His senses focused on the cave, the panther didn’t hear the fox as she crept behind him, but he felt her when she pounced on his tail. Lighting quick, the panther reared round to face the fox, but not before the fox bit into the panther’s paw. The panther growled and lashed out with the the same wounded paw, but the fox glared and barked at her.

“Annie!” it growled. “ANNIE!”

Annalea Al’Cair sat straight up in her bed. Her dream still playing in her mind as she looked for the buzz box she had left on her nightstand. The nightstand, and its contents, were scattered to the ground, knocked over in her sleep. She found the box underneath her notebook. Her brother in law’s voice barking her name.

“Oi, fer fuck’s sake, ANNIE!”

“I”m here, I’m here. I was just…getting…What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’ wrong. Everythin’s on schedule. Threnny’s water broke.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I think so…but yer the other fuckin’ midwife. Yeh’re supposed t’tell me! So get yer arse o’er here!”

“I’m coming.” She paused for a moment, trying to clear her head. “Did you get my list?”

“Aye, only thing missin’ are yeh an Shad an our Naiara. I’ve gotta get that one on the box. Yeh comin’?”

“Aye, aye.” She said. “Be there in two shakes.”

“We’ll be waitin’.”

Annie set her buzz box down on her bed and started to change from her night clothes into something more appropriate for her niece’s birth. She looked at her right hand, the same she must have used when she knocked the nightstand over. A bruise was forming. By the time Naiara would be born, it would be a sickly purple green. Annie tried to focus on the bruise, but all she could remember was the fox’s bite and the kits trapped in a cave.

–
Tarquin
The Gilded Rose had always been considered a respectable establishment, even in its early days. It was the sort of place that, rather than being tarnished by those of its clients with tarnish to impart, gave them a sort of glossy sheen. But there were always going to be those who disagreed.

The trouble started with a toast, old John Bell lifting a glass of the Rose’s good dark beer to Threnn Al’Cair’s good fortune, and his sons responding in kind. Really, not the sort of thing that should have inspired trouble. Then William toasted Bricu Bittertongue and his good fortune, which Robert suggested was much greater – “After all, he’s getting a lovely child and our Threnny.”

None of the Bells knew the man who rose from a table of five companions and made his way to their snug table by the fire, but John at least recognized the emblem stitched onto his tunic – House Fairfax’s horse-and-horn quarterings. He was an athletic-looking young fellow, with handsome features spoiled primarily by the supercilious sneer lurking on his face waiting for an excuse to pop out. “What’s the happy occasion, citizens?” he inquired pleasantly enough.

“A birth, sirrah,” reported Robert with a grin. “And the couple’s first to boot. Join us for a drink, won’t you?” He was in the sort of ebullient good mood that manifests itself as contagion. “Anyone, in fact, who’d like a round on my brother can have one!”

The Fairfax man chuckled at that, and William’s protesting shout. “Well, it’s rare enough I turn down a free drink. Only – who did you say were the lucky couple again?”

“Threnn and Bricu Bittertongue,” Robert answered. “Fine Stormwind business-folk, the both of them, and proper soldiers to boot.” The uniformed man lifted an eyebrow and made a noise in the back of his throat that carried some unflattering connotations.

“Something troubling you, sir?” asked William, with a wary glance at his brother.

“I’ll have to decline, with all respect,” the Fairfax man said in a tone that implied very little in the way of respect. “While I’m sure you’re fine Stormwind gentlemen, a greenskin’ll sit the Lion Throne before I’d lift a mug to the likes of those.” That sneer had no compunctions about making itself shown.

“And what likes would that be, my friend?” Robert pushed his mug aside and let one tattooed arm fall on the tabletop,fingers tapping. As carpenters went, he was a fairly muscular sort. The standing man seemed unimpressed, but his five friends at the far table might have had something to do with that. “Threnny’s like a sister to us, I’ll have you know.”

“Not much of a brother then, are you?” The Fairfax man planted his own hand on the tabletop, not far from Robert’s. “I couldn’t imagine letting any sister of mine marry that Bittertongue sot, or wear those colors.”

“Not our bloody fault you haven’t any imagination,” offered William, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Look, fellow, why don’t you go and sit down? This is meant to be a happy occasion.”

The man scoffed. He practically said “Scoff.” William was seized by a sudden urge to laugh, and the looming man caught it and scowled. Nothing irked the likes of the provocateur more than not being taken seriously. “Well, then again,” he said with weighty sarcasm, “Maybe your ‘Threnny’ is just where she’s meant to be, with the criminal scum. Like that sister of hers, hm?”

William and Robert were both on their feet in an instant, the smiles wiped from their faces. “Say that again,” Robert said flatly. “Go on and say that again, you streak of piss.”

“Better,” grunted their father as he got to his feet. “Don’t. Turn around, walk out that door, and go tell Lord Fairfax to give you something useful to do.” John Bell clasped his big gnarled hands in front of his chest. “Because if you say it, then you have my personal guarantee that whatever else happens, my boys will knock the teeth from your head for speaking ill of the Al’Cair family. I’ll put it on paper if you want.”

The Fairfax man glanced around the room, which had fallen silent. A bit less than twenty people in the commons, split three ways between Bittertongue well-wishers, unrelated guests, and of course his own five companions. Apparently, he liked his odds. “Bricu Bittertongue is a drunken, murdering bastard,” he said with slow and oozing malice, “And Threnn Bittertongue and Annalea Al’Cair are nothing but a pair of-”

“-virra lovely an’ charmin’ ladies.” Somehow, the speaker had entered the Rose in the few moments between the Fairfax man’s survey of the room and his address to the brothers Bell and their father. “An’ I’m glad ta join yeh in the privilege ay thir ‘quaintance, Bennett, auld boy. It is Bennett, innit? Hadyn Bennett?” The apparent Master Bennett made no reply, but the color could be observed to be leaving his face at an unusually rapid rate.

Tarquin ap Danwyrith strolled into the room, glancing over at Bennett’s table of friends, none of whom made move to rise. He draped one lanky arm around Bennett’s shoulders. “Hadyn Bennett, an’ in the colors too! Fuck me, mate, but yeh’ve moved up in the world, have’na yeh? I recall when a keen punter could get yeh ta break yir ain dear auld ma’s knees fir the price ay a whore!” He laughed at his own wit, grinning broadly at the slightly bemused trio of Bells across the table. “An’ look at yeh now. Time’s been kind, eh?”

He adjusted his hat and leaned in to speak into Hadyn’s ear, his smile getting even wider while the latter’s sickly grin curdled. From his place across the table, William could hear quite clearly. “If I see any ay yeh Fairfax cunts within a hundred paces ay Threnny’s child, they willna find the bodies ’til she’s a grandmother. Take yir lads an’ go tell Fane what I said. Now.” Tarquin let go and clapped Bennett on the shoulder, then turned away, not bothering to watch as the man made a hasty gesture to his table of companions and exited the Gilded Rose with haste unbecoming a sworn man of House Fairfax.

Once the six had left, Tarquin planted one foot on an unoccupied seat, tilting his hat back to peer at the brothers Bell, still standing. “Well, thit wis divertin’. Which yin ay yeh’s Bell, then?”

“Ah – all of us,” answered William, staring at ap Danwyrith skeptically. Robert settled for a pugnacious glare, a recalcitrant blood vessel still throbbing slightly at his brow.

“I’m John Bell,” responded that eminent personality, comfortably ensconced in his seat once again. “Those two are my sons, William and Robert. And you’re ap Danwyrith, aren’t you?”

“Guilty, ay thit if naught else.” Tarquin tipped his hat to all three and stepped back, buffing the buttons on his green tunic. They seemed perfectly shiny, but he was the sort of man who always needed something to do with his hands, if only to keep them out of trouble. “I’m meant ta tell yeh thit Thenia an’ Padraig’s oan thir way. Have a drink or twa ready fir thim, eh?” Some prestidigitation with his right hand saw a gold half-crown glittering on the tabletop. “Oan me.”

“Very generous of you, Master ap Danwyrith,” observed John with a certain wry twist to his lips that neither of his sons completely understood. “Have that drink with us?” William, back in his seat, moved to draw out an empty chair.

“Love ta, auld boy, but Threnny wants me up thir ta keep her husband fra’ breakin’ down wi’ the terrors.” He smirked and stepped back. “I’ll see yeh eftir, na doubt. Cheers, Masters Bell, an’ keep up the guid work.” He withdrew his leg and made his long-stepping way up the stairs, as the rest of the room slowly returned to its previous mutter of conversation, less the empty corner table.

William broke the silence, smirking at Robert. “Are you ever going to sit down?” Robert coughed and did so, a touch of that pugnacious scowl still on his face, and Will turned to his father. “That fellow, he’s the same one in the papers. The one who…” He couldn’t seem to find an adequate way to finish the sentence, and settled for picking up the gold coin from the tabletop. “All those stories can’t be true.”

“Half’d be enough,” said John quietly. “But that’s the way it is, boys – if Threnn’s family, then so’s Bricu, and so’s that one.”

The brothers Bell looked at each other, and then Robert shrugged and lifted his glass. “Alright, then. Wouldn’t be here if we didn’t trust our Threnny, now would we?” William smiled, put down the coin, and found his own beer.

Clink.

–
Threnn checked three times to make sure she was broadcasting to a private channel rather than to the Riders’ common one. “Fellsie?”

It took a minute for the other woman to answer. She was likely busy putting the house in order, or outside, fingers dug deep in the earth, planting her garden. “Mmn? Whatsit?”

“Think you can get to Stormwind soon?”

“Threnny? Everthin’ a’right?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine so far.” Bricu had put out the summons to Anna and Haemon already. She could hear him talking quietly with Tarquin now. Kara had been sent to find her parents. This was really happening.

“‘So far’.” The sound of a bridle jangling as it came down from its hook almost drowned out the concern in Fells’ voice.

Threnn tried to keep her own calm. “So far. My water broke maybe ten minutes ago. Can you–”

“‘M ON M’WAY.”

She grinned as Fells switched off, and settled down to wait for her family to arrive.

Naiara Bittertongue

Today is Naiara Bittertongue’s Birthday. I don’t think its funny to celebrate the birthday of a fictional character, especially when this particular fictional character is the result of so many fantastic stories. So, in honor of those fantastic stories–and my brilliant RP partner Threnn–I’m sharing the stories and cleaned up chat logs from that night. If you stick with us to the very end, you’ll learn something new about Naiara…

The contractions started at dawn, pulling Threnn out of a sound sleep. It was the first night since they’d returned from Icecrown that she hadn’t dreamed of the fields littered with the dead, or the shadow of a chittering Nerubian Prince, or the cold, dead eyes of the Wordweaver. She lay there in the dim light, wondering if she should wake Bricu. He’d been subdued all week, the horrors they’d witnessed shadowing his eyes even when he was making plans for their daughter’s future.

The pain subsided even as she came awake the rest of the way. It had felt more like a strong cramp than what she imagined true labor pains would be. Anna says this part could last all day. Leave him be. Truth be told, Anna had said this part could last for several days. Best to wait a little longer and try getting back to sleep herself. Threnn pulled the covers up and snuggled closer to her husband.

It seemed that she’d only just drifted off when the second one came, but it had to be longer than a few minutes; the sun was brighter, creeping across the floor towards the bed. She counted to thirty before the pang went away, and gave up on the notion that she’d fall asleep again any time soon.

There was just enough light to read by; Threnn sat up, propping her pillows behind her back, and retrieved one of the books Yva’d brought to her — a study of arcane magic, written for beginning practitioners. It got dry in places, enough that her eyes slipped closed despite her resolve to stay awake. The book fell from her hands.

Sometime later, both Bittertongues awoke to the sounds of a cat and a pengu crashing about the room in a game of chase. Sasha dove under the bed. Tirion launched himself across the top of it — tromping over his master’s and mistress’ legs — to drop down upon her when her beak poked out from the other side.

“Oi!” Bricu’s sleep-thickened voice made both animals pause mid-tumble to peek up at him guiltily. “The two o’yeh cut that out or I’ll ship yeh off ta the gobbers. See if they feed yeh half so well.”

Tirion stopped gnawing on Sasha’s ear and started giving her a bath. For her part, the pengu suffered it in silence.

Bricu grunted and rolled over, reaching for Threnn. “It’s almost as if they understa–Threnny? Yeh been awake long?”

She shook her head. “I was reading for a while, and. Oh. Ow.” Her hand went to her stomach as she felt the cramping begin again.

That got Bricu sitting up, his hand covering hers and filling with the Light. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, love. ‘s what’s supposed to happen.” She took a deep breath. Another. “Half a minute. Last one was maybe an hour ago.”

His eyes widened. “Should we be callin’ Annie an’ Haemon?”

“They’ll tell me to go back to bed. ‘s nowhere near time yet.”

“But it’s today, isn’t it?”

“Today or tomorrow, yeah.”

“An’ they’ll tell us to go back ta sleep? Ballacks.” Bricu let the Light go and raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m not goin’ ta be able ta…” He looked around their room, as if there might be answers in the gleam of gems on his worktable, or the ashes in the grate. Or on the tea tray from last night. “Breakfast.”

“What?”

“If I’m not goin’ back ta sleep, I’m makin’ breakfast. Can yeh eat?”

“A whole stack of pancakes.”

“Brilliant.” He leaned over and kissed her. When he pulled away, two pairs of eyes were peeking over the edge of the bed, one feline, one birdlike. “An’ yeh lot get tuna. We’re celebratin’.”

—

After breakfast, there was nothing to do but wait. Bricu arranged his jewels and settings on the worktable and made a valiant effort at concentrating on them. Soon enough, he gave that up and moved to his writing desk, sifting through paperwork for the house and the Pig. Threnn, deprived of her blacksmithing tools, sketched out a few designs for a sword she was planning once her sister returned her hammers.

Then a contraction would come, and both Bittertongues would stop what they were doing while Threnn counted off. Bricu had started keeping a list of their length and frequency during breakfast, when a particularly strong one made Threnn drop her fork.

A call to Anna yielded the exact reaction they’d expected: keep count, wait, tell me when they’re closer. Despite that, while she was cautioning her sister and brother-in-law to stay calm, they could hear her rushing around on the other side of the buzzbox, gathering her things. Threnn imagined Anna composing a list in her blocky handwriting, ticking off the items one by one.

They took a walk when the bells tolled half-past ten, making their slow way to the Mage District. Flowers lined the walkways, a colorful contrast to the stark snows of Icecrown. “I’ve never noticed them before,” said Threnn, bending awkwardly to pick a white sprig of yarrow.

“I heard the crown doubled the gardenin’ staff, after the winter we had. Keeps up morale.” He considered the flowerbed they were passing and added a lily to her bouquet.

“Well. ‘s working.”

By the time they meandered back to the Rose, the midday crowd had arrived. Bricu took the flowers and headed into the kitchens to prepare their lunch. Threnn paused halfway up the stairs, her knuckles turning white on the railing as another contraction came. They were definitely coming faster now, their intensity growing. When it passed, she continued her climb, grateful that no one had seen her grimace and offered assistance.

She surveyed the room as she swept inside, hanging her light spring cloak on its hook. Everything was tidy; the bedside tables had been cleared off for Anna and Haemon’s use. They’d borrowed a few chairs from the small sitting room down the hall. Light only knew if they’d be needed, but it was better to be prepared.

Bricu entered a few minutes later with bowls of soup and a loaf of fresh bread. He’d found a vase for the flowers and set them in the middle of the tray.

“Smells delicious.”

“It’s cream o’asparagus.” He put everything down on the desk and waited for Threnn to try her first spoonful before tucking into his own. “Threnny? Don’t yeh like it?”

She’d taken one taste and set the spoon down. “I… It’s fine. I just. I think…” She shifted in the chair.

“Another contraction?” The log wasn’t far from his hand. Bricu waited, pen poised.

Only, Threnn wasn’t counting this time. She stood up, touching the seat of the chair, then the back of her dress. “Think I need to change.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “My water just broke.”
–

Kara Thompson, who refused to run on general principle, bolted out of the door of the Gilded Rose and into the crowded, early morning streets of Stormwind. She was confused, worried and borderline giddy as she ran out of her workplace through her regular early-morning customers.

“Make way!” she screamed in her off-key voice, “MrsBricuishavingthebaby!!” Her words jumbled together as she flew past stunned customers.

Mr. Bricu had given her precise, clear instructions on who to find: Thenia and Padraig, Mrs. Bricu’s parents. She was then supposed to give Morgan Pestle Annie’s list and bring the herbs she needed back. He also mentioned something about being quiet about the birth, but Kara thought that was a stupid idea. Babies and birth were not quiet things. New life was loud, so why try and keep it quiet? But Mr. Bricu’s requests were seldom, and he was such a pleasant man to deal with. She kept her comments to herself.

Kara ran staight and true into Morgan Pestle’s apothecary.

“Morgan! Here! I need these things right away!” Kara cut through the line and handed the list straight to Morgan Pestle. He took the list, examined it briefly, dismissing his patrons with a “hush!” .

“Whose this for, Kara? You already had your…”

“Mrs. Bricu’s having her baby now! Hurry, please!”

“Threnny’s having her baby?” said someone a few steps behind her.

“YES!” she yelled back, “and it’s supposed to be a quiet affair!”

“Wasn’t a quiet affair when I saved her from drowning,” the voice said. “Kara, dear, you give her a message for me.”

“I do not have time to dilly-dally, sir!” Kara spun on her heel and jabbed a finger at Elling Trias. “Oh! Mr. Trias! I’m so sorry!”

Elling simply smiled. “Just tell her to teach her baby to swim. I’ll be by to pay my respects soon. Now then, can I get my tarragon and dill from my friend Morgan here?”

“Oh, certainly!” Kara said meekly. “I’ve got to fetch Mrs. Bricu’s parents!”

“Do you know where their shop is, girl?” Morgan asked.

“Oh, sure I do. They do so much business with Delion Oreweave, they probably have their shop right next to his! Tata!” Kara sprinted out the door, ignoring the yelps and shouts of the crowd in Pestle’s.

The cheesemaker’s brow creased as Morgan measured out sprigs of tarragon, dill, mint and cumin. “Did she just say by Oreweave’s shop?”

“Elling, I wouldn’t worry over it. Bittertongue probably just sent her on a fool’s errand to keep her away from the birth. She’s a sweet girl, but she’s a few ounces short of a pound.” Morgan handed over four wrapped packages. “That’ll be four silvers.”

Elling paid his tab. He shook his head briefly. “If not, Padraig and Thenia will have to claw through the crowd to see their granddaughter. Thanks, mate.” He was halfway out of the shop before he stopped and asked, “Wait, Morgan. Is that list she gave you real?”

Morgan peered at the list while shifting through his stocks of pepper. He paled as he answered. “Oh hell. It is.”

–

“I SAID WHERE ARE PADRAIG AND THENIA AL’CAIR!”

The shout startled him out of his flow. Delion pulled the thread slightly, pulling out the other pearls he had spent hours working on.

“Do you realize,” Delion said, his anger adding venom to his tone, “that you have just ruined hours upon hours of work?”

“I asked nicely three times! Padraig and Thenia, are they here?” Kara crossed her arms and stared at Delion.

“Did the sign outside say ‘Al’Cair’s Fabrics?’ Do I look human to you?”

“You don’t have to get upset.”

“Upset? You ruined hours of work with your inane and foolish prattle! You ask a question where the answer is painfully obvious. Then you ask if I am upset?” Delion studied Kara’s flushed features, “Are you ill or just slow?”

“There is no need to be rude!”

“Dear child, I am not being rude. You are the one who is not following proper decorum. I believe you should leave before I waste more time.”

“But…” Kara stammered.

“Go.” Delion said, scooping up spilled pearls.

“Mrs. Bricu!” She said again

“Go!”

“ishaving!”

“Get out of my store this instant!” Delion said, stamping his foot.

“the baby!”

Delion adjust his jewelers loop. “Mrs. Bricu? Child, did you mean Threnn?”

“Yes!”

Delion paused. He studied Kara’s face as if she had sprouted a third eye. “Why are you telling me this?”

A grin creeped up on Kara’s featuers. “Who’s slow now, huh?”

Delion rolled his eyes. “Oh, just get out of my store.”

“Fine.” Kara stormed out of the store. She slammed the door for good measure.

Delion turned on his buzz box, for good measure, while he started to repair the damage to the dress.

–

The brothers Bell walked from the Stormwind Docks, napsacks over their shoulders, smiles on their faces. They continued their argument that started in Valiance Keep.

“I’m just sayin’ that he didnt’ need to get us the extra wood or the shits from Westfall. We can do this for them with what we have.”

“And I’m just saying who cares! He’s paying us the same rate, with better wood and decent help. What’s the problem Robert?”

“The problem, my knot headed brother, is he’s doing all this for us, while we were doing it all for our Threnny.”

“And he’s just making things safer, and better, for his wife and their baby.”

“Our Threnny. A mother?” Robert asked.

“Our Threnny. A damn fine mother.”

Robert let his brothers word sink before commenting.

“That’s true. And Bricu isn’t that bad.” Robert said.

“In fact, we both approve of him.” William added with a nod.

“Its that Fingold we have to watch out for.”

“Oh, aye. Bricu’s salt of the earth. Edour’s almost–what was Bricu’s term?”

“Proper Northern.”

“Aye, Proper Northern. Can’t trust those folk who don’t have a shady past.”

“Aren’t you the same person who said, ‘never trust a northman who doesn’t drink?’” Robert asked.

“I am.”

“And our Bricu doesn’t drink.”

“He is as sober as a glass of water.”

“And?”

“And he drank enough to build a credit of trustworthiness.” William stated plainly.

“Speaking of drunks, what is her deal?” Robert pointed down the canals, towards a woman running madly across the bridge, stopping every person she saw.

“I’ve bloody clue,” William said, “but she’s coming right for you, brother dear.” He shoved his brother slightly, so Robert was in the lead when the dishevelved, flushed and wild eyed girl grabbed him.

“DO YOU KNOW THENIA AND PADRAIG!”

Robert glared at his brother before smiling sweetly. “We know a Thenia and a Patrick. They love him like a son.”

“Your Bricu’s Brother-in-law?!” Kara exclaimed. “You have got to take me to your parents house. Mrs. Bricu is having her baby!”

“Oh ho, wait a minute friend.” Robert said, putting a hand on Kara’s shoulder. “Our little Threnny is having her baby now?”

“YES! She started labor hours ago! Mr. Bricu asked me to find her parents, deliver messages…They Need me.”

“I’m sure they do luv, I’m sure they do. Now, what’s your name again?” William asked.

“Kara Thompson.” She curtsied out of habit, “I just need to let her parents know!”

“How about this luv. We’ll run home and let Thenia and Padraig know. You just run back to our Threnn and let her know we’re on the way.” Robert said.

“Would you?” As she spoke, Kara visibly relaxed.

“Certainly sweetling. We’ve always taken care of her, we’ll do it now too.” William replied.

“Oh bless you both!”

“We’ll take whatever blessings you have to give, Kara. Now run back to our Threnny, alright?” Robert said with a grin.

Kara smiled and started down the canals, running straight for the trade District. As she ran toward the trade district, Robert took William’s gear.

“Get going.” He said calmly. “I’ll tell da, you tell momma Al’Cair and Padraig. I’ll meet you at the Rose?”

“Quit gabbing, get moving.” William said, bounding off towards old town. “You have to carry the crib we finished! It’s at the shop”

“You’re an asshole William!” Robert yelled after his brother.

“Just like my dear brother.” William shouted back.

Robert, moving slower now, whistled to himself. “Our Threnny, a mother.”

–

Kara rushed back into Pestle’s Apothecary, once again cutting in front of the other customers. “Well Mr. Pestle, is it ready?”

“Kara, dear, Mr. Ilbis was here first.”

“No. I was here first.” She leveled her gaze. “I dropped off a list for Mr. and Mrs. Bittertongue. I am here just to pick up what she needs.”

“Why don’t you wait a moment, eh? Threnody’s labor will last….”

“Mr. Pestle. Please, I know it isn’t going to happen right away, but I need to be there for them.”

“Kara, you’re a sweet girl, but do you really think…”

“If Mr. Bricu didn’t want me there, don’t you think he would tell me–directly–that he didn’t want me there?”

“Well…”

“No. You listen.” She said calmly, “they sent me to get her parents. I found them. I took longer. I got flustered. It makes sense. My friends are having their first child. I am allowed to be a bit absentminded. Maybe you should just get me their package so Mrs. Bricu isn’t going to be screaming bloody murder.”

“But.”

“No buts dearie. Just hand me the package. Okay?”

Morgan grumbled as he handed her package. She balanced it on one hip while she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

“Thank you Mr. Pestle!”

“Light bless, Kara.” He said, almost cordially.

Kara ducked and weaved through the crowd, not spilling a single item. She rushed back to the Rose, just outside the Bittertongue’s private room, and knocked on the door.

“Mr. Bricu, its all here!”

“Thank yeh lass!” he said from the other side of the door. “Can yeh wait there in case we need yeh for somethin’ else?”

“I’m not going anywhere. You tell Mrs. Bricu that if she needs anything, to just holler.”

“That’s sweet o’yeh lass. I’m sure she’ll be hollerin’ soon.”

Kara did not wait for the shouting. She boiled water for tea, wine for gauze and instruments, and prepared a small sandwhiches for the crowd she knew was coming. It was going to be a long labor–and Kara Thompson was ready for it.

–

Lady Varenna Sungale by *JRinaldi on deviantART

Varenna raised her shield and blocked both of Illithias’ slashes. “Il-Illithias! Stop!” Varenna shouted at her. Illlithias snarled in response and swung her axes again. Varenna blocked one axe with her shield. She parried the other, beat the haft of the axe hard enough for Illithias to drop her second axe. This didn’t stop her. She grabbed her remaining axe with both hands and swung with all of her might at Varenna. Varenna neither parried nor raised her shield. She took two quick steps backward out of the arc of the axe. It slammed into the ground, kicking up a great gout of snow. Still snarling, Illithias pulled back up on the axe with both hands.

“Stop! We have to go!” Varenna shouted. “Illithias! We’re leaving!”

Illithias pulled the axe half-out of the snow. She stopped snarling long enough only to spit out, “I’m staying.” She tugged once more before Bricu slammed his own axe onto the haft of her remaining axe.

“Get yer arse back t’the fuckin’ line long ear. Sunshine, get movin’.”

“Not till she moves, Sergeant.” Varenna replied.

Bricu stopped short of a response as Illithias leapt at him, fists swinging, screaming in Darnassian. He caught her by the wrist and held her gaze for a moment.

“The fuck yeh screamin’ ’bout?”

“LEAVE ME HERE!”

“Fuck this.” Bricu said. Then he slammed his forehead into the bridge of her nose. Twice. Illithias went limp, but Bricu held her up by her wrists.

“Sunshine?”

“Yes Sergeant.”

“Carry the fuckin’ tosser. I’ll grab her axes.”

“Yes sir.”

Varenna took Illithias on her shoulders, and carried her back to the rally point. Bricu scooped up her weapons and double timed it back. Varenna rushed past Threnn, Fingold and Annalea and set Illithias up against a rock.

“Sunshine, sit on her.”

“Sergeant?”

“Sit on her, I’m gettin’ rope.”

Bricu went to the makeshift medical tent and grabbed frostweave bandages. Varenna was kneeling on Illithias back when he returned, and although Illi had not stirred, Varenna still looked uncomfortable. He quickly tied her ankles together, then moved to her wrists. He motioned for Varenna to spin her over, which she did quickly. Then Bricu gently put a hand on her face and called upon the light to heal Illi’s broken nose. She awoke with a start, cursing in Darnassian.

“Oi, the fight’s over. We lost. Yer safe.”

“To the Nether with you, Bittertongue. You stole my chance at absolution.” Illithias snarled. She pulled against her bonds, but they held tight.

Bricu glared at her in response. Illithias didn’t seem to notice.

“I can join my family, leave this world doing right, not have to suffer through their deaths and my fall and…”

“Yeh fuckin’ stow this shite solider.” Bricu said. He didn’t raise his voice. “If yer life is so fuckin’ cheap an meaningless, then I’m buyin’ it.”

Illithias stopped struggling and looked up at Bricu. “You what?”

“I fuckin’. Own. Yeh. Yer too fuckin’ stupid t’see the worth that I do? Fine. I own it. Since yeh threw it away on shite move, I bought it on the fuckin’ cheap.”

“I am not going to be your property, your slave…”

“Slaves have value. Yeh only got potential. Yer an’ investment–since yer too fuckin’ broken t’be a person right now. An t’keep my investment safe…. Sunshine?”

“Yes sergeant?” Varenna whispered.

“Keep her in those bandages.”

“Yes sergeant.”

Illithias cursed again, but Bricu glowered at her. She fell silent after a few moments, but Bricu didn’t turn away. Bricu held Illithias’ gaze for as long as she could. When she broke, and lowered her head, Bricu continued to look at her.

“If she gets up,” Bricu said sternly, “knock her out.”