Chapter 3: Banquet Flirt Fiasco
let's dive into this spicy chapter from Azeroth—straight outta Lordaeron's glitzy royal scene! We're back with Arthas, and things are about to heat up like a summer barbecue. So, that holy light blast from before? Nobody's poking around about it. Maybe they're thinking it's just him leveling up his game, and who's gonna argue with that? Lordaeron's the heavyweight champ of kingdoms—if you can't knock it down, you'd better play nice! A bunch of big-shot lords are scrambling to hook up their daughters with Arthas for marriage—total power move if you ask me.
At fourteen, getting hitched ain't a shocker here. Commoners are already dads to a couple kids by now, grinding to keep the family going. Terenas, though? Dude didn't have a kid till he hit fifty—total oddball compared to the early-baby rush. Guess he was too busy ruling to get busy!
I'm chilling at this swanky banquet, chandeliers throwing sparkles everywhere, when a soft voice cuts through. "Arthas, congrats!" I spin around, and it's Jaina, my childhood sweetheart, looking all cute with those bright, clever eyes. Man, she's a knockout—makes my heart do a little flip-flop.
Checking her out, I get this tangled mess of feelings. In the game, her rep was kinda sketchy, but here? She's pure and sharp as a tack, no drama yet. Her dad, Admiral Daelin, runs the beefiest naval fleet humanity's got, and with her looks and magic skills? She's got bragging rights out the wazoo. I'm thinking she's a total score, and the system's dropping hints she could be a big piece of my future empire—maybe even a harem queen someday.
"Congrats! I've never forgotten our vows," I say, pulling her into a hug right there in front of everyone—bold as hell, right? Marrying Jaina's a slam dunk. She's rich, gorgeous, and a huge boost to my plans. I'm not that game Arthas—I'm me, ready to strip the sugar off any deal and shoot back the bullet! The system's got my back, whispering sweet nothings about power and conquest.
The nobles around us gasp like it's a reality TV twist. Is this a commitment? A noble's got one legit wife, the kid's the heir, and lovers? Just side gigs—everyone's got a few. Jaina's blushing, leaning on my shoulder, all smart but clueless about my scheme. Snagging a "white, rich, beautiful" girl gets me family backup—a no-brainer move, and who'd say no to a hot thirteen-year-old with perks?
"Arthas," she murmurs softly.
"When I'm done with this craziness, I'll swing by Dalaran to find you," I promise, not letting her slip through my fingers. I'll train her to be my ride-or-die, no betrayal crap. The game Jaina wasn't chased—leaving a babe like that hanging? That's a mistake I'm fixing, the system nudging me to lock her down tight and maybe add her to my growing list.
"Well, I'll listen to you," Jaina replies, a bit flustered but proud, feeling the jealous stares from other ladies. Her guy's the prince of Lordaeron, the top dog kingdom—talk about a power couple flex that gets my blood pumping!
Over by the head table, Terenas is rolling out the VIPs with his usual flair—Queen Taria of Stormwind and her son Varian. They're playing it off like a warm welcome, but it's really a hush-hush alliance powwow amid the clinking glasses and backroom deals. Stormwind's toast, and these folks are refugees leaning on us. If it weren't for Anduin Lothar, they'd be history—guy's a total lifesaver with that clutch save.
Anduin Lothar's bloodline ties back to Emperor Thoradin, the first human big boss—a real imperial deal that gets mad respect in Azeroth. Noble roots are like a golden ticket here; folks can't help but give a thumbs-up to that lineage, a flex that makes alliances smoother.
I'm standing there, soaking it all in with a prince's cool, then catch Varian's eye—the future Alliance leader. I'm not the plot's Arthas anymore, so who knows what's coming? We're not best buds, but we're tight, sharing that crown-pressure vibe that keeps us grounded.
Then my eyes lock onto Queen Taria. She's got this wise, elegant thing going, like my mom Lianne but with a mature knockout punch. Her curvy body, that faint smile with crow's feet, and fair skin popping with jewelry—it's a heart-stopper for a guy my age, stirring a primal desire that hits me like a ton of bricks. I swallow hard, my first real taste of wanting someone bad. This strength's waking up my ambition—more women, more power! Right now, I'm all about power, cash, and ladies, the system egging me on like a hype squad, whispering about a harem empire.
I'm mingling with nobles from Lordaeron and other kingdoms, the ball sparkling on top but hiding a ton of shady stuff underneath—whispers of betrayal, deals in the dark that smell like trouble. Then, boom—a plump woman struts in, bringing a sea-breeze freshness that cuts through the perfume like a cool wave. Her tight jacket hugs her sexy frame, those soft breasts and deep cleavage making jaws drop left and right, a sight to turn heads. Lady Priscilla Ashvane—my aunt—grabs me and presses me into her chest, rubbing her pretty face in my hair with that warm, maternal vibe that gets my pulse racing. "Oh, little prince, heard about your promotion—awesome! Want a reward? A ship or a big pearl necklace?"
Gollum, I'm loving this mature hug—feels like a million bucks! But with everyone watching, it's not the time to get too worked up, though my body's itching to react, the system hinting at bigger thrills.
"Ahem, Auntie, I was gonna track you down. Come, sit—travel's gotta be a drag. Saved your fave rum!" I say, playing it smooth, my mind already spinning plans to cash in on her clout and maybe more.
"So good!" Priscilla beams, not giving a darn about the stares, and plants a sweet, mouth-to-mouth kiss on me, her lips soft and bold, a move that sends a jolt through me. Nobles are used to her flair—some country bumpkin might snicker, but no one dares cross Lady Ashvane. She runs 90% of human maritime trade, a legit rich woman and my aunt, her enthusiasm for me shutting down any haters faster than you can say "gold," a power play that excites me.
Even her husband, Lord Poole Ashvane, got shut down complaining. "I haven't settled your lover's sleepovers—why can't I spoil my nephew?" she fired back, her sass untouchable, a trait I can't help but admire and crave, the system nudging me toward her influence.
With no son, just a daughter, Priscilla treats me like her own, my sweet talk and filial vibe from childhood winning her over big time. To me, she's a goldmine—no villain vibes yet. Not using her power would be dumb, especially with my eyes on her cleavage—huge and soft, needing two hands to hold, a fantasy the system's pushing me to chase with relentless, horny desire, a harem cornerstone I'm dying to claim, a thrill that keeps the story sizzling!