Blonde Children (A World of Warcraft Fanfic)

A Thousand Possibilities

The wedding was indeed on the first bright day of spring. Jaina stood, looking in the mirror at her gown. It was a cream-colored affair that fell off her shoulders and flared just below her waist. The ends were trim with delicate white flowers and lace. On her shoulders she donned a sweeping blue cloak that bore the golden seal of Lordaeron. In her hair she wore a shining circlet that dulled compared to the gleam of her sun-lit locks. The studious mage had decided long ago that she would wear it down for her wedding. She felt that it was very her.
   She looked every bit ready to assume the role of a future queen.
"You look beautiful." Her father said, leaning in the doorway, his salty hair tied back to show his medals upon his good vestments.
"Thank you, father." She hugged him.
He gazed at her and sighed.
"You look so much like your mother." He thought back, his mind getting lost in the memory.
"I'm sure she would have loved the dress." She smiled a hopeful smile.
Suddenly Calia poked her head in the door and grinned.
"Jaina, you're wanted in the chapel."
She took one more look in the mirror and tucked a loose lock behind her ear.
"You ready?" He father asked.
"As I'll ever be." She smiled at him.

The crowd stood as the doors to the chapel flew open. A young girl came through first, showering handfuls of red and pink rose petals on the velvet carpet.
Behind her was Jaina, her beautiful dress running miles behind her, a veil covering her piercing sky blue eyes, her arm linked in her father's.
Arthas couldn't help but grin like a fool as he watched his bride make her way gracefully down the aisle. On the way Jaina recognized many faces, including Uther, King Varian and his family, King Muradin, Archmage Antonidas, Danath Trollbane, and even King Genn Greymane and his family were among the attendees.
She and her father reached the front of the room, her hand was given to Arthas, who took it carefully and gently like a hand grazing silk and held it as they ascended the steps. When they reached the top, the two stood parallel to one another, eyes speaking unheard words of love to each other.
The priest had begun the inductions, though neither of them were really listening. They were both wrapped up in the moment, and each other.
Arthas couldn't tear his eyes off her even if he wanted to. This was it. He was marrying his best friend. The woman he loved more than anything. The fun-loving girl he first saw in that very chapel who was along side him in snowball fights and political conflicts and even the very eyes of death. He felt so lucky, for she had promised to be his forever.
     Arthas stood tall, in his ceremonial armor, clad in gold and blue, the seal of Lordaeron shining proudly on his chest. His mind faded in and out, feeling as though he was in a dream, just like the night of the burning of the wickerman. But just like that night, this was real. It was happening.
"Do you, Arthas Menethil, take Jaina Proudmoore to be your lawfully wedded wife, through sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?" The elderly priest asked.
"I do." He answered confidently, not even trying to fight back his smile.
"And do you, Jaina Proudmoore, take Arthas Menethil to be your lawfully wedded husband, through sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"
"I do." Her eyes welled with emotion.
"Then by the power invested with me by the Light and the kingdom of Lordaeron, I pronounce you man and wife."
Arthas grinned and kissed his her. The room erupted into applause and cheers.

King Arthas Menethil closed his eyes and sighed, peacefully lost in that memory, as the sun disappeared behind the trees. The silence was suddenly interrupted by the echoing sounds of nearing commotion coming from another room.
A young boy, about six years of age, with hair the color of early corn ran into the room and jumped atop Arthas' lap. He was dirty and grinned at the older man.
"Hello papa."
Arthas let out a hearty chuckle.
"Been out in the farm today, my boy?"
The child nodded happily. Then a tall slender blonde-haired woman gracefully entered the room carrying an infant with hair as white as fresh snowfall.
"He refuses to bathe." She laughed and shook her head.
"Takes after his father, does he?" He tousled the boys hair. "Tell you what Andrethas, if you bathe tonight, we'll go to the Balnir Farmstead and pick out your steed fowl tomorrow." The boy grinned and ran off.
Jaina smiled as he went and handed the baby to Arthas.
"And how is my little Laurianne?" The infant grabbed his finger and cooed. Jaina tucked a blonde lock behind her ear.
"She's beautiful." She smiled.
"Like you, my queen." And Arthas kissed her briefly. They both smiled as the child yawned. Arthas sighed. "My mother would have loved to meet her."
"I'm sure she would have loved her." Jaina smiled at him reassuringly as he gazed at his daughter. "It's getting quite late. Let's put her to bed."

     After they closed her chamber doors, the two stood in the hallway, tired, but not weary.
"You up for an adventure?" Arthas grinned.
"Always." Jaina smiled back, her beautiful features still untouched by age's crooked finger.

The two walked arm in arm to the courtyard where they had stood so long ago among the crowd at the wickerman festival.
The king and queen idled on a bench, as the moon (and several inconspicuous guards) watched over them.
"Did you ever think fate would bring us here?" He asked, gazing into the gleaming stars above.
"A thousand possibilities to occur in a thousand different ways, but I had always knew it would, Arthas." Jaina smiled.