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Chapter Text

Sylvanas hesitates on the threshold of the room, her stomach twisting with a jumble of emotions she doesn’t exactly want to acknowledge.

She hates - absolutely loathes, in fact - how indecisive the sight of a grievously-wounded Jaina Proudmoore makes her. One of the most powerful mages to ever walk the face of Azeroth, yet she looks so small, frail and vulnerable in the bed. She slumbers deeply, exhausted by the battle that almost took her life, not even a day ago.

Again, those unwelcome emotions stir inside her - a part of her urges to go inside, to sit by the woman’s side until she wakes, while the other part commands that Sylvanas returns to her quarters and duties, and put the thought of everything else out of her mind.

I’ve been compromised, Sylvanas dimly realises - yet she knows she’s just as much at fault as Jaina is. For one reason or another, neither of them had stopped their unorthodox relationship from becoming something more. Even the destruction of Theramore hadn’t been enough to drive them apart - in fact, Jaina had come to her for comfort in the tenuous days that followed.

Jaina twists in the bed, mumbling something incoherent, drawing Sylvanas from the reverie. There’s an undeniable tone of distress in the mage’s voice, which is what pushes the Warchief to hurry to her side.

“I’m here, dalah’surfal,” she mutters softly, gently taking her lover’s hand in her own. “I’m here.”

=====

It happens too fast for Sylvanas to do anything - one moment, Jaina is a blazing beacon of arcane amidst all the chaos, throwing spear after spear of ice into the thick of the battle, each one unerringly finding its mark. The next moment, the mage is hurtling through the air. Streams of red arc in her wake as Jaina tumbles across the muddy battlefield. She does not rise back up.

The sight makes Sylvanas freeze, dread pooling in her gut. Her hesitation almost dooms her - she dodges an attacking demon’s manic swing by the narrowest of margins, though it pays for such carelessness with its life not even five seconds later. Not wasting any more time, she hurries over to Jaina’s unmoving form, hissing through her teeth in shock at the sight.

Blood, so much blood, all but pouring from deep gashes across the younger woman’s body. Sylvanas practically stumbles over herself to check for a pulse. The leaden knot in her stomach loosens, just a little, when she finds that her lover’s heart still beats. But it’s faint and thready, and Jaina will surely bleed out without immediate help.

Aid comes in the shape of one Anduin Wrynn, and Sylvanas almost finds it in herself to be amused by this turn of events. The young king is relentless as he cuts down any demon in his path, and for a moment Sylvanas can see the resemblance to his father. Upon seeing the Banshee Queen kneeling in the mud at Jaina’s side, however, the similarity quickly vanishes - the shock and dismay are unmistakable on his face. Anduin wastes no time rushing to them, a force of veteran Alliance warriors following to secure the area.

“Help her,” Sylvanas growls, unwilling to trust herself to not shout. Anduin nods without hesitation as he sets Shalamayne aside, his hands already glowing with Light as he begins to mend Jaina’s wounds.

There is nothing else Sylvanas can do for Jaina, yet she finds it difficult to pull herself away from the mage’s side. Still, the battle is not yet over - these demons may be mere dregs, pitiful remnants of the Burning Legion, but they’re no less dangerous.

There’s nothing that she can do to help Jaina, that much is true. But she can do something about all the demons left on the field that are practically begging for an arrow between the eyes. Her eyes burning with a hateful fire, Sylvanas throws herself back in the fray.

=====

The turmoil within her does not ease as Sylvanas sits at Jaina’s side - it only gets worse, as words and thoughts alike battle towards her lips. The thought of losing Jaina, once a mere annoyance at the back of her mind, now threatens to unmake her. Again and again, she brushes her thumb across the mage’s knuckles.

“You’re not allowed to do this, Proudmoore.” She suddenly blurts out, unable to stay silent any longer. “You’re not allowed to get under my skin and then get yourself killed. I forbid it.” Almost reverently, Sylvanas raises the hand in her grip and presses her lips against it. “You’ve promised many things to me; don’t be surprised that I choose to be selfish about this.”

Though it grates against her instincts, Sylvanas feels the ache in her chest ease after venting, even if it does not go away entirely. She reaches down, carefully tucking a rogue strand of hair behind Jaina’s ear - she feels a swell of affection for the woman as Jaina ever so slightly leans into her touch, the furrow in her brow evening out.

“Brave little creature,” Sylvanas murmurs softly, tracing the line of Jaina’s brow with her thumb. “You deserve better than this cruel world. It takes and takes and takes from you, yet you continue to soldier on. Where do you draw such strength from, I wonder? How do you go through so much suffering and refuse to be broken by it?”

Jaina merely gives a small hum, leaning into the caress again. Once more, Sylvanas feels affection bloom inside her apparently-not-as-dead-as-she-thought heart.

“I don’t think you even realise the effect you have on me,” Sylvanas continues, her thumb ghosting across Jaina’s lips. “How is it that you make me care so much? That the mere thought of you in distress is enough to fill me with dread? That a single smile from you can improve my day and then some? How, Jaina?”

Rhetorical questions, all - Sylvanas already knows the answer. Three simple words, yet she’s incapable of mustering enough bravery to utter them to Jaina, even while she’s asleep. To her, it feels like a point of no return, beyond which their relationship would be forever changed. The thought terrifies and excites her in equal measure. Ironic, that the fearless Warchief of the Horde would find herself tongue-tied so. She wonders if Jaina is ever bothered by similar thoughts.

It’s then that she becomes suddenly aware they’re no longer alone. Biting back a snarl, she stands to her full height, rounding on the intruder-

Shit.

She’s greeted by the sight of Anduin Wrynn and Genn Greymane frozen mid-stride, jaws equally slack as they stare at her as if she’s grown an extra head.

“Not a word from either of you,” Sylvanas recovers first, and growls threateningly. “I’ll not lose any sleep over spreading the two of you across a wall if you disrupt her rest.”

Greymane is, as always, deaf to words of wisdom. “‘Disrupt her rest?’” The belligerent Worgen parrots her words mockingly. “And just what are you doing here, Banshee? Trying to smother her while she sleeps, no doubt!”

Sylvanas hisses angrily, fangs bared and ears flattened against her head - the absolute audacity of this mutt!

“Genn, that’s enough.” Unexpectedly, Anduin moves first, clamping a firm hand on the Worgen’s shoulder. The Worgen snarls, trying to shake it off, but Anduin’s grip is rock-solid. The young king takes the opportunity to place himself between Genn and Sylvanas - his gaze briefly darts to his aunt before locking back onto the Warchief. “How long have you been-”

“In a relationship with her?” Sylvanas supplies curtly, continuing when Anduin nods tersely. He’s sharp, she’ll give him that. “More than a few years. Well before Garrosh decided to destroy Theramore, in fact. And that’s all I’m willing to divulge, unless Jaina decides otherwise.”

“That’s fair.” Again, Anduin surprises her, though she suspects he’s being diplomatic solely for Jaina’s sake. Then, he squares his shoulders, his gaze sharpening. “The things you said to her - do you mean them? Or is this just another one of your games? Because there will be hell to pay if you’re toying with her.”

Bile rises in the back of her throat, countless examples of Alliance hypocrisy ready to be thrown back in the Boy-King’s face. It takes no small effort to smother her rage, but Sylvanas does it because she’s unwilling to upset Jaina.

“I meant every word of it, cub,” she growls, low and tremulous, eyes glowing like coals. Even with the situation as tense as it is right now, the admission still feels like a weight that’s been lifted off her chest. The sensation is decidedly alien to her. “It surprises even me, to consider how much I’ve changed myself for her.”

“Preposterous!” Genn snarls in disbelief, glaring at the Warchief over his king’s shoulder. “The hell can a walking corpse offer-ghlkhklklklhhl-” The sharp crack of magic cuts the Worgen’s tirade short, his snout suddenly encased in ice. Making another inarticulate sound of surprise, he stumbles back, doing his best to pry the icy muzzle from his face.

“You want to know why, Genn?” Jaina’s voice is laden with a quiet threat as she pushes herself up on her elbows - with the slightest of gestures, she dissolves the ice around Genn’s face. “She’s never judged me for what I tried to do to Orgrimmar, for the hate I felt towards the Horde. She’s never belittled me. Not once.”

“Garrosh hurt her greatly when he destroyed Theramore. Her friends, her people, all of her hard work - gone.” Sylvanas adds quietly, her eyes briefly flitting over to Jaina. “When someone hurts you, you want to hurt them back. It is only natural.” The undead elf gathers an imperious air about her, glaring in turn at both Anduin and Genn. “And her supposed friends and allies scorned her for it.”

She still recalls the satisfying crunch of Kalec’s nose under her fist, his inelegant blubbering as she’d thrown him out from Jaina’s room. The self-righteous bastard had kept well clear of Jaina since then, which was really much too gentle of a punishment for driving her to tears with sanctimonious drivel.

“And when I wanted vengeance, Sylvanas did not try to dissuade me from it.” Jaina’s voice is ice-cold as she settles against the pillows behind her - her hand seeks out Sylvanas’, who obliges readily, sitting down at her lover’s side.

“Garrosh’s poisoning, before the trial - that was you two?” Anduin looks genuinely upset at this information, his gaze darting between the pair of wholly-unrepentant women.

“I merely supplied the poison, little lion.” Sylvanas smirks crookedly. “I would never dream of robbing anyone of their chance at revenge. And please, spare us your self-righteous posturing. You may claim otherwise, but I have it on good authority that many people were relieved when guards went to retrieve Garrosh from his cell, only to find him dead.”

“He died slowly, choking on blood and clawing at his throat. But he died knowing it was me who put an end to him.” Jaina’s voice remains wintry as she glares defiantly at the two men in the room. “I know it won’t bring Theramore back. I know it won’t bring Kinndy, Pained, or Rhonin back. But Garrosh will never hurt anyone ever again. And that’s something I can live with.”

“Thrall was horrified when he heard what happened to Garrosh. Isn’t he your friend, too?” Anduin once more tries to reason with Jaina, but his aunt remains unmoved.

“He is just as much at fault for the things Garrosh did, if not more. At the end of the day, he’s the one who put him in charge. Garrosh may have been but a stone, but Thrall is the hand that cast it without care or regard.” Jaina’s countenance may as well be carved from stone as she speaks - to Anduin, who’s always looked up to his surrogate aunt, it’s an unsettling sight. Her ire is not easily roused, but when she’s angry, she’s like a stormy sea - merciless and unforgiving.

“Did he not push little Hellscream into the position against his wishes?” Sylvanas wonders aloud, rubbing her thumb across the back of Jaina’s hand soothingly, so as to comfort her. “And did Garrosh not argue that he did not feel ready for it, only for Thrall to ignore his doubts? A stone in his hand, indeed.” The Warchief sneers bitterly. “He was untested, unproven, and in no way qualified to lead the Horde. But Thrall cared more about running off to play in the dirt with his precious elements, and we all pay the price for it now. No longer does the title command the respect and loyalty of my people as it did before. Not after Garrosh so eagerly took a sledgehammer to the foundations upon which the Horde is built. My advisors remain constantly wary of me, as if waiting for me to leap out of my skin to reveal myself as Garrosh in disguise! The absolute idiocy of it all is enough to drive me up the wall, and I find my patience tested almost daily!”

“Temper, temper.” Jaina murmurs soothingly, nuzzling against the undead elf’s forearm, so Sylvanas makes the effort to unclench her free hand and quell her anger. Belore, so many things she’s done as of late have been mainly for Jaina’s benefit. Compromised does not even begin to describe her feelings towards the mage. And yet, she doesn’t entirely mind it.

“Forgive me, dalah’surfal. I didn't mean to upset you.” Sylvanas croons softly, and warmth blooms in her chest at the tender expression on Jaina’s face.

“It’s fine. I know how you can make it up to me.” The younger woman insistently tugs on the sleeve of the Warchief’s tunic. Sylvanas goes willingly, well aware what Jaina’s thinking of.

Maybe that damn mutt will finally get a big enough shock that he drops dead of a heart attack. Now there’s a thought.

Sylvanas never tires of kissing Jaina - she cherishes each kiss, relishing how delicately her lover leans into it, how she lets out the slightest of moans. Sylvanas wants more - she’s greedy, she’s always been greedy - but that’d have to wait until Jaina has fully recovered from her injuries.

“I’m glad to see you well, Jaina.” She smiles as they part, pleased to see her adorable mage blush. “Truly, I am.” She smugly glances over to Anduin and Genn, and feels laughter bubble up in the back of her throat - both men look like the rug has been well and truly pulled out from under their feet. Genn has a particularly gobsmacked look on his face - it’s clear he’s struggling mightily to process this turn of events.

“What the hell have you done, Banshee?!” He recovers quickly, though. Props to him. “What wicked spell have you ensorcelled her with?”

Sylvanas makes a point of thinking about it, with much thoughtful humming and chin scratching involved. “It’s a simple spell, but quite unbreakable. It’s called ‘compassion’, though I’m certain you struggle with the concept of it, dog. The Alliance ever scorned me and the Forsaken for something we had no control over. Jaina did not.”

“They’re people, just like anyone else. They’re not guilty of what Arthas did to them.” Jaina adds seriously. “And yes, I’m well aware that they’ve done questionable things since then. But what’s the point in trying to make friends when everyone else already has condemned you to guilt? The Alliance already sees them as monsters and abominations, so why bother trying to convince them otherwise?”

“Heed her words - she has more wisdom in her than the rest of the Alliance put together.”

“Hush, you,” Jaina lightly swats at the Warchief. “Must you goad them at every opportunity?”

“My apologies, dalah’surfal.” Sylvanas looks very much unapologetic, smarmy grin and all. Jaina simply rolls her eyes in response, well-accustomed to the elf’s snark at this point. “It really wouldn’t have taken much effort on the Alliance’s part, you know. To hear out the messengers I sent, instead of killing them where they stood. To consider the misfortunes of my people before making a decision.”

“But that’s not what happened.” All fight seems to leave Anduin, his shoulders slumping. Sylvanas has him, and he knows it. “I’m man enough to admit that, at the very least.”

“That alone makes you leagues better than the cretins that came before you. But it matters not - the past cannot be changed. What matters is the choices you will have to make now.” Sylvanas stands, arms clasped together behind her back. Jaina makes a distressed noise, and Sylvanas is almost overcome with the desire to comfort her. “Jaina is dear to me, and I to her, that much you can see clearly. How will you use this information against us, I wonder? Blackmail us into obedience, or seek to split us apart entirely?”

“Even better.” Anduin’s elated tone takes everyone aback. “I’ll see that the two of you get married right proper! Hell, I’ll gladly officiate the wedding myself!”

The silence that follows in the wake of his words is deafening.

“There must be something wrong with my hearing, because there is no way that you just said that.” Sylvanas intones dryly, but she cannot ignore the faint spark of hope in her chest, or the hopeful look Jaina gives her.

“Anduin, just what do you mean by that?” Genn’s just as confused, if not more. His confusion is probably the only thing keeping his temperament in check, honestly.

“No, this can work! Just give me a moment to think.” Anduin paces from side to side, face screwed up in concentration. A tense minute passes before he speaks again. “Political marriages are often used to secure alliances, but never on this scale. And sure, we could just attempt to sign a peace treaty instead, but it would only be as good at keeping peace as the word of the people who sign it. But a marriage between Sylvanas Windrunner, the ultimate authority of the Horde, and Jaina Proudmoore, one of the most powerful mages in all of Azeroth, would hold. Of course, there’ll be people who scrutinise such a union, thinking it a sham forced upon you both. But there are many people on both sides who want peace, and once they see that you’re getting along, they’ll gladly follow suit. And the detractors won’t be able to attack you with ammunition they don’t have; again, you’ll have no issues with tolerating each other’s presence. I know that a single marriage won’t be enough to end the enmity between the Horde and the Alliance. But I also know we cannot make peace if we’re unwilling to talk to our enemies. This would be a very important first step, a strong foundation upon which we can build a better future for all of Azeroth.”

Sylvanas hums thoughtfully, tilting her head slightly. Though Anduin’s plan is very much that of an idealist, it seems sound of reasoning. Though that’s most likely because of Jaina’s influence on her.

The thought of calling Jaina her wife, however, is absolutely tempting. Going to sleep together, waking in the mornings together, enjoying each other’s company without the need for secrecy - these thoughts threaten to absolutely floor her.

Belore preserve me, I’m in love with this woman.

Her mind made up, Sylvanas kneels down at Jaina’s bedside, ignoring Genn’s choked sound of disbelief. An incredibly rare sight, to ever see the Banshee Queen kneel for someone. She reaches for one of her pouches and fishes out a small object, one that she’s been holding onto for years - her mother’s ring.

“Jaina Proudmoore, will you marry me?” Sylvanas asks, holding the ring out towards her. Jaina gasps softly, arms half-raised towards her face before her shocked expression changes to that of pure, unadulterated joy.

“Yes. Of course I will, you silly elf.” Jaina breathes, reaching out and pulling Sylvanas close, capturing her lips in a sweet, tender kiss that makes Sylvanas want to melt into a puddle.

“This ring has ever been a bitter reminder of my failure to defend Quel’Thalas, of what Arthas did to me. Yet the sentimental fool in me could never cast it away.” Sylvanas murmurs softly as she pulls away, carefully slipping the ring onto Jaina’s finger. “But as of today, it’ll be a sign of new beginnings. A proof of my everlasting love for you.” Belore, she was starting to wax poetic. But Jaina didn’t seem to mind it in the least, her eyes showing nothing but love and affection for her wife-to-be. “I never thought I’d ever fall for anyone again, dalah’surfal, but you’ve proved me wrong. And I’m so very glad to have been mistaken about that.”

“Arthas hurt you a lot, love. It’s only natural that you didn’t want to be hurt again, that you would build such tall walls around yourself.” Jaina croons lovingly, inspecting the beautiful ring adorning her hand. As with everything of quel’dorei make, it’s a magnificent work of art, the glinting jewels and metal of it seemingly untouched by age. She finds that she cannot imagine herself without it in the future.

“Little imp, using my own words against me.” Sylvanas grins crookedly, pinching Jaina’s cheek, but there’s no concealing the fondness in her voice.

There was a time when the mere mention of the Lich King would’ve been enough to drive her into a berserker’s rage. But Jaina had soothed her anger and pain, had shown how to move beyond the reach of those painful memories. She still had bad days, but they were few and far between, all thanks to Jaina. Once, she had worried she wasn’t doing enough for her lover, moreso considering how freely Jaina had given her affection to her. After all, relationships are built on trust, and trust is a two-way street; one cannot take without giving something in return. But Jaina had laughed and kissed her, and said that she was doing fine. And that bit of confidence had been something she’d been sorely missing for years.

“So, I’ll take that as a yes, then?” Anduin pipes up, hands clasped together. His grin only grows when he sees the two women nod. “Excellent! There’s a thousand and one things to do before we announce it, but that can wait until Jaina’s fully healed. Genn, we’ll need- Genn?” His smile drops when he turns to address the Worgen.

“So far, I’ve seen the Banshee being lovey-dovey with Jaina. Then I saw them confess undying love for each other.” Genn’s tone is decidedly nonplussed, arms crossed across his chest. “I wager that when I wake up in the morning, I’ll also be seeing rivers flowing upwards while all clouds turn into screaming cottage cheese.” He takes a deep sigh before continuing. “And I’m guessing you’ll also want me to keep quiet about this. Which I will, before any of you ask. Just… don’t expect me to jump in joy, Anduin. Because I’m very much not happy about this.” With that, Genn turned and marched out of the room.

“That was… unexpectedly diplomatic, coming from a man who struggles to grasp the concept of an indoor voice.” Sylvanas notes drily.

“Talking to Genn can sometimes be trying, I know. Oftentimes, it’s an exercise in frustration.” Anduin admits sheepishly. “But even he’ll accept the truth, moreso when it’s right before his eyes. At the end of the day, neither of us wants to keep warring with the Horde until we have to start calling up farmers to fill the ranks of our armies.”

“Things would be well beyond salvaging if either side had to resort to drafting peasantry. But you make a fair point, I suppose.” Sylvanas concedes, her eyes back on Jaina, who’s looking very cozy in her bed.

“In any case, I’ll see you both tomorrow.” Anduin quickly and quietly slips out, closing the door behind him.

“Don’t leave.” Jaina mumbles tiredly just as Sylvanas intends to do so. “I sleep better when you’re with me.”

“Do you wish for someone else to walk in on us, then?” Sylvanas cocks an eyebrow, but makes no further effort to leave. Jaina merely raises a hand, sparks of magic springing free from her fingertips.

“There. Room’s warded. Even Archimonde won’t break through.” Jaina murmurs, shuffling to the side of the bed. “Now get in.”

Sylvanas grins amusedly, but doesn’t say anything before shucking off her boots and laying down at Jaina’s side. Almost immediately, the mage snuggles right up to her, cooing happily. Sylvanas, long since accustomed with how physically affectionate Jaina is, carefully pulls her future wife closer.

Her wife. Belore, the idea absolutely fills her with giddiness.

“Something on your mind?” Jaina hums softly, a tender look in her eyes.

“Just thinking about how much I love you.” Sylvanas smiles warmly at her beloved, letting out a soft chuckle as her words cause Jaina to blush.

“Say that again.” The blushing mage mumbles, and Sylvanas pushes herself up on her elbow, cradling Jaina’s cheek with her free hand - again, words fail to describe the soft feeling she experiences at the sight of Jaina leaning into her touch. Sometimes, she has trouble believing that anyone would trust her so readily.

“I love you, Jaina Proudmoore.” Without waiting for an answer, Sylvanas leans down and lovingly kisses her. Jaina wriggles for a moment and hums happily, her arm coming up to cup Sylvanas’ cheek.

“I love you too.” Jaina breathes as they part, ever so slightly out of breath. A soft mauve flush is creeping across her lover’s face as she looks down on her with such tenderness, and it almost makes Jaina’s heart melt.

“Proudmoore. Proudmoore,” Sylvanas purrs, a coy smile tugging at her lips. “I love how it sounds. Practically rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?”

“Mmn.” Jaina mumbles, blushing fiercely. Sylvanas grins wider, but decides to drop it in favour of cuddling with her - Jaina is always so warm, like a furnace. She’s come to cherish that warmth ever since the first night they’d tentatively spent together.

There will be many more days like this, she realizes.

It is a hopeful thought, the likes of which she hasn’t had in a while.

Sylvanas finds that she likes it very much.

Chapter Text

“It’s the Stormchaser.” Jaina breathes, eyes widening in surprise.

“I assume that’s a bad sign.” Sylvanas speaks up from behind her, the banshee’s eyes narrowed as she spies the warship plowing through the waters towards Stormwind Harbor, several smaller ships following it. The warship certainly is nothing to scoff at - dozens of gunports litter the sides of its immense hull, its three masts are tall and crowded with sails. But she’s no Kul Tiran, so she isn’t very knowledgeable about seafaring.

Luckily, she’s soon to be married to a certain woman from Kul Tiras.

“She’s a first-rate ship of the line, one of the oldest and most powerful in service to Kul Tiras at that. Full-rigged, of course. Might be too big for Stormwind Harbor, though - they’ll likely have to come ashore on a dinghy or a sloop.” Jaina supplies helpfully, as if having read her mind. “A hundred and sixty-two cannons and over a thousand sailors makes her an absolute menace to contend with. She even comes with a full marine complement for boarding and counter-boarding purposes. The hull’s thick enough that volleys from smaller ships have trouble putting a dent in her. But if she catches you with a broadside, well…” Jaina hisses through her teeth. “They’ll be fishing bits of you from the sea for a week. Two weeks if she’s firing grapeshot.”

“The sea is truly in your blood, dalah’surfal.” Sylvanas smiles fondly at her betrothed, letting out a chuckle as Jaina blushes.

“Flatterer.” Jaina smiles in return before sobering. “But to answer your question, I don’t rightly know if this is bad. I haven’t seen my family in years. There was always something to keep me busy after Mount Hyjal.”

“Are you worried that your mother distrusts you because of what happened to your father, Jaina?” Sylvanas addresses the mage’s unspoken concerns, and knows she’s hit the mark when Jaina winces. “Daelin’s death was one of his own making, love. Too bitter and hateful to let go and allow the wounds of war to heal. Too consumed by hate to listen to his daughter’s pleas, and he and his men paid for it most severely. You are not to blame for that.”

“Sometimes I wonder; what would have happened if I had stood by his side back then?” Jaina murmurs softly, leaning against Sylvanas.

“There is nothing wrong with thinking such thoughts, Jaina.” Sylvanas speaks gently, wrapping an arm around the younger woman’s shoulders. “But it is important to not let it become an obsession.”

“Ye.” Jaina mumbles into her shoulder, lingering for a moment longer in the elf’s embrace before pulling away reluctantly. “Let’s go and meet her, then. I don’t doubt that Anduin is already headed for the docks.”

“Of course. Might you tell me more of the ships of Kul Tiras as we walk? I’ve not much knowledge of seafaring, and I can think of no one better suited to explaining such things to me.”

Her betrothed gives her a beaming smile as they set off through the city - anar’alah, it takes next to no effort to see Jaina smile. The smallest of gestures are enough to bring her joy, and Sylvanas firmly swears to herself to remain ever worthy of Jaina’s affection.

=====

“Mother! What’s wrong?” Tandred is out of his chair in a flash, hurrying over to her side - for her part, Katherine Proudmoore is too busy trying to cough up a lungful of tea to answer. Instead, she shoves the missive towards him.

Curious, but no less worried, he picks the scroll up and reads it. And then he reads it again.

And again.

Tandred turns it sideways, upside-down, as if expecting its contents to change before his eyes. They do not.

“Jaina is... getting married?”

“To the Warchief of the Horde, no less.” His mother croaks before coughing mightily into a napkin. “I haven’t heard from my daughter for years. Not a single letter or message of any sort! And now this? A tasteless joke. It has to be!”

“I don’t know, it seems pretty official to me.” Tandred offers, carefully regarding the scroll in his hand. “Has all the proper seals and signatures.”

“It matters not. Pack your things, Tandred. We sail for Stormwind at the first opportunity, and then we shall have many words with the High King.”

=====

“Steady yourself, my heart. I’ll stand with you, no matter what.” Sylvanas murmurs in Jaina’s ear, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly before moving to stand at her side. The mage gives her a grateful look before returning her attention to the brig making its way to the docks. Stormchaser had indeed dropped anchor outside the harbor, transferring a small party to one of its escorts.

Off to the side, she spies Anduin arrive with a small honour guard in tow. He gives her a brief nod before moving to stand at Jaina’s side.

“Ready, Auntie?” Anduin mutters quietly to the mage, his concern well-concealed but obvious enough for Sylvanas to notice.

Jaina nods briskly, taking a deep breath. “As ready as I can be.” She exhales slowly, clearly resisting the urge to fidget.

There isn’t much time to talk after that as the brig heaves to. This close, Sylvanas can clearly see the ship’s name. Jackdaw, it’s called, and sure enough, the figurehead is that of a jackdaw in flight. Sailors scurry across the deck, climb up and down the rigging as the sails are furled. Whoever is at the helm knows their business, Sylvanas admits, watching Jackdaw’s hull all but kiss the dockside. There is no sudden crash or creak of timbers, and a number of sailors throw ropes over the side, which are caught and secured around bollards by Stormwind’s dockhands. Jackdaw comes to a gentle rest, all things considered, and Sylvanas can only be impressed by such an example of seamanship.

More sailors follow, affixing a boarding ramp on the gunwale. They barely have the time to step aside before a stern-faced woman storms ashore, trailed after by a young man.

This, then, is Lord Admiral Katherine Proudmoore, Sylvanas thinks. Jaina’s mother. And the blond following her can only be Tandred, youngest of the Proudmoore family.

She can certainly see the family resemblance. But where there is a certain softness in Jaina’s features, there is naught but unyielding stone and steel in Katherine. Jaina is all smiles and kindness, generous with physical affection - always hugging, always touching, as Anduin and Vereesa can attest. Sylvanas looks at the elder Proudmoore and cannot, for the un-life of her, imagine her doing the same.

“Lord Admiral Proudmoore, welcome to Stormwind.” Anduin steps forward, hand extended in greeting. Katherine regards him coolly, her stony expression not even wavering as she accepts the handshake.

“Thank you, King Wrynn.” Katherine returns the greeting politely but firmly. It’s then that her eyes lock onto Jaina, who almost shrinks back under her mother’s gaze, arms clenched at her sides.

“Hello, Mother.” Jaina’s voice is quiet as she greets her, apprehension practically pouring off the mage.

Sylvanas watches Katherine go completely still, an interesting array of emotions flashing across the older woman’s face. Fortunately, the tension only lasts for a moment longer before she moves closer, arms pulling her daughter into her embrace. Jaina briefly freezes up, but returns the gesture quickly, burying her face in Katherine’s shoulder. The severe expression on the Lord Admiral’s face loosens, just a little, as she holds her daughter close.

“You’re alright. Thank the Tides, you’re alright…”

Sylvanas is only a little jealous as she watches the reunion - her own family reunion had gone poorly, to say the least. But Jaina…

Jaina, Jaina, Jaina.

It was thanks to Jaina’s efforts that the Windrunner sisters remained on civil terms, if only barely. But it was a whole lot better than nothing. She’d been forced to swallow her own pride and bitterness a fair few times in the process of mending the bridges with her sisters, and it had been an experience that her mulishly-stubborn self hadn’t enjoyed at all. But Jaina’s approval and happiness felt too much like salvation for Sylvanas to ever consider giving up. Jaina hadn’t given up on her, when everyone else had only seen a monster. They’d become friends, then lovers. And soon, they would be married. Sometimes, she still had trouble believing it. But Jaina was certainly turning her into a believer.

Jaina pulls away from her mother, sniffling, but Katherine holds her at arm’s length, taking in the sight of her daughter. “Jaina, your hair-”

“It’s a long story, Mother.” Jaina interrupts, though not unkindly. She turns her gaze to Tandred, who simply grins widely, and holds out his arms. Jaina does not hesitate to throw herself into his embrace. Tandred laughs and folds his arms around her, lifting her off the ground with little effort. Jaina laughs too, overjoyed to see her little brother safe and sound.

“Mother, Tandred,” Jaina speaks once she’s back on solid ground, her words coming out in a rush, “meet Sylvanas Windrunner - Warchief of the Horde, Queen of the Forsaken… and my betrothed.” She gestures lamely at the undead elf in question.

Sylvanas sees the Lord Admiral go through all five stages of grief twice over.

“I see,” is all Katherine manages.

“Told you the letter wasn’t fake.” Tandred mumbles quietly.

Sylvanas moves forth with practiced grace, extending a hand in greeting. “Sinu a’manore, Lord Admiral. It is good to finally meet Jaina’s family,” she says.

Katherine hesitates, but only for a moment before she accepts the handshake. “Likewise,” she returns evenly, but there’s no ignoring the flinty, suspicious look on the woman’s face. Her grip is solid, and Sylvanas has to admit she’s impressed by how little fear the elder Proudmoore shows.

“And Tandred. I’m glad that I’ve now got a face to go with the name.” Sylvanas moves onto the youngest Proudmoore. “Your exploits are quite well-known even amongst the Horde, Mister Proudmoore.”

“Really?” Tandred fumbles for a moment before accepting the handshake.

“I’m afraid it all generally boils down to ‘it’s that cheeky little shit from Kul Tiras again.’” Sylvanas grins crookedly.

“I must be doing something right, then!” Tandred’s laughter is genuine - and out of the corner of her eyes, Sylvanas can see Jaina relax, just a little.

“I’d be glad to tell you more, but I do believe we have a more pressing matter to discuss, yes?” She turns her attention to Anduin, who seems to be perfectly content staying on the sidelines of the conversation.

“Oh, right!” The young King starts slightly before clearing his throat. “If you’ll follow me?”

=====

This was not how she had intended for the day to turn out, Katherine thinks to herself as their party makes their way inside Stormwind Keep. She had expected to march right up to the High King himself, and demand just what he was doing, casting about such unbelievable news. She certainly hadn’t expected to be met on the docks by the High King, the Warchief, and Jaina.

Jaina, whose hair was bleached white, save for a stubborn golden lock. Yet she seemed whole and healthy. She had heard so many rumours about Jaina since the Scourge had ravaged the Eastern Kingdoms, and at this point she didn’t even know what to believe. But she’d seen Jaina’s eyes, and for a moment, she’d seen such exhaustion in her daughter. It certainly hadn’t helped her to settle her thoughts.

And then there was the Warchief - Sylvanas Windrunner, who struts ahead of her with a confidence bordering on arrogance. Even in simple everyday clothing, the undead elf cuts a tall, imposing figure. And with eyes like smouldering coals, an expression that gave away nothing, Katherine can’t help but hear a small voice in the back of her head, screaming ‘a predator’s going to eat you, run’. Yet, aside from the occasional wary glance from Stormwind’s people or guards, no-one really pays the Warchief much attention. It is a little surreal, truth be told.

“Yoooouuu~!” Someone vocalizes breathlessly from behind them. Five heads swivel around to witness a thoroughly winded high elf stagger around a corner towards them.

“Vereesa?” Jaina cocks an eyebrow, confusion clear on her face. “What-”

“Told you to pace yourself, but no, you decided to run like it’s going out of style.” Another elf trails unhurriedly after her, followed by - Tidemother’s arse, it’s the Life-Binder herself!

“Alleria? Alexstrasza?!” Jaina’s confusion does not lessen, and it’s clear that she’s not the only one taken aback by this turn of events. Except for the Warchief, who seems ready to bolt at the sight of the Dragon Queen. Curious, that.

“You…” The one named Vereesa wheezes as she staggers to a halt before Jaina. She looks like she’s going to continue, but instead doubles over and resumes gasping for air.

“Me? What about me?” Jaina questions.

“I think she might be a little upset about the letters King Wrynn sent out not too long ago.” Alleria supplies dryly, sparing Vereesa an amused look before she looks towards the Warchief, all traces of humor vanishing from her face. “Sylvanas,” she bites out.

“Sister.” The Warchief’s retort is just as icy.

Well, this day certainly took a turn for the interesting, Katherine notes to herself. With such legends present, she cannot help but feel like a small fish in a big pond.

“As if you were any better, dear.” Alexstrasza chuckles softly, taking Alleria’s hand in her own. “So much pacing! I thought that you’d end up wearing a hole in the Sanctum’s floor.”

Alleria blushes and mumbles something, which only makes the Dragon Queen smile wider.

“Well, I intend to explain the how and why of it, but not out here.” Jaina sighs exasperatedly. “Though I must ask why Lady Alexstrasza is here. No offense.”

“None taken.” Alexstrasza smiles easily. “To answer your question, things are rather quiet in Northrend as of late. Thus I find myself with more free time on my hands than I can find a use for. And it was quite something to see my dear Alleria in such a state, all over a single letter! I just had to see this for myself.” The kindly she-dragon chuckles as Alleria grouses again. “But enough about that. I wish to hear your tale. Rest assured, I vow to keep any secrets that might be divulged close to my heart.”

Well, if there was anyone they could trust, it would definitely have to be the aspect of the red dragonflight.

=====

Jaina drops down on the couch with a sigh, heartened as she watches Sylvanas neatly sit down at her side.

“I know you must have many questions, Mother-” Jaina begins quietly.

“‘Many questions?’ Jaina, you-” Katherine exclaims disbelievingly. “You could’ve come home, to Kul Tiras! Instead, you fled across the ocean to Kalimdor! And I do not hear any news of you, only rumours and hearsay that beggar belief! And when your father sails west to find out what’s become of you, he’s returned to me in a coffin, his fleet in shambles! The people of Kul Tiras think you are a traitor!”

Jaina inhales shakily - it feels like she’s been punched in the gut, her mother’s harsh words stealing all breath from her. Tears gather in her eyes and it’s all she can do to not break down.

“Have care with your words, Lord Admiral.” Sylvanas isn’t openly hostile yet, but it’s a close thing. “I’ll not suffer anyone who speaks ill of my betrothed, moreso if they are ignorant of what she’s been through. She is the woman who faced down Archimonde at Mount Hyjal and lived to tell the tale. She is the woman who led a band of survivors across the ocean and established a city that prospered for many years. She is the woman who always championed peace and unity when others needed to have the likes of the Lich King or the Burning Legion breathing down their necks before they would consider standing together.” Sylvanas turns to look at Jaina, who gazes back with equal amounts of embarrassment and adoration. The elf speaks once more, her voice soft, “And she is the woman who refused to see me as a monster when everyone else did. And I’ll love her forever for it.”

One could hear a fly fart in the silence that followed her declaration. It was very much the sort of reaction that Sylvanas had expected - her sisters look at her as if she’s grown a second head. Katherine is pale-faced and unsteady. Tandred blinks and pulls a flask from his coat, taking a deep gulp from it. Anduin has a small smile on his face - he’s had time to come to terms with this, after all. At the end of the day, he only wants his aunt to be happy.

And then there’s Alexstrasza, who regards her with a look of curious delight.

“You’re shitting me. You have got to be shitting me,” Alleria finally exclaims. “You’re shitting me, right? You’re so full of shit your eyes are brown.”

“Funny, Lai’Belore. You’re funny.” Sylvanas rolls her eyes, leaning back and resting her arm across Jaina’s shoulders - Katherine turns even paler as her daughter leans into the elf’s side without hesitation. “And please, before any of you decide to throw around baseless accusations of me forcing my will upon her, let me remind you that Jaina is one of the most powerful mages to ever live. It was annoying when Greymane whined about it, and it’ll be no less annoying now. I cannot force her to do anything she does not want, ever. She could turn me into a bloody smear on the floor a dozen times over.”

“Not that I ever would do that.” Jaina grouses, holding her beloved’s hand in her own.

“That’s besides the point, dalah’surfal.” Sylvanas chuckles coyly. “And you really need to learn how to take a compliment. You are incredibly powerful, Jaina. It is no baseless boast. You practically breathe arcane. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve seen my Dark Rangers follow you around like lovesick puppies. Mark my words, one of these days you are going to wake up covered in elves.”

Jaina rolls her eyes before looking back at her mother, who’s been watching their exchange with an inscrutable expression on her face. The silence drags on for an uncomfortable moment before Katherine sighs wearily and rubs her face.

“Start from the beginning, Jaina. I will listen to what you have to say.”

And so she does, retelling the events that have occurred since the Scourge, how she’d gathered as many people as she could before setting out across the ocean. Putting as much distance between herself and the Scourge had seemed a very reasonable decision at the time, though all she’d achieved was land herself in even hotter water. Allying with Thrall and Cairne Bloodhoof, then Tyrande Whisperwind and Malfurion Stormrage certainly sounds like a tall tale - but she knows that were the night elves here, they would corroborate her claims. All the same, her first-hand account of the showdown at Mount Hyjal leaves everyone stunned. Everyone except Sylvanas, that is, who looks smugly proud of Jaina.

“He exploded?” Tandred exclaims disbelievingly.

“Last I checked, there’s still bits of him littering the grounds around Nordrassil.” Jaina nods. “He did not go down easy, though. The Legion laid waste to our forces - so many died during that battle, just to slow him down. Much of Nordrassil’s strength was spent to destroy Archimonde. The night elves are no longer immortal. But the alternative outcome was much worse, I assure you.” She takes a moment to gather her thoughts before continuing. “After that, I gathered my people and we settled in Dustwallow Marsh. There, we built Theramore. And for a while, we prospered. And then…”

Sylvanas squeezes Jaina’s shoulder comfortingly in silent encouragement.

“And then Father arrived at Theramore with his fleet. He was so hellbent on destroying the Horde, Mother.” Jaina’s voice trembles as she speaks - she clutches Sylvanas’ hand like a lifeline. “I begged him to see reason, yet he would not listen to me. The Horde was never the real enemy, not in the way that the Burning Legion or the Scourge are. Mount Hyjal showed me that neither the Horde or the Alliance can afford to continue clawing at each other, not with threats like Archimonde hanging over our heads. So I did the only thing that made sense to me at the time, no matter how much it hurt to do so.”

“Your husband’s death was entirely his own fault, Lord Admiral.” Sylvanas interjects, leveling a warning look at Katherine before she can speak, “Jaina is not guilty of anything that you or Kul Tiras accuse her of. The erstwhile Lord Admiral, on the other hand, usurped control over Theramore, over Jaina’s people. He stubbornly ignored his daughter’s pleas for peace. He paid for holding onto old hatreds with his life, as did many of his men.”

Having said her piece, Sylvanas waits for the Lord Admiral to respond. Jaina waits quietly, too, anxious to hear what her mother has to say.

“I wish I could say you’re wrong, Warchief.” Katherine finally sighs wearily, snatching the flask from Tandred and taking a swig. “But you’re not. The losses we suffered during the Second War, not to mention losing Derek to dragonfire… Daelin never really moved on from what happened. I can’t claim otherwise about myself, too.”

“I am deeply sorry for your loss, Lady Proudmoore,” Alexstrasza’s voice is soft and full of regret as she speaks, sorrow clear in her eyes, “and for the grief my children have caused to the world. I was captured during the Second War, my children forced to kill, forced to commit acts that go against the red dragonflight’s very nature. I grieve for all the deaths that happened as a result of Deathwing’s depravity. I suspect I shall grieve them for countless years more.”

Katherine simply nods - really, there’s nothing that’ll take wind out of your sails faster than an apology from the Life-Binder herself. The thought of being angry with the gentle she-dragon seems outlandish and bizzare, moreso because she understands a mother’s grief all too well.

“Alexstrasza, no. We had that talk, remember?” Alleria speaks sternly. “No blaming yourself for things outside of your control.”

“Pot calling the kettle black, again?” The dragoness scoffs mildly. “Alleria, you did what you had to. Void-touched as you are, you took Locus-Walker’s teachings to the heart, and became stronger for it. It is not your fault if Turalyon is too Light-blinded to see it.” Before Alleria can so much as squeak in protest, she takes the elf’s face in her hands. “He imprisoned you. He hurt you. He betrayed you,” Alexstrasza growls softly, “and he does not get to decide that he didn’t.”

“‘M sorry,” Alleria mumbles.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, my love,” Alexstrasza soothes, pulling the elf into a hug. “I just wish you’d see it as clearly as I do.”

“Mmn.”

“Are all Windrunners so unrepentantly stubborn?” Alexstrasza wonders aloud, running her fingers through Alleria’s hair.

“Yes,” Jaina says at the same time Sylvanas says “No.” They look at each other - Jaina’s the first to break, giggling softly, while Sylvanas sports a bemused smile.

“I see,” the Life-Binder chuckles mirthfully.

“Hey!” Vereesa protests weakly, though she soon laughs as well. This moment of joviality, though brief, does much to ease the building tension in the room.

“Earlier, you said that Kul Tiras considers me a traitor for what happened at Theramore.” Jaina now hesitantly addresses her mother. “Do you think the same of me, Mother?”

Katherine opens her mouth to speak, but Sylvanas is faster. “Make no mistake, Lord Admiral - this wedding is happening, with or without your approval. I will not let you take her away, nor will the High King.” She looks at Anduin, who nods firmly in support.

“Stormwind will always be open to my aunt.”

“And Orgrimmar.” Sylvanas nods ever-so-slightly in return. Jaina’s well-being might be the only common ground she has with Anduin, but it’s kept relations between them both civil. “But before you make your decision, I have in my possession information that you are bound to find most enlightening.” Calmly, she withdraws a tightly-coiled scroll from her pocket, tossing it to Katherine. The Lord Admiral, though stunned, catches it quickly and unrolls it.

“What do you mean by that, Sylvanas?” Jaina turns to look at her betrothed curiously.

“Not long after we agreed to be wed, I decided it would be in my best interests to investigate your homeland. For no nefarious purpose, I assure you. By chance, my agents came across a most tantalizing thread of information. When they tugged on it, it unraveled into something that I knew would be of great interest to someone, someday.”

Jaina attempts to speak again, but is interrupted by an outraged splutter from her mother - a single look is all it takes to see that the elder Proudmoore is absolutely pale with anger, the expression on her face a curious mix of rage, shock, and disbelief as she reads the letter.

“Just what did you find?” Jaina asks quietly.

“Oh, only enough dirt on Priscilla Ashvane that your mother could hang that fat sow of a woman with her own intestines and no one would so much as bat an eyelid about it. No one but the Ashvanes, at least.” Sylvanas mutters in Jaina’s ear. “Plotting treason against the Admiralty, embezzling Admiralty funds, leaking intelligence to various pirate groups in order to eliminate traders she saw as a threat to her own company… And a score of other things.”

“Oh.” Jaina’s eyes widen in surprise and she turns her attention to her mother.

“‘Oh’, indeed.” Sylvanas chuckles, low and throaty before raising her voice. “If you wish, Lord Admiral, I could have my Dark Rangers take care of Lady Ashvane for you. Quick, clean, and efficient - no one would suspect foul play on your part. But not before you answer Jaina’s question - is she a traitor to Kul Tiras, or is she innocent?”

Katherine looks in turn at both of them, then back to the papers in her hands. She squares her shoulders and Jaina squeeze’s Sylvanas’ hand tightly in nervous anticipation.

“Priscilla disapproved of my decision to sail here at first, but she changed her mind the day before our departure. Now I see why..” The Lord Admiral heaves a great, weary sigh before locking eyes with her daughter. “No, Jaina. You are no traitor. I can see that now. You were forced to make a difficult decision, to choose between newfound friends and allies or loyalty to your father as he carried out his vendetta. As you said, you chose what made sense at the time. I cannot blame you for that.”

The expression on Jaina’s face crumples as she stands - Katherine meets her halfway, pulling her daughter into a tight hug. Sylvanas catches the elder Proudmoore’s gaze, and nods ever-so-slightly in approval.

Jaina has already suffered too much, the banshee thinks as she watches mother and daughter hug, and if anyone dares to add to her burdens, I’ll take them apart with the dullest knife I can find.

Jaina’s eyes are red and brimming with tears, but she’s undeniably happy as her mother lets go of her. Katherine is sporting a small smile as well. Tandred grins widely and gives his sister a thumbs-up.

“Thank you…” Jaina mumbles tearily.

“Think nothing of it, Jaina.” Katherine hums, lightly squeezing the younger woman’s shoulders. “That being said, however, I don’t know how people back home will react. Might take some time for me to explain the how and why of things to them. They were… angry when news of Daelin’s death came to Kul Tiras. But I’ll make this right, Jaina. I promise you.”

Jaina nods understandingly, rubbing at her eyes.

“I sense your tale is not quite done yet, though.”

“You’re right about that, Mother.” Jaina nods again, returning to Sylvanas’ side. “The peace I’d established with Thrall’s help never seemed to settle - there was always another bushfire to put out. Burning Legion stragglers escalating tensions between Horde and Theramore, Defias Brotherhood working with Onyxia and the black dragonflight, Twilight’s Hammer raising all sorts of hell wherever they went, on top of ruining any chance of human-orc alliance…” Jaina wearily sighs, slumping against Sylvanas. “And it just got worse from there. The Northrend campaign saw thousands die to the Scourge; and at the end of the day, they were merely contained, not vanquished. When Garrosh became Warchief, he left a trail of devastation across the whole of Kalimdor. Thrall refused to do anything about it. Eventually, the Horde marched for Theramore.” Jaina takes a deep breath to steady herself as old, painful memories resurface. “I called for aid from everyone I knew, and many answered. But in the end, it was all for naught when a Horde airship dropped a mana bomb on my city. My people. My friends.” Jaina’s eyes once more fill with tears she stubbornly refuses to let drop. “Everything I’d worked myself to the bone for, gone, because of a power-hungry manchild.”

Katherine almost reaches forward to comfort her daughter, but stops herself - she senses that this is not a subject Jaina has ever had much opportunity to talk about. Such wounds cannot be left to fester, she knows that much.

“It should have been me instead of Rhonin,” Jaina rasps, tears now flowing freely down her cheeks, “I- “

“Anar’alah belore, Jaina, stop it!” Vereesa cries out at the same time that Sylvanas barks “That’s enough, Proudmoore!” The two sisters glance at each other for a moment - Sylvanas inclines her head, just a little, and Vereesa accepts the chance to talk first.

“Sometimes, I imagine how things would’ve been if Rhonin had survived, and you died.” The youngest Windrunner begins, halting and unsure. “I’ve spent so long wondering about all sorts of ‘maybes’ and ‘what ifs’ about that awful day. And while Rhonin’s death still hurts, I’m glad I didn’t lose two people dear to me on that day. I try to imagine a time and place where you died and he didn’t; and I feel like scum for doing so. Rhonin wouldn’t want you to blame yourself for what happened. I know it, and you know it, too!”

“She has the right of it, I believe.” Sylvanas hums thoughtfully, tilting Jaina’s chin upwards to meet her eyes. “I never had much reason to speak with Rhonin, but Vereesa never had anything bad to say about him. If he was even half the man she’s talked him up to be, then I have no qualms about agreeing with her opinion on this matter.” The expression on her face softens as she cups Jaina’s cheek. “All this wallowing in guilt and self-pity accomplishes nothing. Is that not what you said to me years ago? You were right when you said that Arthas still held sway over me, even from beyond the grave. My hate for him could only carry me so far; it would become detrimental before long. I did not wish to hear the truth, but that particular bandage had to come off, one way or another.”

“I remember.” Jaina murmurs quietly. “We fought a lot about it, didn’t we?”

“Not that it kept us apart for long.” Sylvanas chuckles softly. “You are like a blazing bonfire on a cold autumn morning, dalah’surfal. I could not stay away from you if I wanted to.” She smiles as Jaina blushes deeply. “Please, Jaina. My heart may no longer beat, but it still hurts to see you like this. I’m not asking you to forget what happened to Theramore - no one would be stupid enough to ask that of you. But you must stop picking at this wound, else you’ll never heal.”

“‘kay.” Jaina mutters softly, reaching up to cover the banshee’s hand with her own. “I’ll try.”

“You’ll do more than just try, dalah’surfal.” Sylvanas does not relent. “You will succeed. I know you will.”

“‘Blazing bonfire on a cold autumn morning?’ Mediocre.” Alleria shakes her head in disgust before addressing Jaina. “I feel I must apologize, Lady Proudmoore. Our family’s poetry genes skipped her entirely.”

Sylvanas jerks upright, already preparing a scathing rebuke, but all thought of quarrelling with her sister leaves her when she hears Jaina’s muttered “I liked it.” Not even a second later, Jaina takes her face in her hands and kisses her sweetly. Sylvanas hears gasps and muttering, but in that moment, the feeling of Jaina’s lips upon hers is all that matters.

“I liked it.” Her little mage repeats softly when they part.

“Okay.” Sylvanas mumbles, face red-hot.

“Oh, I can now say with certainty that I do not regret accompanying you, Alleria!” Everyone turns to face Alexstrasza, who is positively gleeful with delight. “I’ve not seen a love so strong in many, many years! And to think that this bond has endured despite so much suffering over the years...” The she-dragon sighs dreamily.

“I, for one, wholeheartedly support my sister’s right to kiss pretty elven women!” Tandred laughs brightly. Katherine sighs and rubs her forehead, though there’s the beginnings of a smile on her face.

“Hear that, Sylvanas?” Jaina chuckles, leaning against the elf. “Tandred thinks you’re pretty.”

“Oh, good.” She intones dryly. “And here I was losing sleep over whether or not other people find me attractive.”

“Oh, please. If there ever was a time you weren’t Azeroth’s greatest vainpot, Lai’Lune, I can no longer recall it.” Alleria drawls, a bemused smirk on her face - Sylvanas is much less threatening when she’s got Jaina hanging onto her arm.

“I must say, this is not how I expected this day to go.” Katherine muses to herself. “I most certainly didn’t expect to find that my daughter’s got the Warchief of the Horde so thoroughly whipped.”

“You are funny, Lord Admiral. I’ll kill you last.” Sylvanas deadpans in return, arching an unamused eyebrow. Jaina hisses warningly next to her.

“Whipped.” Katherine looks unrepentantly smug.

The banshee’s eyes glow dangerously before she relaxes. “Anduin?” She addresses the young king. “You earlier mentioned wanting to ensure this peace agreement is as solid as possible, that we’ll likely need more unions between Horde and Alliance. I’ve just remembered two likely candidates for such a thing.”

“Oh? That’s good news.” Anduin perks up. “Let’s hear it, then.”

“Valeera Sanguinar and Matriarch Liadrin.”

“Valeera and-” Anduin starts, then stops with a sigh. “I shouldn’t be surprised, really.” He murmurs defeatedly. “Valeera’s a spy, of course she’ll find ways to make herself scarce. Didn’t think to question her even once about what kept her so busy.”

“You are lucky that she is as loyal to you as she was to your father, indeed. And believe me, she was very busy. Just not in the way you’d expect.” Sylvanas grins and waggles her eyebrows.

“Thank you, but that’s too much information!” Anduin blurts out, which only makes her grin wider.

“Come now, High King. It’s nothing unnatural.” Sylvanas drawls nonchalantly as she pulls Jaina close, her hand upon the mage’s hip. “After all, sex is an important part of any long-term romantic relationship.” Her eyes find the Lord Admiral’s, who goes pale as a sheet at the thinly-veiled implication.

“Y-you…” The other woman stammers, well and truly lost for words.

“For what it’s worth, Jaina gives as good as she gets.” Sylvanas can’t stop herself. It’s a problem, really.

Tandred knocks back the entirety of his flask’s contents. Vereesa looks more than a little scandalized. Alleria’s eyebrows have migrated to her hairline. “Why would you say that?”   Anduin and Jaina both wail in mortification, hiding their faces behind their hands. Alexstrasza, ever dignified, simply hides her grin behind a delicate palm.

“You know, I wasn’t entirely certain at first,” Alleria eventually lets out a half-hearted chuckle, “but that was very much a Sylvanas thing to say.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Alleria.”

“I’m going to shoot her, Jaina.” Katherine announces flatly. “I’m going to shoot her so much.”

“Not if I mutilate you first, Lord Admiral.”

“No-one’s going to shoot anyone!” Jaina yells, bolting upright. “And no one’s going to get mutilated, either! Not even a little!” Hastily, she places herself between the two women.

“As you wish, dalah’surfal.” Sylvanas replies readily, to which Jaina scowls.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what, Kim’Laide?” Sylvanas is the picture of innocence, which Jaina does not buy in the least.

“That! Speaking in Thalassian!” She cannot help but stomp her foot petulantly. “That’s cheating; I can’t stay mad at you when you do it.”

“Forgive me, love. I did not mean to upset you.” Sylvanas rises from the couch, meeting Jaina halfway with an embrace. “Your happiness is worth more to me than all the riches in the world.” She shoots a glare at Alleria who’s retching silently until Alexstrasza elbows her in the side. Then, she looks to Katherine. “And I apologise for baiting you, Lord Admiral.”

The elder Proudmoore blinks, unsure how to respond - but she sees how readily Jaina welcomes the elf’s touch; it’s clear that her daughter is absolutely smitten. “It’s quite alright. I suppose I shouldn’t have started it to begin with.”

Sylvanas nods slightly; before she can continue, there’s a rumbling sound that makes her ears tilt upwards. Her brow furrowing, she holds Jaina at arm’s length, regarding the woman with an exasperated look. “You forgot to eat breakfast again, didn’t you? Dalah’surfal, you cannot keep doing this. I will not hesitate to force-feed you if I have to.”

“I can get some food delivered, if you wish.” Anduin pipes up as he makes for the door, but pauses. “Sylvanas, a word?”

She pauses from fussing over an indignant Jaina - when the mage nods encouragingly, she follows the young king out into the corridor.

=====

“You were right about what you said before - about us not being there for Jaina.” Anduin speaks to her not long after finding a servant to send to the kitchens. “We could’ve done more. I should’ve done more.”

Her knee-jerk reaction is to respond with something bitingly sarcastic - she crushes that desire immediately. Instead, she simply nods. “Yes. You should have. But you’ll have plenty of opportunities to make amends.”

Anduin silently nods in return as they meander towards a balcony. A moment of silence passes between High King and Warchief before he speaks again. “So, uh, were you serious about Valeera and Liadrin?”

“They are quite taken with each other, yes.” Sylvanas slowly nods again. “Do not worry, Sanguinar adamantly refused to even entertain the idea of leaking intel to me. Her loyalty to your family does her credit. All the same, I think they both will enjoy not having to skulk in the shadows for much longer.”

“Good. That’s good.” Anduin hums to himself for a moment. “And what about the rest of the Horde? Do you think they’ll agree to this treaty as readily?”

Sylvanas considers his question for a long moment. “Baine certainly will, if only to rekindle his friendship with Jaina. Saurfang, while always a warrior at heart, is old and weary, moreso after losing his son in Northrend.”

“A terrible thing, that a parent should outlive their child.” Anduin notes grimly.

“Quite so.” Sylvanas agrees before continuing. “Lor’themar will likely agree, in spite of the fiasco Aethas Sunreaver caused. That was… quite the mess.”

=====

Aethas collapses on the floor in a boneless heap, the breath driven from his lungs with a single vicious blow to the gut from Sylvanas.

“You disgust me.” Sylvanas snarls at the wheezing blood elf. “You let Garrosh’s thugs steal the Divine Bell, with only a slap on the wrist. No, you lacked the spine to do even that. Did you really think it would be that easy? Did you actually believe that Proudmoore would not find out? And when she drives your precious followers from Dalaran in retaliation, you somehow find the nerve to crawl to the Horde?”

“But-” Aethas doesn’t get many words out before he’s slammed against the wall by the furious banshee.

“I do not agree with her actions - far from it, in fact. But I can understand her reasoning, or lack thereof.” Her voice is a low, menacing growl as she looms over Aethas, her fingers clamped around his neck. “Had you intervened in the theft, or at least notified Proudmoore of it, I daresay your precious Sunreavers would still be gallivanting around Dalaran as freely as before. But that is not what happened, is it? Blame Proudmoore all you want, worm; at the end of the day, you and you alone are responsible for the events of that cursed day.” Deeming Aethas sufficiently strangled, she lets him fall back down. “Now, here’s what will happen - you will go to Dalaran. You will find Proudmoore. You will grovel before her on bended knee, that she may grant you the chance to atone for your spinelessness. She is prone to rash decisions, but she is not cruel or vindictive. I’m certain that you can come to an agreement with her. You will do this, or I will slit you open and bite out your heart. Is that understood?” When Aethas isn’t quick enough to answer, she growls, low and hateful. “Is. That. Understood?”

“Yes.” The elf croaks miserably.

“Then begone from my sight.”

Mere seconds after he’s scrambled away, there’s a puff of black smoke to her right that solidifies into Velonara.

“Is it done?” She asks without preamble.

“Yes, Dark Lady.” The Dark Ranger nods. “Thalen Songweaver has been subdued and delivered to the location you specified.”

“Good.” She allows herself a savage smile. Jaina was going to tear that flowery little cretin to shreds, especially once she read the letter about the miniature mana bombs. It was a bad day to be Thalen Songweaver.

=====

“Quite the mess, indeed.” Anduin nods slowly and sighs. “What of the rest of the Horde, though?”

“The rank and file will largely follow suit. So will the civilians. Many still remember the day Jaina came so very close to wiping Orgrimmar off the face of Kalimdor. They respect and fear her power. It will keep them in line long enough for things to settle. In due time, they will come to love her, I know it.”

“Mm.” Anduin looks thoughtful.

“And what of you? What of the Alliance? Is it just as committed to peace?”

“The draenei and night elves alike have been making an effort to reach some sort of agreement with the Horde for a while now.” Anduin answers at length. “This is mostly driven by their own experiences with the Burning Legion. That, and you really can’t overlook it when a mad god stabs the world with a giant sword.”

“Defiance invites challenge - and the people of Azeroth have endured in spite of the odds being stacked massively against them.” Sylvanas notes seriously. “Sargeras and the Burning Legion broke themselves upon this stubborn little rock; other forces are sure to take note of it.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself.” Anduin nods in agreement, leaning against the balustrade. “Really, wouldn’t have to work that angle too much to get others on board with the treaty. And given that we’ve spent more time mopping up Legion stragglers instead of warring with each other, Horde-Alliance tensions are the lowest they’ve been in years.”

“You can thank Jaina for that. She has been quite adept at finding ways for the Horde to get what it needs without having to step on the Alliance’s toes.” Sylvanas chuckles dryly for a moment. “Saurfang’s given me an odd look more than once, but he’s yet to complain.”

“Jaina has certainly been an influence on you, hasn’t she?”

Sylvanas considers his words before speaking. “She showed me kindness when no-one else did. Above all else, she has only ever been understanding with me. There are many things that frighten me no more. But the thought of losing Jaina? It terrifies me very much.”

“I think I would like to get to know you.” Anduin regards her with a friendly look. “Not the Warchief, or the Banshee Queen, or the Dark Lady. Just Sylvanas, the woman who stole my aunt’s heart.”

She looks at him with surprise before a wry half-smile twists her face. “I could not have stolen what was given freely. But I don’t see why not, as long as I get to meet Anduin, the earnest young man who wants his aunt to be happy.”

“Can do.” He smiles, and sticks his hand out. She shakes it.

Saurfang would probably laugh himself into a coma if he saw us right now.