"I understand." After Moira rocked the child to sleep, she placed him in a crib to the side. She then took out two cups and pulled the cork from a wine bottle with a sharp pop that invited imagination. After pouring two glasses, she made a gesture of invitation.
"The Firelord is not easy to deal with. My husband tried to assassinate him before, but he failed in the end. Because someone was needed to govern the Dark Iron clan, he was allowed to live.
The price was the death of the seven Dark Iron Sages who opened the gate for him; their souls are trapped in the hall, guarding the gate for all eternity."
"They weren't exactly good people either. Without them, there would be no Ragnaros. Do you want to join me in defeating Ragnaros and saving the Dark Iron clan from the Firelord's slavery, or do you want to continue wallowing in self-degradation as the Firelord's servant and pawn?" Arthas picked up his wine glass, swirled it, and produced a silver needle to dip inside, testing for poison.
Seeing Arthas's actions, Moira's expression shifted into undisguised disgust. "You certainly are cautious."
"Of course I have to be cautious. Who knows if you harbor resentment toward me because of this?" Only after confirming there was no poison did Arthas down the strong liquor in one gulp. Instantly, a fiery burning sensation spread through his body. The alcohol stimulated his nerves, maintaining a sense of exhilaration amidst the intoxication.
"I will stay here and lead the Dark Iron clan to survive. My husband's dying wish was always for his people to escape their misery and no longer be enslaved." Moira looked sorrowful; her status as a princess destined her to prefer bold actions.
"Every three months, my husband would report to Ragnaros. We also need to build devices for him to recover his strength, allowing him to use the core essence of this place to restore his power."
Arthas had already drunk many glasses of wine earlier and was now feeling a bit lightheaded. "You want to fulfill your husband's last wish, don't you?"
"Yes. Are you going to help me?" Moira narrowed her eyes. She felt that although Arthas was detestable and shared responsibility for her husband's death, for the time being, he could be used.
"Help you? Why should I help you? The Ironforge army has already withdrawn. They won't face Ragnaros directly, so why should I help you? Or rather, why should I care if Ragnaros punishes you because your mission failed? If I just delay your construction progress, do you think he will be enraged?" Arthas sneered.
Cooperation was built on a foundation of equality. Without equal strength, it wasn't cooperation, but a one-sided demand.
Bang! Moira lost her temper and slammed the table. "What do you mean by that!"
"Nothing much. I just feel it's not worth it for your husband. Lady, you wouldn't want Dagran's soul to watch from the afterlife as his beloved gives up on saving his people for certain reasons, would you? I can contact the Dragon Legion to help deal with Ragnaros—those are Dragons who have lived through the War of the Ancients."
After saying this, Arthas gave her enough time to process before smiling. "It all depends on you!"
Moira was no fool. In fact, she already had a group of die-hard subordinates here. How could a woman who, as a Bronzebeard dwarf, could become the Queen of the Dark Iron Dwarves and make the King willingly share power with her, be a fool?
"What do you want me to pay?"
Arthas walked over and reached out to pinch her chin. "What you need to do is satisfy me!"
In an instant, Moira felt a surge of humiliation! She was a Queen! Her husband had just died today, and Arthas was partly to blame—it wouldn't be an exaggeration to call him an enemy. Now her enemy wanted to defile her; this was simply intolerable!
"Don't even think about it!"
"That's a pity then. After death, all things go to the other side of the soul. If Dagran knew his wife's refusal caused the entire clan to fall into disaster, what would he think? Would he feel he trusted the wrong person? I wouldn't even need to lift a finger; I'd just watch Ragnaros do the work." Arthas continued to threaten her, feeling incredibly excited.
The act of blackmailing a wife into submission was always so wonderful and stimulating. This was something he rarely did before; only after gaining powerful strength did he gradually expose his ambition and the beastly desires within his heart.
The atmosphere froze instantly. Moira remembered the moment she met her husband, hearing him talk about how he had tried to assassinate the Firelord and how he had failed. How difficult it was for the Dark Iron Dwarves living in the Lower Blackrock Spire, and so on—these were the things she admired.
A hero who lay low for the sake of his race's struggle. It was because of this that they fell in love and had the fruit of that love. Now, everything was about to be destroyed. Could she really use her body to pay the price?
Arthas hadn't originally intended to do anything to Moira, but seeing her motherly glow while nursing the child, combined with her status as a wife and a fresh widow—all these factors together made him exceptionally excited. With the alcohol hitting his head, his desire rose to its peak, craving release.
"You just need to close your eyes and leave everything to me. You will become the greatest Queen of the Dark Iron Dwarves, and they will all be grateful to you for leading them out of misery and regaining their freedom!"
As he spoke, he began to knead Moira's breasts. They were large and soft. Through her mage robes, he could see the buds on her chest; she actually wasn't wearing a bra, which was far too provocative!
"Ugh!" Moira sighed. She couldn't refuse Arthas's proposal. On one side was hell and the torment of her conscience; on the other was the participation of the Dragons and liberation from slavery. She didn't know how to choose. Surrender her chaste body? Was it worth it?
In his haste, Arthas forced Moira onto the table and stripped off her underwear, a musky scent wafting out. Women often have strong sexual desires after giving birth; after being suppressed for so long during pregnancy, that scent was particularly potent.
Tucking his pants down, Arthas's cock pressed against the moist vaginal entrance, which was covered by dense pubic hair. As he pressed against the wet opening, her labia majora parted slightly. The pale purple labia, like a blooming daisy, were already prepared to welcome their true master's arrival.
"I'm coming in, Moira. Accept my big dick!"