Unity - Chapter 1
This fic is large enough to get semi-proper headings. I started out wanting to write a very simple Thrall/Jaina smutfic, and it turned into... this. It's long. It's very long. It has currently hit over 26k words, so it's being cut into more digestible chunks. I sincerely hope you'll enjoy it. sodzilla is responsible for so much of this, I cannot even begin to thank her for her wonderful work. Please, if you find errors, or if something seems unclear, let me know. I do recheck my work.
I should mention I almost entirely ignore the WoW Comic, and use pre-World of Warcraft canon for a lot of things. I make reference to this fic and this one.
Title: Unity
Part: 1 of ? (I have no idea. They won't stop talking)
Word Count: 4286 (of this part)
Warnings: Implied sex, actual sex, orc/human, mentioned death and suicide, angst.
Pairings: Mentioned Thrall/Others, primarily Thrall/Jaina. Mentioned past Arthas/Jaina and past one-sided Kael/Jaina.
Summary: The matter of Thrall's heir has come up, and Garona is determined he'll find a mate. Thrall isn't so certain.
"What's wrong with this one?" Garona asked wearily. She disliked having to wear the heavy, gold-and-black armor of the Kor'Kron elite. It reminded her too much of Doomhammer, though she bore it grimly. There was no reason for Thrall to make a change specifically for her, so she tolerated it. She had far more important things to do, like express her concern for Thrall's habits.
"There isn't anything wrong with Sergra," Thrall said, retrieving his pants. "She's perfectly nice."
"She's going back to the Crossroads," Garona said pointedly, and Thrall paused to give her a look, half-exasperated, half-weary.
"It's where she was assigned," the Warchief of the Horde replied evenly. "She discussed it at great length over dinner. She's more than happy to go."
"It didn't occur to you to ask her to stay?" the Horde's spymistress asked, folding her arms over her chest.
"Not really," Thrall said, frowning. "Why should I? It was dinner, Garona, and sex afterward. We made no promises to each other. She wasn't offended by it. I made sure of that."
"I'm sure you did," Garona said sourly. "Are you aware you have no heir?"
"Having an heir was never an issue for my predecessors," Thrall told her flatly, pulling on his pants and fastening them, then retrieving his shirt. "The Horde isn't a monarchy. People are selected because of their strength and their influences."
"And do you think that human kings have no strength?" Garona asked, her voice shaking with emotion before stomping down on it, though not before seeing the look of worry in Thrall's eyes. "The succession of the Horde has been, so far, largely been due to two factors: assassination and intimidation. Blackhand ruled through backing from the Shadow Council, and Doomhammer because he assassinated him. Most of the time, within the clans, leadership is passed on through one strong line, until it breaks, or someone else breaks it. As it stands right now, if something should happen to you, the Horde would descend into chaos."
"I think you underestimate our people," Thrall said stiffly. "We're free of the curse of the demons, we've embraced the old ways--"
"And how much of the old ways do you think weren't soaked in blood?" Garona hissed. "Do you think that we simply fell into the demons' hands as innocents? The legacy of bloodshed has existed longer than you or I has been alive. Older than Durotan, than Garad, older than anyone in living memory. We exist in relative peaceful harmony because you desire it so. If you were a warmonger, we would be at war."
"It's what people want," Thrall said softly. "We've had enough of war, enough of conflict. Kalimdor is our chance to start over, to gather allies and make a real change to our society."
"And those who would fight the humans again in a moment if you allowed it?" Garona asked quietly. "Naz'grel? He was more than happy to fight our 'allies' when he thought they were causing trouble. What about our friends in Ratchet? Those who have to deal daily with Northwatch Keep? It's only a word from you away, Thrall." She moved forward, a single, dextrous gesture taking Thrall's shirt from him, and rearranging it, then handing it back to him. "Listen to me. If you have an heir, you want one that will carry on your ideals, and that way, if something should happen to you, all of this--" she gestured around her "--won't come crashing down on us all, or our allies. Tauren, human and troll alike."
Thrall gave her a wordless look, one that was part frustration and part fear. "I have a meeting," he said finally. "I need to go."
Garona snorted softly, having made her point clear. "With whom?"
"One of my allies," Thrall said, tugging his shirt on. Briefly, he caressed the silver necklace that he wore. Sergra had commented on it; everyone who shared his bed did at some point or another. Garona, who had seen him naked or near-naked more often than he cared to consider, never had. Taretha's memory weighed heavily on him still. It hadn't been so long ago, and he wished he could speak to his sister about this.
"Say hello to Lady Proudmoore for me, then," Garona said, turning to leave, knowing that Thrall never once had, namely because Garona's existence within the Horde was one of the secrets that the Warchief kept from his human friend.
"Hm," was all Thrall said in reply.
~ * ~
Jaina's guards had learned to expect the large figure, cloaked and wrapped in shadow, and knew precisely what to do. Two guards brought Thrall to the receiving room within Jaina's tower, and left after bowing. There, Thrall was met by Jaina's majordomo, a young human woman with dark hair and green eyes, who smiled warmly, and offered Thrall a drink. She was wise enough not to comment on the large, green hands that emerged to take whatever liquid refreshment was offered -- something cool in the summer or something warm during the winter -- but simply tell him when Jaina would be free to see him.
It was here he waited, sipping hot mint tea, and looking around. He'd been in this room enough times to remember where each map was -- there were detailed images of Kul Tiras, Theramore, Dustwallow Marsh and Kalimdor, and Thrall's eyes fell to Orgrimmar's location with perfect accuracy, and he could picture his people going about their daily lives, some selling goods, others buying. He could imagine the patrols as they moved in and out of Grommash Hold, the shamans whispering over fires that smoked from herbs, and more.
"I had the best mapmakers I could find draw those," Jaina said softly, startling him from his study of the map. "My father always said that a sailor is only as good as the map he follows and the tools he uses to navigate." As always, when she spoke of her father, there was a sad wistfulness, and Thrall turned. "Welcome to Theramore."
"Jaina..." Thrall said softly, and smiled at her gently. "It's good to be back. Your kingdom is beautiful, as always."
"I'm proud of what my people have built," Jaina replied, nodding her head. "How is Orgrimmar?"
Thrall moved forward, and let the cloak that covered him fall away. He folded it over one arm, and offered her the free one. She took it, tucking small fingers into the crook of his elbow. With a gesture, she teleported them to her private office. She moved away from him and sat gracefully in the chair that sat behind her desk. It was brown, and when empty, seemed to dwarf her, though she filled it effortlessly.
Thrall set his cloak down, and sat on one of the broad, wooden couches. It supported his weight easily, and he let his eyes wander over shelves of books, scrolls and odd, arcane artifacts. On one wall hung what looked like the steering wheel of a ship, and raised an eyebrow.
"My father's ship," Jaina said simply, following his gaze. "We recovered it during the clean up efforts. It's a reminder."
"Jaina..." Thrall began, his voice soft with regret. "You shouldn't--"
"It's a reminder that no sacrifice is too great for lasting peace," Jaina said, and if her voice was slightly sharp, Thrall would not say anything. "We should begin the meeting."
Thrall sighed, very softly. "Of course." He let Jaina begin, and watched her as she went over her notes, discussing Theramore's expansion efforts, and the state of the fishing fleets. She was animated when she spoke, and her voice swelled with pride as she spoke of Shady Rest, the border town between the southern Barrens and western Dustwallow that catered to humans and orcs alike, and was expanding for comfortable quarters that would suit unusual-sized humanoids like the tauren.
Then, it was Thrall's turn, and he too warmed to his subject matter: Durotar's farming communities were growing, and while he had little experience with it himself, he was confident when his people told him that they were yielding well. There was still news of the veteran warriors taking their own lives, but Thrall had made a dozen provisions to help those old warriors. Jaina's expression had turned sympathetic, having spoken to Thrall about it. They understood one another, and Jaina's empathy had given Thrall the strength to discuss their future projects, including their expansion into Stonetalon, and down into a place the tauren called the Thousand Needles, named after the huge rock formations that had been formed by a river that had long since dried up.
"Something else troubles you," Jaina said softly, and Thrall watched as she stood, and moved close to him to sit on the couch beside him. "What is it?" She touched his shoulder lightly. "Haven't we always said we could trust each other?"
Thrall's mind drifted back towards his discussion with Garona. "My advisors are concerned that I have no heir," he began awkwardly. "They're obsessed with the notion."
"Hm," Jaina said quietly. "Succession has always been an important part of human and elven politics. Most of our lines trace through royalty, or at least, the founder of a nation. Elven royalty traces their line back from Dath'remar the Sun Strider, the founder of Silvermoon. Dwarves were originally ruled by a single Thane, or King, but they factionalized when he died with no heir, and those factions went to war."
"The War of the Three Hammers," Thrall said, his heart sinking. "Resolved when two factions sided together to eliminate a dangerous foe, that only succeeded in blowing himself and his council of advisors up by summoning a force they couldn't control."
"Exactly," Jaina said. "The gnomes... the gnomes are very curious. Dalaran often invites gnome speakers to lecture classes about their system of government." She paused, and when Thrall shook his head slightly, she continued. "They are a meritocracy. Their High Tinker is the best inventor within Gnomeregan. Every gnome must invent something, but the High Tinker is the most accomplished of them."
"How is the condition of 'best' determined?" Thrall asked curiously. "It seems very subjective."
"They come to a consensus," Jaina said. "Gnomes take innovation very seriously. It's unfortunate that so many of their inventions are unstable without constant maintenance, things would be a lot easier if we could incorporate their work into everyday life. I'm lucky that the force that came with me did... they all work very hard."
"In some ways, they sound like goblins, though their main goal is to turn a profit," Thrall said, shaking his head. "Sometimes, I wonder why they bother with us at all."
"A merchant isn't much of a merchant with no one to buy or sell from," Jaina said, smiling wistfully. "A merchant needs trading partners, and for that... negotiation and diplomacy. We're all tied together. No person is an island."
"True enough," Thrall agreed, though his mind drifted back to Garona's words. "Is it possible for a single person to be so influential that wars stop and start on their command?"
"It's possible," Jaina admitted. "If they develop enough of a cult of personality, perhaps. It's a dangerous position to be in, Thrall. When everyone starts relying on you not to make a mistake, you realize very quickly how many mistakes you have made." She bowed her head, and her blonde locks fell in a curtain around her face.
Slowly, so he didn't startle her, he moved to tuck the hair behind one of her ears. "Is there a way to undo that kind of influence?"
She looked up at him, slightly startled. "Not without hurting far too many people. You learn to live with it... and try to forgive yourself when you do make a mistake."
"I thought that might be so," Thrall said, his hand dropping to his lap with a sigh. He felt warmth against his hand, and saw Jaina's hand, resting against his fingers.
"There's more to it than that, isn't there?" she asked softly. "Tell me about it? You told me once to unburden myself to you. The least I can do is listen while you do the same."
"Could we go for a walk?" Thrall asked after a moment, letting Jaina's words resonate within his chest. "I think I'd prefer to discuss it somewhere a little less formal."
"I think I can get us down to the coast without being seen," Jaina said, standing. "You'll need to wear the cloak, I'm afraid."
"Trust me, I can understand a need for privacy." Thrall stood as well, towering over the human sorceress as he concealed the most distinctive of his features -- green skin and coarse, dark hair -- behind the cloak. Runes formed around them, and then they were away.
~ * ~
The cove was not the most scenic place they could have gone. It did not have the best view of the ocean, nor was it particularly intimate. Instead, it was a stretch of grey sand that was just missed by the beam coming from the lighthouse that swept over Theramore's coast, and as far as Thrall was concerned, that was just fine.
He walked slowly beside Jaina, their footprints leaving -- deep in his case, shallow in hers -- marks as they made their way down the shoreline. "My advisors are paranoid about the situation involving my having a mate," Thrall said, though the words were difficult to manage. It had been easy to be frank with Garona, but with Jaina, it took more effort. "The wrong heir could plunge the Horde back into warfare with the Alliance." And you, he did not add, but his silence implied it enough.
"Then you'll just have to find the right one," Jaina said with a smile. "They specifically want you to have a child?"
"It seems to be their belief that I will sire the best heir, like an... alpha worg," Thrall said, spreading his hands. "I don't understand it."
"You'd be surprised how many royal women are treated like broodmares," Jaina said, her lips twisting into a smile that was not entirely pleasant. "But most at least are given the option of finding someone they can care for, if not love." She fingered briefly at something under her robes, resting just over her heart before her hand fell away and back to her side. "Wild love affairs tend to get in the way of a lot of things."
"You're speaking of your relationship with the Prince of Lordaeron," Thrall said gently, and Jaina flinched, but nodded. "You mentioned that your memories of him are painful."
"Bittersweet, we'll say," Jaina said, and looked out towards the ocean. "Arthas never once lacked passion, just... restraint. I never once doubted that he loved me, or that he loved being right." She shook her head slightly. "We were to be married."
Thrall swallowed. "I'm sorry," he said simply. "I shouldn't have brought this to you--"
"No, don't regret it," Jaina said softly. "Wait, just a moment." She reached up, pulling out a pendant, and showed it to Thrall. The pendant was a sapphire, set on a silver backing. She flipped it over, running her thumb over the inscription on the back of it. "He gave this to me. We both knew rings were impractical since I need to keep my hands free for casting spells, and this was the next most appropriate thing." She let it settle over her heart. "I'm not sure why I still wear it. What we had will never return."
"You love him," Thrall replied simply. "No matter what happened, you still love him."
"Perhaps," Jaina said softly. "But love shouldn't stop you from doing what's right. I should have stopped him, Thrall. I could have taken the risk that I could have teleported him away from Stratholme before his guards overpowered me. I could have convinced him if I'd worked a little harder. I--"
"You couldn't have known where his path would lead," Thrall said, his voice low and intense. "No more than I knew that sending Grom into Ashenvale would deliver him into the hands of the demons again, or that he would kill a demigod. You said yourself we have to learn to forgive ourselves for the mistakes that we've made."
"Have you forgiven yourself, Thrall?" Jaina asked quietly.
Thrall closed his eyes, remembering the sight of Grom's eyes, the red in them fading out first, then the light in them extinguishing. "Not entirely."
"We both carry burdens," Jaina replied. "But I can shed one, right now." Thrall's eyes opened as he heart the soft pop of a clasp being broken.
"Jaina?" Thrall asked. "What are you--"
The human sorceress was facing the ocean already, her broken necklace in her hand. "I can't forgive you for what you've done, Arthas. You're a monster and a murderer. I won't let you make my life miserable any more, and if I see you again, all you'll be is my enemy. I swear it, by the Light, and by my father's grave." Shifting her weight, she threw the pendant into the ocean, and Thrall noted she had both excellent form and aim. She turned to Thrall, giving him a shaky grin. "Now, let's go back to talking about your problem."
Thrall chuckled, and offered her his arm. She took it, and they began to walk again. "A mate."
"A mate," Jaina agreed. "What is it that you're looking for in one?"
"I've told you about my parents, haven't I?" Thrall asked quietly, and Jaina nodded. "Everything I'm told about my people is that our women respect strength. Power. There's nothing wrong with that, but..."
"You want to know that the person you're mating with won't be leaving you the moment you don't have the same power that you used to," Jaina guessed, and when Thrall nodded, she continued. "It's a long way to fall."
"My mother didn't abandon my father when he refused to drink the blood of demons. She didn't abandoned him when he was faced with exile," Thrall sighed. "I want to be more to someone than just a powerful leader. I want what they had."
"It takes a special kind of strength and devotion to stand by someone, even if things are hard," Jaina said, and squeezed Thrall's arm. "Not blind devotion, of course. Just the ability to see what's worth standing by, and what's worth walking away from. Any woman would be a fool to walk away from you, Thrall."
Thrall smiled over at the human sorceress, noting the way the last, stray bits of illumination from the lighthouse caught her hair. "Thank you, Jaina. I hope that my future mate will agree with you."
She smiled back, and tugged lightly at his arm. "Come on, there's a place not too far from here with a fascinating tidal pool I want to show you. There's some sea life I've never seen until I came to Kalimdor."
"That does sound intriguing," Thrall agreed, and let her lead him down the beach.
~ * ~
"You aren't even seeing them any more," Garona commented. She wasn't dressed as a guard right now: clad in the dark leathers of a killer, she had her hair tied back tightly. Thrall could only regret that the deaths of some that were necessary for the good of all were kept in the shadows where the best assassins worked. "What's wrong now?"
"It's just not working out," Thrall said, looking up from his work. This spellcasting was complicated, he wanted the far seeing spell to be permanent, and this was simply not working as intended. "There is nothing wrong with the women you're throwing at me--"
Garona straightened. "We're not--"
"You are," Thrall countered. "As I was saying, there is nothing wrong with any of them, I wish them all the very best in the future, and each is an invaluable member of the Horde, but... they aren't what I want. It would be unfair of me to imply that they were. I appreciate the time I've spent with them, but I don't want any of them as my mate, Garona."
"Your heir--" Garona protested, and Thrall cut her off with a gesture.
"Consider that I have been the Warchief of this Horde for a scant handful of years," Thrall said. "I have the time to find someone, even if I father no children." He met Garona's scowl with a steady gaze. "I know you fear another Doomhammer, or another Blackhand. I will never allow a blood-crazed dictator to rule this Horde. We have moved beyond that point, and it is time that everyone started to believe it."
Garona pressed her lips together, and he could see her tiny tusks bite into them. "As you say, Warchief."
"No," Thrall said, standing. Garona shifted. "Not because I say it, but because it's true. I'm not a dictator, Garona. If I'm wrong, tell me that I am wrong."
His spymistress met his eyes, and there was silence. He sighed, and began to turn away. "Wait," she said, her voice softened to a mere whisper. "I think you're an idealist and a fool if you believe that three decades of bloodlust and hate can be turned away by words alone. I think that you need to secure your legacy because I can't protect you from your own idealism forever. I know the danger on relying on one, charismatic leader that if you lose them, you lose the whole war..." She looked down at her hands, seeing the bloodstains there. Thrall's hands moved over hers.
"I can't promise you that I won't die," Thrall replied. "What I can promise you is that Orgrimmar will not fall as Stormwind did, if nothing else, because Orgrimmar has an extremely paranoid guardian." He offered her a smile, and she scowled at him, snatching her hands away.
"If someone gets that close to you, I'll cut their heart out, and I'll offer it to Snowsong on a spit," she groused. "I still think you're a fool."
"Of course I am," Thrall said, chuckling. "Now, then, you might want to change before someone sees you. Jaina's coming to help me with this."
"Naturally," Garona snorted. "You're not helping the rumours, you know."
Thrall paused. "Rumours?"
She snorted again. "I'm sure you'll hear them soon enough." She shifted, and then was gone, melting into the shadows as a fish cuts through water. Thrall shook his head, and began preparations to begin the spell again.
~ * ~
"There, I think that should work," Jaina said. She waved her hand over the scrying bowl, and while the image rippled, it still showed the face of Seereth Stonebreak. "You should be able to keep communications open between different parts of your holdings."
"Perfect," Thrall commented, glancing down as Seereth's lips moved in an invitation. He jostled the bowl, unbalancing the delicate spell and she disappeared. "Damn it, all..."
"We'll fix it," Jaina said soothingly, smiling warmly at Thrall. "It might be dangerous to have an unstable elemental connection. If you didn't need visual communication, I could try and find some crystal or rock that would be appropriate."
"Like the runes you made for us," Thrall noted, and she nodded, tucking a lock of golden hair behind her ear. "Would they be as reliable?"
"They might not be," Jaina admitted. "Not without a mage to maintain them."
"I could ask one of my advisors to take care of it," Thrall replied thoughtfully.
"Well, you have a number of options," Jaina commented. "We could discuss them some place more comfortable than the floor?"
"Like over dinner?" Thrall suggested, and offered her his hand. She took it gratefully and stood, stretching her back, exposing a long, bare expanse of skin. His gaze lingered only for an instant before forcing himself to meet her eyes. "I believe you haven't dined here since the winter harvests came in."
"A slight I promise to rectify," Jaina said, and resumed her natural posture, her bodice moving back into place to cover her stomach neatly. "After you, Warchief."
"Sorceress," Thrall replied, though the warmth of his tone belied the formal titles they were using. Thrall sent out orders to bring dinner to his quarters, and promising himself he would clean up the ritual later, guided her to a small, rustic table. She sat, tucking her feet back behind the legs of the chair. The chatted amiably until dinner arrived.
Thrall noted that those that brought the meal gave Jaina a curious look, and then himself, and he found himself conscious of the simple garb he'd chosen to wear when working on this particular magical problem, and the streaks of dirt on Jaina's knees and his own elbows and forearms. Immediately, he sought out Garona, who was impassive behind her helm.
"Why is it you've taken such a sudden interest in communication?" Jaina asked curiously, digging into her food, distracting Thrall from his thoughts.
"Kalimdor is a large continent, and we can't afford to have more accidents or incidents just because of misunderstandings, particularly when they only take a few minutes of conversation to clear up." Thrall watched as Jaina stiffened, but nodded. "It's why you made the runes we both carry, and it's why I want to be able to talk to our furthest outposts."
"It's a good idea," Jaina replied, and Thrall winced as he watched Jaina's expression fight to stay neutral. "Of course, I'll help however I can. I want there to be no more accidents, just as you do."
"I appreciate your help, Jaina," Thrall said, catching her gaze. "Not just because of what could happen, or what has happened, but because I believe we are friends. I enjoy the time that we spend together."
"Thrall, I..." Jaina paused, and blinked rapidly as her eyes grew bright. "Thank you. Of course we're friends. Of course."
"Good," Thrall said, letting relief trickle into his voice. "Once we finish eating, it can be my turn to show you our shoreline."
"I'd like that," Jaina said, and dug into her meal with enthusiasm.
I must stay friends with Jaina, Thrall thought, digging into his meal. I can't allow something so valuable to atrophy, and I won't. His silent vow gave him both appetite and strength, even as he felt Garona's eyes on him.
Part 2
I should mention I almost entirely ignore the WoW Comic, and use pre-World of Warcraft canon for a lot of things. I make reference to this fic and this one.
Title: Unity
Part: 1 of ? (I have no idea. They won't stop talking)
Word Count: 4286 (of this part)
Warnings: Implied sex, actual sex, orc/human, mentioned death and suicide, angst.
Pairings: Mentioned Thrall/Others, primarily Thrall/Jaina. Mentioned past Arthas/Jaina and past one-sided Kael/Jaina.
Summary: The matter of Thrall's heir has come up, and Garona is determined he'll find a mate. Thrall isn't so certain.
"What's wrong with this one?" Garona asked wearily. She disliked having to wear the heavy, gold-and-black armor of the Kor'Kron elite. It reminded her too much of Doomhammer, though she bore it grimly. There was no reason for Thrall to make a change specifically for her, so she tolerated it. She had far more important things to do, like express her concern for Thrall's habits.
"There isn't anything wrong with Sergra," Thrall said, retrieving his pants. "She's perfectly nice."
"She's going back to the Crossroads," Garona said pointedly, and Thrall paused to give her a look, half-exasperated, half-weary.
"It's where she was assigned," the Warchief of the Horde replied evenly. "She discussed it at great length over dinner. She's more than happy to go."
"It didn't occur to you to ask her to stay?" the Horde's spymistress asked, folding her arms over her chest.
"Not really," Thrall said, frowning. "Why should I? It was dinner, Garona, and sex afterward. We made no promises to each other. She wasn't offended by it. I made sure of that."
"I'm sure you did," Garona said sourly. "Are you aware you have no heir?"
"Having an heir was never an issue for my predecessors," Thrall told her flatly, pulling on his pants and fastening them, then retrieving his shirt. "The Horde isn't a monarchy. People are selected because of their strength and their influences."
"And do you think that human kings have no strength?" Garona asked, her voice shaking with emotion before stomping down on it, though not before seeing the look of worry in Thrall's eyes. "The succession of the Horde has been, so far, largely been due to two factors: assassination and intimidation. Blackhand ruled through backing from the Shadow Council, and Doomhammer because he assassinated him. Most of the time, within the clans, leadership is passed on through one strong line, until it breaks, or someone else breaks it. As it stands right now, if something should happen to you, the Horde would descend into chaos."
"I think you underestimate our people," Thrall said stiffly. "We're free of the curse of the demons, we've embraced the old ways--"
"And how much of the old ways do you think weren't soaked in blood?" Garona hissed. "Do you think that we simply fell into the demons' hands as innocents? The legacy of bloodshed has existed longer than you or I has been alive. Older than Durotan, than Garad, older than anyone in living memory. We exist in relative peaceful harmony because you desire it so. If you were a warmonger, we would be at war."
"It's what people want," Thrall said softly. "We've had enough of war, enough of conflict. Kalimdor is our chance to start over, to gather allies and make a real change to our society."
"And those who would fight the humans again in a moment if you allowed it?" Garona asked quietly. "Naz'grel? He was more than happy to fight our 'allies' when he thought they were causing trouble. What about our friends in Ratchet? Those who have to deal daily with Northwatch Keep? It's only a word from you away, Thrall." She moved forward, a single, dextrous gesture taking Thrall's shirt from him, and rearranging it, then handing it back to him. "Listen to me. If you have an heir, you want one that will carry on your ideals, and that way, if something should happen to you, all of this--" she gestured around her "--won't come crashing down on us all, or our allies. Tauren, human and troll alike."
Thrall gave her a wordless look, one that was part frustration and part fear. "I have a meeting," he said finally. "I need to go."
Garona snorted softly, having made her point clear. "With whom?"
"One of my allies," Thrall said, tugging his shirt on. Briefly, he caressed the silver necklace that he wore. Sergra had commented on it; everyone who shared his bed did at some point or another. Garona, who had seen him naked or near-naked more often than he cared to consider, never had. Taretha's memory weighed heavily on him still. It hadn't been so long ago, and he wished he could speak to his sister about this.
"Say hello to Lady Proudmoore for me, then," Garona said, turning to leave, knowing that Thrall never once had, namely because Garona's existence within the Horde was one of the secrets that the Warchief kept from his human friend.
"Hm," was all Thrall said in reply.
~ * ~
Jaina's guards had learned to expect the large figure, cloaked and wrapped in shadow, and knew precisely what to do. Two guards brought Thrall to the receiving room within Jaina's tower, and left after bowing. There, Thrall was met by Jaina's majordomo, a young human woman with dark hair and green eyes, who smiled warmly, and offered Thrall a drink. She was wise enough not to comment on the large, green hands that emerged to take whatever liquid refreshment was offered -- something cool in the summer or something warm during the winter -- but simply tell him when Jaina would be free to see him.
It was here he waited, sipping hot mint tea, and looking around. He'd been in this room enough times to remember where each map was -- there were detailed images of Kul Tiras, Theramore, Dustwallow Marsh and Kalimdor, and Thrall's eyes fell to Orgrimmar's location with perfect accuracy, and he could picture his people going about their daily lives, some selling goods, others buying. He could imagine the patrols as they moved in and out of Grommash Hold, the shamans whispering over fires that smoked from herbs, and more.
"I had the best mapmakers I could find draw those," Jaina said softly, startling him from his study of the map. "My father always said that a sailor is only as good as the map he follows and the tools he uses to navigate." As always, when she spoke of her father, there was a sad wistfulness, and Thrall turned. "Welcome to Theramore."
"Jaina..." Thrall said softly, and smiled at her gently. "It's good to be back. Your kingdom is beautiful, as always."
"I'm proud of what my people have built," Jaina replied, nodding her head. "How is Orgrimmar?"
Thrall moved forward, and let the cloak that covered him fall away. He folded it over one arm, and offered her the free one. She took it, tucking small fingers into the crook of his elbow. With a gesture, she teleported them to her private office. She moved away from him and sat gracefully in the chair that sat behind her desk. It was brown, and when empty, seemed to dwarf her, though she filled it effortlessly.
Thrall set his cloak down, and sat on one of the broad, wooden couches. It supported his weight easily, and he let his eyes wander over shelves of books, scrolls and odd, arcane artifacts. On one wall hung what looked like the steering wheel of a ship, and raised an eyebrow.
"My father's ship," Jaina said simply, following his gaze. "We recovered it during the clean up efforts. It's a reminder."
"Jaina..." Thrall began, his voice soft with regret. "You shouldn't--"
"It's a reminder that no sacrifice is too great for lasting peace," Jaina said, and if her voice was slightly sharp, Thrall would not say anything. "We should begin the meeting."
Thrall sighed, very softly. "Of course." He let Jaina begin, and watched her as she went over her notes, discussing Theramore's expansion efforts, and the state of the fishing fleets. She was animated when she spoke, and her voice swelled with pride as she spoke of Shady Rest, the border town between the southern Barrens and western Dustwallow that catered to humans and orcs alike, and was expanding for comfortable quarters that would suit unusual-sized humanoids like the tauren.
Then, it was Thrall's turn, and he too warmed to his subject matter: Durotar's farming communities were growing, and while he had little experience with it himself, he was confident when his people told him that they were yielding well. There was still news of the veteran warriors taking their own lives, but Thrall had made a dozen provisions to help those old warriors. Jaina's expression had turned sympathetic, having spoken to Thrall about it. They understood one another, and Jaina's empathy had given Thrall the strength to discuss their future projects, including their expansion into Stonetalon, and down into a place the tauren called the Thousand Needles, named after the huge rock formations that had been formed by a river that had long since dried up.
"Something else troubles you," Jaina said softly, and Thrall watched as she stood, and moved close to him to sit on the couch beside him. "What is it?" She touched his shoulder lightly. "Haven't we always said we could trust each other?"
Thrall's mind drifted back towards his discussion with Garona. "My advisors are concerned that I have no heir," he began awkwardly. "They're obsessed with the notion."
"Hm," Jaina said quietly. "Succession has always been an important part of human and elven politics. Most of our lines trace through royalty, or at least, the founder of a nation. Elven royalty traces their line back from Dath'remar the Sun Strider, the founder of Silvermoon. Dwarves were originally ruled by a single Thane, or King, but they factionalized when he died with no heir, and those factions went to war."
"The War of the Three Hammers," Thrall said, his heart sinking. "Resolved when two factions sided together to eliminate a dangerous foe, that only succeeded in blowing himself and his council of advisors up by summoning a force they couldn't control."
"Exactly," Jaina said. "The gnomes... the gnomes are very curious. Dalaran often invites gnome speakers to lecture classes about their system of government." She paused, and when Thrall shook his head slightly, she continued. "They are a meritocracy. Their High Tinker is the best inventor within Gnomeregan. Every gnome must invent something, but the High Tinker is the most accomplished of them."
"How is the condition of 'best' determined?" Thrall asked curiously. "It seems very subjective."
"They come to a consensus," Jaina said. "Gnomes take innovation very seriously. It's unfortunate that so many of their inventions are unstable without constant maintenance, things would be a lot easier if we could incorporate their work into everyday life. I'm lucky that the force that came with me did... they all work very hard."
"In some ways, they sound like goblins, though their main goal is to turn a profit," Thrall said, shaking his head. "Sometimes, I wonder why they bother with us at all."
"A merchant isn't much of a merchant with no one to buy or sell from," Jaina said, smiling wistfully. "A merchant needs trading partners, and for that... negotiation and diplomacy. We're all tied together. No person is an island."
"True enough," Thrall agreed, though his mind drifted back to Garona's words. "Is it possible for a single person to be so influential that wars stop and start on their command?"
"It's possible," Jaina admitted. "If they develop enough of a cult of personality, perhaps. It's a dangerous position to be in, Thrall. When everyone starts relying on you not to make a mistake, you realize very quickly how many mistakes you have made." She bowed her head, and her blonde locks fell in a curtain around her face.
Slowly, so he didn't startle her, he moved to tuck the hair behind one of her ears. "Is there a way to undo that kind of influence?"
She looked up at him, slightly startled. "Not without hurting far too many people. You learn to live with it... and try to forgive yourself when you do make a mistake."
"I thought that might be so," Thrall said, his hand dropping to his lap with a sigh. He felt warmth against his hand, and saw Jaina's hand, resting against his fingers.
"There's more to it than that, isn't there?" she asked softly. "Tell me about it? You told me once to unburden myself to you. The least I can do is listen while you do the same."
"Could we go for a walk?" Thrall asked after a moment, letting Jaina's words resonate within his chest. "I think I'd prefer to discuss it somewhere a little less formal."
"I think I can get us down to the coast without being seen," Jaina said, standing. "You'll need to wear the cloak, I'm afraid."
"Trust me, I can understand a need for privacy." Thrall stood as well, towering over the human sorceress as he concealed the most distinctive of his features -- green skin and coarse, dark hair -- behind the cloak. Runes formed around them, and then they were away.
~ * ~
The cove was not the most scenic place they could have gone. It did not have the best view of the ocean, nor was it particularly intimate. Instead, it was a stretch of grey sand that was just missed by the beam coming from the lighthouse that swept over Theramore's coast, and as far as Thrall was concerned, that was just fine.
He walked slowly beside Jaina, their footprints leaving -- deep in his case, shallow in hers -- marks as they made their way down the shoreline. "My advisors are paranoid about the situation involving my having a mate," Thrall said, though the words were difficult to manage. It had been easy to be frank with Garona, but with Jaina, it took more effort. "The wrong heir could plunge the Horde back into warfare with the Alliance." And you, he did not add, but his silence implied it enough.
"Then you'll just have to find the right one," Jaina said with a smile. "They specifically want you to have a child?"
"It seems to be their belief that I will sire the best heir, like an... alpha worg," Thrall said, spreading his hands. "I don't understand it."
"You'd be surprised how many royal women are treated like broodmares," Jaina said, her lips twisting into a smile that was not entirely pleasant. "But most at least are given the option of finding someone they can care for, if not love." She fingered briefly at something under her robes, resting just over her heart before her hand fell away and back to her side. "Wild love affairs tend to get in the way of a lot of things."
"You're speaking of your relationship with the Prince of Lordaeron," Thrall said gently, and Jaina flinched, but nodded. "You mentioned that your memories of him are painful."
"Bittersweet, we'll say," Jaina said, and looked out towards the ocean. "Arthas never once lacked passion, just... restraint. I never once doubted that he loved me, or that he loved being right." She shook her head slightly. "We were to be married."
Thrall swallowed. "I'm sorry," he said simply. "I shouldn't have brought this to you--"
"No, don't regret it," Jaina said softly. "Wait, just a moment." She reached up, pulling out a pendant, and showed it to Thrall. The pendant was a sapphire, set on a silver backing. She flipped it over, running her thumb over the inscription on the back of it. "He gave this to me. We both knew rings were impractical since I need to keep my hands free for casting spells, and this was the next most appropriate thing." She let it settle over her heart. "I'm not sure why I still wear it. What we had will never return."
"You love him," Thrall replied simply. "No matter what happened, you still love him."
"Perhaps," Jaina said softly. "But love shouldn't stop you from doing what's right. I should have stopped him, Thrall. I could have taken the risk that I could have teleported him away from Stratholme before his guards overpowered me. I could have convinced him if I'd worked a little harder. I--"
"You couldn't have known where his path would lead," Thrall said, his voice low and intense. "No more than I knew that sending Grom into Ashenvale would deliver him into the hands of the demons again, or that he would kill a demigod. You said yourself we have to learn to forgive ourselves for the mistakes that we've made."
"Have you forgiven yourself, Thrall?" Jaina asked quietly.
Thrall closed his eyes, remembering the sight of Grom's eyes, the red in them fading out first, then the light in them extinguishing. "Not entirely."
"We both carry burdens," Jaina replied. "But I can shed one, right now." Thrall's eyes opened as he heart the soft pop of a clasp being broken.
"Jaina?" Thrall asked. "What are you--"
The human sorceress was facing the ocean already, her broken necklace in her hand. "I can't forgive you for what you've done, Arthas. You're a monster and a murderer. I won't let you make my life miserable any more, and if I see you again, all you'll be is my enemy. I swear it, by the Light, and by my father's grave." Shifting her weight, she threw the pendant into the ocean, and Thrall noted she had both excellent form and aim. She turned to Thrall, giving him a shaky grin. "Now, let's go back to talking about your problem."
Thrall chuckled, and offered her his arm. She took it, and they began to walk again. "A mate."
"A mate," Jaina agreed. "What is it that you're looking for in one?"
"I've told you about my parents, haven't I?" Thrall asked quietly, and Jaina nodded. "Everything I'm told about my people is that our women respect strength. Power. There's nothing wrong with that, but..."
"You want to know that the person you're mating with won't be leaving you the moment you don't have the same power that you used to," Jaina guessed, and when Thrall nodded, she continued. "It's a long way to fall."
"My mother didn't abandon my father when he refused to drink the blood of demons. She didn't abandoned him when he was faced with exile," Thrall sighed. "I want to be more to someone than just a powerful leader. I want what they had."
"It takes a special kind of strength and devotion to stand by someone, even if things are hard," Jaina said, and squeezed Thrall's arm. "Not blind devotion, of course. Just the ability to see what's worth standing by, and what's worth walking away from. Any woman would be a fool to walk away from you, Thrall."
Thrall smiled over at the human sorceress, noting the way the last, stray bits of illumination from the lighthouse caught her hair. "Thank you, Jaina. I hope that my future mate will agree with you."
She smiled back, and tugged lightly at his arm. "Come on, there's a place not too far from here with a fascinating tidal pool I want to show you. There's some sea life I've never seen until I came to Kalimdor."
"That does sound intriguing," Thrall agreed, and let her lead him down the beach.
~ * ~
"You aren't even seeing them any more," Garona commented. She wasn't dressed as a guard right now: clad in the dark leathers of a killer, she had her hair tied back tightly. Thrall could only regret that the deaths of some that were necessary for the good of all were kept in the shadows where the best assassins worked. "What's wrong now?"
"It's just not working out," Thrall said, looking up from his work. This spellcasting was complicated, he wanted the far seeing spell to be permanent, and this was simply not working as intended. "There is nothing wrong with the women you're throwing at me--"
Garona straightened. "We're not--"
"You are," Thrall countered. "As I was saying, there is nothing wrong with any of them, I wish them all the very best in the future, and each is an invaluable member of the Horde, but... they aren't what I want. It would be unfair of me to imply that they were. I appreciate the time I've spent with them, but I don't want any of them as my mate, Garona."
"Your heir--" Garona protested, and Thrall cut her off with a gesture.
"Consider that I have been the Warchief of this Horde for a scant handful of years," Thrall said. "I have the time to find someone, even if I father no children." He met Garona's scowl with a steady gaze. "I know you fear another Doomhammer, or another Blackhand. I will never allow a blood-crazed dictator to rule this Horde. We have moved beyond that point, and it is time that everyone started to believe it."
Garona pressed her lips together, and he could see her tiny tusks bite into them. "As you say, Warchief."
"No," Thrall said, standing. Garona shifted. "Not because I say it, but because it's true. I'm not a dictator, Garona. If I'm wrong, tell me that I am wrong."
His spymistress met his eyes, and there was silence. He sighed, and began to turn away. "Wait," she said, her voice softened to a mere whisper. "I think you're an idealist and a fool if you believe that three decades of bloodlust and hate can be turned away by words alone. I think that you need to secure your legacy because I can't protect you from your own idealism forever. I know the danger on relying on one, charismatic leader that if you lose them, you lose the whole war..." She looked down at her hands, seeing the bloodstains there. Thrall's hands moved over hers.
"I can't promise you that I won't die," Thrall replied. "What I can promise you is that Orgrimmar will not fall as Stormwind did, if nothing else, because Orgrimmar has an extremely paranoid guardian." He offered her a smile, and she scowled at him, snatching her hands away.
"If someone gets that close to you, I'll cut their heart out, and I'll offer it to Snowsong on a spit," she groused. "I still think you're a fool."
"Of course I am," Thrall said, chuckling. "Now, then, you might want to change before someone sees you. Jaina's coming to help me with this."
"Naturally," Garona snorted. "You're not helping the rumours, you know."
Thrall paused. "Rumours?"
She snorted again. "I'm sure you'll hear them soon enough." She shifted, and then was gone, melting into the shadows as a fish cuts through water. Thrall shook his head, and began preparations to begin the spell again.
~ * ~
"There, I think that should work," Jaina said. She waved her hand over the scrying bowl, and while the image rippled, it still showed the face of Seereth Stonebreak. "You should be able to keep communications open between different parts of your holdings."
"Perfect," Thrall commented, glancing down as Seereth's lips moved in an invitation. He jostled the bowl, unbalancing the delicate spell and she disappeared. "Damn it, all..."
"We'll fix it," Jaina said soothingly, smiling warmly at Thrall. "It might be dangerous to have an unstable elemental connection. If you didn't need visual communication, I could try and find some crystal or rock that would be appropriate."
"Like the runes you made for us," Thrall noted, and she nodded, tucking a lock of golden hair behind her ear. "Would they be as reliable?"
"They might not be," Jaina admitted. "Not without a mage to maintain them."
"I could ask one of my advisors to take care of it," Thrall replied thoughtfully.
"Well, you have a number of options," Jaina commented. "We could discuss them some place more comfortable than the floor?"
"Like over dinner?" Thrall suggested, and offered her his hand. She took it gratefully and stood, stretching her back, exposing a long, bare expanse of skin. His gaze lingered only for an instant before forcing himself to meet her eyes. "I believe you haven't dined here since the winter harvests came in."
"A slight I promise to rectify," Jaina said, and resumed her natural posture, her bodice moving back into place to cover her stomach neatly. "After you, Warchief."
"Sorceress," Thrall replied, though the warmth of his tone belied the formal titles they were using. Thrall sent out orders to bring dinner to his quarters, and promising himself he would clean up the ritual later, guided her to a small, rustic table. She sat, tucking her feet back behind the legs of the chair. The chatted amiably until dinner arrived.
Thrall noted that those that brought the meal gave Jaina a curious look, and then himself, and he found himself conscious of the simple garb he'd chosen to wear when working on this particular magical problem, and the streaks of dirt on Jaina's knees and his own elbows and forearms. Immediately, he sought out Garona, who was impassive behind her helm.
"Why is it you've taken such a sudden interest in communication?" Jaina asked curiously, digging into her food, distracting Thrall from his thoughts.
"Kalimdor is a large continent, and we can't afford to have more accidents or incidents just because of misunderstandings, particularly when they only take a few minutes of conversation to clear up." Thrall watched as Jaina stiffened, but nodded. "It's why you made the runes we both carry, and it's why I want to be able to talk to our furthest outposts."
"It's a good idea," Jaina replied, and Thrall winced as he watched Jaina's expression fight to stay neutral. "Of course, I'll help however I can. I want there to be no more accidents, just as you do."
"I appreciate your help, Jaina," Thrall said, catching her gaze. "Not just because of what could happen, or what has happened, but because I believe we are friends. I enjoy the time that we spend together."
"Thrall, I..." Jaina paused, and blinked rapidly as her eyes grew bright. "Thank you. Of course we're friends. Of course."
"Good," Thrall said, letting relief trickle into his voice. "Once we finish eating, it can be my turn to show you our shoreline."
"I'd like that," Jaina said, and dug into her meal with enthusiasm.
I must stay friends with Jaina, Thrall thought, digging into his meal. I can't allow something so valuable to atrophy, and I won't. His silent vow gave him both appetite and strength, even as he felt Garona's eyes on him.
Part 2