Warcraft: Unity: Stormcaller - 4/8+Epilogue
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Title: Unity: Stormcaller
Part: 4/8+Epilogue
Word Count: 4319
Includes: Spoilers for the Bonus Orc Campaign, character death, violence, strong language.
Pairings: Implied Thrall/Jaina, Jaina/OMC.
Summary: During the Late Winter of the 27th year after the opening of the Dark Portal, something dark and sinister calls terrible storms to lash the coast of Kalimdor, its source seemingly Jaina's old home: Kul Tiras. Vowing to do what is right, rather than take an easier path, Jaina returns home to speak to her estranged family and protect her family, her allies, and her own people from the Stormcaller.
Previous: Unity Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11
Stormcaller Chapters: 1 2 3
The journey out of the catacombs was slow and steady. Exhaustion crept through Jaina as she walked. She could hear her brother behind her as neither tried to be quiet, but he did not draw even with her, instead choosing to trail a few steps behind.
I don’t care if he trusts me or not, Jaina thought sourly. If he wants to play games, let him. I’m tired and wet and hungry and cold. I don’t have time for his shit.
Weary as Jaina was, it was hard not to let bitterness seep into her thoughts instead of focusing on their victory: the atmosphere felt lighter, even now. The catacombs were less flooded, and Jaina found that when they reached their rain capes and tarp -- now littered with shells and pearls left as gifts by the murlocs and Makrura -- their boat was not where they had left it.
“That’s a problem,” Tandred muttered, picking off the shells and pearls and tucking them into pockets. Jaina held out her hands for some of them, and she used her sleeves to send them to Theramore, careful to keep the Stone with her.
“It can’t have gone far,” Jaina said tersely. “If worst comes to worst, I’ve got enough to teleport us home again.”
“Yours or mine?” Tandred asked, raising an eyebrow before pulling on his rain cape. Jaina considered, testing the edges of her magic.
“Yours,” she said finally. “I don’t think I could make it as far as Kalimdor. Not without rest and food.”
“So, you’re not invincible after all,” Tandred mused. Jaina shot him a look and snatched the rain cape he offered from his hands.
“I never claimed that I was,” she snapped, and pulled it on before turning back towards the retreating water. Their boat had been pulled away as the sea had receded back to the ocean, and they found it bobbing gently by the entrance of the catacombs. Jaina waded out to retrieve it, holding it fast while Tandred threw the tarp into it and climbed in, then kept it steady as Jaina climbed in afterwards. Tandred fussed with the tarp in silence for a time while Jaina drew on her magic to once again enchant the sails and rudder. Once Tandred settled as was ready to guide the sails, Jaina released her magic to push them forward.
The storming weather had slowed to a gentle misting, and the sea was brisk but neither choppy nor rough. She needed only to use the rudder lightly to steer them home. The clouds, heavy and dark when she had arrived, were thinning rapidly, as though they had suddenly realized they were late for an important meeting elsewhere.
Jaina smiled at the thought. Perhaps they were. Certainly, clouds are unthinking, built up humidity gathered in clumps that grow more dense and then release… but water has its own intelligence, and Bluey has spoke of the discomfort of raining before. She glanced down at the water, seeing her elemental friend racing through the water around them like a dolphin. She wanted to laugh, but didn’t want to explain it to her brother.
“Jaina,” Tandred hissed softly, and she looked up at him, then where he was pointing, and inhaled sharply. In one particular spot, over Boralus, the clouds had thinned more than the rest, and the sun broke out from behind the clouds, and the shafts of light, through the mists, had created a rainbow.
“Good work, sea creatures,” Jaina murmured, her father’s old words coming to her lips. “You’ve done a fine job, let’s go home.”
“...yes, lets,” Tandred murmured, and Jaina fell silent. She kept her eyes to the rainbow, letting instinct keep her hand steady and on course.
It’s hard to feel angry when staring directly at an extremely obvious symbol of hope, Jaina thought, letting contentment flood over her, loosening much of the tension she’d held onto during their journey. She glanced only briefly at her brother, who had looked down to his work, focusing on adjusting and readjusting the cords, and then back up. Eyes on the prize.
The journey back to Boralus was swift, carried by magical wind, waves that did not fight them over every naut of ocean crossed, and a lightness that came with a task accomplished. Rather than going to the cove, Jaina brought them to the docks for little boats. There were people here, men and women, young and old, laughing. They looked up and held out their hands, cupping nothing. The air was still humid, and it would linger for a time, but there was no rain to soak them through, no howling winds. When the rains came, and they would come again, they would be because Father Sky wished to touch Mother Ocean, and not because someone was using storms as weapons.
This is what it’s all about, Jaina thought as Tandred folded the tarp aside and jumped from the boat, splashing lightly before going ashore. Jaina followed him a moment later, tugging the hood of her cape up as he spoke to the dockmaster quietly. This is why we do what we do, the dangerous things, the reckless things. This is why we stand against the forces of darkness when no one else knows how to… because of the laughter. Because we want people to be happy.
A stray gust of wind caught Jaina, reminding her that under her rain cape, she was still sopping, and she wrinkled her nose. There’s no reason, while the world saving is done, we can’t also be comfortable. She started her march towards Boralus Keep. Around her, more and more people were coming outside, awestruck by the sun’s light. Tandred followed in her wake, and few glanced their way more than a moment.
Her family was humble, in their way: fiercely proud of their line and the accomplishments of their ancestors, but they didn’t hold court as the Menethils or the Greymanes did. A sailor wasn’t any good if they were too awed to shove you out of the way when you were in it, after all. Occasionally, she heard someone call out to Tandred, asking if he was the one responsible for the departure of the rain. Tandred must have indicated something, because one person called a blessing, and others said ‘knew we could count on you’. Jaina tugged her hood a little closer, and kept walking.
They were met at the entrance of Boralus Keep by servants who took their rain capes, helped them with their boots, and directed them to hot baths. Jaina let her mind drift as she soaked in the hot water until her skin tingled, and sighed with great relief. I can rest here the night and go home to Theramore tomorrow, she thought idly. If Thrall isn’t busy, we can spend that evening together… Sensation shivered through her, and she half-closed her eyes. He’s a good kisser, and so gentle… he’ll be good in bed, I’m so certain of it. We just need to find the time.
There was a soft knock at the bathroom door, shaking Jaina from her reverie. “Lady Proudmoore, there’s tea and food waiting for you in the sitting room.”
“Thank you,” Jaina called back, even as she bit back the urge to correct them. That’s my mother’s name, my mother’s title. I’m Jaina or Lady Jaina, or Archmage Proudmoore. I’m not a stranger here. Or… am I? The sense of comfort faded, leaving her with a sense of unease as she rose from the bathtub, toweled off quickly, and wrapped the thick, warm robe she’d been left around her, tying it securely before putting on a pair of slippers, and sliding the door panel open, leaving it ajar so that the servants could clean up after her.
She made her way to the sitting room, and found both snacks and tea as promised, though the room was otherwise empty. Jaina sighed softly, and went to sit by the tray. She poured herself some tea, retrieved one of the jam-smeared tea cakes and, one handed, tugged one of the quilts over herself, using it as a ward against the still-prevalent cold. Maybe I can send a message to Tervosh, and they can whip up a quick gate so I can go home now, Jaina thought, nibbling at the tea-cake. If it were urgent, I’d teleport over anyway, and damn the fever that comes. I don’t want to be here any more, I don’t want to stay when--
The door panel slid open, and Jaina looked up. Tandred stepped inside, dressed in a quilted robe that was a bit worn around the elbows and frayed around one sleeve, but it was the same one that Jaina remembered from her last visit to Kul Tiras, before Kalimdor and Hyjal. A smile tugged at her lips, and she fought back against it.
I’m still mad at you, Jaina insisted. I am. She said nothing as he shuffled to the tray, and as she had, claimed a cup of steaming tea and two tea-cakes, and then paused next to the couch where she was curled. She raised an eyebrow, he raised one back.
“Is this seat taken?” Tandred asked, indicating where her legs were. She glanced up at his face, at the way he seemed to be neither smiling nor scowling, not judging or demanding, just asking, as though there was nothing between them.
I’m not sure if I want to thank him or put ice in his tea, Jaina thought, and moved, twitching the quilt to the side, and shifting her legs. Tandred sat, and made an inquiring noise. Does he… Cautiously, she put her legs back, and maneuvered so her back rested against the side of the couch, and her legs on his lap. Tandred nodded, and replaced the blanket so that they were both covered by it.
Tandred took a sip of the tea, and as he let the mug rest on one of her ankles, Jaina felt it warm briefly. “He waited for two full seasons before he went after you,” her brother began, and Jaina stilled. He didn’t look at her, instead staring off towards the far side of the room, at the painting of Crestfall Island.
“I told him to wait for word from me,” Jaina said, and bit her tea-cake so hard her teeth skidded sideways. “Things were busy then. I wasn’t in Kalimdor for a vacation.”
“He insisted,” Tandred replied. “Things were bad, then. Arthas came back to Lordaeron during the Winter… and there was nothing we could do. Not then.”
“I heard about Lordaeron’s fall,” Jaina said. “I don’t want to say it was inevitable, but I would have had to have intervened much sooner to do anything about it. Tracked down the plague early, been able to contain things more thoroughly, and… there was no turning Arthas back from his path. He was determined, stubborn even.”
“People wonder--” Tandred began, and Jaina scowled, and was tempted to kick the mug from his hand. “They do, you have to know they do, but they only really knew Arthas, and not you. They saw a good prince go bad, and you were one of the last to see him.”
“I don’t care what they think,” Jaina replied angrily. “Save for assaulting him or Lord Uther arresting him, there’s nothing I could have done and I was exhausted besides. He was warned, advised, even threatened, a little, and he still wouldn’t turn back, and if Stratholme had just been left…”
“I want to say I know, but I don’t,” Tandred said. “I wasn’t there, all I’ve heard is rumour and what little’s come from Kalimdor… it wasn’t good.”
I told you everything I-- She blinked. “What were you told, exactly?”
“We had word of Da’s death a few months after it happened.” Grief edged at Tandred’s words, barely contained. Jaina remembered the feeling, though hers was tempered by anger and exasperation. “We were told that you had conspired with the orcs to murder Da so you could take his fleet and marines and add them to your own.” He looked at her now, and she could see her own outrage reflected in his eyes. “Word was that you were a traitor the way Perenolde had been back during the Second War: for gold, and because you were a coward.”
“Why would you believe something like that of me?” Jaina demanded. “How could you not verify it?”
“Because while we were deciding what to do and who to believe, your message showed up. You were so spare with the details, and you’re never like that… not unless you’re hiding something.”
“It hurt to speak of it then,” Jaina said, her lips numb. “It did for a long time. Now… only from time to time, when I’m not careful.”
“Then can you tell me what did happen?” Tandred asked. “We still don’t have a good idea of what you were actually even doing in Kalimdor.”
Jaina nodded slowly, and reached for her tea, then brought it to her lap, staring into it. “I am allied with the Horde, first of all, but the Horde isn’t just orcs. It’s also the Darkspear tribe, trolls from that flooded island I told A’clwn about, some goblins from the Steamwheedle that have taken up with the Horde again, and some of the natives of Kalimdor, the tauren.”
“Like Seahorn,” Tandred said, nodding. “And, the Steamwheedle…”
“They’ve been allies before, for personal reasons,” Jaina pointed out. “And these ones are local, not necessarily any of the Princes. I’m also allies with other natives to Kalimdor, the ancestors of the High Elves. They’re the Night Elves, or the Kaldorei.”
“I remember, they had all those old legends about their former home, and the great war there… Kelnar used to tell us.” Tandred sipped his tea thoughtfully. “How did it happen?”
“We were all recruited to fight against the demons and prevent their return. The trolls and tauren were rescued along the way, from the Sea Witch and the centaurs respectively. The orcs themselves were recruited when their leader had a vision of the coming war, and that if humans and orcs were still fighting when the demons arrived… we’d all be ripped apart.”
“You said you’d been recruited by someone too,” Tandred noted. “But not that you had a vision.”
“I don’t have visions,” Jaina said, making a face. “I have experienced visual data provoked by semi-intelligent artifacts, but I’m not psychic and I don’t see things. I was recruited by the same person Thrall was, Medivh.”
“...isn’t Medivh dead, or possessed?”
“Both have been true, but he got better,” Jaina replied. “When Medivh was killed by Lothar, his spirit was freed from the control of Sargeras and it allowed him to return to speak to us in the capacity of an advisor and recruiter, though he couldn’t fight against the Legion, and he couldn’t force anyone to do anything. He’d spoken to three other people before he came to me.”
“That must have burned, a little,” Tandred observed, sipping his tea again. “You always liked to be first.”
“I was the first human to listen,” Jaina replied. “I was the first mage to identify the cause of the Lethargy and the first to successfully purge demonic influence from an orc while in its throes. I was the first to stand in defense of Hyjal. It doesn’t matter that Medivh spoke to Terenas and Antonidas first, I did those things. That’s what’s important.”
Tandred nodded slowly, considering. “You said this Warchief had also been recruited by Medivh? How did that happen?”
“Because Thrall is a good person,” Jaina said firmly, and she remembered Thrall as she’d first seen him, fighting her people, standing on a hill with the wind whipping his braids, his eyes narrowed and scanning the horizon. “I respect him and care for him. He believes in peace with his neighbours and will fight to protect that peace. He believes that the orcs have changed from how we knew them, that their direction is different, and they want peace and safety, not war and conquest.”
“Are you in love with him, then?” Tandred demanded. “Is that why--”
“Not then,” Jaina snapped back, and they stared at each other for a moment. Jaina began again. “I love him now, but that’s not why I praise him. When we met, we were enemies. He fought the forces that I had stationed to watch my back when I went north to the Oracle Cavern. That’s where Medivh asked me to meet him for the next stage of the plan. He said I’d have allies, and I got enemies, or so I thought. I still remembered what the orcs had done during the Second War, and the scattering of reports from Lordaeron before I left, so I was angry with Medivh and distrustful of Thrall. Thrall himself was remote around me, uncomfortable. I didn’t know why, then, but I do now: I looked like one of the only humans he’d trusted and cared for, the one who had been murdered. He said I was like a ghost to him.”
“I can’t imagine you being much of a ghost to anyone,” Tandred said. “What changed your minds? It couldn’t have just been orders, you hate that kind of thing.”
“You’re right, it wasn’t, it was…” Jaina closed her eyes, and in her mind she could hear her own voice echoing through the cavern, strident and angry, Thrall’s low and resigned to his fate while Cairne looked between them, shifting his great weight on hooves big enough to crush her head, and yet he’d seemed nervous, deferring to Thrall. It had seemed absurd, then. Not so now. “Medivh told us that Lordaeron had fallen, that Arthas… had gone from being Lordaeron’s saviour to its destroyer. That meant the Legion’s plans were coming to fruition and the Scourge would take all they could from Lordaeron and then come to Kalimdor for us, minions of the demons. We had a more immediate problem, because as I learned, Thrall had intended to act purely defensively at Stonetalon, and forbidden one of his lieutenants from attacking my people at all. Grom ignored him.”
“Grom… not Hellscream? The Warsong chieftain? He was always a scary bastard, and wouldn’t he be twice this Warchief’s age? What made Thrall think he’d listen?”
“More than twice, Thrall is two years younger than I am,” Jaina replied, and sighed. “Thrall believed the best of Grom because Grom had been like an older brother to him, teaching him orcish ways. Unfortunately, Thrall also knew that he was impulsive, which is why he sent him to do peon work in the forests to the northeast of Stonetalon, to… cool down.”
“To take out his aggression on trees,” Tandred mused. “Not quite peeling potatoes and cleaning the head, but it’ll do.”
“Except that neither the galley nor the toilet have people living in them, or they shouldn’t,” Jaina pointed out. “Grom ran into those other natives I spoke of, the Kaldorei. The Kaldorei take the forests as sacred -- it’s actually fascinating, considering the great cultural shift after--”
“Jaina,” Tandred warned. “Before I go grey.”
“You’re already grey,” Jaina replied, but nodded. “Grom attacked the Kaldorei. He considered it self defense, the Kaldorei felt the same. They attacked him with bows, he attacked their home with axes. It would be like if I came into your room and started pinching your things, then got mad when you were upset by it.”
“You have come into my rooms to pinch my things,” Tandred grumbled. “And I have gotten mad about it, and you have been curious as to why.”
“Reading materials are freely shared for the betterment of all, brother,” Jaina said, and was surprised both by her joking tone, and the fact that Tandred reddened briefly, but grinned. “The Kaldorei called on one of their ancients, Cenarius, to regrow the forest and drive out the intruders, which he did at first… but Grom had help, of a sort. The worst kind of help.”
“Really bossy three year old sisters?”
“Demons.”
“That’s hardly funny,” Tandred said, though his voice was strained. “I remember the demons.”
“Not like this, you don’t,” Jaina pointed out, and nudged him gently with her foot. “When the Legion began their invasion, one of the demons had taken the fact that the orcs had left for Kalimdor particularly personally… it was that demon who had the bargain with the orcs, the one that bound them by blood and soul. He wanted them back, especially Grom, who was the first.”
“...so the demon followed to Kalimdor.”
“Yes, and laid a trap. It’s the blood that does it, and consuming it seals the pact between people. Vital fluids often do, mostly blood, being the most vital, but also sweat, tears, saliva, or pleasure fluids.”
“...do I want to know what kind of pact you sign with that last one?”
“Probably not.” Jaina sipped her tea, and sighed. “Grom was desperate to win against the Kaldorei. He wouldn’t be swayed, he wouldn’t be pushed out and return to his Warchief in his defeat with tail tucked between legs. He accepted the boon once more and used it to kill Cenarius and drive away the Kaldorei. Then, as a demonic servant, he built up a force south of Stonetalon, in the desolate lands by the Forbidding Sea. It was there we met with them.”
“I’d say you were in for a fight, but you said you cleansed him, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Jaina said, frowning at the memory. “Rightfully, we should have killed him, or so I felt. The Kirin Tor was clear about the demon-tainted, and our options tended to be limited, but Thrall… he didn’t just want to stop the Warsong. He wanted to save them. He understood that they made mistakes, that they were reckless and impulsive and idiotic--”
“I doubt those were all his words,” Tandred observed dryly. Jaina made a face at him.
“Grom once called me a weak human girl.”
“You’re right, obviously he was an idiot,” Tandred replied, toasting her.
“Damned right,” Jaina said, and then sighed. “I followed Thrall’s lead but I warned him that the best I could do was give him a containment device to entrap Grom temporarily. I couldn’t go with him, I was too busy inventing a ritual to cleanse the demonic taint.”
“...you invented--”
“The shamans helped.” Jaina shrugged. “I don’t fully understand how shamanism functions and I suspect I never will, no more than Thrall will completely understand arcane magic, but we do our best. The spirits wanted the orcs to be free of this. They helped Thrall when he was destroying the Internment Camps and they helped him then too. We recovered as many Warsong as we could and cleansed them, though we started with Grom. He apologized for his folly.”
“He’d better have,” Tandred snorted. “Thrall accepted it, just like that?”
“Thrall loved him,” Jaina replied. “He was an idiot, but sometimes that doesn’t matter. You love your siblings despite their faults, sometimes because of them.”
“Sometimes you do,” Tandred agreed, then frowned. “You said the demons dealt with the orcs before, is that why..?”
“Yes, though Thrall rejected the demons entirely, and the orcs followed his lead for the most part. He thought it made the orcs weaker and more vulnerable, not stronger. It was the cause of the Lethargy, in the end. The demons made the orcs stronger temporarily, until they stopped doing what the demons wanted. Then they wound up weak, listless, sick, helpless.”
“... the Lethargy,” Tandred murmured. “And none of us knew, or guessed.”
“Not entirely true, Antonidas suspected and was putting forth effort and study… but not many wanted to help the orcs. Not then.”
“You did. You wanted to help them.”
“I did, though that first cleansing was extremely exhausting,” Jaina admitted, remembering it, and what came next. “I knew that Grom would be the worst, and they had much to discuss… they ran off to confront Mannoroth while I was resting.”
“With their army?” Tandred asked, though from the way he asked the question, he seemed to have guessed the answer.
“No,” Jaina replied, frustration seeping into her tone even now. “I told them to wait for me, for the work to be done and for us to have a plan… and of course, the moment my back was turned they both ran off, just the pair of them. From what Thrall remembers of the battle, which he admits isn’t much, Mannoroth was nearly impervious to traditional attacks. He mocked them, and threw Thrall into a wall. When it was over… Grom had driven his axe into Mannoroth’s chest, and the resulting explosion all but killed him. The fire cleansed the last of the demonic taint, what I couldn’t reach because… it wasn’t enough just to stop the influence. They had to break the contract, to rise up against their tyrant. Grom died, and the orcs were freed.”
“That’s good,” Tandred said, and added, “that they’re free, not that Hellscream was immolated. They fought back.”
“He shouldn’t have had to!” Jaina cried, and anger welled within, bringing up old frustration and hurt. “They celebrated his death as a hero, but if I’d just been there, I could have saved him too. I could have helped them! The demons destroyed so much, Quel’thalas and Dalaran and Lordaeron. I’m not a child to be sheltered and coddled.”
“You realize neither are they, don’t you?” Tandred asked, and Jaina fell silent. “Some people need to do things on their own. You can’t live their lives for them, or spare them from their mistakes. It’s hard, but you have to accept that people have their pride.”
“Pride that costs lives is stupid,” Jaina snapped back. “It’s wasteful and unnecessary and inefficient and illogical--”
“Who are you really angry at, Jaina? Grom Hellscream? Your… friend, the Warchief?” Tandred looked over at her, even as Jaina’s mouth snapped shut. “Tell me.”
Jaina closed her eyes and inhaled. She toyed with her mug for a moment before opening her eyes again to meet his gaze. “A lot of people, but mostly… Da. I wish I didn’t feel angry, because I regret so much… and the waste of it all makes me weep.”
“What really happened, Sunfish?” Tandred asked, his voice soft as he used her childhood nickname. “What went wrong?”
[ Chapter 5]
Title: Unity: Stormcaller
Part: 4/8+Epilogue
Word Count: 4319
Includes: Spoilers for the Bonus Orc Campaign, character death, violence, strong language.
Pairings: Implied Thrall/Jaina, Jaina/OMC.
Summary: During the Late Winter of the 27th year after the opening of the Dark Portal, something dark and sinister calls terrible storms to lash the coast of Kalimdor, its source seemingly Jaina's old home: Kul Tiras. Vowing to do what is right, rather than take an easier path, Jaina returns home to speak to her estranged family and protect her family, her allies, and her own people from the Stormcaller.
Previous: Unity Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11
Stormcaller Chapters: 1 2 3
The journey out of the catacombs was slow and steady. Exhaustion crept through Jaina as she walked. She could hear her brother behind her as neither tried to be quiet, but he did not draw even with her, instead choosing to trail a few steps behind.
I don’t care if he trusts me or not, Jaina thought sourly. If he wants to play games, let him. I’m tired and wet and hungry and cold. I don’t have time for his shit.
Weary as Jaina was, it was hard not to let bitterness seep into her thoughts instead of focusing on their victory: the atmosphere felt lighter, even now. The catacombs were less flooded, and Jaina found that when they reached their rain capes and tarp -- now littered with shells and pearls left as gifts by the murlocs and Makrura -- their boat was not where they had left it.
“That’s a problem,” Tandred muttered, picking off the shells and pearls and tucking them into pockets. Jaina held out her hands for some of them, and she used her sleeves to send them to Theramore, careful to keep the Stone with her.
“It can’t have gone far,” Jaina said tersely. “If worst comes to worst, I’ve got enough to teleport us home again.”
“Yours or mine?” Tandred asked, raising an eyebrow before pulling on his rain cape. Jaina considered, testing the edges of her magic.
“Yours,” she said finally. “I don’t think I could make it as far as Kalimdor. Not without rest and food.”
“So, you’re not invincible after all,” Tandred mused. Jaina shot him a look and snatched the rain cape he offered from his hands.
“I never claimed that I was,” she snapped, and pulled it on before turning back towards the retreating water. Their boat had been pulled away as the sea had receded back to the ocean, and they found it bobbing gently by the entrance of the catacombs. Jaina waded out to retrieve it, holding it fast while Tandred threw the tarp into it and climbed in, then kept it steady as Jaina climbed in afterwards. Tandred fussed with the tarp in silence for a time while Jaina drew on her magic to once again enchant the sails and rudder. Once Tandred settled as was ready to guide the sails, Jaina released her magic to push them forward.
The storming weather had slowed to a gentle misting, and the sea was brisk but neither choppy nor rough. She needed only to use the rudder lightly to steer them home. The clouds, heavy and dark when she had arrived, were thinning rapidly, as though they had suddenly realized they were late for an important meeting elsewhere.
Jaina smiled at the thought. Perhaps they were. Certainly, clouds are unthinking, built up humidity gathered in clumps that grow more dense and then release… but water has its own intelligence, and Bluey has spoke of the discomfort of raining before. She glanced down at the water, seeing her elemental friend racing through the water around them like a dolphin. She wanted to laugh, but didn’t want to explain it to her brother.
“Jaina,” Tandred hissed softly, and she looked up at him, then where he was pointing, and inhaled sharply. In one particular spot, over Boralus, the clouds had thinned more than the rest, and the sun broke out from behind the clouds, and the shafts of light, through the mists, had created a rainbow.
“Good work, sea creatures,” Jaina murmured, her father’s old words coming to her lips. “You’ve done a fine job, let’s go home.”
“...yes, lets,” Tandred murmured, and Jaina fell silent. She kept her eyes to the rainbow, letting instinct keep her hand steady and on course.
It’s hard to feel angry when staring directly at an extremely obvious symbol of hope, Jaina thought, letting contentment flood over her, loosening much of the tension she’d held onto during their journey. She glanced only briefly at her brother, who had looked down to his work, focusing on adjusting and readjusting the cords, and then back up. Eyes on the prize.
The journey back to Boralus was swift, carried by magical wind, waves that did not fight them over every naut of ocean crossed, and a lightness that came with a task accomplished. Rather than going to the cove, Jaina brought them to the docks for little boats. There were people here, men and women, young and old, laughing. They looked up and held out their hands, cupping nothing. The air was still humid, and it would linger for a time, but there was no rain to soak them through, no howling winds. When the rains came, and they would come again, they would be because Father Sky wished to touch Mother Ocean, and not because someone was using storms as weapons.
This is what it’s all about, Jaina thought as Tandred folded the tarp aside and jumped from the boat, splashing lightly before going ashore. Jaina followed him a moment later, tugging the hood of her cape up as he spoke to the dockmaster quietly. This is why we do what we do, the dangerous things, the reckless things. This is why we stand against the forces of darkness when no one else knows how to… because of the laughter. Because we want people to be happy.
A stray gust of wind caught Jaina, reminding her that under her rain cape, she was still sopping, and she wrinkled her nose. There’s no reason, while the world saving is done, we can’t also be comfortable. She started her march towards Boralus Keep. Around her, more and more people were coming outside, awestruck by the sun’s light. Tandred followed in her wake, and few glanced their way more than a moment.
Her family was humble, in their way: fiercely proud of their line and the accomplishments of their ancestors, but they didn’t hold court as the Menethils or the Greymanes did. A sailor wasn’t any good if they were too awed to shove you out of the way when you were in it, after all. Occasionally, she heard someone call out to Tandred, asking if he was the one responsible for the departure of the rain. Tandred must have indicated something, because one person called a blessing, and others said ‘knew we could count on you’. Jaina tugged her hood a little closer, and kept walking.
They were met at the entrance of Boralus Keep by servants who took their rain capes, helped them with their boots, and directed them to hot baths. Jaina let her mind drift as she soaked in the hot water until her skin tingled, and sighed with great relief. I can rest here the night and go home to Theramore tomorrow, she thought idly. If Thrall isn’t busy, we can spend that evening together… Sensation shivered through her, and she half-closed her eyes. He’s a good kisser, and so gentle… he’ll be good in bed, I’m so certain of it. We just need to find the time.
There was a soft knock at the bathroom door, shaking Jaina from her reverie. “Lady Proudmoore, there’s tea and food waiting for you in the sitting room.”
“Thank you,” Jaina called back, even as she bit back the urge to correct them. That’s my mother’s name, my mother’s title. I’m Jaina or Lady Jaina, or Archmage Proudmoore. I’m not a stranger here. Or… am I? The sense of comfort faded, leaving her with a sense of unease as she rose from the bathtub, toweled off quickly, and wrapped the thick, warm robe she’d been left around her, tying it securely before putting on a pair of slippers, and sliding the door panel open, leaving it ajar so that the servants could clean up after her.
She made her way to the sitting room, and found both snacks and tea as promised, though the room was otherwise empty. Jaina sighed softly, and went to sit by the tray. She poured herself some tea, retrieved one of the jam-smeared tea cakes and, one handed, tugged one of the quilts over herself, using it as a ward against the still-prevalent cold. Maybe I can send a message to Tervosh, and they can whip up a quick gate so I can go home now, Jaina thought, nibbling at the tea-cake. If it were urgent, I’d teleport over anyway, and damn the fever that comes. I don’t want to be here any more, I don’t want to stay when--
The door panel slid open, and Jaina looked up. Tandred stepped inside, dressed in a quilted robe that was a bit worn around the elbows and frayed around one sleeve, but it was the same one that Jaina remembered from her last visit to Kul Tiras, before Kalimdor and Hyjal. A smile tugged at her lips, and she fought back against it.
I’m still mad at you, Jaina insisted. I am. She said nothing as he shuffled to the tray, and as she had, claimed a cup of steaming tea and two tea-cakes, and then paused next to the couch where she was curled. She raised an eyebrow, he raised one back.
“Is this seat taken?” Tandred asked, indicating where her legs were. She glanced up at his face, at the way he seemed to be neither smiling nor scowling, not judging or demanding, just asking, as though there was nothing between them.
I’m not sure if I want to thank him or put ice in his tea, Jaina thought, and moved, twitching the quilt to the side, and shifting her legs. Tandred sat, and made an inquiring noise. Does he… Cautiously, she put her legs back, and maneuvered so her back rested against the side of the couch, and her legs on his lap. Tandred nodded, and replaced the blanket so that they were both covered by it.
Tandred took a sip of the tea, and as he let the mug rest on one of her ankles, Jaina felt it warm briefly. “He waited for two full seasons before he went after you,” her brother began, and Jaina stilled. He didn’t look at her, instead staring off towards the far side of the room, at the painting of Crestfall Island.
“I told him to wait for word from me,” Jaina said, and bit her tea-cake so hard her teeth skidded sideways. “Things were busy then. I wasn’t in Kalimdor for a vacation.”
“He insisted,” Tandred replied. “Things were bad, then. Arthas came back to Lordaeron during the Winter… and there was nothing we could do. Not then.”
“I heard about Lordaeron’s fall,” Jaina said. “I don’t want to say it was inevitable, but I would have had to have intervened much sooner to do anything about it. Tracked down the plague early, been able to contain things more thoroughly, and… there was no turning Arthas back from his path. He was determined, stubborn even.”
“People wonder--” Tandred began, and Jaina scowled, and was tempted to kick the mug from his hand. “They do, you have to know they do, but they only really knew Arthas, and not you. They saw a good prince go bad, and you were one of the last to see him.”
“I don’t care what they think,” Jaina replied angrily. “Save for assaulting him or Lord Uther arresting him, there’s nothing I could have done and I was exhausted besides. He was warned, advised, even threatened, a little, and he still wouldn’t turn back, and if Stratholme had just been left…”
“I want to say I know, but I don’t,” Tandred said. “I wasn’t there, all I’ve heard is rumour and what little’s come from Kalimdor… it wasn’t good.”
I told you everything I-- She blinked. “What were you told, exactly?”
“We had word of Da’s death a few months after it happened.” Grief edged at Tandred’s words, barely contained. Jaina remembered the feeling, though hers was tempered by anger and exasperation. “We were told that you had conspired with the orcs to murder Da so you could take his fleet and marines and add them to your own.” He looked at her now, and she could see her own outrage reflected in his eyes. “Word was that you were a traitor the way Perenolde had been back during the Second War: for gold, and because you were a coward.”
“Why would you believe something like that of me?” Jaina demanded. “How could you not verify it?”
“Because while we were deciding what to do and who to believe, your message showed up. You were so spare with the details, and you’re never like that… not unless you’re hiding something.”
“It hurt to speak of it then,” Jaina said, her lips numb. “It did for a long time. Now… only from time to time, when I’m not careful.”
“Then can you tell me what did happen?” Tandred asked. “We still don’t have a good idea of what you were actually even doing in Kalimdor.”
Jaina nodded slowly, and reached for her tea, then brought it to her lap, staring into it. “I am allied with the Horde, first of all, but the Horde isn’t just orcs. It’s also the Darkspear tribe, trolls from that flooded island I told A’clwn about, some goblins from the Steamwheedle that have taken up with the Horde again, and some of the natives of Kalimdor, the tauren.”
“Like Seahorn,” Tandred said, nodding. “And, the Steamwheedle…”
“They’ve been allies before, for personal reasons,” Jaina pointed out. “And these ones are local, not necessarily any of the Princes. I’m also allies with other natives to Kalimdor, the ancestors of the High Elves. They’re the Night Elves, or the Kaldorei.”
“I remember, they had all those old legends about their former home, and the great war there… Kelnar used to tell us.” Tandred sipped his tea thoughtfully. “How did it happen?”
“We were all recruited to fight against the demons and prevent their return. The trolls and tauren were rescued along the way, from the Sea Witch and the centaurs respectively. The orcs themselves were recruited when their leader had a vision of the coming war, and that if humans and orcs were still fighting when the demons arrived… we’d all be ripped apart.”
“You said you’d been recruited by someone too,” Tandred noted. “But not that you had a vision.”
“I don’t have visions,” Jaina said, making a face. “I have experienced visual data provoked by semi-intelligent artifacts, but I’m not psychic and I don’t see things. I was recruited by the same person Thrall was, Medivh.”
“...isn’t Medivh dead, or possessed?”
“Both have been true, but he got better,” Jaina replied. “When Medivh was killed by Lothar, his spirit was freed from the control of Sargeras and it allowed him to return to speak to us in the capacity of an advisor and recruiter, though he couldn’t fight against the Legion, and he couldn’t force anyone to do anything. He’d spoken to three other people before he came to me.”
“That must have burned, a little,” Tandred observed, sipping his tea again. “You always liked to be first.”
“I was the first human to listen,” Jaina replied. “I was the first mage to identify the cause of the Lethargy and the first to successfully purge demonic influence from an orc while in its throes. I was the first to stand in defense of Hyjal. It doesn’t matter that Medivh spoke to Terenas and Antonidas first, I did those things. That’s what’s important.”
Tandred nodded slowly, considering. “You said this Warchief had also been recruited by Medivh? How did that happen?”
“Because Thrall is a good person,” Jaina said firmly, and she remembered Thrall as she’d first seen him, fighting her people, standing on a hill with the wind whipping his braids, his eyes narrowed and scanning the horizon. “I respect him and care for him. He believes in peace with his neighbours and will fight to protect that peace. He believes that the orcs have changed from how we knew them, that their direction is different, and they want peace and safety, not war and conquest.”
“Are you in love with him, then?” Tandred demanded. “Is that why--”
“Not then,” Jaina snapped back, and they stared at each other for a moment. Jaina began again. “I love him now, but that’s not why I praise him. When we met, we were enemies. He fought the forces that I had stationed to watch my back when I went north to the Oracle Cavern. That’s where Medivh asked me to meet him for the next stage of the plan. He said I’d have allies, and I got enemies, or so I thought. I still remembered what the orcs had done during the Second War, and the scattering of reports from Lordaeron before I left, so I was angry with Medivh and distrustful of Thrall. Thrall himself was remote around me, uncomfortable. I didn’t know why, then, but I do now: I looked like one of the only humans he’d trusted and cared for, the one who had been murdered. He said I was like a ghost to him.”
“I can’t imagine you being much of a ghost to anyone,” Tandred said. “What changed your minds? It couldn’t have just been orders, you hate that kind of thing.”
“You’re right, it wasn’t, it was…” Jaina closed her eyes, and in her mind she could hear her own voice echoing through the cavern, strident and angry, Thrall’s low and resigned to his fate while Cairne looked between them, shifting his great weight on hooves big enough to crush her head, and yet he’d seemed nervous, deferring to Thrall. It had seemed absurd, then. Not so now. “Medivh told us that Lordaeron had fallen, that Arthas… had gone from being Lordaeron’s saviour to its destroyer. That meant the Legion’s plans were coming to fruition and the Scourge would take all they could from Lordaeron and then come to Kalimdor for us, minions of the demons. We had a more immediate problem, because as I learned, Thrall had intended to act purely defensively at Stonetalon, and forbidden one of his lieutenants from attacking my people at all. Grom ignored him.”
“Grom… not Hellscream? The Warsong chieftain? He was always a scary bastard, and wouldn’t he be twice this Warchief’s age? What made Thrall think he’d listen?”
“More than twice, Thrall is two years younger than I am,” Jaina replied, and sighed. “Thrall believed the best of Grom because Grom had been like an older brother to him, teaching him orcish ways. Unfortunately, Thrall also knew that he was impulsive, which is why he sent him to do peon work in the forests to the northeast of Stonetalon, to… cool down.”
“To take out his aggression on trees,” Tandred mused. “Not quite peeling potatoes and cleaning the head, but it’ll do.”
“Except that neither the galley nor the toilet have people living in them, or they shouldn’t,” Jaina pointed out. “Grom ran into those other natives I spoke of, the Kaldorei. The Kaldorei take the forests as sacred -- it’s actually fascinating, considering the great cultural shift after--”
“Jaina,” Tandred warned. “Before I go grey.”
“You’re already grey,” Jaina replied, but nodded. “Grom attacked the Kaldorei. He considered it self defense, the Kaldorei felt the same. They attacked him with bows, he attacked their home with axes. It would be like if I came into your room and started pinching your things, then got mad when you were upset by it.”
“You have come into my rooms to pinch my things,” Tandred grumbled. “And I have gotten mad about it, and you have been curious as to why.”
“Reading materials are freely shared for the betterment of all, brother,” Jaina said, and was surprised both by her joking tone, and the fact that Tandred reddened briefly, but grinned. “The Kaldorei called on one of their ancients, Cenarius, to regrow the forest and drive out the intruders, which he did at first… but Grom had help, of a sort. The worst kind of help.”
“Really bossy three year old sisters?”
“Demons.”
“That’s hardly funny,” Tandred said, though his voice was strained. “I remember the demons.”
“Not like this, you don’t,” Jaina pointed out, and nudged him gently with her foot. “When the Legion began their invasion, one of the demons had taken the fact that the orcs had left for Kalimdor particularly personally… it was that demon who had the bargain with the orcs, the one that bound them by blood and soul. He wanted them back, especially Grom, who was the first.”
“...so the demon followed to Kalimdor.”
“Yes, and laid a trap. It’s the blood that does it, and consuming it seals the pact between people. Vital fluids often do, mostly blood, being the most vital, but also sweat, tears, saliva, or pleasure fluids.”
“...do I want to know what kind of pact you sign with that last one?”
“Probably not.” Jaina sipped her tea, and sighed. “Grom was desperate to win against the Kaldorei. He wouldn’t be swayed, he wouldn’t be pushed out and return to his Warchief in his defeat with tail tucked between legs. He accepted the boon once more and used it to kill Cenarius and drive away the Kaldorei. Then, as a demonic servant, he built up a force south of Stonetalon, in the desolate lands by the Forbidding Sea. It was there we met with them.”
“I’d say you were in for a fight, but you said you cleansed him, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Jaina said, frowning at the memory. “Rightfully, we should have killed him, or so I felt. The Kirin Tor was clear about the demon-tainted, and our options tended to be limited, but Thrall… he didn’t just want to stop the Warsong. He wanted to save them. He understood that they made mistakes, that they were reckless and impulsive and idiotic--”
“I doubt those were all his words,” Tandred observed dryly. Jaina made a face at him.
“Grom once called me a weak human girl.”
“You’re right, obviously he was an idiot,” Tandred replied, toasting her.
“Damned right,” Jaina said, and then sighed. “I followed Thrall’s lead but I warned him that the best I could do was give him a containment device to entrap Grom temporarily. I couldn’t go with him, I was too busy inventing a ritual to cleanse the demonic taint.”
“...you invented--”
“The shamans helped.” Jaina shrugged. “I don’t fully understand how shamanism functions and I suspect I never will, no more than Thrall will completely understand arcane magic, but we do our best. The spirits wanted the orcs to be free of this. They helped Thrall when he was destroying the Internment Camps and they helped him then too. We recovered as many Warsong as we could and cleansed them, though we started with Grom. He apologized for his folly.”
“He’d better have,” Tandred snorted. “Thrall accepted it, just like that?”
“Thrall loved him,” Jaina replied. “He was an idiot, but sometimes that doesn’t matter. You love your siblings despite their faults, sometimes because of them.”
“Sometimes you do,” Tandred agreed, then frowned. “You said the demons dealt with the orcs before, is that why..?”
“Yes, though Thrall rejected the demons entirely, and the orcs followed his lead for the most part. He thought it made the orcs weaker and more vulnerable, not stronger. It was the cause of the Lethargy, in the end. The demons made the orcs stronger temporarily, until they stopped doing what the demons wanted. Then they wound up weak, listless, sick, helpless.”
“... the Lethargy,” Tandred murmured. “And none of us knew, or guessed.”
“Not entirely true, Antonidas suspected and was putting forth effort and study… but not many wanted to help the orcs. Not then.”
“You did. You wanted to help them.”
“I did, though that first cleansing was extremely exhausting,” Jaina admitted, remembering it, and what came next. “I knew that Grom would be the worst, and they had much to discuss… they ran off to confront Mannoroth while I was resting.”
“With their army?” Tandred asked, though from the way he asked the question, he seemed to have guessed the answer.
“No,” Jaina replied, frustration seeping into her tone even now. “I told them to wait for me, for the work to be done and for us to have a plan… and of course, the moment my back was turned they both ran off, just the pair of them. From what Thrall remembers of the battle, which he admits isn’t much, Mannoroth was nearly impervious to traditional attacks. He mocked them, and threw Thrall into a wall. When it was over… Grom had driven his axe into Mannoroth’s chest, and the resulting explosion all but killed him. The fire cleansed the last of the demonic taint, what I couldn’t reach because… it wasn’t enough just to stop the influence. They had to break the contract, to rise up against their tyrant. Grom died, and the orcs were freed.”
“That’s good,” Tandred said, and added, “that they’re free, not that Hellscream was immolated. They fought back.”
“He shouldn’t have had to!” Jaina cried, and anger welled within, bringing up old frustration and hurt. “They celebrated his death as a hero, but if I’d just been there, I could have saved him too. I could have helped them! The demons destroyed so much, Quel’thalas and Dalaran and Lordaeron. I’m not a child to be sheltered and coddled.”
“You realize neither are they, don’t you?” Tandred asked, and Jaina fell silent. “Some people need to do things on their own. You can’t live their lives for them, or spare them from their mistakes. It’s hard, but you have to accept that people have their pride.”
“Pride that costs lives is stupid,” Jaina snapped back. “It’s wasteful and unnecessary and inefficient and illogical--”
“Who are you really angry at, Jaina? Grom Hellscream? Your… friend, the Warchief?” Tandred looked over at her, even as Jaina’s mouth snapped shut. “Tell me.”
Jaina closed her eyes and inhaled. She toyed with her mug for a moment before opening her eyes again to meet his gaze. “A lot of people, but mostly… Da. I wish I didn’t feel angry, because I regret so much… and the waste of it all makes me weep.”
“What really happened, Sunfish?” Tandred asked, his voice soft as he used her childhood nickname. “What went wrong?”
[ Chapter 5]