|King Varian Wrynn's Silver Coin|
Tiffin folded the letter, creasing the edges repeatedly with her thumbnail. The edges could have cut fruit. Anduin slept in the cradle nearby, downy and soft. He would have slept anywhere, or smiled at anyone: he was an angel. Tiffin could not imagine life without her son. Her mother cautioned her with an old-wives' tale that one must tell new fathers their children look exactly like them. Finding any resemblance between the baby and Anduin took great creativity, however; but by the Light, the baby was a small replica of his mother. She prayed his sweet nature would be courageous, too, when the time came. And with a father like Varian, opportunities for bravery were absolute. She came out of her reverie, and tossed the letter in the fire. She would speak to Varian at next opportunity. For now, she leaned in and smelled the baby's hair, intoxicated with love. She heard shouting outside through the balcony, and went to investigate.
Dear Readers: you may disagree with this point-of-view, but read this before entering a debate.