Warcraft: Unity: Stormcaller - 6/8+Epilogue
Happy Tuesday!
Title: Unity: Stormcaller
Part: 6/8+Epilogue
Word Count: 4413
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 4 5
Jaina stared at the report before her and saw none of it. The words crawled and scurried from the page, and she blinked rapidly, only to find her eyes hurt, itchy, red, and dry.
I’ve only cried an hour today, Jaina thought numbly. How can they still hurt so much?
“That one is news that the harbour dredging is complete, and the next stage is progressing nicely.” Jaina looked up, blinking again. At the door stood a human woman, only a few of years younger than Jaina herself. She wore a dove-grey dress, cut simply, and was holding a stack of papers in her arms. Her hair was long and black, twisted back in a half plait, and her eyes were bright, sparkling green.
“Ariana,” Jaina said, shaking her head. “I”m sorry, I was just thinking. Are those more reports?”
“They are,” her newly appointed chamberlain replied. “Reports from the repairs on the walls and harbour, the status of the remaining Tiran forces, and… you have a guest.”
“A… guest?” Jaina’s stomach twisted with discomfort. “Was I expecting one?” The last unexpected guest was…
“No, but I believe you’ll appreciate what I have to say,” said a voice from behind Ariana, and Jaina blinked again, sitting up. It was a man’s voice, his accent familiar in the way a well-loved pair of slippers was, and she felt herself glide into it. “May I come in?”
“Yes, please,” Jaina said, and rose. “Thank you, Ariana. Leave the reports.”
The younger woman stepped into her office and set down the stack of reports on Jaina’s desk, and stepped aside to let the man in. Jaina’s eyes widened slightly. He was tall and well-proportioned, muscular without being obscene and clearly used to working with his hands. His skin was nut-brown from working in the sun, though he was well dressed in a uniform, the insignias carefully removed and not replaced. His eyes were brandy-brown and sparkling and his hair a few shades darker but still brown instead of Ariana’s true black.
The door made a soft noise as Ariana departed, leaving the pair of them to speak.
No green, no blue, no gold or black, Jaina reflected, slightly dazed. Just fine. “I am Lady Jaina Proudmoore, Archmage of the Kirin Tor and ruler of the Theramore League. Who might you be?”
The man saluted sharply, and Jaina contained a sigh at the way his jacket tugged across his chest. “My name is Jonathan Taylor.” He smiled, and then let it fade. “Lieutenant, or should I say, former-lieutenant of the Third Tiran Fleet Ship Foam Queen. I wanted to speak to you directly.”
Former… Jaina nodded, and gestured. “Please, sit.” Jonathan sat, and Jaina took her own seat, folding her hands and resting them on her desk. “How may I help you?”
“It’s more what I can do for you, Lady Proudmoore,” he replied, and smiled at her. Warmth flooded her, and she recalled that it had been some time since she’d seen such a thing from such welcoming features, and she smiled in return. “You probably know, but all the former crew from the Fleet have fled north to Tiragarde Keep, just on the coast. We set up there as a temporary base of operations, and now…” He spread his hands, and she drew in a sharp breath.
“And now, those who cannot leave stay behind,” Jaina finished. She glanced down at the report on her desk, now joined by so many others, and could only pick out bits and pieces of sentences. “But you say you’re not one of them?”
“No, not at all,” Jonathan said, smiling gently, and she felt herself relax. “In fact, I want to help you get things resolved as much as possible. Clear the air and all. You know, we weren’t given much choice as to what to do. Your late father, Ocean keep him cradled, ordered us to attack the orcs and so we did. Mutiny in a strange land’s not something any man with sense wants to do.”
“No…” Jaina murmured, and her mind raced. They won’t speak to me, but if they’ll speak to him… they can go home, or they can try to integrate into Theramore. I might still be able to salvage this, and Thrall will certainly appreciate having far fewer hostile humans on his doorstep. “Yes, please. Do whatever you can. I want this resolved as peacefully as possible.”
“I would be happy to discuss it at length… perhaps over dinner?” Jonathan raised an eyebrow and smiled, and Jaina felt her stomach flutter.
How long has it been… nearly a year, I think, and even that wasn’t what it could have been. Yes, this is… right. Jaina smiled back warmly. “Certainly over dinner.”
~ * ~
“...and they’re completely intractable!” Jaina finished, her hand shaking briefly as she ran her brush through her long, loose hair. “Did they say nothing about opening negotiations?”
“Do we have to talk politics in bed, love?” Jonathan asked. He lounged on her bed, legs enticingly tangled in sheets and blankets, revealing a long expanse of muscled abdomen, marred by two diagonal cuts, mere inches from one another. “Can’t it wait?”
“Only one of us is still abed,” Jaina reminded him and peered at herself in the mirror, admiring the marks his lips had made on her neck before returning to brushing her hair. “But, Commander Peele--”
“You could solve that, you know,” he purred, and she glanced at him, noticing the way he tugged at the sheets. She smiled at him, even as she felt a shiver of anticipation over her skin.
He knows just what to do, Jaina thought, as memories of his fingers and lips -- never entirely far away -- flooded back. “I have work to do.”
“You know your staff can handle most of the paperwork, why not let them?” Jonathan countered. “You cluck like a hen.”
“I do not,” Jaina murmured, setting down the brush and turning to him. She gave him a challenging look, and he grinned. “I--” She felt a shiver cross her bare spine and looked around. Is there a draft? That was so odd… Tucked under her brush was a folded note. How did I miss this?
Jaina picked up the note, rested her bare behind against the vanity table, and began to read. [To Lady Jaina Proudmoore, Warchief Thrall of the Horde and the people of Orgrimmar send their greetings!] Her lips curved in a soft smile, and a sensation not wholly unlike the one she felt when Jonathan smiled at her went through her. Stop that, he’s looking for a mate, and you have a lover now. [As we approach the longest and coldest night of the year, I am reminded of a time when I lived in a much, much colder place. It was not always the happiest time, but I do remember the celebration of Winter Veil with a great deal of fondness. I hope that you remember it similarly. My people have never celebrated Winter Veil properly and I hope to change that, starting this year and continuing as long as we live and thrive. I would like to invite you, who helped make our prosperity possible, to Orgrimmar to celebrate Winter Veil with us. Please reply when you can. Yours Sincerely, Thrall.]
“What is it?” Jonathan asked, and she found that he had left bed, and peered over her shoulder. “That’s damned chicken scratch, I don’t see how you can read it.”
“He has a hard time grasping a stylus,” Jaina murmured. “It’s not that hard to read. I’m being invited to Winter Veil in Orgrimmar. I’d forgotten it was coming up, it’s… been a long year.”
“Are you seriously thinking of going? Jonathan asked, leaning in to kiss her neck, and she pulled away slightly. “They’re orcs.”
“They’re my allies,” Jaina reminded him. “Of course I’m going… oh, I used to love Winter Veil. Food and festivities, singing… dancing.” She sighed softly. “I miss dancing so much.”
“Privilege of the noble, then,” Jonathan muttered. “I’ve not much use for dancing.”
“I’m sure I’ll find plenty of partners that do want to dance,” Jaina pointed out. She pushed herself from her perch and walked over to retrieve her robes, tucking the note into one of the sleeves. “I’m sure there will be plenty more for us to do.”
“For you, maybe,” Jonathan said, and stretched. “I think I’ll take a pass on visiting the orc city.”
“Horde city,” Jaina reminded him. “There’s more to the Horde than orcs. I had hoped…”
“The invite’s for the Lady of Theramore, not for the likes of me.” Jonathan’s tone held a hint of bitterness to it. “You didn’t tell him?”
“I don’t need to share my private business with all and sundry,” Jaina replied, anger tinging her words. “I’ll tell him when the time is right.”
“He didn’t seem to have a problem telling you about his private business,” Jonathan noted. “Going on about wanting a mate…”
“He needed my advice, that’s different,” Jaina said firmly. “In any case, if you don’t want to go to Orgrimmar for Winter Veil, I’ll go by myself. I might even stay over a night or two.”
“Have fun with your orcs,” Jonathan said. “Are we going back to bed or what?”
"It's a good thing I'd been planning to give Thrall a gift anyway, I just need to make sure it will be ready for Winter Veil," Jaina said. “I’ll send my reply afterwards. I’m sure you can be up and about in your own time.”
Jaina felt another little gust of cold air, and as she finished dressing, she missed the dark look on her lover’s face at her dismissal.
~ * ~
"...and then Grom storms out of his tent -- naked, naturally, because he'd been with someone -- and demands to know who keeps making that racket."
"Oh, no," Jaina said in between giggles, the fork she held quivering in mid-air, food forgotten. "What did you say?"
"We told him we were surprised he could hear us over himself," Thrall concluded, chuckling. "He thought it was funny too... eventually. After he'd ducked me under an icy waterfall. It's not as if I'd never done it before, but then I was mostly unclothed."
"You must have been a sight..." Jaina said. "Though if we're talking about awkward, there was one time, during transmutation, when we were supposed to be learning the Polymorph spell and someone managed to get a hold of a duck--"
“Warchief.”
Jaina and Thrall both looked up at the Kor’Kron guard who spoke, and Jaina felt a brief chill. The guard was a woman, her voice low and a bit smoother than she’d come to expect from orcs, but managed to put a great deal of emotion into a single word. She seems… familiar somehow. I wonder why?
“There’s an emergency,” the Kor’Kron continued. “We need you.”
An emergency? She made to rise before even thinking. This isn’t Theramore, I can’t just stick my nose in. "Oh dear, what's wrong? Do you need my help?"
"No, I can take care of it," Thrall replied quickly. "I have some scrolls on elementals I intended you to look over, would you do that while you wait? This may take some time, so please feel free to keep eating."
"Of course," Jaina said, and returned to her seat. An emergency… what could be happening tonight of all nights? Thrall and the guard departed swiftly, and Jaina stared after them. Oh… he’s had that guard in his retinue since… The thought turned the next mouthful, and the next, to ash.
Her food felt bland on her tongue without laughter, and combined with the memories of her father’s death pushing at her mind, she lost her appetite entirely. Let’s see about those scrolls.
Thrall’s rooms were a little plain to those not accustomed to orc decorating, and lacked the ostentatiousness of those who remembered the orcs of old. The chamber where they’d eaten was a smaller, side chamber, meant for private, intimate meetings and study. Jaina could imagine that Thrall had courted any number of orc women in it, and pushed back a feeling of wistfulness at it.
It’s not as if you haven’t been courted plenty, and Thrall is still a bit new to this, she insisted. It’s a wonder he didn’t have someone here for Winter Veil, or he might be between courtships. I know he worries about such things.
Courtship always led to memories, of Arthas and of Kael. Jonathan had been more direct, and she appreciated that. Arthas was a bit direct, but so wrapped in protocol I could never forget what he was, and what he would be, and Kael… She closed her eyes. I can’t love someone who wants to sit me in a corner, only to be trotted out in secret. I won’t live like that, I can’t. Discretion is one thing, being someone’s shameful little mistress is very much another.
Jaina shook her head, and pushed back the feeling. I have a lover of my own now, and a dear friend who puts a whole city’s worth of effort into making sure I’m happy. I don’t need either of them, ever. Jaina drifted into Thrall’s bedroom, and looked around. She couldn’t help but laugh softly at the sight of it.
Here were all of the gifts Thrall had received, big and small, arranged on his own vanity table, barely leaving room for the combs and oils he used to care for his hair. Wreaths and bobbles concealed a handful of spare leather ties meant to replace those broken or lost during periods of heavy activity. I’ll have to make some suggestions about shelves, or even boxes, she thought idly, and cast about, looking for the scrolls in question. These she found laying on Thrall’s bed atop the bright blue and white blanket she’d given him last night.
He seemed to like it, and I didn’t intend for him to dream of his parents, but if he truly did… how can I be sorry? she mused as she walked over to the bed and sat down, opening one of the scrolls. Written orcish was a little tricky for her yet, but she could puzzle out the intent if not the exact words. Interactions between shamans and elementals, fascinating.
Jaina shifted as she read, and then considered. If he’s gone for some time, I don’t see why he’d mind… She gathered up both scrolls, kicked off her shoes, and climbed into Thrall’s bed, tucking the blanket around her legs and ankles to keep her feet warm. She settled back and summoned a light to help her read better, and worked through each scroll. I should ask to borrow these so I can make notes. Though, that reminds me of an idea I’ve had…
She read the scrolls over again, and then glanced to the side. Sitting on a low table was a book, no different than she might own, marked with a scrap of leather. Ooh, what’s he reading? History, perhaps, or a biography? Jaina set the scrolls aside carefully and picked up the book, opening it at the marker. She blinked, and then laughed. Pirates? Adventure? Well, that’s wonderful too.
She flipped to the start of the book and began to read, her posture slowly shifting to curl up, propping the book against a pillow while she read avidly. I don’t think I have this one either…
So lost was she in the book that she didn’t hear Thrall enter at first, his steps shuffling and quiet instead of heavy with confidence, and he cleared his throat. She looked up at him and studied the expression on his face: he looked grave, and seemed to carry something heavy with him.
"Is everything alright?" she asked softly. Thrall smiled at her, but she felt its hollowness in her bones. Oh no, what could have… Jaina sat up immediately, setting the book down.
"There's something I need to talk to you about," Thrall said. He retrieved a chair and set it in front of her heavily before sitting, looking her square in the eye. Her heart sank further, and her own smile faded as she looked at him worriedly. "Tonight we received word that the soldiers in Tiragarde Keep were planning an assault on Razor Hill."
"What?!" Jaina cried. Thrall wouldn’t lie about this. He couldn’t, not to me. Jonathan gave no hint of this plan, did he not know?! "What are they doing? This is Winter Veil, have they no sense of decency left at all, and to what end? Razor Hill is a farming community!"
Jaina saw relief, naked and shining in Thrall’s eyes, but it did little to ease her racing thoughts. He reached out, taking one of her hands in his, though the words he spoke only made her heart ache all the more. "I'm ordering them to be wiped out if it comes to it. There is a possibility that they will try to go to Theramore for sanctuary."
"They'll be criminals, of course, Thrall," she replied, even as she realized that wasn’t the primary problem. Anyone that sympathized with the Tiran survivors will likely go to them to offer succor and resources. Jonathan probably still has a good record of who’s likely to sympathize, and then… "I won't let them get away with this. Your people... it's just wrong."
"I knew you'd say that," Thrall said, and as she watched, drew his other hand behind her back. She made a soft noise as she saw the familiar bits of green. "I remember what you said about wreaths, so I want you to have this, Jaina, and this promise: I will do whatever I can to preserve peace between our people. I didn't want to have to order the deaths of the Tiragarde forces, but it's the only way either of us will see peace."
"I... Thrall..." she said, and Jaina shook her head slightly. "I can't..."
"Take it, please," Thrall said, his voice intent and urgent. "I believe that you are above reproach, but not everyone does, and not everyone will. This is between the two of us. No matter what happens, we will never be at war."
"Never," she agreed, and let Thrall guide the wreath into her hand, even as it prickled against her skin. I must talk to Jonathan about this, I must get this resolved. "Thrall, I should go back to Theramore. I want to make sure that no word of this was passed between my own forces. If they have, I promise to deal with them." Impulsively, she leaned forward, pressing her lips to the soft part of Thrall’s cheek. "The Horde could have no better leader than you."
"Thank you, Jaina," Thrall said, and he sounded relieved, and a little odd, though she had little time to wonder about it.
She stood up, collecting the gifts she’d been given earlier in the day, at a happier, more simple time, and tucked them into her sleeves. She used a kind of point-to-point teleportation that she had mastered during her schooling to send the objects in her sleeves to a location specified for storage and retrieval, though she held on tightly to the wreath, the prickling of the pine leaves reminding her of Thrall’s promise. No matter how uncomfortable or difficult, I will never allow myself to forget this moment. "I've had a wonderful time," Jaina said, and realized she was about to babble. Curse it, I’ll just keep going. "I'm glad your people are learning so much about Winter Veil. There are other holidays, if you want to learn about them. I'd be happy to tell you anything you need to know."
"I'd like that," Thrall said, watching her finish her collection. "Perhaps the next time we meet?"
"That would be wonderful," she replied, though her uneasiness did not waver. If anything, it was only more intense. She slipped her shoes back on, fumbling with them briefly before turning around to give Thrall her best smile. "Goodbye, Thrall. Until the next time."
"Goodbye, Jaina."
Jaina cast her teleportation spell, and from one moment to the next, she went from cooler than usual Orgrimmar to dreary, frigid Theramore. They’d had sleet before she’d left, and now there was rain, mixed heavily with snow. It was an accurate expression of her mood. She set the wreath down on her desk, and left her office.
“Oh!” Ariana said, jumping back to avoid careening into her. “Jaina, you’re back. Happy Winter Veil.”
“Ariana, where’s Jonathan?” Jaina asked, her voice tight with anger. Any attempt at politeness or pleasantness had been shed during the journey, and away from Thrall, she allowed herself to feel more than sorrow. She was angry, and she wanted answers. Now. “I need to talk to him.”
“Well, I know he’s been gone since you left to visit Orgrimmar,” Ariana said slowly, considering. Absently, her chamberlain’s hand went to the medallion at her throat, hidden by her dress from casual view. Only those who knew of it would understand its significance.
It was a lovely wedding, and one of the only good things that came from last season, Jaina thought. “And he’s not returned?”
“Not yet, to my knowledge… Jaina, what is it?” Ariana studied Jaina’s expression, brow wrinkled with concern. “What’s happened?”
“Yes, love, what’s all the fuss?” Jonathan called, coming around the corner, coat draped in one hand, tracking mud through the halls. Ariana eyed him with annoyance, but Jaina snapped her fingers, cleaning the mud and rain from him, and along the hall, leaving behind the faintest hint of lemon. “Ah, thanks.”
“Where have you been?” Jaina demanded. “There’s an emergency.”
“Out to Northwatch,” Jonathan replied, studying her expression. “Bringing ‘em some Winter Veil cheer… what happened? Are we under attack?”
“No, the orcs are,” Jaina said, frustration in every word. “The men of Tiragarde decided that Longest Night was the best time to attack Razor Hill.” He met this statement with a blank expression. “It’s a farming community, south of Orgrimmar, not far from Tiragarde Keep. Thrall is sending forces to clear out them out and protect his farmers.”
“Clear them out?” Jonathan said, raising an eyebrow. “Those are Tiran men out there, alone in a strange land--”
“This shouldn’t have happened at all!” Jaina cried, and Ariana opened her mouth to try to interject. “Did you have any idea this was coming? Any at all?”
“No, of course not,” Jonathan said, reaching out to her. Jaina stared at him a moment, and then stepped into his arms, leaning into him. He wrapped his arms around her, running a hand through her hair, and murmured softly. “I knew they were angry, there’d been some unrest of late, but… not this specific time, or day. Please, believe me.”
Jaina shook as grief ran through her. “I do. I do, I just… it shouldn’t be this way. There shouldn’t still be fighting.”
“What do you intend to do?” Jonathan asked quietly after a moment. Jaina took in a shuddering breath, but her voice was firm as she spoke.
“The survivors are not welcome here. They are criminals, bandits and murderers. Anyone who gives them shelter taints themselves with their actions. Make sure everyone knows.”
“Even the soldiers?” Jonathan murmured, and she looked up at him.
“Especially the soldiers,” Jaina said, voice hard. “I have signed treaties and made declarations with the fullness of my heart and I intend to enforce them. I will let no one and nothing disrupt the peace I have built here with my own two hands.”
Jonathan nodded and embraced her again. She closed her eyes, and let him soothe her. I know I’m making the right decision. I know it. No matter the cost. I just wish I didn’t feel so much like Arthas when I said it.
~ * ~
Winter turned to Spring, and as the rains slowly turned warmer, Early Spring saw fishermen venturing out into the ocean, casting their lines and setting out their traps to bring in the sea’s bounty. Unrest came in with the tides, and Jonathan was gone more and more frequently, delivering Jaina’s entreaties for peace to less than receptive ears.
I must see this through, Jaina thought, the anger of her thoughts belied by gentle pen strokes, writing yet another missive to be passed to the latest group of deserters. Things were quiet after Winter Veil, but that seems more like a product of the weather than an actual desire for peace… is it really so hard?
There was a soft, arcane hum as a rune on the wall activated. She’d added the spell into the matrix of existing magical activity, creating a simple communication system, akin to radio signals, but more reliable, or so she hoped.
She just wished it didn’t always herald bad news.
“Lady Proudmoore, it’s Tesoran. May I come and speak with you?” her adjutant called, and she sighed. It was not, as it seemed, the time for her to be wrong.
She pressed a corresponding rune on her desk. “Of course, please.” She finished the sentence she was working on, and was cleaning her pen when the man came in. Tesoran had been from Gilneas originally, grave and no-nonsense, one of the volunteers she’d drummed up in the time before she’d departed for Kalimdor. Even now, despite the year he’d spent in Kalimdor, the expression that came most naturally was something sour.
He reminded her, in many ways, of her mother, and that was a reminder of another duty she’d been putting off for far too long. I owe it to them to tell them directly. I’d just hoped for better news.
“What’s the bad news?” Jaina asked, and fought to keep weary cynicism from her voice. It was unfair, both to the messenger and those she served, to feel tired and pessimistic about such things, and yet, here they both were.
“Another raid on a Horde outpost,” Tesoran said, his blunt tone doing nothing to cushion the blow. “Brackenwall, the ogre mound.”
Brackenwall, near the border. Jaina closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, then exhaled, then opened her eyes once more. “Did they catch anyone?”
“No, but they knew they were humans,” Tesoran replied, frowning. “Logrosh brought word back with the latest intelligence. He said they were irate.”
“How irate?” Jaina asked. “Is Logrosh well? Ariana will--”
“He’s unharmed, and he’s a bit tougher than we are, being an orc,” Tesoran said, and only practice allowed her to hear the faintest hint of good humour in it. “But the ogres are irate.”
“I’ll go and speak to them personally,” Jaina said, standing. “I don’t particularly want irate ogres on my back doorstep, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Of course, Lady Proudmoore,” Tesoran said, and paused for a moment. “If I might ask…”
“Yes?” Jaina asked, and the weariness was back.
“How far do you intend to go to keep this peace?”
Jaina met his gaze, frank and fearless. “As far as I have to.”
[ Chapter 7]
Title: Unity: Stormcaller
Part: 6/8+Epilogue
Word Count: 4413
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 4 5
Jaina stared at the report before her and saw none of it. The words crawled and scurried from the page, and she blinked rapidly, only to find her eyes hurt, itchy, red, and dry.
I’ve only cried an hour today, Jaina thought numbly. How can they still hurt so much?
“That one is news that the harbour dredging is complete, and the next stage is progressing nicely.” Jaina looked up, blinking again. At the door stood a human woman, only a few of years younger than Jaina herself. She wore a dove-grey dress, cut simply, and was holding a stack of papers in her arms. Her hair was long and black, twisted back in a half plait, and her eyes were bright, sparkling green.
“Ariana,” Jaina said, shaking her head. “I”m sorry, I was just thinking. Are those more reports?”
“They are,” her newly appointed chamberlain replied. “Reports from the repairs on the walls and harbour, the status of the remaining Tiran forces, and… you have a guest.”
“A… guest?” Jaina’s stomach twisted with discomfort. “Was I expecting one?” The last unexpected guest was…
“No, but I believe you’ll appreciate what I have to say,” said a voice from behind Ariana, and Jaina blinked again, sitting up. It was a man’s voice, his accent familiar in the way a well-loved pair of slippers was, and she felt herself glide into it. “May I come in?”
“Yes, please,” Jaina said, and rose. “Thank you, Ariana. Leave the reports.”
The younger woman stepped into her office and set down the stack of reports on Jaina’s desk, and stepped aside to let the man in. Jaina’s eyes widened slightly. He was tall and well-proportioned, muscular without being obscene and clearly used to working with his hands. His skin was nut-brown from working in the sun, though he was well dressed in a uniform, the insignias carefully removed and not replaced. His eyes were brandy-brown and sparkling and his hair a few shades darker but still brown instead of Ariana’s true black.
The door made a soft noise as Ariana departed, leaving the pair of them to speak.
No green, no blue, no gold or black, Jaina reflected, slightly dazed. Just fine. “I am Lady Jaina Proudmoore, Archmage of the Kirin Tor and ruler of the Theramore League. Who might you be?”
The man saluted sharply, and Jaina contained a sigh at the way his jacket tugged across his chest. “My name is Jonathan Taylor.” He smiled, and then let it fade. “Lieutenant, or should I say, former-lieutenant of the Third Tiran Fleet Ship Foam Queen. I wanted to speak to you directly.”
Former… Jaina nodded, and gestured. “Please, sit.” Jonathan sat, and Jaina took her own seat, folding her hands and resting them on her desk. “How may I help you?”
“It’s more what I can do for you, Lady Proudmoore,” he replied, and smiled at her. Warmth flooded her, and she recalled that it had been some time since she’d seen such a thing from such welcoming features, and she smiled in return. “You probably know, but all the former crew from the Fleet have fled north to Tiragarde Keep, just on the coast. We set up there as a temporary base of operations, and now…” He spread his hands, and she drew in a sharp breath.
“And now, those who cannot leave stay behind,” Jaina finished. She glanced down at the report on her desk, now joined by so many others, and could only pick out bits and pieces of sentences. “But you say you’re not one of them?”
“No, not at all,” Jonathan said, smiling gently, and she felt herself relax. “In fact, I want to help you get things resolved as much as possible. Clear the air and all. You know, we weren’t given much choice as to what to do. Your late father, Ocean keep him cradled, ordered us to attack the orcs and so we did. Mutiny in a strange land’s not something any man with sense wants to do.”
“No…” Jaina murmured, and her mind raced. They won’t speak to me, but if they’ll speak to him… they can go home, or they can try to integrate into Theramore. I might still be able to salvage this, and Thrall will certainly appreciate having far fewer hostile humans on his doorstep. “Yes, please. Do whatever you can. I want this resolved as peacefully as possible.”
“I would be happy to discuss it at length… perhaps over dinner?” Jonathan raised an eyebrow and smiled, and Jaina felt her stomach flutter.
How long has it been… nearly a year, I think, and even that wasn’t what it could have been. Yes, this is… right. Jaina smiled back warmly. “Certainly over dinner.”
~ * ~
“...and they’re completely intractable!” Jaina finished, her hand shaking briefly as she ran her brush through her long, loose hair. “Did they say nothing about opening negotiations?”
“Do we have to talk politics in bed, love?” Jonathan asked. He lounged on her bed, legs enticingly tangled in sheets and blankets, revealing a long expanse of muscled abdomen, marred by two diagonal cuts, mere inches from one another. “Can’t it wait?”
“Only one of us is still abed,” Jaina reminded him and peered at herself in the mirror, admiring the marks his lips had made on her neck before returning to brushing her hair. “But, Commander Peele--”
“You could solve that, you know,” he purred, and she glanced at him, noticing the way he tugged at the sheets. She smiled at him, even as she felt a shiver of anticipation over her skin.
He knows just what to do, Jaina thought, as memories of his fingers and lips -- never entirely far away -- flooded back. “I have work to do.”
“You know your staff can handle most of the paperwork, why not let them?” Jonathan countered. “You cluck like a hen.”
“I do not,” Jaina murmured, setting down the brush and turning to him. She gave him a challenging look, and he grinned. “I--” She felt a shiver cross her bare spine and looked around. Is there a draft? That was so odd… Tucked under her brush was a folded note. How did I miss this?
Jaina picked up the note, rested her bare behind against the vanity table, and began to read. [To Lady Jaina Proudmoore, Warchief Thrall of the Horde and the people of Orgrimmar send their greetings!] Her lips curved in a soft smile, and a sensation not wholly unlike the one she felt when Jonathan smiled at her went through her. Stop that, he’s looking for a mate, and you have a lover now. [As we approach the longest and coldest night of the year, I am reminded of a time when I lived in a much, much colder place. It was not always the happiest time, but I do remember the celebration of Winter Veil with a great deal of fondness. I hope that you remember it similarly. My people have never celebrated Winter Veil properly and I hope to change that, starting this year and continuing as long as we live and thrive. I would like to invite you, who helped make our prosperity possible, to Orgrimmar to celebrate Winter Veil with us. Please reply when you can. Yours Sincerely, Thrall.]
“What is it?” Jonathan asked, and she found that he had left bed, and peered over her shoulder. “That’s damned chicken scratch, I don’t see how you can read it.”
“He has a hard time grasping a stylus,” Jaina murmured. “It’s not that hard to read. I’m being invited to Winter Veil in Orgrimmar. I’d forgotten it was coming up, it’s… been a long year.”
“Are you seriously thinking of going? Jonathan asked, leaning in to kiss her neck, and she pulled away slightly. “They’re orcs.”
“They’re my allies,” Jaina reminded him. “Of course I’m going… oh, I used to love Winter Veil. Food and festivities, singing… dancing.” She sighed softly. “I miss dancing so much.”
“Privilege of the noble, then,” Jonathan muttered. “I’ve not much use for dancing.”
“I’m sure I’ll find plenty of partners that do want to dance,” Jaina pointed out. She pushed herself from her perch and walked over to retrieve her robes, tucking the note into one of the sleeves. “I’m sure there will be plenty more for us to do.”
“For you, maybe,” Jonathan said, and stretched. “I think I’ll take a pass on visiting the orc city.”
“Horde city,” Jaina reminded him. “There’s more to the Horde than orcs. I had hoped…”
“The invite’s for the Lady of Theramore, not for the likes of me.” Jonathan’s tone held a hint of bitterness to it. “You didn’t tell him?”
“I don’t need to share my private business with all and sundry,” Jaina replied, anger tinging her words. “I’ll tell him when the time is right.”
“He didn’t seem to have a problem telling you about his private business,” Jonathan noted. “Going on about wanting a mate…”
“He needed my advice, that’s different,” Jaina said firmly. “In any case, if you don’t want to go to Orgrimmar for Winter Veil, I’ll go by myself. I might even stay over a night or two.”
“Have fun with your orcs,” Jonathan said. “Are we going back to bed or what?”
"It's a good thing I'd been planning to give Thrall a gift anyway, I just need to make sure it will be ready for Winter Veil," Jaina said. “I’ll send my reply afterwards. I’m sure you can be up and about in your own time.”
Jaina felt another little gust of cold air, and as she finished dressing, she missed the dark look on her lover’s face at her dismissal.
~ * ~
"...and then Grom storms out of his tent -- naked, naturally, because he'd been with someone -- and demands to know who keeps making that racket."
"Oh, no," Jaina said in between giggles, the fork she held quivering in mid-air, food forgotten. "What did you say?"
"We told him we were surprised he could hear us over himself," Thrall concluded, chuckling. "He thought it was funny too... eventually. After he'd ducked me under an icy waterfall. It's not as if I'd never done it before, but then I was mostly unclothed."
"You must have been a sight..." Jaina said. "Though if we're talking about awkward, there was one time, during transmutation, when we were supposed to be learning the Polymorph spell and someone managed to get a hold of a duck--"
“Warchief.”
Jaina and Thrall both looked up at the Kor’Kron guard who spoke, and Jaina felt a brief chill. The guard was a woman, her voice low and a bit smoother than she’d come to expect from orcs, but managed to put a great deal of emotion into a single word. She seems… familiar somehow. I wonder why?
“There’s an emergency,” the Kor’Kron continued. “We need you.”
An emergency? She made to rise before even thinking. This isn’t Theramore, I can’t just stick my nose in. "Oh dear, what's wrong? Do you need my help?"
"No, I can take care of it," Thrall replied quickly. "I have some scrolls on elementals I intended you to look over, would you do that while you wait? This may take some time, so please feel free to keep eating."
"Of course," Jaina said, and returned to her seat. An emergency… what could be happening tonight of all nights? Thrall and the guard departed swiftly, and Jaina stared after them. Oh… he’s had that guard in his retinue since… The thought turned the next mouthful, and the next, to ash.
Her food felt bland on her tongue without laughter, and combined with the memories of her father’s death pushing at her mind, she lost her appetite entirely. Let’s see about those scrolls.
Thrall’s rooms were a little plain to those not accustomed to orc decorating, and lacked the ostentatiousness of those who remembered the orcs of old. The chamber where they’d eaten was a smaller, side chamber, meant for private, intimate meetings and study. Jaina could imagine that Thrall had courted any number of orc women in it, and pushed back a feeling of wistfulness at it.
It’s not as if you haven’t been courted plenty, and Thrall is still a bit new to this, she insisted. It’s a wonder he didn’t have someone here for Winter Veil, or he might be between courtships. I know he worries about such things.
Courtship always led to memories, of Arthas and of Kael. Jonathan had been more direct, and she appreciated that. Arthas was a bit direct, but so wrapped in protocol I could never forget what he was, and what he would be, and Kael… She closed her eyes. I can’t love someone who wants to sit me in a corner, only to be trotted out in secret. I won’t live like that, I can’t. Discretion is one thing, being someone’s shameful little mistress is very much another.
Jaina shook her head, and pushed back the feeling. I have a lover of my own now, and a dear friend who puts a whole city’s worth of effort into making sure I’m happy. I don’t need either of them, ever. Jaina drifted into Thrall’s bedroom, and looked around. She couldn’t help but laugh softly at the sight of it.
Here were all of the gifts Thrall had received, big and small, arranged on his own vanity table, barely leaving room for the combs and oils he used to care for his hair. Wreaths and bobbles concealed a handful of spare leather ties meant to replace those broken or lost during periods of heavy activity. I’ll have to make some suggestions about shelves, or even boxes, she thought idly, and cast about, looking for the scrolls in question. These she found laying on Thrall’s bed atop the bright blue and white blanket she’d given him last night.
He seemed to like it, and I didn’t intend for him to dream of his parents, but if he truly did… how can I be sorry? she mused as she walked over to the bed and sat down, opening one of the scrolls. Written orcish was a little tricky for her yet, but she could puzzle out the intent if not the exact words. Interactions between shamans and elementals, fascinating.
Jaina shifted as she read, and then considered. If he’s gone for some time, I don’t see why he’d mind… She gathered up both scrolls, kicked off her shoes, and climbed into Thrall’s bed, tucking the blanket around her legs and ankles to keep her feet warm. She settled back and summoned a light to help her read better, and worked through each scroll. I should ask to borrow these so I can make notes. Though, that reminds me of an idea I’ve had…
She read the scrolls over again, and then glanced to the side. Sitting on a low table was a book, no different than she might own, marked with a scrap of leather. Ooh, what’s he reading? History, perhaps, or a biography? Jaina set the scrolls aside carefully and picked up the book, opening it at the marker. She blinked, and then laughed. Pirates? Adventure? Well, that’s wonderful too.
She flipped to the start of the book and began to read, her posture slowly shifting to curl up, propping the book against a pillow while she read avidly. I don’t think I have this one either…
So lost was she in the book that she didn’t hear Thrall enter at first, his steps shuffling and quiet instead of heavy with confidence, and he cleared his throat. She looked up at him and studied the expression on his face: he looked grave, and seemed to carry something heavy with him.
"Is everything alright?" she asked softly. Thrall smiled at her, but she felt its hollowness in her bones. Oh no, what could have… Jaina sat up immediately, setting the book down.
"There's something I need to talk to you about," Thrall said. He retrieved a chair and set it in front of her heavily before sitting, looking her square in the eye. Her heart sank further, and her own smile faded as she looked at him worriedly. "Tonight we received word that the soldiers in Tiragarde Keep were planning an assault on Razor Hill."
"What?!" Jaina cried. Thrall wouldn’t lie about this. He couldn’t, not to me. Jonathan gave no hint of this plan, did he not know?! "What are they doing? This is Winter Veil, have they no sense of decency left at all, and to what end? Razor Hill is a farming community!"
Jaina saw relief, naked and shining in Thrall’s eyes, but it did little to ease her racing thoughts. He reached out, taking one of her hands in his, though the words he spoke only made her heart ache all the more. "I'm ordering them to be wiped out if it comes to it. There is a possibility that they will try to go to Theramore for sanctuary."
"They'll be criminals, of course, Thrall," she replied, even as she realized that wasn’t the primary problem. Anyone that sympathized with the Tiran survivors will likely go to them to offer succor and resources. Jonathan probably still has a good record of who’s likely to sympathize, and then… "I won't let them get away with this. Your people... it's just wrong."
"I knew you'd say that," Thrall said, and as she watched, drew his other hand behind her back. She made a soft noise as she saw the familiar bits of green. "I remember what you said about wreaths, so I want you to have this, Jaina, and this promise: I will do whatever I can to preserve peace between our people. I didn't want to have to order the deaths of the Tiragarde forces, but it's the only way either of us will see peace."
"I... Thrall..." she said, and Jaina shook her head slightly. "I can't..."
"Take it, please," Thrall said, his voice intent and urgent. "I believe that you are above reproach, but not everyone does, and not everyone will. This is between the two of us. No matter what happens, we will never be at war."
"Never," she agreed, and let Thrall guide the wreath into her hand, even as it prickled against her skin. I must talk to Jonathan about this, I must get this resolved. "Thrall, I should go back to Theramore. I want to make sure that no word of this was passed between my own forces. If they have, I promise to deal with them." Impulsively, she leaned forward, pressing her lips to the soft part of Thrall’s cheek. "The Horde could have no better leader than you."
"Thank you, Jaina," Thrall said, and he sounded relieved, and a little odd, though she had little time to wonder about it.
She stood up, collecting the gifts she’d been given earlier in the day, at a happier, more simple time, and tucked them into her sleeves. She used a kind of point-to-point teleportation that she had mastered during her schooling to send the objects in her sleeves to a location specified for storage and retrieval, though she held on tightly to the wreath, the prickling of the pine leaves reminding her of Thrall’s promise. No matter how uncomfortable or difficult, I will never allow myself to forget this moment. "I've had a wonderful time," Jaina said, and realized she was about to babble. Curse it, I’ll just keep going. "I'm glad your people are learning so much about Winter Veil. There are other holidays, if you want to learn about them. I'd be happy to tell you anything you need to know."
"I'd like that," Thrall said, watching her finish her collection. "Perhaps the next time we meet?"
"That would be wonderful," she replied, though her uneasiness did not waver. If anything, it was only more intense. She slipped her shoes back on, fumbling with them briefly before turning around to give Thrall her best smile. "Goodbye, Thrall. Until the next time."
"Goodbye, Jaina."
Jaina cast her teleportation spell, and from one moment to the next, she went from cooler than usual Orgrimmar to dreary, frigid Theramore. They’d had sleet before she’d left, and now there was rain, mixed heavily with snow. It was an accurate expression of her mood. She set the wreath down on her desk, and left her office.
“Oh!” Ariana said, jumping back to avoid careening into her. “Jaina, you’re back. Happy Winter Veil.”
“Ariana, where’s Jonathan?” Jaina asked, her voice tight with anger. Any attempt at politeness or pleasantness had been shed during the journey, and away from Thrall, she allowed herself to feel more than sorrow. She was angry, and she wanted answers. Now. “I need to talk to him.”
“Well, I know he’s been gone since you left to visit Orgrimmar,” Ariana said slowly, considering. Absently, her chamberlain’s hand went to the medallion at her throat, hidden by her dress from casual view. Only those who knew of it would understand its significance.
It was a lovely wedding, and one of the only good things that came from last season, Jaina thought. “And he’s not returned?”
“Not yet, to my knowledge… Jaina, what is it?” Ariana studied Jaina’s expression, brow wrinkled with concern. “What’s happened?”
“Yes, love, what’s all the fuss?” Jonathan called, coming around the corner, coat draped in one hand, tracking mud through the halls. Ariana eyed him with annoyance, but Jaina snapped her fingers, cleaning the mud and rain from him, and along the hall, leaving behind the faintest hint of lemon. “Ah, thanks.”
“Where have you been?” Jaina demanded. “There’s an emergency.”
“Out to Northwatch,” Jonathan replied, studying her expression. “Bringing ‘em some Winter Veil cheer… what happened? Are we under attack?”
“No, the orcs are,” Jaina said, frustration in every word. “The men of Tiragarde decided that Longest Night was the best time to attack Razor Hill.” He met this statement with a blank expression. “It’s a farming community, south of Orgrimmar, not far from Tiragarde Keep. Thrall is sending forces to clear out them out and protect his farmers.”
“Clear them out?” Jonathan said, raising an eyebrow. “Those are Tiran men out there, alone in a strange land--”
“This shouldn’t have happened at all!” Jaina cried, and Ariana opened her mouth to try to interject. “Did you have any idea this was coming? Any at all?”
“No, of course not,” Jonathan said, reaching out to her. Jaina stared at him a moment, and then stepped into his arms, leaning into him. He wrapped his arms around her, running a hand through her hair, and murmured softly. “I knew they were angry, there’d been some unrest of late, but… not this specific time, or day. Please, believe me.”
Jaina shook as grief ran through her. “I do. I do, I just… it shouldn’t be this way. There shouldn’t still be fighting.”
“What do you intend to do?” Jonathan asked quietly after a moment. Jaina took in a shuddering breath, but her voice was firm as she spoke.
“The survivors are not welcome here. They are criminals, bandits and murderers. Anyone who gives them shelter taints themselves with their actions. Make sure everyone knows.”
“Even the soldiers?” Jonathan murmured, and she looked up at him.
“Especially the soldiers,” Jaina said, voice hard. “I have signed treaties and made declarations with the fullness of my heart and I intend to enforce them. I will let no one and nothing disrupt the peace I have built here with my own two hands.”
Jonathan nodded and embraced her again. She closed her eyes, and let him soothe her. I know I’m making the right decision. I know it. No matter the cost. I just wish I didn’t feel so much like Arthas when I said it.
~ * ~
Winter turned to Spring, and as the rains slowly turned warmer, Early Spring saw fishermen venturing out into the ocean, casting their lines and setting out their traps to bring in the sea’s bounty. Unrest came in with the tides, and Jonathan was gone more and more frequently, delivering Jaina’s entreaties for peace to less than receptive ears.
I must see this through, Jaina thought, the anger of her thoughts belied by gentle pen strokes, writing yet another missive to be passed to the latest group of deserters. Things were quiet after Winter Veil, but that seems more like a product of the weather than an actual desire for peace… is it really so hard?
There was a soft, arcane hum as a rune on the wall activated. She’d added the spell into the matrix of existing magical activity, creating a simple communication system, akin to radio signals, but more reliable, or so she hoped.
She just wished it didn’t always herald bad news.
“Lady Proudmoore, it’s Tesoran. May I come and speak with you?” her adjutant called, and she sighed. It was not, as it seemed, the time for her to be wrong.
She pressed a corresponding rune on her desk. “Of course, please.” She finished the sentence she was working on, and was cleaning her pen when the man came in. Tesoran had been from Gilneas originally, grave and no-nonsense, one of the volunteers she’d drummed up in the time before she’d departed for Kalimdor. Even now, despite the year he’d spent in Kalimdor, the expression that came most naturally was something sour.
He reminded her, in many ways, of her mother, and that was a reminder of another duty she’d been putting off for far too long. I owe it to them to tell them directly. I’d just hoped for better news.
“What’s the bad news?” Jaina asked, and fought to keep weary cynicism from her voice. It was unfair, both to the messenger and those she served, to feel tired and pessimistic about such things, and yet, here they both were.
“Another raid on a Horde outpost,” Tesoran said, his blunt tone doing nothing to cushion the blow. “Brackenwall, the ogre mound.”
Brackenwall, near the border. Jaina closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, then exhaled, then opened her eyes once more. “Did they catch anyone?”
“No, but they knew they were humans,” Tesoran replied, frowning. “Logrosh brought word back with the latest intelligence. He said they were irate.”
“How irate?” Jaina asked. “Is Logrosh well? Ariana will--”
“He’s unharmed, and he’s a bit tougher than we are, being an orc,” Tesoran said, and only practice allowed her to hear the faintest hint of good humour in it. “But the ogres are irate.”
“I’ll go and speak to them personally,” Jaina said, standing. “I don’t particularly want irate ogres on my back doorstep, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Of course, Lady Proudmoore,” Tesoran said, and paused for a moment. “If I might ask…”
“Yes?” Jaina asked, and the weariness was back.
“How far do you intend to go to keep this peace?”
Jaina met his gaze, frank and fearless. “As far as I have to.”
[ Chapter 7]