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A Tale of Two Princes	By : coolwHip Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 3393 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft. I make no money from posting this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
A young elf poked his garden hoe at the ground thoughtfully. It was damp out and he wasn’t sure about planting or working with the soil when it was practically flooded. His yard had turned into a little swamp for almost two days of heavy rain and he was worried that his plants would drown or float away. His mother had chuckled at his concerns and told her son to stop making himself sick over the garden.
“I’m not making myself sick over it,” he blushed. His mother teased him a lot about his love for his garden. But he knew it really had to do with her dislike of his love for simple labor.
She was always pressing her son to be more ambitious – had always been. But the young man was terribly shy and sensitive around others and enjoyed his simple life. He definitely didn’t exhibit the ambition expected of a sin'dorei.
“Belorei,” he could hear his mother in his head even now as he crouched and poked a hole in the ground with his finger. “Darling, why don’t you go and try out for recruitment? You have nimble fingers and you might be good with a sword if you received more training.”
As it was, the young man could already hit a target with a thrown knife, and he could use a bow well enough to catch a rabbit for their dinner. He didn’t usually hunt larger game. His mother suspected that her son felt empathy for the creatures in the forest and that once again, her son’s simple life mindset kept him from seeing any reason to hunt more meat than he and his mother needed.
He could feel her eyes on him now and sighed. She was standing in the doorway, probably with her arms crossed over her chest, frowning at him. He turned to peek and almost laughed when his guess turned out to be completely right. He looked back at the ground, smiling.
“I see that grin,” she said and he laughed, unable to help himself.
“Minn’da, what do you want me to do?” he sighed.
“Go and receive training,” she pleaded. “To be a knight-“
“Minn’da,” he groaned. “I am no knight.” He chuckled at the notion of himself wearing a suit of armor. He had shot arrows during the fall of Silvermoon but that was because he was trying to defend himself and others and it was a necessary, desperate time. He had no reason to join their ranks now – he figured he was more of a contribution staying out of their ranks than joining them.
“You have good reflexes – and muscles from all the labor you do,” she shook her head and seemed to spit on the ground. “Common labour.”
It hurt him. He looked back at her and she lowered her eyes. Those eyes of his were shaped much like his father’s and that sensitive look in them when she’d offended him always broke her heart. But she wanted the best for him!
This poor, simple life on the edge of Eversong Woods was not worthy of him. He deserved more, in her opinion. Perhaps not a palace and the title of Sun Prince, but he certainly deserved more than toiling in the ground.
“Forgive me,” she sighed. He sighed too. He forgave her every day. It wasn’t conscious – he couldn’t help but forgive her. She was his mother, all he had in the world, and he loved her. But her comments did burn him inside.
She blamed his softness and lack of ambition on herself and his lack of a father. She had tried to keep men in her life, to keep one around long enough to grow an attachment to the boy and act as a father to him. But they always left in the end because she was too demanding of them or too emotional, too moody, and from a young age the boy had come to see men not as father figures but as largely apathetic to him, only interested in his mother. It didn't hurt him as much as it hurt her, really. He was as apathetic to the men in his mother's life as they were to him.
So she blamed herself for his sensitivity and his submissive nature around others. She had kept him as safe as possible from the world and now she feared the world would eat him alive the way it had those farmers and simple folk of Lordaeron and Tirisfal.
Most elven women didn’t base their lives around their children or had other ambitions. Perhaps also because he was a symbol of something lost, something she felt she must try to protect. She still held in her heart dreams of him somehow being discovered and raised back to the status worthy of his noble blood, but she knew they were just dreams. What he needed was a good reality – a practical, useful career where he might rise in the ranks.
“At least try,” she begged. “Try to go-“
“Minn’da, no,” he groaned, glaring at the plant whose dead leaves he was plucking off.
“Listen to me!” she hissed and he looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Just try again. One more time for me. Go to the paladin trainer-“
“No! I can’t!” he stood, looking horrified. “Minn’da I embarrassed myself and everyone! I am not a warrior-“
“You must try!” she cried out, tears springing to her eyes. “I can’t bear this any longer!”
He sighed and sagged, closing his eyes. His jaw twitched, anger battling with guilt and dutiful love for his mother. For another moment she was reminded of his father and her heart twinged.
“Alright,” he sighed at last. She was happy for once that her son had such a weak will. He was so unlike his father in so many ways. It really was troubling, but she was sure with a little militant discipline and perhaps a push in the right direction, he would gain ambition with time.
She could see it in her mind already – her son would struggle at first, but he would pull through and become a great warrior and win admiration and the love of his people. They would discover the truth of his line somehow and he would be welcome as their future Prince.
She shook her head at the last part of that dream. Enough dreaming about her son being restored to a throne! It would be enough if she could get him to the village.
“Minn’da,” he looked to her. “Do me a favor?”
“Yes? What?” she was clapping her hands and bouncing on the balls of her feet already with excitement.
“Please don’t come with me,” he grimaced. “Like you stayed home last time-“
“Ohh! But maybe you need encouragement! Maybe that’s what was wrong last time-“
“Nooo Minn’da please!” he laughed in horror at the idea of his mother cheering him from the sidelines as he sparred with the trainer. Last time he’d humiliated himself by poking himself in the eye with the training sword, then stumbling backward and knocking over a mage who happened to be a Magister visiting the village. It was probably the worse moment of his life, looking up to see a powerful magister brushing himself off and sneering down at him, one hand already forming a fire ball. He’d scrambled to his feet and sputtered a fast apology, bowing several times and wishing the Magister would just make him disappear. The worst part was the group of girls nearby laughing until they were almost breathless.
“Oh all right,” she sighed, smiling with amusement herself. She knew that men had their pride and it was very important to them, no matter how humble they might seem on the outside.
She kissed her son’s cheek, squeezing him tightly and he squeezed her back. She was shorter than him now and it gave her joy that her son had grown such a tall, elegant frame like his father. She was glad he didn’t have her common blood physically in those terms. Her male relatives had all been short. Though her family had not exactly been common – merely less wealthy than most nobility. They had not been a family of mages but the Morningdews typically turned out rangers and warriors. They were esteemed not for their wealth or magical ability but for their loyalty and generations dedicated to serving Quel'Thalas in battle.
Well they were common as hell now, she thought with a sigh, turning to look bitterly at their little cabin. This also caused her son sadness. He knew his mother hated their home and their simple life here; he could tell just by the way she looked at the house what she was thinking. He didn’t understand why. He thought it was a lovely little cabin and that they were fortunate – after so many had lost so much – to have their little cabin, their health, and each other.
He knew who his father was. He remembered the day his mother had told him, when he was younger and had already become used to taking on the bulk of the outdoor chores as the man of the household. He had run out of the cabin and hidden in the woods for a while, sitting in a tree in thought. He didn’t know why exactly he ran off crying. Perhaps because he’d always assumed his father died somehow in the war against the Scourge and when he learned the truth, the peace of that certainty was taken away and he was forced to face the truth that he was the illegitimate, and likely unwanted son of a Prince. He was an accident who only existed because his mother had wanted to keep her child.
At that point in time, when his mother had told him, the Prince was still in Dalaran, working for the Kirin Tor. This was shortly after the fall of Silvermoon, after the boy learned to use bow and arrow for the sake of defending his people.
Hands on his mother’s shoulders, gently massaging, he looked at the cabin and beyond it, to his memories of the war. They had evacuated the city along with other straggling refugees to hide in Eversong Forest. Eventually they had made their way up to Sunstrider Isle where his people made their last stand against the Scourge. He remembered vaguely his step father, Vadrian - the ranger in Silvermoon with desperate eyes who grabbed him and shoved a bow and quiver full of arrows into his hand during the attack by the Lich King.
“Here boy!” he’d said. “Today you learn to fight- look over there. You see that one? You see his ugly face? I want you to aim for it. I want you to keep shooting until you hit him or you run out of arrows. You think you can do that?” the man rattled off not even giving the boy time to answer. “Good, do it.”
And then the boy was pointing his bow and arrow, squinting one eye shut, tongue between his teeth, as he fired an arrow and struck the shield of a skeletal ghoul, which looked around in confusion at hearing the ping of the arrow. He remembered laughing and pulling out another arrow. It had been almost fun.
Until the great howling noise of the Scourge masses had become so intense that his ears rang, and his mother ran up to grab him and yank him along with her, leading him to escape through a portal to Dalaran. He could remember her sobbing with terror and shoving him along in front of her, glancing back once over his shoulder to see a horde of other elves running behind them, and behind that throng, a horrific sight that gave him nightmares to this day. There had been masses, almost an endless, writhing wave of undead pouring into the city from what seemed every direction, picking off the unlucky people who happened to be at the back. He could see them clearly, screaming in terror and running one moment to simply disappear, picked down by Scourge, the next. Explosions caused by the firing of mages, sent rubble and shrapnel everywhere. The air was thick with dust, smoke, ashes, crackling with magical energy, and worst of all, accented with blood.
And they had left Vadrian behind in that, because he told Ashtara to take her son and go. When his mother insisted he come with them, Vadrian would not listen. Finally he kissed her briefly as if to say goodbye, then went back into the line of defenders In his mind, Belorei could still picture Vadrian disappearing into the mass of undead, only his hand wielding his sword visible in the end. That was when he and his mother had fleed to Sunstrider Isle.
He remembered the following days and nights he and his mother spent with a group of other refugees – mostly commoners – waiting in Dalaran, exhauted and numb. And when he and his mother finally returned to Silvermoon along with the other survivors, they were virtually homeless. His mother moved herself and Belorei into a vacated, slightly damaged home south of Silvermoon. Ashtara took no interest in whose it actually was.
'They're probably dead,' she said with a shrug.
He wasn’t exactly sure where they’d lived before the Scourge came to Silvermoon, and honestly he couldn’t remember. It seemed everything before the attack of the Scourge was a blur to him now, despite that he hadn’t been so young that he should not be able to remember. He knew they must have lived in Silvermoon, and he had memories of an apartment somewhere in the city, but if he'd had to look for it he doubted he would be able to point it out.
But they had suffered together through all of that, and furthermore through the physical pangs and the emptiness that began to occur weeks after the Sunwell was destroyed by Arthas. They endured the magical addiction, leaning on each other for support, sharing whatever little mana they could glean from enchanted objects. Finally the Magisters set up fel crystals and their eyes changed and began to glow green. Ever since then, their eyes had been green, and Belorei was beginning to forget what shade of blue his own eyes had once been.
“You will go this afternoon?” she turned to look at him, dispelling the web of memory. He nodded.
“Yes Minn’da.”
She stood on tip toe and kissed his cheek. “Good. You will do well this time. I know you will,” she smiled confidently and patted his shoulder
He sighed, wishing he felt the same confidence she did. But maybe she was right. After all, he’d had a few more years experience hunting and throwing knives than he’d had when he last saw the paladin trainer.
He ate a light meal to keep his stomach quiet during his training and trial, and set out to Fairbreeze Village, the closest part of civilization to their little neighborhood. He kissed his mother on the cheek and she watched from the doorway proudly, calling encouragement. He blushed from his chin to his eartips hoping that none of their neighbors might hear or see.
A few did, however, and they waved and nodded with amused smiles as the shiest elf in the village passed by, blushing and returning their nods politely. Most were endeared to the young man, even if they weren’t particularly endeared to his mother who could be a little cold and aloof at times. They also thought her a little addled in the head – some remembered her insisting that the boy was the child of the Prince years before – but the youth was so helpful and kind that the neighbors felt guilty for gossipping about his poor mother.
“I will make Minn’da proud,” he told himself, trying to rally up his courage, as he traveled down a lone path to the village. He saw something out of the corner of his eye – a flash of orange- and watched for a moment. It had probably been a lynx. He liked the lynxes, even if they were getting hungry and dangerous these days. They were beautiful and graceful. His fingers drifted to the knife on his belt and he was glad that he had it on him. His mother said that it once belonged to his father and he wasn’t sure whether or not he believed it.
It was a beautifully curved, wicked blade with grooves to allow for the blood to run off it in the shape of flames, and one runic sun design on the hilt. He slipped it out of it’s sheath and admired it as he began to walk again. He did not often wear it, as it was precious to his mother, and there was no reason for him to go around armed at all times anyway. If any kind of ghoul or creature showed up on their little piece of land– as on rare occasions they did – he would simply use his hoe or whatever else he was armed with at the time, and call upon his neighbors who would come to his aide. They weren’t hard to kill, most of the ghouls. If you could take their head off or at least crush it inward, they didn’t present too much of a threat. They didn't seem like much unless you'd seen them in hordes and then you knew how much damage they could cause.
He was already planning how he would plant his new row of tomatoes as he reached the village, so much did Belorei love his simple life. It never occurred to him that he might actually be conscripted. He was healthy, true, but he didn’t realize how desperate his people were becoming for any hands willing to hold a sword and use it (and possibly get killed in the process) and he simply assumed he was too clumsy, too awkward, and too simple to become a warrior, even a mediocre one. He knew that he lacked ambition compared to other young elves, but he was happy living simply. Someone had to farm and sell vegetables, right? It might as well be someone who enjoyed gardening.
He strolled through the village to the flight master, nodding to people he passed on his way. He gave the flight master a few copper, even though he was told there was no charge for such a short distance. Soon he was in the air, enjoying the flight. He liked to take a dragonhawk when he could. Even though the bobbing up and down of the beast as it flew made him nauseous sometimes, he loved the sensation of flight. He and his mother were too poor to afford a hawkstrider for themselves and they rarely had reason to travel beyond the village anyway ( though his mother liked to treat herself to shopping visits to Silvermoon every so often). Belorei enjoyed the view from the air.
He admired the beauty of Eversong Woods with a sigh. Closing his eyes for a moment, he enjoyed the sun and the wind on his face. Then the dragownhawk was landing and he opened his eyes slowly as the ground swooped in and the dragonhawk came to a low hover over the ground. He slid off and nodded to the flight master on this end.
He noted some rangers gathered around one of the Wretched, elves who had allowed their addiction to magic to take control of them, and felt sorry for the man. It was sad, to see such a person, overtaken by their desires. It could happen to anyone, in Belorei’s opinion. He did not gape, however, and moved quickly to the paladin trainer. He waited until the trainer was finished with her conversation, then approached closer and bowed his head slightly.
“Bala’dash, malanore,” the trainer greeted him customarily. She had a lean, lightly muscular physique and nodded back to Belorei. “I am Onelle. What may I do for you?”
“My name is Belorei, ma’am. I desire to become a paladin. I have not much training, but I do well with thrown knives and a bow. I need training with a sword though.”
“Sounds to me as if you would be a better ranger,” Onelle smiled a little and Belorei felt suspicious at the amusement in her eyes. “Speak with Ranger Jaela. She’s been scrounging for recruits lately. She loses a couple a month, I swear,” she chuckled. Belorei was dumbfound and about to ask why this Jaela kept running out of rangers but felt the answers would be obvious, so he simply nodded.
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”
“Shorel’aran.”
“Shorel’aran,” Belorei blushed and bowed his head to the woman. He turned and was about to head off when he stopped. “Ah, where may I find Ranger Jaela?”
“She’s guarding the Scar, on the other side of this wall. You’ll see her as you’re heading toward the other part of the city. She’s surrounded by other rangers and she’s always fighting whatever Scourge come along.”
“Thank you,” he bowed his head again, then hurried off.
He felt slightly disappointed that he hadn’t refused to go to the ranger. He should have insisted on learning to use the sword, becoming a paladin. But if he wasn’t cut out for being a paladin…well, there was nothing wrong with being a ranger. Rangers could become great. Sylvanas had been Ranger General and was renowned for her sacrifice for Silvermoon…not that he really wanted to follow in her footsteps, he winced as he thought of ending up an undead. He’d rather just…be dead, if it came to such a thing.
He smiled with amusement as he thought of how people in his village had gossiped about the Dark Lady and wondered if she could be trusted. Belorei didn’t like the idea of being friendly with undead, but they weren’t the Scourge, and at least they had someone on their side. He knew most older elves didn’t approve of joining the Horde – they could remember battling orcs of course. But Belorei was young enough that he had no such memories, so he thought it made sense to accept aide wherever you could find it. Beggers couldn’t be choosers, after all…
Belorei approached the group of rangers, noting they were mostly women, and felt slightly emasculated. (Though there was a group of dark haired male triplets) He knew it wasn’t fair – just because they were mostly women didn’t mean that rangers were in any way weak – but he wondered if Onelle had meant some kind of underhanded insult. People were always doing things like that, it seemed. It really drove him crazy sometimes because he didn’t feel very socially savvy and he could never tell when someone was serious. Nevertheless, he pushed away what he viewed as foolish thoughts and bowed his head to Ranger Jaela.
“Anaria shola,” she said tensely, her eyes scanning the dead scar.
“I was referred to you by Onelle” Belorei began. “I –“
She barely glanced at him and her eyes were back on the Dead Scar.
“Can you shoot a bow?”
“Yes. I require training with a sword though-“
“We can worry about that later. Did you bring your bow?”
“Ah…no I didn’t,” he blushed.
“Jessela!” she shouted to another young recruit who turned and raised her eyebrows. “Bring this one your bow. He’s going to have our back today.”
The ravenhaired male triplets turned to look at the young man with vague interest and they were elbowing each other and whispering a moment later. Triplets and twins were rare among the Sin'dorei, though high borne families had been traditionally large in the past.
Belorei sputtered, surprised that he was already being put to work.
“What, you don’t want to?” Jaela snapped, her eyes narrowing at him.
“No, I do! I just…am surprised is all.”
“If you can shoot a bow and hit a target, at this point, it’s a great start,” she shrugged and turned to face the scar. A group of ghouls was approaching. Jessela handed Belorei a bow and quiver of arrows and he shouldered the arrows. He whipped out one and slid it in place, stretching the bow string, closing one eye to aim. Without having to be told, he let it fly and one of the ghouls had an arrow in it’s chest. It growled and ran faster, the others coming as well.
“Be ready!” Jaela shouted. “You’ve got to hit the head – what’s your name?”
“Belorei.”
“Belorei. Aim for the head Belorei.”
“Yes ma’am.” He fired again and struck the ghoul in the fore head, decapitating it and sending the head flying backward. One of the rangers laughed at the sight, as she slashed into a ghoul approaching her. The body of the ghoul Belorei had struck continued walking a few steps until it flopped over. The ranger girl who laughed kicked at it.
“Good job,” Jaela called encouragingly to her recruits when they finished cutting the intruders down. She turned to Belorei and offered a hand. He switched his bow to his other hand and took her hand, shaking it firmly and smiling a little.
“That was good,” she said. “I only had to nag you once. I hate it when I get someone who wants to be a ranger and they don’t even know how to string a damn arrow.”
He blushed and chuckled.
“Well, I had some practice as a child and over the past few years.”
“I should think so. You’re practically an expert.”
His eyes widened. “W-What?”
She laughed. “You’re not bad at all,” her eyes scanned the dead scar. “You say you need training with a sword? That’s fine. You can spar with one of the others – let’s see…Kinney!”
“Ma’am?”
“You’re going to spar with our new recruit. His name’s Belorei. This is Kinney. She’s good with a sword and she’s been here a while.”
“Hi,” the young woman extended a hand. Belorei took it, shaking it. She had a firm grip and brown hair pulled tight into a ponytail.
“It’s good to meet you,” he said, barely meeting her eyes. Elven women really were the worst. They traveled in packs and always seemed to look at one in a predatory fashion.
“You can practice behind us,” Jaela waved an arm. “Just leave the bow here unless I call you two over again.”
“Yes ma’am,” he bowed his head again.
“You don’t have to do that,” Jaela and Kinney both shook with laughter and he blushed again but smiled.
“Sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Jaela flashed a grin and turned back to watching the Dead Scar. Belorei put the bow and quiver down in place and headed along with Kinney to the area behind Jaela, where part of the wall of Sillvermoon had crumbled.
Kinney explained to him various positions to stand in when about to use a sword.
“This position is open,” she stood with legs slightly apart. “You want to lean in, relax your back a little. You can’t be stiff while you’re doing this.”
“Okay…” Belorei mimicked her position, sliding his sword out of it's sheath.
“Oh wow…” Kinney was staring at the sword now and he blushed. “That is a fearsome sword…”
“Thank you. It was my father’s.”
“Oh…was your father a ranger?”
“No,” he blushed deeper. “He was…uh…he was in politics.”
“Oh really? Who was he? Is he…still living?” she added the last part gently.
“He’s living but we don’t speak much. He’s busy.”
“Oh. What’s his name?”
“Ah…” he blanched as she cornered him.
“Kinney get to work training him,” Jaela called, without looking back at them. “Stop interrogating the man.”
“I’m just curious!” she said and smiled at him. “Okay – if you want you can use this position,” she stood with one foot in front of the other. “It’s not a very good position to start with, so I’d rather just you use open now, all right?”
“Sure,” Belorei nodded and moved his feet back to open position.
“Now I’m going to show you a strike I call the Reaper,” she approached him holding her sword. As she began to show him how to perform the strike, the young man couldn’t help but wonder if Jaela had sensed his discomfort at Kinney’s questioning and interceded for him – but why?
A few hours of training with Kinney and shooting arrows at ghouls later, Jaela called Belorei over and told him he could go and rest. He noted the other recruits giving him new looks of appraisal. They seemed impressed at his almost natural ease with a bow.
“I’d like you to stay nearby,” she said. “Oh and put the bow and arrow back with Jessela, they’re hers.”
“Oh. Right.”
“You have your own right?”
“Yes ma'am.”
“Where are they?”
“At home.”
“Home is…?”
“Close to Fairbreeze Village.”
“Alright. Go home and get your bow. Tell your family you’re a ranger recruit now,” she grinned a little at his smile. “And come back here tomorrow morning ready to camp here – bedroll, everything.”
“Yes ma’am” he saluted. She chuckled.
“See you tomorrow Belorei – what’s your surname?”
“Morningdew,” he blurted his mother’s surname after an awkward moment. He had always used his mother’s maiden name. He did not feel comfortable trying to use ‘Sunstrider.’ He felt that people would surely not believe him or even mock him.
“Is that really your surname?” she said softly, eyebrow raised. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me who your family is. I just need to know that I’ll be able to find you later…I don’t really care about family histories here or anything…” she raised her hands when he began to speak.
“It’s my mother’s maiden name,” he said. “I’ve always used it. My father…never married my mother.”
“Oh,” realization dawned in her eyes. “I see. Well then, Belorei Morningdew it is.”
“Thank you,” he laughed softly with relief.
“It’s fine. See you tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Before dawn,” she added. When his eyebrows rose she laughed. “That’s what a ranger is, Belorei.”
“Yes ma’am” he smiled. “I will do my best,” he bowed his head again.
“Cut that out!” she laughed, shaking her head. “Off you go,” she waved her hands and he turned, grinning, and hurried away.
When he arrived home, his mother was sitting at their little table in the cabin. She rose to her feet and threw the door open at the sound of his feet approaching the cabin.
“My boy!” she looked excited and wrapped her arms around him for a moment, then stepped back and looked up at him. “How did it go?”
“Well Minn’da,” he said. “I spoke with the paladin trainer and she referred me to a ranger.”
His mother’s smile faded. “What does that mean?”
“She thought I would make a better ranger,” Belorei shrugged. “Anyway, now I’m-“
“She thought?” his mother cut him off and shook her head. “Belorei, you’ve got to stand up for yourself-“
“It’s fine, I’m going to be a ranger-“
“It’s not fine!” she shouted, her hands forming fists. “You deserve better than to be brushed off this way and you let people treat you like a fly!”
“Minn’da,” he spoke strongly, his eyes turning firm as if he were shocked at her behavior. “Tomorrow morning, before dawn, I am heading back to the Ranger I was working with all day today and I will be a recruit!”
She stared at him, her jaw slightly dropped.
“Al-all right. If that’s…what you’re happy with,” she said after a moment, and turned to walk over to the table. “What of your chores here?”
“I suppose I will have to rise earlier and take care of the garden-“
“I can take care of the garden,” she said softly. Her hand waved, causing a ladel to stir a pot of stew hanging in the fireplace. “I just…wanted to know.”
“I can rise early Minn’da-“
“No!” she held up her hand, whirling around. “You have a new career. You must dedicate yourself to this, my son,” she pointed the ladle at him. “If this is what you truly desire.” She approached him. “Is this what you want?”
He nodded. “Yes. I want to serve Silvermoon. I want to fight the Scourge.”
“But is this how you want to serve Silvermoon?”
“Yes Minn’da. Absolutely.” He nodded fervently. “I am good at this Minn’da,” he cut her off, raising a hand. “I am good with a bow and I like the feeling that I’m an asset as a ranger.”
“All right,” she sighed, her face looking tired but she smiled a little. “If you’re happy with this…” then she cooed and put her ladle back and whirled over to grab him in a tight hug. “My beautiful son! You’re going to be a ranger- a great ranger! Ranger General one day!”
“Yes Minn’da,” he chuckled, hugging her back too tightly. “You are happy about this?”
“Yes, I am,” she smiled and nodded, putting a gentle hand to his cheek. “I thought you would be best as a Knight –but a ranger has good opportunities too.” Her smile faded. “Just be careful.”
“I will Minn’da,” he stroked her hair gently and she kissed his cheek.
“You are all I have.”
“I know. You are all I have.”
They hugged again and then he helped her set plates and forks onto the table, along with a loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese. They ate their dinner in complacent silence, smiling at one another every so often.
“So when are you going to talk to that girl you like?” her eyes became coy. Her son blushed.
“Minn’da,” he protested.
“Oh come now – you’re a ranger! Surely that’s going to impress a young lady…” she winked.
His blush deepened and he rolled his eyes.
“Minn’da!”
“Don’t 'Minn’da' me! You’re becoming a young man-“
“I’m only fifteen."
“True, true. You are but an infant in this world. I don’t mean you have to get married already, I’m just saying – you like her, why don’t you tell her how you feel?”
“I don’t think she returns my feelings,” he blushed. “I think she likes some warlock.”
His mother snorted. “Silly. You’re just so shy – and you sell yourself short! You don’t do yourself justice, Belorei.”
He smiled sadly and shook his head.
“Minn’da, I don’t even talk to her that much. I don’t know what to say to her.”
“But you two used to play together all the time when you were younger. It was so sweet!”
Belorei chuckled and shook his head. “That was years ago."
“You see her around. You can offer to take her on a walk or –you could invite her to have dinner with us,” she smiled. He laughed.
“Invite her to dinner with my minn’da already?”
“Yes, why not? We've met before.” She reached over and squeezed his cheek affectionately. He groaned and wiggled away, making her laugh.
“I’m proud of you, Belorei,” she said and he looked up from his dinner to smile at her affectionately. She rubbed his shoulder with a hand. “You will make me even more proud, I know it.”
“Of course Minn’da,” he said, taking her hand and squeezing it in his. He planted a kiss on her hand and she smiled lovingly at him.
He sighed and looked out the window. He would do his best to make more money for Minn’da so that they could pay the new taxes that would soon be in effect. The Magistrate had signed the new tax into order despite protests from the people.
“How do you expect us to rebuild the city without any gold?” he remembered a Magister in their village one day, spreading his hands out as he appealed to the crowd.
“With magic!” a woman shouted and everyone else laughed. The Magister turned red and glared at the woman, giving Belorei a bad feeling. He had hurried away, not eager to be caught in a crowd. The Magisters these days were bad news. He’d heard all kinds of rumors about what they were willing to do to anyone who expressed discontent with their rule. At home, his mother had grumbled about the tax as she cleaned out their fireplace, however.
“Can’t believe after all we’ve been through with the Scourge, they want gold out of us! The damn nerve of those people!”
Belorei, eager to be ignored and continue his simple life, had merely accepted that the tax was something he would just have to deal with. He would pay the tax with the money he would make as a ranger and also pay for repairs to the house they lived in - make it something that Minn’da could be proud of.
He never suspected that his life would lead him directly in contact with not only the Magisters, but with the Grand Magister and the Regent Lord of Quel'thalas. He never even imagined that one day he would face the throne of Silvermoon itself.
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A Tale of Two Princes