Big green Warchief/Sorceress of the Alliance romance. MUHAHAHAHAA!

[Weiila]

Aand now we end this chapter! Or not, I’m not sure if I think the ending is enough, but it works for now. I just need to decide how to continue with the next chapter.

With relief, he saw how the meal refreshed her and gave her new strength to sit straight and proud. She made him peel more than just the first orange, the sweet taste with its sour tang apparently to her taste.

 Yet there was something on his mind, and when she finally pushed her tray aside with a grateful sigh, he chose to breach the subject. 

“I’m very happy to see you again,” he carefully started, “but why have you chosen to come here today, so suddenly?”

She watched him, hands in her lap.

“I had planned to visit your city someday,” she said. “The reason I arrived today is that the spirits told me that a great change would soon occur in your life. When your messenger arrived, I took it as a sign.”

Slowly, he nodded. This, that she would make her way to Orgrimmar, he had not expected, but although worry about what she might think clenched his gut he felt grateful. The idea of simply letting even her know after the fact had filled him with unease. It was not right. 

This was.

“Yes, and I’m glad to be able to tell you the truth face to face,” he said.

When they first met in Garadar, one of the many things he had told her was the story of the human leader who allied her people with his forces, and then rather betrayed her own father than the peace with the orcs. He had recounted his friendship with Jaina even past that, not only their battle against the Burning Blade but their meetings and his respect for her.

Geyah listened in silence as he told her the secret plans, face unmoving. 

“I had no intention to deceive you,” he finished. “But you must understand, there are many enemies of ours who would stop at nothing to hinder this. Therefore I did not send a clear message to you.”

She nodded, but it was a distracted motion. She listened to other voices than his for a moment, contemplating what she had been told already.

“This secrecy is not an orcish way of doing things,” she finally said.

“I know that well. But just last night, Jaina received a threat from one of Illidan Stormrage’s servants, the blood elf Prince Sunstrider. We need to be careful.”

“And what would it change, if your enemies learns of this before or after you take this human as your mate? Is the threat gone, then?” It was only half sarcastic, so it didn’t burn.

Thrall shook his head. 

“This is a political arrangement,” he said. “We wish to show both our peoples that war is out of the question. Once she officially becomes my mate, our lands, and the people, are one and the same even by human law. Certainly there will be threats and perhaps even attacks, but that will not change the situation.”

For a little while, she was silent, pondering.

“I have only seen a few humans, and never bothered to look too closely as most of them were dead,” she eventually said. “You spoke warmly of this Jaina before, but their kind are very different from us, aren’t they?”

It was a relief that she did not condemn him or call him foolish, despite the Alliance scouts making their way through Draenor, and her knowing what humans had done to orcs in the past.

Of course she had heard of the abuse that the orcs on Azeroth had suffered after the second war. He himself was the one who told her of his own childhood and youth as a slave under Blackmoore. Yet he had also told her of Taretha, and the battle on Hyjal was a highlight of his story. 

Neither did Geyah question what the orcs, and Jaina’s people, would have to say about this change. But orcs follow their leaders, not unquestioning at all times, but he sometimes felt that his race did know more about loyalty than humans. And who was ever to tell the Warchief who he could chose to share his life with?

“They are,” he agreed. “I’m sure you might think them strange looking, but I am used to them. She insists that she doesn’t mind, and I believe it’s true.”

“Hmm.”

He had anticipated her next words throughout the whole discussion, so much that his muscles were already tensed to action when she spoke.

“I would like to see this strange human woman.”

“It can be arranged.” He stood up and walked to the table where the magical rune laid. “But she doesn’t speak our language, apart from a few words. I will have to translate.”

His fingers curled around the stone, enclosing it in his hand. After a moment he loosened the grip and let the rune slide back onto the table, waited for a second and then grasped it again. Jaina and he had agreed, in the morning, that making the runes glow twice was a useful sign. They decided then that it was to signal the wish for an immediate meeting. He could not be sure that she saw her own rune right at the moment – she might be busy elsewhere. 

To be honest, he did not know whether to wish that she would notice the signal, or that she would not. In an ideal situation, all three of them should have gotten time to prepare for this kind of meeting. 

While waiting for the reply, he gave a quick explanation of what he was doing, as Geyah gave him a curious look. Hardly had he finished speaking before the rune in his hand glowed. He dropped it on the table, as a tingling sound rang out and Jaina appeared out of thin air in front of him, her mage’s staff in hand. 

“Did anything happen?” she asked, frown cutting deep into her forehead as a sign of how fresh Kael’thas’ threat remained in her mind.

She was tense, feet moved apart in a defensive stance beneath the white, flowing hem of her dress. Every bit a warrior ready to help defend the one who summoned her.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Thrall said, controlling his grin. Her appearance could not have been better. “Do you have a moment? My grandmother is here.”

Her shoulders sunk and the frown eased at his first sentence. The last one made her blink and look around. Geyah had not moved from her position on the rug, watching the two youngsters as intently as her sight allowed.

“I suppose I won’t need this, then,” Jaina said, composing herself admirably fast after this surprise. She leant the staff against the wall and followed Thrall to the rug.

As he sat down he indicated with his hand at Jaina to sit in front of Geyah – he placed himself so that he would be to the side, between them. Jaina moved to the spot he had motioned at, but paused to press a fist to her chest. 

“Throm-Ka,” she said.

 Geyah’s lips twitched the tiniest bit, but it was hard to say if it was because she appreciated the gesture, or amusement at Jaina’s accented Orcish. 

“Aka’Magosh,” Geyah replied, returning the greeting with a well-wish.

Silently praying to the spirits that this would go well as he was, Thrall felt a little more at ease at his grandmother’s warm tone. When Jaina sat down, the old woman leant forwards slightly and eyed the sorceress in silence for a few moments. This, Jaina bore with mostly calm, although her careful smile said that she was not sure what to expect. At no point, however, did she glance towards Thrall for help, but steadily watched Geyah the whole time.

Finally Geyah sat back and looked at her grandson.

“Does she always appear before you ready to do battle with any enemy you might face?” she asked, obviously amused.

“We are both a bit on edge after the threat from the blood elf prince,” Thrall replied. He could do nothing but smile.

“Fair enough. She reeks of magic, but the spirits do not flee from her.”

“I have never seen them do so. It is not our kind of magic, but neither is it the warlocks’ foul arts.”

Jaina listened to this brief conversation in Orcish with curiosity written on her face, but she calmly waited it out. One or two words here and there she probably recognized, but aside from that she could only rely on the tones and expressions of the two orcs for hints.

Shaking her head slightly, Geyah looked back to the human woman. The smile on the brown lips thoughtfully softened. 

“If you find her worthy, and she is willing, then that is well and good,” she said, turning her eyes towards Thrall again. “But can she bear a child of our blood?”

Thrall’s fingers curled until his nails dug into his palm. It was a worrisome subject she brought up, a sequel to that which he and Jaina had discussed during the night. Still, he turned to Jaina and translated Geyah’s concern, as well as the mild approval. The blonde, slowly lowering eyebrows showed that the words caused a feeling of worry, but Jaina did not look surprised in the least.

Finally, she slowly nodded and her face relaxed. 

“Orcs and humans can have children together, it’s a known fact,” she said, looking at Geyah first, then between her and Thrall as she continued. “I’m not afraid for my own sake. It can be done without harming the mother or the baby. But,” she watched Thrall from this word on, speaking softly, “any child of ours will have a near impossibly heavy legacy to bear.”

He reached out and touched her shoulder without thinking, the truth of her statement clenching his chest. It took a second before he turned his eyes away and translated to Geyah, who watched both of them in silence. 

“There are a number of half-orcs living in Orgrimmar, some with their parents,” he added to her.

Very few with more than one parent, however, for various reasons.

“She is wise to look that far ahead with such eyes.” Geyah watched Jaina’s face for a moment longer, then reached forwards and grasped one of her hands.

Jaina didn’t make a move to pull away, letting the brown, wrinkled hand turn her pink, smooth one over. The difference in color was as striking as that in size.

“You are not what I would have expected for a granddaughter-in-law,” Geyah said, speaking to Jaina directly for the first time. “I cannot say if it suits our traditions. But Go’el would make a home and not a conquered battlefield of this world, and you are a child of it. Since he thinks this highly of you, I will respect what the two of you have chosen to do.”

There was a certain wryness to her statement, especially with the slanted little smile. Thrall still translated all of it without softening the edges. Not as if Jaina could not handle it. Really, complete support would not only have been too much to ask for, but also bizarre.

He had not finished the translation when Jaina respectfully bowed her head, and she stayed that way all the way through.

“You truly honor me, Greatmother.”

Nodding as she heard the translation to Orcish, Geyah let go of Jaina’s hand and touched the younger woman’s forehead with two fingertips.

“Go with the spirits, brave human.”

She did not think twice of simply dismissing anybody. Thrall on the other hand gave Jaina an apologetic look when explaining, but she merely smiled and bowed her head again before standing up to collect her staff.

“I’m glad, very glad,” she said, turning to Thrall as he followed her.

“So am I.”

An indecisive moment passed, neither of them certain of what was proper for soon-to-be mates when saying goodbye in front of the Greatmother. They had no real traditions normally, it all depended on what mood they met in.

Finally Thrall touched Jaina’s shoulder again, and she nodded understanding.

“I will see you soon,” she murmured, and then she was gone. His hand sunk as the support disappeared, tingling briefly with the leftover magic.

He wondered if she would return in the night, but pushed the thought aside as he turned back to his grandmother. 

“I’m relieved that you do not think either of us foolish,” he said, sitting down before her.

“I think it very odd indeed,” she admitted with a shake of her head. “But you are the Warchief, and this is a wholly new world.”

“We came here for all the wrong reasons.”

“True. Embracing this world is probably a better solution.”

When he raised his eyebrows at her choice of words, she gave him a shrewd smile.

“I feel rested, and so should your arms,” she said before he could comment. “Now, show me the rest of your city.”

I swear, everyone’s mind is in the freakin’ gutter. At least Geyah is practical about it.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to catch some snores so that I can rise and shine and catch up on some reading tomorrow.

[Cless_Alvein]

Silently praying to the spirits that this would go well as he was, Thrall felt a little more at ease at his grandmother’s warm tone.

Did you mean “Silently praying to the spirits that this would go as well as he was hoping” (or something similar)?

[Rigmarole]

Hey, an Orcish grandmother is just like a human grandmother! Who knew?

but although worry about what she might think clenched his gut he felt grateful.

Comma Or Gummibärchen at least.

“Did anything happen?” she asked, frown cutting deep into her forehead as a sign of how fresh Kael’thas’ threat remained in her mind.

Can you try rephrasing the part about the frown? I think “as a sign of” feels a bit expository or superfluous.

What are you reading?

[Weiila]

You please me, my warriors, with this prey of fine little mistakes you bring before me. Indeed, you have proven yourself as hunters once again. Let us feast. Call in the dancing trolls! snaps fingers commandingly

Ahem.

Thanks for reading, I mean.

Oh, I’m just trying to get myself together and read some books that could be useful in my essay. Let’s see how that goes, because this heatwave isn’t making my brain any more cooperative. I think I’ll just copy notes of a battle scene I wrote while in Germany.

Oh, by the way, speaking of hunters returning with game, has anyone else seen this? It was back while I still played WoW, I was running through the Barrens with one of my alts. Just when I passed one of the watch towers along the way, an orc child comes running out of nowhere and runs up to one of the guards. The dialogue went something like this (it was over a year ago, criminy!):
Child: “I caught you a fish, if you’re hungry!”
Grunt: “Well done, boy. You honor the Horde.”

I just about melted on my chair :3

[Rigmarole]

Ah, we Orcs like the little green ones. (I’ve never managed to catch a fish).

[Weiila]

I came across the recepy for Saviate Savory Delight just by a random drop pretty early on with my first character, and learnt it even though I didn’t know what it was right then.

Guess where a good amount of my gold came from later Although I had to build up my fishing skill from pretty much scratch at level 40 when that happened.

[Weiila]

This chapter was a hoot to write, believe me It’s been largely finished since I begun working on this fic, but then I got lazy. Sowwy.

The days passed, as they are wont to do.

The sun rose above the horizon, painting the cliffs of Durotar in a deep, warm red. The city was already awakening before the shadows fled, because regardless of what they thought of humans, everyone could agree that the meeting on this day was a special occasion.

Thrall had slept surprisingly well, and only said goodbye to Jaina an hour ago. Walking through his throne room, surrounded by his warriors, he could not quite decide what he felt. A peculiar mix of tension and calm. So many things could go wrong, but the silent orcs in the hall were the ones who could prevent disaster. They had never failed him yet. 

Only the finest of orc warriors could hope to belong to the Kor’kron Elite. They had, however, gotten a handful of new members recently, a swelling in ranks seldom experienced before. All of them standing at perfect formation, unmoving, each one holding his or her helmet under one arm, as Thrall stepped up to throne. The Elites took up the right side of the throne room, and a large group of shamans dressed in various kinds of impressive armor stood on the left – just as attentive and silent.

Vol’jin, leading the blind Drek’Thar, followed Thrall, but they both stopped beneath the steps.

The doors to Grommash Hold were closed – the Warchief himself had just seen to that. Several Elites stood by the door to make sure nobody made it through, and trustable guards watched the first door – outside, where they could watch for spies but not hear a word from inside. 

“At ease,” Thrall said.

Metal clashed in the mighty armors as the Elites and shamans relaxed a little bit. 

“As you know,” the Warchief went on, “we will soon set off for Ratchet to meet with Lady Jaina Proudmoore of Theramore. It is of absolute importance that nobody, orc, human or otherwise, is harmed during this meeting. We are not going out to war, but to ensure peace between our countries. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, Warchief!”

It was borderline disconcerting how they all managed to speak almost at the same time. 

“Good. This is a meeting to reassure the non-aggression pact. You will stand guard around myself and Lady Proudmoore, as will a troop of mages and soldiers from her side. It will be in the open, and there will be a lot of people watching.” He frowned as he continued. “Lady Proudmoore has informed me that she recently received a direct threat from the renegade blood elf Prince Kael’thas Sunstrider in connection to this meeting.”

He let this sink in for a moment before he went on. Beside the grim Drek’Thar, Vol’jin let hear a low, long growl. 

“Lady Proudmoore could not tell whether this threat was meant to be carried out today or at a latter time, however,” Thrall said. “Yet there is an apparent risk that there will be an enemy attack targeting both sides. Should this happen, you will meet this assault together with the troops from Theramore. In the remote chance that an attack should strike and incapacitate Lady Proudmoore, her mages and soldiers are instructed to follow my orders. Similarly, should I be harmed, you will be under Lady Proudmoore’s command. Understood?”

“Yes, Warchief!”

The mere idea was appalling of course – both the possibility of the Warchief being struck down, and that they may have to take orders from a human. They bore this without a trace of doubt in their voices however. 

Thrall nodded, satisfied. 

“Lady Proudmoore and I will bring forth several issues during the meeting. To affirm the non-aggression pact, we will speak of the past. She will also voice an official thank you to the warriors who defeated the dragon Onyxia.”

Several of the new recruits threw smug glances towards each other, but nobody moved their heads. 

“Very well,” the Warchief said. “Now, what you are about to hear is absolutely confidential. You will not speak of this to anyone before or after we leave for Ratchet. Should this information reach the public before the meeting, it may drive any enemy of both Durotar and Theramore to make a desperate assault.”

Nobody said anything, but Vol’jin narrowed his eyes beneath a very deep frown. Drek’Thar too frowned, unseeing eyes turned towards the sound of his old apprentice’s voice. Whatever the Elites and shamans felt, they kept their faces admirably still – though more than one could not keep from watching the Warchief in confusion. 

Thrall turned momentarily towards the troll and old orc standing by. 

“I will now explain to you and everyone here why I called you to Orgrimmar from Alterac Valley, master Drek’Thar.” He turned back to the troops and grimly surveyed them. “At the end of the meeting…”

He told them. 

At least five helmets fell to the floor. 

Roughly at that time, many miles away, an entire room full of mages and soldiers, and the bishop of Theramore, stared at Jaina. Then Aegwynn threw her head back and laughed so heartily that she had to lean against the wall, having waited several days to see the reactions – and not being disappointed. 

Thrall folded his arms across his chest and looked over each and everyone in the very silent throne room.

“Any questions?” he asked, torchlight dancing over his fangs.

“Son of Durotan…”

Drek’Thar’s voice could have cut through steel armor. Not moving otherwise, the Warchief turned his head towards the old man – not allowing the sinking feeling in his heart to show. No words, no arguments or protest would dissuade Thrall from going through with what he and Jaina had set forth to do, but doing so without his honored teacher’s blessing would be a heavy blow. Perhaps Geyah’s support had given him too much hope for understanding?

“Yes, master Drek’Thar?” he said, keeping his voice neutral.

The aged shaman took in a deep breath. 

“What I find most shocking,” he slowly said, “is the fact that I am not as surprised as I should be.” He shook his head, and his grey braids rattled over the armor he wore. “This is the human who allowed her father to be killed rather than break her alliance with us.”

“Indeed. Among other things.” A renewed spark of hope touched Thrall’s heart, but he remained on guard.

A silence followed, as Drek’Thar pondered the situation for a moment – turning his head sideways as if to listen.

“I see,” he finally said in an unusually soft tone. “The spirits speak warmly of this. Your legacy as Warchief is indeed a curious one, Go’el.”

“Thank you,” Thrall said from the bottom of his soul. He then turned his attention to the next person. “I see you wish to speak as well, Vol’jin.”

The troll pursed his thick lips in front of tightly clenched teeth.

“I will not question your choices, Warchief,” Vol’jin said, his voice low but controlled. “But you know my feelings for the humans, and they be still the same.”

Thrall nodded, squaring his jaw. It was to be expected – for good reasons the troll never trusted the humans, but the suppressed dislike of the whole thing was disheartening. Vol’jin might accept it eventually, grudgingly – he [i]had [/i]to accept it, neither he nor Thrall could afford that kind of mistrust between them.

“But your Lady Proudmoore…”

Thrall looked up to see Vol’jin roll his head and shrug. 

“… she knows honor, I be givin’ her that,” the troll chieftain said. “I can’t say I’m fond of this trickery, but she has guts to marry an orc.”

“Quite.” Thrall could hardly keep from grinning triumphantly. The world’s opinion be damned – if he’d won the acceptance of those closest to him, his half of the battle was already won. Well, there were still Cairne, Sylvanas, and the blood elves, but he didn’t doubt that the tauren would find this an agreeable arrangement. No telling what Sylvanas and the rulers in Silvermoon would say. That would have to be dealt with in time.

To refrain from grinning he looked at the troops before him. Many of them still stared at him dazedly. Nobody had dared to move even to pick up their dropped helmets.

“That will be all,” the Warchief said. “We leave for Ratchet immediately.”

“Yes, Warchief!”

It was not so coordinated a shout this time, but they got it done. 

‘-‘

Thousands of people had gathered in the open space outside of Ratchet, and more would probably show up as the meeting wore on. Not that the finer politics interested the larger population, but the sight of orcs and humans gathering to speak with each other – and to boot, their leaders were out in the sun standing face to face – was something to tease others for missing.

Luckily, about half of the audience were goblins, largely inhabitants of Ratchet. They didn’t have reason to glare across the gap of space that separated the Alliance crowd from the Horde crowd. Whistles and challenges fouled the air, despite the growls from the goblin bouncers. Some of those people had been waiting since morning, securing themselves a good vantage point. They were getting impatient, and all those enemies were easy target practice for insults. Even better, with the knowledge that they wouldn’t dare come over here and return the favor with their fists, haha.

If one had listened, you could have heard dwarves and gnomes grumble about tall people being in the way – and you would also have heard blood elves and Forsaken grumble the same, glaring up at furry or green backs of happily oblivious allies. They would all have been offended if they knew they shared such intense sentiments across factional borders. 

Up on the southern cliffs, binoculars moved from numb hand to hand, as the Southsea Freebooters studied the situation. Of course, they had heard that there would be some kind of bigwig meeting today, but… 

After careful consideration, the pirates decided that this was a good day to lie very, very low.

Similar techniques to spy on the whole thing was used by Gazlowe, who sat in a comfy chair in his hut with a table of snacks and drink beside him. It had taken some tinkering, but the huge telescope of his observatory now offered his peering eye a perfect view of the meeting place. He would be able to count the hairs tickling the Warchief’s forehead, if he wanted.

Of course, by avoiding the crowd and hot sun Gazlowe would, logically, have deprived himself of the whole talking thing. This would have been a shame, had he not experimented with a series of funnels, threads and crystals and constructed a gadget up on the roof. Magic would amplify the leaders’ voices outside the town, Gazlowe’s invention would catch the words for him. (The idea behind the invention was, actually, stolen from a gnomish inventor. However, one would be wise not to mention that where a goblin could hear it.)

The goblin smirked to himself in satisfaction as he adjusted the telescope to take in a greater width of the area. 

It was finally getting started. 

An impressive amount of Orgrimmar grunts and Theramore soldiers marched up the road from Ratchet, to the great relief of the goblin bouncers. The grunts lined up in three rows against the Horde side of the audience, and the soldiers did the same on the other side. The goblins snuck down to create an inner circle, so that they at least would have somebody between themselves and the crowds.

Yet, as the arrival of more troops announced that the show was about to begin, the people on both sides actually began to settle down. The Warchief had ordered peace for this meeting, and the Horde would not disappoint him. So when all the orcs and their friends began to settle down, a sort of hivemind consciousness of the Alliance audience noticed this and resolved to not be any less civilized.

Hmph.

And so it was almost peaceful when two horns sounded from Ratchet, and even more people marched up the hill. Two groups, walking side by side, Kor’kron Elites and shamans almost chest to shoulder with Jaina’s Elite guards and mages. Surrounded by their troops, the Warchief and Lady Proudmoore approached the meeting spot. Vol’jin and Drek’Thar followed Thrall, Aegwynn walked just behind Jaina, closely followed by the bishop of Theramore. The old woman’s lips still twitched – the bishop, on the other hand, looked as if he desperately wanted to nervously pull at his white and golden robes. Vol’jin happened to glance aside and catch the look on the man’s face. It gave the aging witch doctor a good snicker. 

Two huge choirs of voices rose up as the leaders got within sight of the crowds, both sides enraptured in a childish attempt to cheer the loudest. They scared off all the curious seagulls, and probably every wild creature within a mile’s radius.

Well, at least that wasn’t a violent battle, and it had to end in a draw. 

The second wave of soldiers fanned out, creating an even narrower circle within that created by the grunts, soldiers and bouncers. Thrall and Jaina stepped into the center of that space. His armor clanged for every motion, the ocean wind pulled at her fine, pearly mage’s robes and cloak with Theramore’s golden anchor. Symbolically, neither of them carried weapons. Of course, everyone present knew that this didn’t make either of them less dangerous in the least.

The various Elite guards, human and orc alike, exchanged glances with each other across the circle. They remained serious, but the air crackled with shared knowledge – some tense excitement even, the kind that comes from knowing a red-hot secret, although most of them would be loath to admit feeling such. 

Thrall half turned and addressed the Horde’s present members, gazing above the heads of the guards.

“We are here today to forge a cease fire, my warriors,” he rumbled in Orcish, voice magically strengthened to be heard across the entire area. “Remember that.”

They answered him with cheers. Yes, they would play along since it was a direct order from the Warchief. As they silenced, Jaina spoke to the other half of the audience.

“Today is a day of no hostilities, and a hope for a more peaceful future,” she said. Her voice too reached even those in the back of the crowds. “Let us honor this hope as it deserves.”

Although Jaina did not have the kind of power within the Alliance that Thrall had within the Horde, her words got the same amount of cheers. Whether they respected her, or just wanted to show the monsters (and traitor elves) that they were united, the Alliance members hollered and yelled in a positive tone.

Good. 

The leaders turned to face each other. Thrall towered over Jaina, he in his full armor and she in those silk garments that looked as if they could not have stopped a needle from piercing them. That dress certainly [i]would[/i] have stopped even a dagger, though, with all the protective spells cast over it.

The two of them truly made a strange sight. Many would recall them just like that – a huge, monstrous warrior (a dragon?) and a lithe woman dressed in white (a princess?), much like a picture in a story book.

(Historical depictions of this moment would become a theme, until the silhouette of the two leaders facing each other turned into a symbol in itself. But that is a story of the future.) 

“I will speak Common from now on,” Thrall announced, changing from Orcish. “Although not ideal, it is what most of you will understand.”

Nobody dared to boo, even if some just now realized that they would be deprived the instant gist of the meeting. The quick ones grabbed the nearest civilian goblin to demand translations of what was to come.

As Thrall turned back to Jaina, she spoke.

“Today I once again greet you as a friend, Warchief Thrall, son of Durotan,” she said, bowing her head politely.

He returned the gesture.

“I too greet you as a friend, Lady Proudmoore, as we once were in the most dire hour of this world,” he said. “It is my hope that we can put an end to the hostilities between our people.”

“Theramore recognizes what Durotar, nay, the entire Horde did for us only a few weeks ago. Allow me to officially thank the heroes who slay the fearsome dragon Onyxia, ending her reign of terror and deceit.”

A cheer rose up amongst the Horde, answered more or less dutifully by the Alliance – mainly because Jaina’s guards applauded. The Kor’krons actually allowed themselves to look and grin at their novice members and their pride.

As the noise simmered down, Thrall spoke again and all else fell silent to listen. 

“Although the black dragons are a threat to us all, I would not sit idle and let their brood mother bring destruction upon my people’s old allies,” he said. “Theramore has done much to secure the seas for Durotar’s trading vessels, and for that I am grateful.”

Despite some whistles and snerks, this earned a cheer too. Not that the ship patrols were known to always be helpful to all, but they did help the goblins with the pirates in the area. Truth to be told, it was getting better, especially since Northwatch Hold got management with stricter ideas against shooting at everything that looked suspicious.  

“Today, let us remember not enmity,” Jaina said, calm voice urging silence of the crowds, “but what friendship between our people once made possible. In memory of that, and respect for what good the orcs have done through the years, I offer my hands in friendship.”

She symbolically held out both her hands, and Thrall took them.

Of course, he still dwarfed her. Still, there was something in that moment, many would agree, that made them look like perfect equals. It certainly felt that way.

“Though my people carry painful memories of humans, your people are not the same as those who would chain us,” Thrall said. Not completely true, no. But true enough, and in this moment nobody would argue. “You have proven yourselves as our friends in the past, and so it should continue. I accept your friendship and offer you mine, Lady Proudmoore.”

Neither of them moved to let go of each others’ hands. Thrall merely turned his hand slightly to the side.

“Drek’Thar, as your former student I ask you to call on the spirits’ blessing for this event,” he said.

Jaina too turned her head.

“And I ask bishop Geran to ask for the blessings of the Light,” she said.

The bishop had managed to get his facial expression under control, but one could see the sweat glistening on his forehead beneath his graying hair as he stepped forwards. From the other direction Drek’Thar approached, led by a small orc girl. He looked perfectly calm, while her eyes darted around in excitement and she desperately tried to keep her proud grin for this honor under control. 

Without help the blind shaman closed both his hands over Thrall’s right hand and Jaina’s left. Bishop Geran mimicked him, on the other side of the couple. He cleared his throat, and his voice rung out across the area just as the leaders’ had done. One could hear a slight shiver in his first few words, but then he sunk into the comfort of a practiced speech.

“The Light teaches us Compassion and Respect, as well as Tenacity. The Three Virtues speak not of battles, but to keep true to moral and kindness. To end fighting is to end suffering, and to work towards peace is the greatest virtue of all. Today many people stand here, seeing many enemies nearby. Yet there has been no bloodshed. Let us hope that this, as Lady Proudmoore and Warchief Thrall wishes, will mark a new era for this long suffering world.”

He took in a deep, steadying breath and continued.

“And may the Light forever shine upon these lands, and upon this path you both shall walk together from this moment onwards.”

In the Alliance side of the audience, far more than one person said something along the lines of “wait, what?” as that phrase got recognized for what it was. Some Forsaken with their memory of life intact did the same, along with a few blood elves, but most of the Horde had no reason to be familiar with these words.

Drek’Thar spoke in Orcish as the bishop fell silent, his voice perfectly under control and not a twitch to his lips giving away what he felt. However, he did lightly squeeze the smaller and bigger hand in his grip. The orc girl at his side stared up at him, mouth falling open. 

In the Horde side of the audience, far more than one person sputtered something in Orcish or their own language – because although they did not recognize the phrase the bishop had spoken, there was no mistaking the shaman’s words.

Orcs do not have marriage ceremonies, but when the head of a clan or a Warchief takes a mate, it is well to ask the spirits for their blessing – loud and clear. 

As Drek’Thar fell silent, Jaina glanced at the robed man to her right and gave a small nod. Bishop Geran took in a second deep breath.

“You may,” he only hesitated for the fracture of a moment, “kiss the bride.”

He let go of their hands and took a step back. So did Drek’Thar.

Silence spread over the crowds, so complete one could think that the whole area had been encased in ice. Only the seagulls kept shrieking in the background, unaware and uncaring.

Before the eyes of a sizable part of the population from both their countries, Jaina stretched upwards and – carefully, wary of his tusks – pressed her lips to Thrall’s as he bent down slightly to meet her.

Aegwynn’s voice rung out, every word making it clear that she had her fists on her hips and glared straight at every last person present. 

“Hail the Lord of Theramore!”

One may have added a “you cretins” to that, and it would have fit her tone perfectly. Even as the old sorceress spoke, Thrall turned towards the members of the Horde – every last one of them watching him and Jaina with their jaw dangling, mimicking the opposing side – and pointed at the blonde woman beside him with his entire hand.

“Amonmash hall!”

That broke the stunned silence, as the Kor’kron Elites, the Elite Guards, the shamans and the mages who had known the truth, all raised their voices in a roaring cheer. This roused the other guards in the area, and they followed suit despite their shock.

By then the goblins in the audience had realized just what they had witnessed, and they shrieked with giddy laughter rather than cheered.

The rest of the onlookers followed, hesitantly at first as they were still shaken. However, seeing that the other side cheered, hell, who were they to voice less support for their leader? 

Uh… leaders?

Orcs and (mainly Theramore) humans alike stared across the area at each other, and the looks on their faces actually made many around them laugh. That mingled with the cheer, until it overpowered the shock.

Oh, there certainly were those who grit their teeth and even shook their fists while shouting curses at this outrage and betrayal, but their voices drowned in the cheer of those swept along in the moment.

Jaina leaned her head against Thrall’s armored chest, his hand on her shoulder. Their gazes met, triumphant smiles spreading across their faces.

In his hut, Gazlowe woke from his shocked stupor, then grinned so hard it actually hurt – and that’s saying something for a goblin.

“Good show, pal. Good show!” he snickered.

Then he began laughing so hard that he fell off his chair. 

Author’s note on what Thrall shouts in Orcish:
I’m fully aware of the fact that I could have just used the language filter in WoW to create a full phrase. However, I don’t feel that that is real Orcish, and so I instead chose to play amateur language alchemist.

WoWwiki on Orcish:
“Hall” - Used in the salutation “Thrall Hall!”, probably means “honor” or something similar.
“Grommash” = “Giant’s Heart” (where Grom = giant)
“Lok’amon” = Traditional orcish song sung about starting a family.
“Lok’tra” = Traditional orcish song sung about a battle.
“Lok” appears in other sayings too. I assume “amon” means family then, so I’ve tinkered up a phrase that should by my logic mean “Heart of family hail/honor”, by which I mean that Thrall says “Hail my wife/mate”.

This is the result of my top grade in linguistics put into practical use. I would have wanted a word for “Warchief” in there to underscore “hail the wife/mate of the Warchief”, but according to WoWwiki “Orcs rely on context, repetition and volume to add emphasis or meaning” (emphasize mine), and there is no Orcish word for Warchief offered… so I suppose it works.

“Mashamon” sounds better than “Amonmash”, but looking at how those words up there work, I believe the “family” has to come first since it’s the possessive noun.

And as an aside…

Collins tilted his head, studying his friend curiously as all around them guards cheered (either caught in the moment or because they knew that was the only thing they could do). Although he did raise his voice in a loud bout of laughter, Collins noticed the silence beside him and turned to check this out.

He was rather confused at the blank look on Thomas’ face. The emissary’s mouth hung open and he stared up past the waving arms. He didn’t cheer.

“Uh, Tommy?” Collins said, waving his hand in front of Thomas’ eyes.

Just a blink, then the stare returned. Still, the motion did not go unnoticed by the man on Thomas’ other side.

“Are you alright, Sir?” Simon asked and laid his hand on the emissary’s shoulder, frowning.

Another frozen second, then a huge grin spread over Thomas’ face. His right hand went up, curling to a fist against his chest.

“I’ll follow Lady Proudmoore ‘til the day I die,” he said, in the voice of a man having a religious vision.

Simon and Collins exchanged glances.

“You,” the rogue said and fondly poked Thomas’ cheek, “are weird.”

[GG_Crono]

That was cute. Well done, Wei. Well done.

[Weiila]

Thanks, GG

And nooow for some more political intrigue. Sortof, at least. Is this too repetive? I want to show (as I say in the narrative) how Jaina expresses herself differently depending on who she’s adressing, but perhaps I’m overdoing it.

Jaina had really not been looking forwards to this part. Standing on a balcony of the citadel, she gazed down upon pretty much every citizen in Theramore. Some, who did not want to stand in the crowded courtyard area or the side streets had climbed onto the rooftops of the nearby houses, and every window in sight was open and crammed with faces.

So far, at least, no rotten vegetables had been thrown. The air laid thick over the entire city, however, buzzing with disbelieving murmurs and fearful glances.

Knowing that Aegwynn gave her encouraging looks from behind her back, Jaina took another step forwards to be more visible. She took in a deep breath, and spoke, her voice once again magically strengthened to be heard by all. Everything else fell silent at her first words. 

“I understand that the question in everyone’s mind today is, ‘why?’, and the next one is ‘what happens now?’” Jaina said, trying not to let it show how much her stomach clenched when she watched the thousands of silent faces below. She spread her hands. “I ask all of you to trust not only me, but also the Warchief, as you did in days past when we faced a common enemy together with the night elves. We still face common enemies today, enemies who feast on the skirmishes between Alliance and Horde, exploiting the differences to grow fat and strong while we bleed into the sand. The Burning Legion did not fall with Archimonde, and the Lich King still sits atop his throne in Northrend, gathering his forces by each passing day.”

She let this sink in for a moment, although she did not much like having to rely on scare tactics. But those were strong memories, and the best official argument there was. Let them remember the war, and the reports from Outland, and the brief, testing Scourge invasion hardly a year ago.

As much as she had braced herself for speaking of Arthas like that, she was surprised at how little emotion it stirred in her.

In the crowd a nervous murmur began – difficult to tell what it meant. She caught both tones of agreement and skepticism. 

“In the face of this, the Warchief and I agreed that we must put up a unified front once again,” she continued. “No one can tell when the Burning Legion and the Scourge will attempt to attack. The ongoing battles between humans and orcs only serve to make us all easier prey. Remember Hyjal. We won then, together. Remember Onyxia. The Warchief sent his warriors to slay her in order to protect us. He did this unasked, honoring our friendship of old.”

People were looking at each other now, some nodding slowly. Far from convinced, but it could be done, if they only got enough reason to swallow the shock. Aegwynn stepped forwards, silently handing Jaina a document which she unrolled and held up.

“To answer the second question,” she started again, regaining their full attention, “the Horde lays no claim on Theramore. We are still members of the Alliance, and I will fight for our right to remain in it should any other country think differently.”

One could almost make out a single word of the grumbles from the crowd this time. How much would anybody bet that Stormwind would be very verbal about this? Stormwind, that always wanted to claim ownership of Theramore and its people, despite their background.

“What this union with Durotar means,” Jaina went on, “is that the Warchief will aid Theramore in any way he can, should we be threatened or attacked. Likewise, Theramore will stand up to defend Durotar and its people. Any orc loyal to Durotar, who for any reason harms or kills any citizen of Theramore, will henceforth not be protected by the laws of war, but made to stand trial as the crime demands. The same rules applies to the people of Theramore.”

Even now she could see how this would be abused, or attempted to be abused, by anyone wanting to sow hatred. But it had to be so – turn “honorable battles to protect land and people” into “murder” and a great step forwards would be taken.

“For now,” Jaina said, “that is enough. The finer points of this union will be hammered out, and we will face any issue that it brings and forge a strong, protective bond from this. Do not be afraid to voice questions about this matter. I understand well what a surprise this is.”

She lowered the paper, and smiled.

“We shall have a feast in celebration of the marriage, in a week’s time. This is because we gave such short notice on what would happen. The Warchief wishes you all to know that he will have many fine hogs sent to Theramore for this occasion, as a gift to you, the people.”

From citizens whose main diet consisted of fish, making meat a rare delicacy, this was met with a first wave of positive – if careful – reactions in the form of less worried and more intrigued murmurs. 

When the Elites clapped, and the soldiers below followed the cue, the people followed along after a moment. Few cheered, but it was a good sign nonetheless. Still smiling, Jaina bowed and backed out of sight.

Aegwynn patted her shoulder, following the Lady back to her chambers.

Once they were alone, Jaina slumped in one of her armchairs and allowed herself a long, relieved sigh. Her entire body tingled from the tension and anticipation of the day, and though she felt exhausted, at the same time she could not think of sitting still. After a few seconds she stood back up and began pacing back and forth. Aegwynn watched all of this from another armchair, lips twitching.

“Let it out, girl, for goodness’ sake,” the old sorceress finally said.

Jaina bit her lip, then crossed the floor and grasped her chancellor’s old, wrinkled hands with fingers trembling from excitement.

“We did it!” Jaina hissed, smile nearly splitting her cheeks. “Light, we did it!”

“You sure did.” Aegwynn let hear a hoarse, hearty laugh. “I have never seen such a spectacle.”

Though she laughed as well, an elated, brief sound, Jaina then wrestled control of her grin and straightened up.

“Well, we did a start,” she said and rubbed her forehead. “Now comes the part where we start fighting everyone else about whether or not I’m insane or under a spell.”

The second was an accusation she anticipated would be voiced by many. Moira Bronzebeard had paved the way to it just a few months ago. Jaina sighed. If that idea just merely touched the dwarves’ minds, there would be no hoping for support from them. But then again, the dwarves did have reason to be thankful of the orcs, Thrall [i]had[/i] tried to help them with their princess… unless, of course, people came to accuse the orcs of working with the Dark Irons, now using the same hypnotic magic on a second woman.

Conspiracy theories were certainly already running wild. Any mage watching the meeting and the wedding had without a doubt launched through portals to the capitals, bringing the news to their leaders and people.

Jaina set her jaw. That was her first order of business to deal with, now.

“I have to-” she started, but Aegwynn stood up and caught her wrists.

“Sit down and have a drink of tea to calm your nerves,” the old woman kindly but firmly said. “I’d recommend some rum in that, too.”

“No time…”

“The world won’t fall apart if you take a twenty minute break. We can discuss what you’re planning to tell the other lords and ladies of the Alliance while we wait and drink.”

Saying so, Aegwynn marched over and pulled the cord to call for a servant. When a rather wide-eyed woman knocked on the door in answer to the summons, the chancellor ordered for tea with rum. 

Surrendering to Aegwynn’s blunt doting was not easy, but as Jaina forced herself to calm down she felt grateful for it. In truth, she felt mentally exhausted and a short break was what she needed to clear her head enough for what she had to do next.

She only had a little bit of rum in her tea, for that same reasons, but Aegwynn surely was right about how well-needed those drops of alcohol were for Jaina’s electrified nerves. 

When they had finished the pot of tea, then the wrestling with paper, ink and words began.

In all kinds of communication, there is a trick to expressing things differently depending on your intentions and the reactions you’re hoping for. Jaina exercised all her training in that art during the rest of the day, and handed the results to mages with slightly dazed expressions after showing the letters to Aegwynn. The chancellor added very little to the process, apart from laughing out loud at the end of the first letter. She was not a very diplomatic person, herself.

To His Royal Majesty, Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind,
Honored Highlord Fordragon,
and His Eminence, Archbishop Benedictus

My most revered greetings to You all.
I, Lady Jaina Proudmoore of Theramore, send You this letter in order to bring You tidings from Kalimdor. I do not doubt that You have already received word of the affairs I now wish to explain.
As You are all aware, Theramore, being situated on Kalimdor, lies closer than any other human city to the lands claimed by the Horde. Ever since the Third War, it has been our fervent wish to maintain ceasefire with the orcs, trolls and tauren. I need not remind You of the fact that it was our alliance with them and the night elves, which successfully defeated the demonic invasion led by the demon Archimonde. Who can say when, rather than if, the Burning Legion will attempt another full scale assault on Azeroth?
The times remain troubled, and the people of Theramore are deeply concerned about this. We are not alone in this anxiety. All the people on Kalimdor remembers what happened on Mount Hyjal. Yet, the constant infighting between Alliance and Horde eats away at our very hearts. I have long feared that we are playing into the Burning Legion’s hands. Warchief Thrall has expressed the same concerns many times in the past years.
Therefore, for the sake of stability on Kalimdor, in an attempt to end the draining skirmishes, so that we can hope to have the strength to defend ourselves against the demons once again should the need arise, I have agreed to a political union between Theramore and Durotar. This union comes in the form of the marriage between myself, and the orcish Warchief.
I understand the outrage this will cause, and I humbly ask of You not to judge too quickly. Theramore has not betrayed the Alliance, nor do we wish to leave it. Our port and lands remain open to all humans, dwarves, and gnomes, as well as the night elves and draenei. This action, which I do not doubt will be called scandalous by many, is one of hope for peace.
You are of course most welcome to send representatives to join the celebration in Theramore, should You wish to.
Warchief Thrall sends his well wishes to You all. He also wishes to know if Stormwind would accept the skull of the dragon Onyxia, currently kept in Orgrimmar, as a show of good will.
I remain Your loyal ally,
Lady Jaina Proudmoore of Theramore

A copy of the above message (minus the mention of Onyxia’s skull), was sent to His Royal Majesty, Magni Bronzebeard of Ironforge and of the honorable Bronzebeard clan, and the honored High Tinker Gelbin Mekkatorqe, King of the Gnomes.

To the revered Prophet, Velen,
the honored Farseer Nobundo,
and the draenei council

Greetings,
Surprising news must have reached You by now, and I hope to be able to shed some light upon what has occurred. Forgive me, for I honestly lack the knowledge of Your culture to know whether this will seem strange or even barbaric to You.
Foremost, however, I wish You to know that Theramore remains Your friend and ally, and our gates are open to You all in no different way than before. If You come to resent Theramore and myself for my actions, I will deeply lament the loss of friends. I implore You not to judge too soon, no matter how shocking it all may be.
It is not customary on Azeroth for people, leaders or no, to suddenly marry as Warchief Thrall and I did today. I assure You that You were not the only ones surprised to receive the news. We merely kept it secret for the sake of safety.
It is, however, an old tradition among leaders on this world to marry in order to bridge hostilities between nations and people. What Warchief Thrall and I did, we did in the name of peace. History has not been kind to Azeroth, nor Draenor, and we hope to prevent bloodshed from escalating once again.
You will surely have questions for me, and I will do my outmost to answer any concern You may have.
In a week’s time there will be a feast in Theramore to celebrate the marriage. You are warmly welcome to send representatives to participate. Be aware, however, that I will be unable to meet with any emissary then, as I will partake in the celebration held in Orgrimmar, at my husband’s side.
Light bless You.
-Lady Jaina Proudmoore of Theramore

Enclosed with the above letter was also the one below, the first of two papers she had received the night before. She folded the two messages gently and sealed them as one with Theramore’s emblem in wax.

Light willing, both would be read.

To the revered Prophet Velen, honored Farseer Nobundo,
and to the entire draenei race

Hail the Light and the spirits,
I write to You by way of my wife, Lady Jaina of Theramore. It is my fervent hope that this message will reach You, and that You will at least take the time to read it. It is all I can ask of You.
I will not, I cannot ask of You to forgive what cannot be forgiven. The suffering my people rained upon Yours on Draenor was an act of despicable atrocity. That we were fooled and made into tools by the Burning Legion is not a worthy excuse. There is no excuse.
Since You arrived on Azeroth, you have observed yet more strife, and surely borne witness to other violent acts by my people. You are all aware of the strains on this world, and in Outland. Yet some of Your people have chosen to dare bridging old fears and join forces with the Earthen Ring, among other things, to which I extend my deepest gratitude.
If at all possible, I would wish for an end to the conflicts between Alliance and Horde. We share a common enemy in the Burning Legion, but if You cannot bear to trust us, or our allies, I can only accept that. We are no longer slaves to the demons, yet nobody can ever forget those times.
This I swear on the name of all my ancestors, however, that as long as I draw breath, nothing like the war on Draenor, or the wars on Azeroth initiated by my people, will ever happen again.
-Warchief Thrall, Leader of the Horde, Lord of the Clans and of Theramore

“You go and tell him that I think he’s good at groveling in the dust without sounding too pathetic,” Aegwynn commented as she read that letter.

Jaina just shook her head, even if she couldn’t help smiling at the dry comment – although she felt a little guilty about that. Leaving the subject, she simply turned back to her desk for the next letter.

To High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind

Greetings, my friend,
My people are bewildered, and so are surely yours, because of what happened between the Warchief and I in Ratchet today. Perhaps you are, too. However, if I ask you to remember the battles on Hyjal, is there a possibility that you could push the surprise aside? I have written to many other leaders in the Alliance today, to explain my actions. Of all of them, I hope that you will have the easiest time to understand why Warchief Thrall and I did something so drastic. It may have seemed like a spur of the moment action, but I assure you that we have discussed it for a long time. Perhaps it began to take shape even weeks before Hyjal, in that cave when the Warchief, Cairne Bloodhoof and I met the Prophet Medivh.
I apologize from the bottom of my heart for not letting you know of our plans beforehand. I assure you that I meant no offense. It was purely a matter of caution.
If you could spare the time, I would be glad to meet with you in the coming days and discuss what has happened and what it entails. In one week there will be a celebration in both Theramore and Orgrimmar in honor of the union between the orcs and us, and because of that I might be unable to speak with you on that day and at least one day after. You and anyone of your people who wish to join the festivities are warmly welcome.
Best wishes,
Jaina

This one, too, was sent with an accompanying letter.

To High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind
Greetings,
Communications between our races have been sparse and painful ever since the end of the third war. As You must know by now, however, Lady Jaina and I have taken a rather surprising step towards peace. In honor of this, if at all possible, I would like to seek an end to the hostilities between Your people and mine, as well.
I know full well the bitterness felt in Darnassus, and the rage aimed towards the entire Horde. Many certainly say that there is nothing to discuss. However, though it may not be my place to do so, I wish to invite You to a dialogue about Ashenvale and Warsong Gulch, with hopes of ending the conflicts peacefully. I am certain that both Theramore and Ratchet will gladly supply a neutral meeting ground for our representatives.
-Warchief Thrall, Leader of the Horde, Lord of the Clans and of Theramore

Finishing that, Jaina took a break to call for the head maid after sending the letters off. When the middle-aged woman appeared, she wore an admirably blank expression. It cracked a little, however, as Jaina ordered for a bath to be prepared, with some rose water added.

“Of course, my Lady,” the woman said, folding her hands behind her back. “Shall I order flowers to braid into your hair, as well?”

In the background, Aegwynn turned to the window to hide her smirk, in a rare act of empathy for an already rattled woman. 

“Thank you,” Jaina said with a soft smile, allowing herself a brief, distant expression before looking at the maid again. “But I think that we will save that for the night of the celebration.”

The maid dropped a stiff curtsey and left. Jaina chuckled to herself as the door closed, knowing the woman would fly down to the kitchen as quick as her legs could carry her – and dignity allowed. Within an hour everyone in the citadel would know that Lady Proudmoore groomed herself like a bride for her wedding night. The whole city would know before nightfall. 

Well, they already knew it is my wedding night. Now they’ll know that I will go through with it, too.

Rather, think they know.

She smiled to herself for another moment, but then her amusement faltered. Was it too much, perhaps? What would they think of her in the morning?

Too late, now.

“You’re a sneaky little vixen, you know that?” Aegwynn said, crossing the floor to her and jolting Jaina out of her concerned thoughts. “Except that was about as subtle as an ogre’s club to the face.”

“I’m not very good at sneaky, no,” Jaina admitted, letting the ‘vixen’ comment be since this was Aegwynn speaking.

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.” The old woman’s smirk softened. “Now… you have one more letter left, don’t you?”

Pursing her mouth, Jaina nodded.

“I will leave you to that, then,” Aegwynn said. “It’s nobody’s business but yours and his.” The smirk returned, but it was a warm one, as she backed towards the door. “As for the rest, I wish you a good night, Jaina.”

No blush managed to conquer Jaina’s face this time either, but it was another close call. She did not manage to gather the wit for a reply quick enough. Chuckling softly, Aegwynn slipped out and closed the door.

Jaina rolled her eyes and went to write the most difficult letter, the one she had saved for last. It required a lot of paper, for she wrote several attempts before she finally felt as at ease with the result as she possibly could. The head maid and two more maid servants appeared and left several times, carrying buckets of hot, rose scented water to fill the bath tub in Jaina’s private bath room. 

 By the time she was done with the letter, the water was prepared and waiting. Jaina read through the text one final time.

To the Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras, Tandred Proudmoore
Dear Tandred,
Trust me when I say that this is not an easy message to write. You will be confused, you may even feel hurt and betrayed. I can only hope that you will control yourself and at least try to understand.
I cannot know if you have already been informed of what has happened, when you receive this letter. If not, I hope that your shock will not be so great, if I can tell you in my own words. If you have, perhaps I can at least offer some comfort.
It is the truth that through marriage with the orcish Warchief, I have solidified peace between Theramore and Durotar. You surely suspect foul play and dirty politics. There has been nothing of the sort, believe me. This match is the result of a long discussion between the Warchief and me, on how to end the conflicts between our people. It came to be through free choice and agreement, and there has been no force, whether military, physical, or magical, involved.
You know that it is no false rumor that both of us have kept and treasured the memory of our alliance on Hyjal. We both saw then, what great things our people and friends could accomplish when they dared to put aside their differences. Neither of us want to see that potential of greatness bleeding dry from senseless hatred.
I know that this is very hard to believe. There is much reason to fear the orcs, yet I do not. They were friends of the people in Theramore, many of them would still want to be. If the Horde is nothing but evil, then why are their warriors joining with the Argent Dawn, the Cenarion Circle, and the troops in Outland, to fight what evils are still threatening us all? Are all battles on this world initiated by them?
Warchief Thrall is an easy scapegoat for everything evil that the Horde does, and has done. Yet, if you will take my word for it, he is an honorable man, a scholar as much as a warrior. Given the choice, he would always turn to diplomacy rather than weapons. He has done so before, even broken up a would-be war a few years ago.
I know that this is an outrageous match, but I hope that people will come to accept it in time. Please believe me when I say that I am perfectly at ease with the situation.
Yours fondly,
Jaina

It was as good as it could get. Sighing softly she sealed the final letter and called on one last mage to deliver it.

Finally done, Jaina stretched and walked through the door to the bath room. The three servants stood beside the steaming tub, faces schooled into calm masks. They curtseyed as Jaina entered.

“Your bath is ready, my Lady,” the head maid, needlessly, announced. “Is there anything else?”

Respect and politeness was definitely not the only reason they waited on her. 

“No, thank you,” Jaina said with a smile. She studied the three women for a moment, then allowed her relaxed look to falter.

Most leaders would not even consider speaking with their servants on any important matter, but Jaina had worked with “common people” at the hardest of times. And really, she wanted to know what Theramore thought, desperately so.

“I will not punish you if you speak your minds honestly,” she said, and added when they blinked like owls, “were you shocked today?”

Silly question.

The women exchanged glances, looked at her, then at each other again. Finally, the head maid cleared her throat.

“Well, my Lady,” she said, hands wrenching in her apron, “it was, uh, a bit sudden, that’s all.”

Jaina nodded, smiling a little.

“Yes, I know. We feared that there might be attempts to disrupt the wedding if we announced it,” she said.

“The blood elf prince, did he threaten you, my Lady?” one of the younger women blurted. Of course, that mysterious, nightly visit had been the greatest news until today.

The maid immediately blushed crimson and pressed a hand to her mouth. However, Jaina merely nodded again.

“Yes, he said…” she hesitated only for a moment, then decided that it would be very effective to let that juicy piece of intimidation be known to more people. As she told the women of Kael’thas final words the other night, their eyes widened and their mouths turned to half-horrified, half-intrigued Os.

Frightening, immoral, and certainly giving the Warchief a better sheen. Honestly, Jaina reflected, had Kael’thas not realized how much he sounded like the villain out of a heroic folktale?

“What… what did the War- his Lordship say when, uh, if you told him about it?” the same maid as before asked.

“Oh, something about breaking bones the elf doesn’t even know he has in his body, if he as much as tries to lay a finger on me,” Jaina lied in an easy tone, smiling again. She leaned forwards a little, adding in a lower voice, “Warchief Thrall is very much a gentleman, when it comes down to it.”

None of my reviewers on ff.net have been screaming for hawt lemon scenes (not the fruit! XD), like they did when I was working on Alternate Fates, for some reason… :mwahaha:
The best part about THAT is, that I bet everyone expects there to be something like that shortly following. Aaaain’t happening.

Yet. :kissy: Fear not. I only do fade-to-black cuddling. :3

[Manus_Dei]

Damn you’ve been busy! I thought you’d retired from this place, so finding that not only you’re still around but you’re also still writing was a pleasant surprise. Keep up the good work!

[Rigmarole]

Who’d have guessed, I managed to miss the wedding (ahem). Good descriptions there and it didn’t get too strained by the obligatory “the orcs did this, then then humans did that” when describing the crowd. UNEASINESS! SURPRISE! In a world where…

It seems Jaina is a politician after all. Her speech was very realistic (such verisimilitude isn’t good for the reader’s attention though). It seems Jaina doesn’t take advantage of the perks of a non-elected office, like summoning an elemental to cower your subjects to submission. Anyway, her letter back home is the best of the bunch, followed by the Stormwind one, while her letter to the Draenei seems more groveling than Thrall’s

You could try rereading the whole story if you’re worried that parts of it may be superfluous. Reading it chapter by chapter (like I do) skews one’s perception.

“the heroes who slay” >>slew

[Weiila]

Thanks guys

I’ve got a little bit more for this chapter, and it shall be cute. And ends on a more worrisome note, muahaha…

The women exchanged glances, and then again when another thought struck for probably the thousand time. Silence hung in the air for a moment, and then:

“You are really going to, err…?” the head maid started, faltering with a horrified look as she realized that she really might be pushing it.

Jaina smiled.

“It is my wedding night,” she said in a soft tone. “I will bring myself to Orgrimmar, with my magic, after I have bathed.”

She sent them off with that, saying that they could take the rest of the evening off since it was, after all, a special day. Once alone, Jaina slipped out of her dress and hung it on a waiting hanger on the wall. Her socks, underskirt and everything else went into a small basket for that purpose.

It was with a great sigh of relief that she sunk into the warm water, leaned her head back against the wooden edge of the bathtub and closed her eyes. A smile overtook her lips, growing to a grin and then to an exhausted chuckle.

We did it, we really did it… she mentally repeated to herself, grateful to Aegwynn for letting her voice those words to somebody earlier.

What a day. What would the history books say? 

She snorted at that runaway thought, knowing that those texts only would be written years and decades from now. Every last word depending on how things worked out in the near future.

All of a sudden she felt exhausted, and the amusement faded away. Wiping a hand against her forehead she found a thin layer of crusted dust and sweat. The heat in the Barrens, the speech to Theramore’s people and her own high strung mind had left traces of grime. Grimacing, she grabbed the sponge and bar of soap to remedy that.

The smell of roses got a bit overwhelming after a while, but she bore it until she had cleaned herself. Unfortunately, that also of course made it impossible for her to relax in the bath any longer. Aside from the scent filling her nostrils, she was growing impatient to leave.

After climbing out of the bath, she dried herself and pulled on a simple, soft dress. She could sleep in that, but chose to wear a more elaborate gown over the first. One should not face the eve of their wedding day dressed too lightly. 

‘-‘

Orgrimmar was never silent. However, gazing upon it from one of his large windows, Thrall noticed full well that there was a quiet, confused air to the nightly activities. People filled the streets at all hours, and the hum of their talking reached all the way up to him if he strained his ears. Not so animated as usual, though. People were thinking and wondering.

“So this means… we win?”

That question had been brought to the Warchief from a frowning grunt, who claimed that somebody on the street had asked him. Whether that was true or not, Thrall had snorted at it and said no, not at all. We’ve solidified old friendships.

He certainly hoped that that the mindset behind that seemingly innocent question would not take over. Knowing his people, though, they might go for a chance to lord superiority over the people of Theramore at any chance. The internment camps were not forgotten, regardless of whether those humans were guilty, regardless of Hyjal. 

That, of course, was only the beginning of the tangle that would have to be sorted out. It would take years, he and Jaina had already spent years trying to keep the mess from growing too big. However, at least now they had solid ground to stand on while pulling at all those issues, and with some luck it would add voice to the people on both sides who agreed that the skirmishes had to stop.

And then, those were only questions for Theramore and Durotar. Soon every other leader, commander and noble would have had time to react, and that would be yet another thing to deal with.

He allowed himself some hope, though. No matter the responses, at least Jaina and he had taken a stand, and with her help he had been able to reach out to the other Alliance factions on Kalimdor. The future would be interesting to say the least. Also, he already knew what Cairne thought, at least, and that was heartening – as opposed to Vol’jin’s concerned scowl.

No, Thrall certainly did not blame the witch doctor for his worries, but those too could be met with more efficiency now, hopefully. One had to focus on the possibilities, not the fallacies, or there would never be anything done. 

His gaze wandered towards the unwavering, purple glow rising from the Cleft of Shadow, and he grinned nastily. Down there in that eyesore, several people were [i]not[/i] amused. During his speech to the inhabitants of the city, Thrall had caught the look of barely contained frothing rage on Neeru Fireblade’s face. Apparently something like this had not at all been included in the Burning Blade’s plans.

Excellent.

All this thanks to Jaina not accepting his own initial, brittle hesitance to the match. He allowed himself to chuckle.

A human as a mate. His grandmother, at least, respected his choice though she thought it odd. The thought gave him some pause, wondering what his parents and Taretha would say about it. It was not the first time he wondered, of course, and he felt certain that Tari would have approved.

His parents… he could not tell, but if Geyah could accept this, then their spirits hopefully did as well. 

In a much more sober mood Thrall looked upwards, at the deepening blue of the sky. A couple of stars already twinkled up there, but the day was not quite past yet. Below, torches were being lit along the streets. 

Though he knew that it was silly, when he considered the time he felt a stitch of worry at Jaina’s absence. He pushed that away - they had agreed to meet by nightfall; she was not at all late.

Shaking his head he turned and walked away from the window, picking at the leather straps holding his armor in place. He had meant to do that when he reached his room earlier, but ended up by the window instead. If he was honest with himself, he had simply not relaxed and therefore kept the armor on. There was no immediate danger he could perceive, as much as there were angry schemers in the Cleft – and that was certainly not the only place. Still, the spirits softly mumbled, perfectly at ease.

Thrall pried off one after another piece of Orgrim’s armor – [i]and what would he and Hellscream have to say?[/i] – and carefully set them on the sturdy, wooden armor stand. With some annoyance he noticed how stiff the familiar motions seemed. Every muscle in his body was tense as if preparing for a defensive stance, and he could do nothing against it.

He was just reaching to remove the chest and back plate when a tingling sound came from behind him. Turning on his heel he met Jaina’s gaze. 

A huge grin spread over Thrall’s face, matched by her stretching lips as they met halfway across the floor. He reached down and her eyes widened briefly in surprise, but when his hands closed around her waist and hoisted her upwards she wrapped her arms around his neck and laughed. He too laughed, shifting his grip to hold her more comfortably.

We really did it.

“The looks on their faces!” Jaina chortled, forehead pressing against his jaw line.

The comment made Thrall chuckle even harder. Every speck of tension had fled his body.

“Indeed,” he said, clearing his throat to compose himself enough to speak properly. “And you should have seen Neeru’s expression later on.”

He set her down so that they could face each other, both still grinning wide. Now that he had calmed down a little, Thrall noticed the sweet, flowery scent. 

Jaina took note of his nose curiously wrinkling, judging by the smile and the soft snort.

“I took a bath with rose water to make it official that I was going here. It’s a tradition for brides,” she explained, watching him. “I hope the smell isn’t unpleasant.”

“I see. No, not at all.” It really wasn’t. But speaking of official, he nodded and looked at her more seriously. “How is Theramore?”

“The good news is that there’s no revolution going on right now at least.” With a relieved sigh, Jaina rolled her shoulders. “But it was probably a good thing that you didn’t make an appearance in Theramore today. I think people just feel confused right now. They liked the sound of the feast, though.”

“That’s good to hear. Wait a moment.”

He gestured at her to sit down on one of the pelts, then went to the door and opened it. The two guards outside kept their faces admirably emotionless when hearing that the Warchief’s mate had arrived. Both of the Elites saluted, and one went to find a servant to bring food and drink.

That done, Thrall closed the door and walked back to where Jaina had made herself comfortable on a bear pelt. He sat down before her, crossing his ankles comfortably.

The rumor of Jaina’s presence would spread through Orgrimmar like fire through dry grass. Like it did through Theramore already. No reason to sneak anymore, although people wouldn’t know that this wasn’t the first night they spent together.

There would be times for official visits, with announcements beforehand, and guards surrounding them. At those times they would be at their most vulnerable, when their enemies might plan an attack. But not now. They were still breaking the rules, as they had done for years, to carve a new path.

“How did your people take the news?” Jaina asked.

“People are confused here as well, but nobody was shouting,” Thrall replied. He gave a dry smile. “Perhaps we’ll know more tomorrow, when they’ve slept on it.”

“Light!” she muttered and rubbed her forehead, but the sigh was not as much exasperated as accepting.

He watched her as her outburst subsided, thinking she seemed a little out of place on the pelt, in her fine, white dress with its purple and gold inlays. And still she looked perfectly at home sitting there, conversing with him.

Them being alone together in his room remained a little bit foreign, but they were passing that. Especially now, when their people knew, and soon all the world would know. The news spread even at this moment, sparking outrage and scandal.

He held back a laugh, allowing himself to admit feeling triumphantly rebellious. It was insane, that was true, but they had done it anyway. Yes, lots of work remained before this new situation would even begin to make sense to anybody, and it would certainly be a rocky ride, but he didn’t fear it. Neither did Jaina, sitting there with determination blazing in her eyes.

Let the dissenters come.

Thrall let those thoughts pass, then tried to shrug them off. There would be problems ahead, and right now, he didn’t want them to intrude on this moment. 

But on that tangent…

“Cairne sent me an immediate reply to the news, through the troll mage messenger,” he said, dry smile turning warmer. “He was surprised, but I believe he actually laughed. We have his full support.”

He found that he took a kind of pleasure from the way the hard look peeled away from Jaina’s features, and she relaxed.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “He and I haven’t interacted as much as the two of us, but he is a friend.”

And one more ally in this.

As Thrall nodded, Jaina tilted her head slightly.

“You never had a chance to tell me how Vol’jin and Drek’Thar took it,” she said.

“Ah, yes.”

He described the initial hesitance, and the acceptance in Drek’Thar’s case, as well as the more defensive stance Vol’jin took. Part of him – the practical, Warchief part – wanted to bring up that one recent discovery which could back up Vol’jin and many another skeptic’s voice. Thrall refused that part of him for now, however. This was not the time. That disturbing text found in Tiragarde Keep deserved no more mention than any other problem on this night. 

A pair of orc women arrived carrying a tray of food each, the scene reminiscent of Geyah’s visit a few days earlier. The women looked between the two leaders with a mix of curiosity and hesitance, but did not comment. They merely placed their burdens on the pelt, then politely bowed and left again.

Thrall and Jaina exchanged glances and chuckles, and that was the end of that.

They ate and talked in a warm, relaxed atmosphere. After a while, both of them even managed to occasionally forget that this in no way was their private wedding night – because half the world, and more and more people for each passing minute, were thinking about them. 

‘-‘

A letter was sent in Outland also, one enchanted so that water would not do a thing to it.

Honored Lady Vashj,
You are of course aware that I would not call upon you unless it was important, my Lady. I, and the rest of your loyal allies here in Tempest Keep, are at our wits’ end, and therefore we turn to you.
Disturbing news has reached us from Azeroth, and though it has little impact on our plans for Outland, it has unfortunately wounded our Prince deeply emotionally. He is quite mad with rage, and we cannot calm him, nor can we see an end of it. I beseech you to come here and reason with him, as your sage advice would surely reach him just as it has done in the past.
Glory to the Illidari
-High Astromancer Solarian

[STRIKE]Kael’Thas: “Can it be hugz tiem now, pls?”[/STRIKE]

[Rigmarole]

So the No. 1 reason for marrying is pissing off “friendly” people you don’t like? That’s not fantasy, that’s mother-in-law:P

“So this means… we win?”

Heh.

You know, Kael’thas should totally be writing sappy poems to Jaina. Perhaps he just isn’t sending them.

[Weiila]

So the No. 1 reason for marrying is pissing off “friendly” people you don’t like? That’s not fantasy, that’s mother-in-law:P

PFF XD That made me laugh. Though naw, I think that’s just a bonus. Who doesn’t love messing with Neeru? I had another fic idea where things went to hell and Vol’jin expressed discontent by holding good ol’ Warlock McNotverysneaky over a fire pit by his hair.

You know, Kael’thas should totally be writing sappy poems to Jaina. Perhaps he just isn’t sending them.

You know, I could totally see that too XD

[GG_Crono]

I’m imagining Emo!Kael, and the thought amuses me immensely.

[Rigmarole]

PFF XD That made me laugh.

Glad to hear it.

[Cless_Alvein]

This story NEEDS to be the Orc campaign for Warcraft IV

Like “Foundation of Durotar”, except this time you run around doing pre-nuptial arrangements

[Weiila]

This story NEEDS to be the Orc campaign for Warcraft IV

Like “Foundation of Durotar”, except this time you run around doing pre-nuptial arrangements

Mwah :3

Now I have a mental image of Rexxar running around picking peaceblooms for the wedding bouquett. It is a very disturbing image, Mr. Alvein. For shame. XD

As an aside, now that the real king of Stormwind is coming back in WotLK and he’s made out to be a kind of “human Thrall” (yeah, amnesia + gladiator/slave to a sortof jerk of an orc WHO LETS YOU ESCAPE after like two weeks + badass fighter (all the other characters stand around saying so all the time, so it has to be true!), that’s just as character building as Thrall’s story), and his story in the comic involves Jaina, I’m sorta dreading her and Mr. Badass King becoming a couple in canon. If that happens, you’ll hear me screaming all the way over the pond.

[Rigmarole]

Oh noes, I was captured for two weeks! Woe is me; did anyone feed my pet panda? Click on him and he’ll say “I am the [STRIKE]War Chief[/STRIKE] real King”.

[Manus_Dei]

Well, without wanting to spoil anything from Wrath of the Lich King, I can tell you that Varian is going to go berserk at someone’s treacherous sneak attack and kick up some deep shit. Oh, and he’s not exactly fond of orcs after being enslaved and forced to fight for their amusement.