“This took place right before the Cataclysm,” Varian said. “It was after King Magni had attempted to perform an ancient ritual, hoping to connect with the earth and discover what was going on. Something went wrong, and Magni literally became part of the earth. Queen-Regent Moira appeared out of nowhere, claiming the throne. She put Ironforge on lockdown and held my son hostage. Fortunately, he escaped.”
“What did you do then?”
“I infiltrated Ironforge.”
“To what end?”
“To neutralize Moira and to liberate Ironforge.”
“How did you intend to neutralize her?”
“I don’t think I knew, really. Kill her, I suppose, if she resisted.”
“There were casualties.”
“Yes.”
Anduin glanced at Tyrande. She leaned back in her chair, arms folded, face carefully blank. Anduin knew she wanted to protest, but she had already been denied on this point. Baine looked at Kairoz, and nodded to continue.
“Father!”
Anduin watched himself push through the crowds, desperate to reach Varian. I look so young, he thought distractedly.
“You shouldn’t be here, Anduin. Get out. This is no place for you.”
“But it is my place!” the image of Anduin replied. “You sent me here! You wanted me to get to know the dwarven people, and I have. I knew Magni well, and I was here when Moira came. I saw what turmoil her arrival brought. And I saw that things got far too close to civil war when people reached for weapons to solve their problems with her. Whatever you may think of her, she is the rightful heir!”
“Maybe her blood’s right,” snarled Varian, “but her mind’s not. She’s under a spell, Son; Magni always thought so. She tried to keep you prisoner. She’s holding a bunch of people for no reason. She’s not fit to be leader! She’s going to destroy all that Magni tried to do! All that he . . . he died for!”
Closer to his father now, the Anduin of the past reached out a hand. I was scared to death, Anduin thought. Scared I’d say the wrong thing, and he’d slice open her throat, and it would be my fault. How far we have come, all of us. Most of us, anyway.
“There’s no spell, Father. Magni wanted to believe there was rather than the truth—that he drove Moira away because she wasn’t a male heir.”
“You spit on the memory of an honorable man, Anduin.”
“You can be an honorable man and still make mistakes.”
“Stop,” said Baine. “King Varian, what do you think Prince Anduin meant by that?”
“He was referring to some of my own actions in the past,” Varian said. “I had done and said many things I wasn’t proud of. I had made threats, lost my temper, displayed intolerance—well, that’s a polite way of saying it—toward other races. As I think is fairly evident, Anduin doesn’t think or behave that way.”
The scene continued. Anduin watched himself make the argument that it was up to the dwarves to decide if they wanted to accept Moira or not. And for the rest of his life, he would remember what Varian had said.
“She held you hostage, Anduin! You, my son! She can’t be allowed to get away with that! I won’t let her hold you and a whole city prisoner. I won’t, do you understand?”
“Stop,” said Baine. “It sounds as if you wanted to kill Moira not for usurping Ironforge, but for endangering Anduin.”
Varian nodded. “I . . . was angry. My son and I had a strained relationship at that time, and I . . .” He struggled with the words, clearly conscious of how many ears were listening. “I was surprised to discover how much I didn’t want to lose him. And when he was safe, I wanted to punish Moira for my being made to feel that way.”
His eyes sought out Anduin, and warmth passed between father and son. The scene went dark. “How did the situation finally end?” Baine asked.
“Anduin argued, quite rightly, that the dwarves had the right to decide their own fates.”
Baine nodded again to Kairoz. Now, the Varian of the past seemed to reach a decision. “Much as I wish it weren’t true,” he said to Moira, whom he still held captive, “yours is the rightful claim to the throne. But just like me, Moira Bronzebeard, you need to be better than you are. You need more than just a bloodline to rule your people well. You’re going to have to earn it.”
“Stop. And thus was founded the Council of Three Hammers, which is currently how the dwarven people are content to have it, correct?” continued Baine.
“That’s right, yes.”
“And when she agreed?”
“I let her go, and my people and I stood down.”
The scene resumed a few moments later. Varian went to Anduin and hugged him tightly. All around them, the dwarves, relieved and ready as always to celebrate with a fine brew, were shouting and whistling, calling out, “Wildhammer!” “Bronzebeard!” “Dark Iron!”
“See, Father?” the Vision’s Anduin said. “You knew exactly the right thing to do. I knew you did.”
Varian’s image smiled. “I needed someone to believe that for me, before I could,” he replied.
Baine gestured to Kairoz, and the scene froze.
“Do you think you have changed, Your Majesty?”
Varian’s gaze flickered to Anduin. The young prince grinned. Varian looked back at Baine and nodded.
“Yes. I have.”
“Would others agree with you?”
“Others seem to see it more than I do myself, so, yes.”
“Why did you try to change?”
“Because those parts of myself stood in the way of becoming the man I truly wished to be.”
“You were, quite literally, a man divided at one point,” Baine continued. “The reintegration was not an easy one, and your entire remembered history for a time consisted of nothing but violence. Those are steep odds to battle, for a man trying to change his nature. How did you manage to do so?”
“It . . . was not easy,” Varian admitted. “And I was—I am—far from perfect. I . . . backslid from time to time. I first had to come to the realization that I truly wished to change, and then, it took will and discipline, and reasons that made the struggle worth it.”
“Will. Discipline. Reasons to even engage in such a difficult struggle,” Baine repeated. “Where did you find the will, the discipline, and the reasons?”
“I had people who wished to help me, and I listened to them,” Varian said. “They—well, they were able to get through my thick head how I really was behaving, and it wasn’t in line with what I envisioned. I wanted to be the best father I could to a son without a mother. The best ruler of a people who were enduring very hard times. I felt as if I owed it to them to make my time on the throne about what they needed—to make their lives better—and not spend it tending to my own petty impulses.”
“So would it be accurate to say that it wasn’t because someone threatened or forced you into changing, but that you changed because you wanted to be better for those who depended on you?”
“That is absolutely accurate, yes.”
“Do you think Garrosh Hellscream cares for his people?”
“I protest!” shouted Tyrande.
“I agree with the Defender,” Taran Zhu said, and nodded to Varian.
Varian, clearly conscious that he was under oath, took a moment to compose his thoughts before answering, fixing Garrosh with sharp blue eyes.
“I believe he did, once. I believe he still cares for the orcs, but not the Horde as a whole.”
“So, that is a yes.”
“If by ‘his people’ you mean ‘orcs,’ then yes.”
“Would you say Garrosh is intelligent?”
“Yes, very.”
“So here we have someone who even you, his enemy, say cares for his people. Who is, in your own words, very intelligent. Some might say that about you, Your Majesty. Do you think it is possible for such a person to change?”