#brann

Time seemed to fly by afterwards, as Dagran hungrily soaked up her stories from the Dragonscale expedition, particularly the titan ruins she'd gotten to delve. It flew by so fast, in fact, that both young dwarves lost track of it, until a shadow fell across the table.

"Dagran." Moira's voice was cold steel. "Come away this instant."

They both turned to see the queen looming over them, her displeasure evident on her face, Brann behind her with an apologetic shrug. "I was just getting to know one of Ironforge's champions. There's no harm in that." Dagran replied, evenly, even as he rose. Lorellai noticed him fidgeting with his rings. Was he as nervous about this as she was?

"Not with a Truthhammer there isn't. Go with your granduncle and help him with your grand'da."

"Of course, mother. Lorellai, it was a pleasure," Dagran said, pushing in his chair and joining Brann, leaving Lorellai's gaze trapped by Moira's.

"I, uh, I meant nae offense, yer majes-" Lorellai began, before she was cut off.

"You will stay away from my son. I'm not blind, girl. I see that thing you're carrying," she said, gesturing at Lorellai's holster. "Whatever plan you and your father have cooked up, I won't have it. Abandon your schemes and we'll have no more to discuss. Have I made myself clear?"

"But I haven't do-" "Have. I made myself. Clear?" Moira continued, leaning in close, shadowy magic shining in her eyes.

".. clear, yer majesty."

"Good then. Best of luck in the field to you, Champion." Moira said, pulling back and straightening her dress, before turning on her heel and leaving Lorellai at her table, feeling like a rabbit in Dun Morogh that just encountered a bear.

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When Moira returned to Magni's side, Dagran was waiting for her with a thoughtful expression on his face. As she sat, he began to continue their signed conversation.

"That was rather uncalled for, Mother."

"Oh?" Moira replied, kneeling at Magni's side. "Was it? To pull you away from the daughter of your father's murderer, even as she flaunts the very weapon that took him from us?"

"She is not Drogar Truthhammer, mother. No more than I am you, or you are Grand'da. And more to the point, the Truthhammer clan's opposition to the Dark Irons faded to nothing years ago. I would see the rift allowed to heal."

"So you're doing this as a King." Moira said, causing Brann to start, wondering what she was talking about.

"I am. You trusted me with the shield. Trust me with this."

"I cannae forgive what he took from us. He would have seen us all dead." Moira replied, tears threatening to escape her eyes as she thought back to that day, her gaze locked with the madman who'd gunned down her husband, and who tried to shoot her as he fled.

"A sin that is his and his alone to bear. If she carries his, then so to do I carry Father's. Is that what you want for me?"

Brann gently laid his hand over Moira's. "You've raised a good son, lass. Wise and clever."

"... Fine," she said at last. "I'll not interfere. But I won't pretend to like it."