I note with great amusement (from reading WoWwiki) that Lady Prestor seems to have been removed from the throne room, while Varian has been put beside his son. Hmmm… And wonderful, just what the world needs - a head of the Alliance who hates the orcs. I know that the war is needed gameplay-wise, but lore-wise, is Azeroth EVER going to get some peace and quiet? It’s a pretty sad place, really.
I don’t know what’s best: Relative quiet and an army of demons bent on destroying everything (hey, putting it like that really highlights the Warhammer there!) or a more imminent enemy with the mutating advantages of the Swarm who’s managed to withhold attacks from all quarters and has a tendency to destroy her enemies? The Three Vikings possibly have the best Blizzard world.
Oh, I dunno… the Vikings DO have a cameo in WoW, so they don’t get away either XD
Anyway… I’ve finally managed to zombie-stitch half the next chapter into some kind of semblance. Still have to finish the second half, where Jaina and Thrall go “this is gonna explode in our faces, ain’t it?” together. Aww, so touching.
By the way, we need somebody to gather some herbs for the Warchief’s migraine medicine. Are you up for it?
Accept Quest/Don’t Accept Quest
XD
The following day, the real fun began.
First, there was the problem of communication. It may have been fine for Jaina to teleport straight into Grommash Hold whenever she and Thrall needed to speak, but unfortunately things just weren’t that simple. They both had things to do, and many orders to deliver – she could not be away like that, not during the day at least. Therefore, messengers would have to be chosen.
This proved, unsurprisingly, rather problematic. While there were mages powerful enough to make portals to where they would have to go, quickly, getting them to actually do so was a whole other thing.
It turned out that even the two men who eventually volunteered, did so with many questions about their own safety. The offered pay may have been good, but…
This was a matter Jaina handed over to someone else. She would merely officially thank the men and appoint them the task of messengers.
Provided they did not lose their nerve.
They were sat down in a comfy chair each, together with somebody with experience of official meetings with the orcs, to explain the whole thing without scaring them out of their skin.
“There’s nothing to fear,” Thomas Southstone patiently said, rounding off his introduction of what was expected of them. “Everyone in Orgrimmar will be fully aware that you are there, and you will not be left alone. The Warchief will not allow anybody to do you harm, and only a fool would try.”
He looked at their hesitant gazes, and pressed a hand to his chest.
“Look,” he said. “I have been in Orgrimmar myself, three times, and I’m not dead. The guards don’t let their eyes off me for a moment.”
“Guards?” one of the mages said, eyes thinning in suspicion.
“Of course. You don’t think that they would let me take a step in there without at least four people checking every little movement I make, do you?”
Thomas looked at them for a moment.
“I’ll come with you,” he offered. “Some people in Orgrimmar know who I am, I have diplomatic immunity.”
“That was all you wanted to say, wasn’t it?” Aegwynn said from the door, causing all three men to jump. “You’re as giddy as a kid hoping he will get to go to the candy shop.”
“It’s a privilege to be allowed inside of Orgrimmar,” Thomas said, more sheepish than defensive.
“Of course, especially if you’re walking and not in a cage.”
“My Lady!” Thomas groaned as the two mages bristled at her words.
She sneered, and he honestly suspected that she enjoyed what she had just done a little too much.
“Anyway,” Aegwynn said, sobering, “a troll mage just arrived, with a letter for Lady Proudmoore. Perhaps you gentlemen ought to have a chat with your co-worker?”
Thomas was out the door, dragging the bewildered mages along, within the next three seconds. Shaking her head and chuckling, Aegwynn followed.
In the throne room, Jaina had her own arguments to deal with. She surveyed the armored man before her, face as serious as his – he may be standing at polite attention, but he could not contain the dark wrinkle between his eyes. The guards by the door too looked a little uneasy.
“No, Captain, I understand the implications and the risks of this,” Jaina said. “But the situation has changed, and Durotar now has a right to Northwatch.”
Sir Tallwind grimly shook his head. He was a fine military leader, a good replacement for Captain Fairmount – who, after that unfortunate incident with the Highelf merchant Captain Brightsun and his crew, had been relieved of his duties. Not to mention hospitalized due to being attacked by a group of Horde vigilantes. Tallwind had reined in the jittery cannoneers of Northwatch Hold, and overall, he did have a more relaxed view of the world.
However, the limits of those views were surfacing now.
“It will never work, my Lady,” he said. “Our men won’t have it.”
Looking at him, it was not difficult to tell that he would very much have liked to add “[i]I[/i] won’t have it”, but wisely chose not to. Jaina nodded.
“This is one of the problems we will have to face from now on,” she said. “There is no way around it, I’m afraid.”
His eyes said that he thought there were ways, but he held his peace. Jaina did understand his concerns, they were perfectly valid. However, she had to be firm in this, as all other matters in the future. Unless changes like this were made, her and Thrall’s marriage would remain an empty, if scandalous, symbol.
“There must be no discrimination, no falling back on the old values of orcs as slaves in any way. Of course, the orcs will have to follow the same rules and behave,” Jaina said. Then she smiled, and it was not a kind smile. “And if your men have a problem with this, let them know that should there be incidents with the orcs, they will not answer to me only. They will also answer to my husband.”
It felt a little too good to say that, mainly due to the look on the captain’s face. As he marched out, rather pale, Jaina wished for the tenth or so time that she could just appoint Colonel Lorena for the leading position in the Hold. That woman had more than ample skill and faith in her Lady, proven beyond a doubt in the battle against the Zmodlor and the Burning Blade some years ago. However, Lorena had her vital place right now out at sea, overseeing the ships protecting merchant vessels from the pirates in the area.
The door didn’t even close after the Captain – Jaina’s ponderings flew out the window as she saw him sidestep, then look around with wide eyes as emissary Southstone walked in, stopping his stumbling dialogue in Orcish to look at Jaina and salute. Tallwind was not so much staring at the diplomat and the two mages who stopped in the door, looking caught between amusement and disbelief. The Captain, and the guards a second later, rather stared at the troll woman swaggering in, grinning around her fine tusks at Thomas.
She stood one and a half head taller than any of the men, and their armor, or robes, only managed to underscore just how colorful her skirt and short shirt were. Jaina could brave a guess that Thrall had insisted on more clothing than usual for his messengers, though.
The troll sobered as Thomas fell silent, and mimicked him as he saluted – though she touched a fist to her (ample) chest instead of touching a stretched hand to her forehead.
“A messenger from Warchief Thrall, my Lady,” Thomas said.
“Welcome to Theramore,” Jaina said, smiling at the troll.
The much taller woman bowed her head and stepped forwards, holding out a folded letter. Jaina saw the guards bristle, but they stood back and forced themselves to just wait and see. Good.
“Dank ye, m’Lady,” the troll said in a richly accented Common. “Dis letter be from High Chieftain Cairne Bloodhoof.”
Keeping her smile under control, Jaina took the letter and opened it. Cairne wrote with big, exact letters that still had a rounded fluidity to them. It was interesting, she had never seen his handwriting before. She had to wonder if he had needed help with both the language and the alphabet – if so, it didn’t show.
Greetings, Lady Proudmoore,
It warms my spirit to see that You and the Warchief are so dedicated to the cause of peace. Know that You have not only my full support, and the support of all tauren faithful to our common cause, but You also have my blessings and those of my son.
We have not forgotten Hyjal, and though there have been disagreements with our people and the Alliance since then, there is a great wish for peace amongst the settlements here in Mulgore. Hamuul Runetotem of the Cenarion Circle was overjoyed to hear the news, and he wishes to voice his sanction of this great occasion as well. He does not wander alone with this emotion in his chest. May the day of Your historical wedding be one of hope for the entire land.
May the spirits watch over you always,
Cairne Bloodhoof
Jaina could almost hear the old tauren’s deep, soft voice as she read, and it was a comforting feeling to support his words. Lowering the letter, she nodded at the messenger.
“I will write a reply at once,” Jaina said, then motioned at the men behind the troll. “It won’t take long, but I’m certain that there may be things you and your Theramore colleagues might want to sort out.”
The troll grinned, and nodded.
“Dey needn’t be so scah’d, m’Lady, I’lla try ta help telling dem so.”
Jaina managed to contain her laughter to a twitch of her lips. In the background, the two mages looked a little sheepish, while Thomas hid his mouth behind a hand.
The troll took a few steps backwards, saluted again and then walked out. The door closed behind her, Thomas and the messengers.
Jaina immediately went about writing a letter to Cairne, thanking him and all other tauren voicing their support for the marriage. She was certain that not all agreed even in that generally open-minded people, even with the Grimtotems disregarded, but any encouraging response was invaluable.
About half an hour after receiving the message from the tauren High Chieftain, Jaina could send the troll off with her response.
That turned out to have been the calm part of the day, because then some very surprising things happened very quickly.
Only minutes after the troll had twinkled out of existence, holding the newly composed letter, a guard came hurrying inside the throne room. More or less skidding to a halt, he tried to catch his breath while Jaina watched with raised eyebrows.
“My Lady,” he gasped, saluting, “a messenger from the night elves just arrived.”
Jaina tensed – she could not help it, even if she regretted letting the soldiers see it. But this, being the first reaction from another Alliance faction, had been what she had expected from the moment she kissed Thrall in Ratchet in front of the stunned crowds. Among the leaders in the Alliance, Tyrande was the one who might accept this arrangement the easiest. However, considering the current strife between the night elves and the orcs and trolls over Ashenvale and Warsong Gulch, Jaina had no idea whether she could count on Tyrande’s support.
Seconds stretched to excruciating minutes as she waited, as everyone waited – she allowed herself to exchange glances with the guards, and they too looked nervous.
Then finally light, strong steps sounded through the open door and a night elf woman walked in, saluting. Jaina bowed her head and spoke a well practiced greeting, hardly hearing herself. The tall warrior female wore a perfectly blank expression, revealing nothing.
She stepped forwards, raising her hand with a letter closed with a crescent-shaped wax symbol. The neutral look smoothened, and a small, careful smile touched the tall, purple-skinned woman’s lips.
“Lady Tyrande sends her warmest well wishes,” she said.
The air became breathable again.
“I am most grateful.”
Jaina didn’t show it, but the words flooded her with relief. She was about to open the letter, when the messenger spoke again.
“Lady Tyrande also asked me to give you this, my Lady,” she said and held out a second letter. “It is for Warchief Thrall.”
Jaina raised her eyebrows, but took the letter and looked at it. Sure enough, it was addressed to Thrall, the greeting on the outside penned in Tyrande’s elegant handwriting.
“Very well, I will have it delivered immediately,” Jaina said. She nodded to one of the guards, who saluted and left the room.
A moment later he returned, followed by Thomas and one of the messenger mages. The latter looked a little pale, but the determination in his eyes promised that he had accepted this task and would carry it out as planned.
The two of them saluted, and the mage accepted the letter from Jaina’s hand. Admirably, he kept himself so much under control that his eyelids only twitched in surprise when he heard who the letter was for, and from who. Thomas, on the other hand, grinned wide in positive disbelief.
Though he cleared his throat in an obvious attempt to gather his wit, the mage bowed his head and raised his free hand, holding a rune of portals. Moments later both men were gone, and the shimmering hole in the air disappeared.
“I cannot say when there will be a reply,” Jaina told the night elf messenger. “The Warchief has a lot of things to prepare for the moment. If you wish, you can have a meal and drink downstairs while you wait.”
The messenger nodded her head in gratitude, turned, and walked out. The elf had not even reached the door before Jaina had opened the letter, unable to contain her curiosity.
She read the first few lines with twitching lips. Tyrande knew how to weave words most poetically, but what it got down to was, in essence, “If you think that I’m very surprised, young lady, you are gravely mistaken”.
Then Jaina reached the middle of the letter, and froze. She backed up, reread the lines, then backed up again and read them a third time.
“Is something the matter, my Lady?” one of the guards asked with some alarm.
Jaina looked up at him and his companion.
“Oh dear,” was all she managed to say.
‘-‘
In Orgrimmar, Thrall too came to an absolute halt at the mirroring portion of his letter from Tyrande.
Slowly, he reached up and rubbed his forehead. Until now he had managed to focus on merely practical problems and hope that things could be kept under control during the upcoming celebration – that being the most prudent issue for the moment, even tough world politics always loomed close by.
Jaina would bring her Elite Guard to the festivities, there was no discussion there. That, in combination with the alcohol the celebration would entail, had until now seemed like the most pressing recipe for disaster.
Lowering his hand, Thrall looked up at the crowded hall. So much to prepare, so much to balance, so many people running around. Except now they had stopped moving and watched him curiously, as the news of who the letter was from had spread quickly. Thrall’s reaction to reading it could not have helped.
The human mage and his companion – moral support, Thrall suspected – also looked curious, although they tried to keep up a neutral expression. They could not have any idea what the letter said.
“Vol’jin,” Thrall said, heard clearly in the sudden standstill.
“Ya?”
The troll straightened up in his full height above the heads of everyone, at the other end of the room. Thrall pondered telling him to come over and hear the news in private, but then thought better of it. It would cause surprise and very possibly an uproar – he might just as well let his people get used to the thought. Just when they were just beginning to struggle with accepting the Warchief’s choice of a mate, now this too…
“We may have to rethink the drinking,” Thrall said and raised the letter. “Tyrande Whisperwind has announced that she intends to attend the celebration, with a small following of course.”
Vol’jin’s mouth was not the only one which fell open.
The mage messenger looked around with an alarmed expression on his face as the room dissolved into a rising, agitated murmur. He still had no idea, not understanding the language spoken. Beside him, Thomas stood still, eyes wide – he did understand. If he believed to have heard it right was another thing.
“Silence!”
Thrall threw out his hands, and the grumbles and mutterings ceased immediately.
“We’ll have night elves visiting,” Thrall said, pointedly looking at Vol’jin. “Go tell all Darkspear men to behave themselves.”
They all stared at him for a moment.
Then Vol’jin keeled over laughing, and the rest of the crowd soon followed.
Thrall too grinned, but it faded quickly as the very real risks of this new turn flowed through his mind. Oh, he certainly saw what this could mean for the political climate on Kalimdor, in fact it was a golden opportunity for peace – but then, he would have to keep everyone from punching anyone in their purple face. Until now he had only worried about pink faces.
For what it was worth, at least Vol’jin finally showed some other feeling than thinly veiled dislike for the sudden marriage.
Thrall shook himself out of his thoughts and looked down at the two humans.
“I will write a reply to this letter,” Thrall said in Common, “just wait a moment.”
Still looking rather dazed, they both nodded. The mage edged away from a laughing orc who had almost hit him with a careless – and rather crude – hand motion. Thrall reached for the table standing beside his throne, cluttered with papers with an ink pencil lying on top.
“Warchief!”
He looked up, seeing a Forsaken woman in a dark green robe duck and squirm her way through the crowd. In her hand, she held a letter. The human mage edged even further aside as the skeletal creature made it to the podium, but Thomas stood still, giving the woman a sharp look. Once she got closer though, he visibly relaxed although he too, only then, moved a little further away.
“Pardon the intrusion,” the Forsaken said in a high-pitched, hoarse voice, “but Lady Sylvanas instructed me to give you this at once.”
With a dreadful sense of misgiving, Thrall stopped reaching for pen and paper, and took the somewhat smelly message from the bony hand. He opened the letter, read it, and pressed a hand to the side of his face.
At least, the Dark Lady said that she had no intention to bring her pet dreadlord with her to the celebration. Small mercies.
Orcs, trolls, humans, tauren, night elves, and now also Forsaken, sitting in the same room and drinking alcohol. A message from the blood elves was expected to arrive any time now. Thrall could feel a headache creeping up on him.
The only thing this teetering calamity still lacked would be…
‘-‘
“Another messenger has arrived, my lady,” a newly entered guard announced.
Jaina nodded at him to let the new guest in, but her eyes widened when she heard the sound of a pair of hooves clip-clopping against the floor outside. Something bluish moved behind the guard.
She was no oracle, but she simply knew what the new messenger would have to say.
Oh, dear.
Booyeah! This is gonna be an awesome party! 
Oh bother, I DO make fun of nelf/troll pairings in almost every fic, don’t I?
Orcs, trolls, humans, tauren, night elves, and now also Forsaken, sitting in the same room and drinking alcohol.
If that doesn’t equal a good time, I don’t know what does. XD
Eh, my intuition says that an Orc wedding without alcohol is considered null & void. Or at least that’s how the dwarfs will consider it.
Nice change of pace from the last one. In general, a possible war seems more relaxing than an orc not knowing what his undead friend (?<–would be dramatic question mark if you hadn’t given hints). Don’t ask me why. So, has Thomas seen Simon almost drown in this one or is it behind in the timeline?
If that doesn’t equal a good time, I don’t know what does. XD
Damn straight. PARTAHY! :booster:
Yeah, Thrall will have to start a militant version of the AAs to keep alcohol away from this party XD
Ah, sorry, I’m horrible with spoilers. On that tangent, I sure hope that the disagreements I’ve planned for this story will be enough for the readers or if they’ll come to expect more than I’m prepared to deliver 
There will be some arguments, but… bleh.
This one is set some time after Simon goes swimming. Thomas still doesn’t know what to make of Sarah, as his reaction might or might not hint XD
Don’t worry too much 
After all, if you hadn’t said anything, then you’d got some pretty high expectations. lolz is sara crazy or wut?
Wait…would alcohol even have any effect on undead? 
Well, since they can get drunk in-game I make it so that they their bodies do get wobbly and so, but their minds stay pretty much intact. It passes quickly, too.
See, if I was making this stuff up, my thinking would be that they could get sloshed, but it would take a lot harder stuff than what would get us fleshbags tipsy. Like, say, grain alcohol. :mwahaha:
How about shoe polish? XD
When Jaina appeared in Thrall’s room that evening, she found him sitting by a table cluttered with papers, forehead perched in his palm. It was an odd scene – she had, intellectually, known that there must be times when he was out of his armor and doing paperwork, but actually seeing it made her blink. His huge bulk hunched in thought, a boulder-sized fist grasping a huge pen, and piles of papers waiting.
His scowl eased when he looked up and smiled in greeting, but the thoughtful look remained.
“How are you doing?” she asked, sitting down in the waiting chair on the other side of the table. It was a bit large, but she could sit comfortably regardless.
“I’m trying to plan on where to seat all the groups of guests during the celebration,” he said, rapping a mostly empty paper with a huge pointing finger.
A circle had already been drawn on the otherwise blank surface.
“At least Prophet Velen himself is not joining us,” Thrall continued and shook his head. “As much as I would be exalted to meet him under friendly terms, there’s enough to worry about right now.”
Jaina nodded with the empathy of one fully sharing the same troubles. They either had a great step towards possible peace on Kalimdor before them, or the makings of a disaster.
“Do you have any idea from where to begin?” she asked.
“Yes. Set the Forsaken as far away from the humans and draenei as possible and light incense.”
His grin was a dry one, and she returned it with a similar smile. As sarcastic as that sounded, it was no joke.
“It may be a good idea to place the draenei away from the night elves as well,” Jaina said, rubbing her forehead. “Even if they are allies, there will be a lot of drinking, and some elves can’t get over their suspicion of the eredar.”
When he looked at her as if to say “but they [i]aren’t[/i]…” she shook her head and threw out her hands in a helpless gesture.
“And the draenei don’t trust blood elves because of Prince Kael’thas and what happened to the naaru M’uru.” Thrall allowed himself to slump backwards a little. “The blood elves and the night elves can’t stand each other, and the humans aren’t too fond of anybody on the Horde side. And still I wish we didn’t have to divide my throne room between Alliance and Horde. That defeats the purpose of our marriage.”
Jaina nodded agreement, while thoughtfully looking at the simple drawing. Despite Thrall’s exasperation, she felt a little amused at the thought of this puzzle. It reminded her of some of the board games played in Dalaran, challenging all players’ intelligence and ability to plan ahead. Almost like…
She glanced up at him, sitting there with a thoughtful look and his chin on a fist.
“It’s pure tactic,” she said. “You like this, don’t you?”
With a – for him – soft chuckle Thrall straightened up.
“I admit, now that I have an advisor present who can tell me about the mindset of half the combatants…” He picked up the (just as long as her lower arm) pen again while she grinned at him. “I had an inkling about the night elves and the draenei. It is well to have it confirmed. Let us begin with the two of us.”
He drew a J by the wall of the circle closest to him, then a T to the left of the first letter.
“Your guards and brother should of course sit at your side,” he said, drawing a ‘Hu’ beside the J, then a ‘KE’ and a small t beside his T. “And my Elites beside me. Vol’jin, master Drek’Thar and a few others will also sit there. There are some more trolls too, and I would set them beside my guards.”
No trolls and night elves too close to each other. Neither said so – it wasn’t necessary to say that aloud.
Jaina pointed at the ‘Hu’, then circled the empty area below it.
“Would it be possible to place the tauren between the night elves and the draenei?” she said. “They share similar believes with the elves, and the draenei have no real reason to feel hostile towards them as far as I know.”
“Some tauren may regard it as rude if they are placed further away from us,” Thrall said, but shrugged. “Although, if I explain to Cairne and let him tell them that they are protecting the peace, they should understand their importance.” He wrote ‘Tau’ in the middle of the circle’s right side. Then he let the pen hover over the upper empty area.
“No way around it, is there?” Jaina said.
“Sadly not. Let us hope that all the elves can deal with it.” Thrall wrote ‘BE’ just beside the runes symbolizing the orcs and trolls – the two groups of elves would be facing each other across the room. Finally, pursing his lips in a way that made the corners of Jaina’s mouth twitch, he wrote ‘F’ some ways down the circle wall, with a good distance between them and the blood elves.
The draenei would more or less face the Forsaken, and so would the tauren, but it would be at a wide distance.
Incense. Lots of it.
Finishing, Thrall put the pen down and studied the drawing for a moment. As he faced Jaina again, a serious look had taken over.
“Speaking of the blood elves,” he said, “I fear it’s only a matter of time until their leaders hear about Prince Kael’thas’ threat. I’m surprised I haven’t heard from them about that already.”
“I was starting to wonder about that myself.” Jaina sat back, watching him with concern. “What do you think that they’ll make of it? They allied with you in the hopes of reaching him in Outland, didn’t they?”
“Yes, although they would rather not admit that we are the brutish, uncouth means to an end.”
He allowed himself to voice the truth he very well knew, only to her, and Jaina joylessly smiled in reply. It was one of those things that everyone was fully aware of. At the same time it was not quite fair – the elves were finding their place in the Horde, and he believed that many of them had actually been surprised at what they discovered along the way.
“It will be interesting to see their reaction, I admit,” Thrall said, and his fangs gleamed in the light of the candles.
“Ah,” Jaina said, smitten by his grim amusement. Yes, it would be quite a test of loyalty. Then her smile faded, and she watched him seriously. “They will probably want to speak with both of us.”
He straightened up, nodding slowly.
“Have you ever met Lor’themar Theron?” he asked.
“No, apart from Kael’thas there weren’t many highelves in Dalaran when I studied there. Do you have any idea what we can expect?”
“I’m afraid not. He is no fool, however, and neither are his advisors. The blood elves cannot afford to lose any allies at this point.”
None of us can.
“Very true,” Jaina said. Then her serious expression softened. “But speaking of which, I have some good news for you.”
She reached into a pocket in her dress and drew out a letter with its seal broken. A small, twitching smile spread over her lips, and Thrall raised an eyebrow at the apparent, hardly controlled look of triumph.
“I received this today, as well,” she said. “Part of it is for you.”
He took the letter from her much smaller hands and looked down at the cracked wax symbol. The two pieces formed the seal of Ironforge. Blinking, he brushed the letter open with his thumb and drew out the paper within.
To Lady Jaina Proudmoore
of Theramore
Greetings,
The news caught us all by surprise, I must admit. Soon after, we received word from Stormwind, wanting to know our stance on the issue.
The political situation in the world demands that I and my people take a stand, yet I feel that I would be a fool to judge. Considering all, I am afraid that I cannot voice complete support of Your actions. That is not to say that I look down on Your decision, in fact I admit that it shows great courage. Your willingness to work for peace, if unconventional, is admirable.
We both know what the trade between Theramore and Menethil means to Ironforge, as well as the entire Alliance. This I will remind those who demand that I resent You and Your city.
This is my answer to Stormwind and to You, as King of the Dwarves: we will not take sides in this matter. We will not voice an opinion for or against You, but I will not tolerate harsh words from either side. Ironforge remains Your ally, as long as You remain ours.
[i]With well-wishes for Your marriage,
King Magni Bronzebeard
To Warchief Thrall
of Durotar[/i]
Greetings,
I have often wondered if a day would come when there would be communication between us. The situation You and Your wife has created is an odd one. For now, I will wait and see what happens.
There is, however, one matter I feel obliged to bring up. In all honesty, it is something I should have let You know months ago, yet You too understand the tensions in the world. They hindered me from writing, although honor bids me, nay, demands I give thanks where gratitude is well overdue.
My daughter’s fate is troubling and disturbing, not only to me personally but for all my people. Yet none of us would even have known about it, had our expedition to save her not been aided in their darkest hour by the orcs You sent into the cursed mountain. True, I do not know how You came to know of the abduction, or why Your people would risk their lives to save my daughter and protect our expedition. That, however, does not change the result.
Though princess Moira remains lost to us, You have my deepest gratitude, and the gratitude of the families whose sons and daughters Your people saved. Know this, although it is all I can offer You at this time.
With well-wishes for Your marriage,
King Magni Bronzebeard
It was, perhaps, not much in essence – only a recognition of due gratitude. However, the mere fact that it had been written down at all and sent to him spread a wide grin over Thrall’s lips, to match Jaina’s expression. He lowered the letter, pressing his palm against the table to keep from roaring his elation.
So much hope had he put into that chance at a gesture of good will, and so badly had those hopes been dashed – that pain added to the tragedy and worry he could sympathize with, because the Dark Irons would surely be a great problem should they seize control of the dwarves’ throne.
He stood up abruptly and moved around the table, reaching out and grasping Jaina about the waist as she got to her feet. He laughed, holding her to his chest, and she laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Hope.
“Until now I feared that King Bronzebeard would think I was under the same spell as his daughter,” Jaina said, sighing relief between the triumphant chuckles.
Thrall set her down, shaking his head. The words and their sinister undercurrent just bounced off him. This was more than either of them could have hoped for, to have not only Tyrande but even Velen and King Bronzebeard voice careful agreement that the two of them were doing the right thing.
He was so grateful of Jaina, so full of joy that she simply existed and stood there smiling up at him, that he could not speak. He would have voiced all his emotions, but he simply could not, despite all his famed fluency with words. So he stroke her cheek, her shoulders, and when her eyes drifted closed he brushed his forehead to hers. The breathless laugh, hitching in her throat in a soft gasp, coiled electricity through him and he had to restrain himself again lest he would have crushed her to his chest with too much force.
Hope.
Such a beautiful, fresh feeling.
The next day, however, Stormwind made their move.
Dun dun DUUUN!
Sad thing is, the above is about three times as passionate as their actual coming-together-moment in its current form. Iii need to rework that. Ugh. Honestly it scares me to think of it XD But this pairing is still so goshdarn cute.
There was one or two reviewers saying that they felt like things had been going too smoothly. If ya felt that, lemme assure you that here come the dissenters now.
You just HAD to tack that last line on, didn’t you? You get some sort of perverse thrill out of this, vile she-devil!
Well, don’t leave us hanging for too long.
OF COURSE I do :mwahaha: Leaving cliffhangers is half the fun!
“I’m trying to plan on where to seat all the groups of guests during the celebration,” he said, rapping a mostly empty paper with a huge pointing finger.
He really is short on advisors, isn’t he?
Aw, don’t take this fun away from me XD
Okay okay good point, I’ll have Jaina comment on that in the final version.
You know the heroic types. They all have their moments of This Is Something I Must Do On My Own. Some less epic than others.
I should be working on my essay D: Oh well. I’m 3/5 done with it and have two and a half month to go for my own deadline.
The surprisingly slow response from Stormwind, Jaina later figured, had to be due to a rush of messengers sent to every other kingdom and friendly race. The humans, when they spoke, resolved to carry as much weight of the entire Alliance that they could gather. This theory came from King Bronzebeard’s mention of a demand for him to chose sides, and grew stronger when Jaina later received similar comments from Tyrande and Velen.
From the moment the emissary of Stormwind and his escort of ten soldiers stepped through the magical portal, it took about five minutes for all of Theramore to know about it.
As a result, Jaina herself was not even in the city when the guests had marched halfway up the main street. The moment she heard of it, she took off on a very important errand.
The troop and emissary was met by the entrance to the citadel by the chamberlain herself, as well as politely saluting members of Lady Proudmoore’s own Elite Guard. Aegwynn kept a neutral smile as she spoke a greeting from the stair, looking down at the emissary on the road. He would probably have raised his chin even if he had not been further down than her, and either way he would not have been able to give her a condescending look from above even had they been standing on an equal level.
He probably did know who he was speaking to – but he certainly did not believe her history to be anything but wild stories.
“My name is Sir Arthur Dunhave, sent to speak on behalf of His Royal Highness Anduin Wrynn and Highlord Bolvar Fordragon,” he finally said after the minimum quota of pleasantries had been filled. “I am certain that you understand the weight of Stormwind’s arrival in Theramore?”
It should not have needed to be a question, really.
“All of Theramore does, Sir, I assure you,” Aegwynn replied without casting a single glance at the street behind the men. The nearby activity in the city had all but completely ceased, and curious, expectant faces were gazing out of the windows of the closest houses. Almost like the afternoon after the wedding, when Jaina held her speech – but on a smaller scale and a much different emotion in the air.
The chamberlain half turned and made a polite, inviting motion with her arm towards the open gates of the citadel.
“Allow me to show you inside, gentlemen,” she said, “I regret to inform you that Lady Proudmoore is currently meeting with a representative of another faction, but she will see you shortly.”
“Of course,” Dunhave said, with the well-honed patience of a trained diplomat. As he walked up the stairs together with his men, he managed to keep his voice free of suspicion as he innocently asked, “may I inquire on what faction she is currently meeting with?”
“Ah, it is an emissary from Prophet Velen,” Aegwynn said, her smile unwavering as she nodded. “You understand, I’m certain, that the draenei are very curious about what my Lady’s wedding entails for the rest of Kalimdor.”
“Yes,” Dunhave said. “Yes, we all understand that.”
Aegwynn hid her smirk as she turned to lead the way to the small dining hall where the men would be served refreshments, to give Jaina time to act.
The chamberlain loved getting to lie through her teeth for a good cause.
She led them to a waiting room where they were served fresh fruit and drink, then politely excused herself.
About twenty minutes later she returned, bringing Sir Dunhave to the throne room. Jaina sat on her throne, something she normally preferred not to do. This, however, was a special occasion.
As the required pleasantries were being exchanged between ruler and emissary, Aegwynn silently left again. The door remained open, and as she passed she signaled at the guards to leave it so.
Finally, the courtly exchanges were over with far enough to allow Sir Dunhave to bring forth the actual reason for his presence.
“I will say here and now, Lady Proudmoore, that my visit here is in no way intended as a challenge or threat,” he said. “I regret having to say so, but I am certain that you understand why.”
“I do, Sir,” Jaina agreed, “and I appreciate the good gesture of your making that clear. Likewise, you and your escort have nothing to fear here, I assure you.”
“Even so,” the emissary started again, “you understand why I am here. Your resent actions are, by your own words, though I would not use the term otherwise, outrageous. It was quite a shock to the rulers of Stormwind and all the people under their protection, and as such, the Alliance remains unsure on where you and Theramore currently stand, Lady Proudmoore.”
Jaina nodded, slowly.
“Theramore has always needed to maintain some peace with the Horde,” she said. “We sit precariously far away from our friends. On the other hand, the Horde has not made any move against us, save for the unfortunate business with my father a few years ago.” She held up a hand when Dunhave opened his mouth again. “And may I remind you that it was the Warchief’s forces who dealt with Onyxia after she cast off her disguise and fled Stormwind? Seeing as she made her lair dangerously close to us, Theramore has a debt of gratitude to pay.”
“That aid was not necessary,” Dunhave said, his voice under control. “We sent our own troops to root out the treacherous dragon, as you remember.”
Jaina chose not to mention that Theramore had been forced to harbor those soldiers, with little compensation, for several days between their arrival and departure.
“Do not misunderstand me,” she said instead, nodding again, “as the ruler of Theramore I am very grateful for that, as you graciously wished to deal with a fearsome monster that threatened us.”
She could practically hear him think something along the lines of “and now you refuse aid in dealing with an even greater monster, with thousands of heads”. Given the time, he may have managed to put that into politically correct words, and she felt no desire to hear it. Quickly, she clasped her hands behind her back and lowered her head in a thoughtful pose.
“Neither I personally nor Theramore has any intention to leave the Alliance,” she said. “However, as I said we are far away from human lands, and if it came to war we would not receive aid in time. I have entered the current arrangement with the orcish Warchief in order to ensure peace.”
That message was so familiar by now, though she had worded it differently in each letter, that it regrettably sounded a little stilted as she spoke.
Dunhave slowly shook his head.
“My Lady,” he said, “I commend your bravery and wish to protect your people with any means necessary. Yet we both know that this is not merely about Theramore and Durotar. The rest of the Alliance will not stand in silence and let Theramore be usurped by the Horde. These are troubled times, and we must stand united against our foes.”
Jaina smiled sweetly and grasped three rolled up documents lying on the table beside her throne.
“Actually, milord,” she said, “I have received word from King Bronzebeard that he intends to remain neutral in this matter, and the gnomes agreed. They wish to wait and see the results unfold before they take a stand.” He must have known that, but she did not say so. The next part, however, he probably did not have any idea about – and judging from the look in his eye, he had not. “Also, in exchange for a partial withdrawal of orc forces from Ashenvale, and organized cooperation of orc and tauren shamans with the Cenarion Circle to search for a cure for Felwood, High Priestess Tyrande has given her blessing to the union.”
Let’s not go into the fact that the discussion was in its infancy and being (so far) politely warred over, the orcs [i]needed[/i] that source of wood… Thrall might not support the slaughter of the forest, but where to find another nearby source of such fine building materials? ‘A healed Felwood may be useful’ could not float, not when everyone knew how long that poor forest had been sick and how far away it was. The elves needed to offer something more than just support of a marriage to compensate for what they asked of Thrall – not to mention that Tyrande had hinted at some difficulties with protests voiced by Archdruid Fandral Staghelm and others. The elves were far from in agreement amongst themselves, and neither were any of the other races. But Jaina had no intention to get into any of that right there and then. She needed a solid argument, and so far it seemed to work.
Before Dunhave could produce more than a hiss, eyes widening, Jaina waved the two documents. She had found a crack in his diplomatic correctness, and she intended to exploit it. Let it never be said that Theramore started with the arguments. If Stormwind wanted to bring this to a less civilized level, it would not be Jaina who took the first step onto that road – even though she could stand on the other side of the path and dare Stormwind to do that mistake. Dirty politics indeed, but she would only allow them to accuse her of foremost seeking peace on Kalimdor for the sake of her people.
She continued.
“And finally, Theramore is proud to announce that we will serve as meeting ground for the first dialogue between representatives of Warchief Thrall and Prophet Velen.”
By the door, the two guards looked around as Aegwynn entered, a finger pressed to her lips. The motion was understood, and the guards tensed, as somebody followed the chamberlain through the door, with an impressive lack of noise. Jaina, however, acted as if nothing happened, and thus the emissary did not notice anything.
“You understand, of course, what this could mean for the Alliance?” Dunhave said, composing himself with admirable speed. “The night elves, and the draenei even more so, are new members of our council, and they may not understand the implications of their support.”
“Yes, these are serious issues you bring forwards,” Jaina said, nodding. Then, perfectly calm, she raised her gaze and looked past the emissary. “What do you say, dearest?”
The guards desperately stared at the ceiling and Aegwynn bit her lip as Dunhave spun around and recoiled, gasping and with a hand raised in useless – needless – defense at the sight of the orc standing a few feet behind him.
Warchief Thrall merely folded his arms across his mountain of a chest – very loud motion, that, because of his armor – and opened his mouth.
“You voice reasonable fear for the stability of the Alliance, yet I ask you and your sovereign to understand that it is in the interest of not only my spouse and I to prioritize stability on Kalimdor. Nay, it is crucial for all people living on this continent that peace be ensured in our respective realms, especially since, as you said yourself, these are troubled times. Also, I hold Prophet Velen and High Priestess Tyrande in the highest regard and if I may, since they are not here to speak for themselves, I would voice their assertion of full understanding of the situation. They have, after all, had the time to study the art of politics and diplomacy for far longer than anyone of us may hope to live, although their affairs with the other people of Azeroth have a shorter history.”
He finished and watched Dunhave for a moment. The man stared up at the green face, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. When it came down to it, very few humans had actually ever met the Warchief, or heard him speak.
“Oh, pardon me. Was that too eloquent?” Thrall asked.
Jaina seriously feared that her lower lip would start to bleed, so hard was she biting down on it to keep from bursting out laughing. A glance of empathy in shared suffering flew between her and the guards at the door – she made a mental note to commend them for their poker faces. Aegwynn stood with her face dipped into a hand to hide her smirking, but her shoulders shook with mirth.
PWNED.
So pwned.
“I am certain that you understand the weight of Stormwind’s arrival in Theramore?”
Heh, his first words weren’t that diplomatic.
Your resent actions
“And finally, Theramore is proud to announce that we will serve as meeting ground for the first dialogue between representatives of Warchief Thrall and Prophet Velen.”
“You voice…”
They’re both talking heads! This wedding is a merger of top PR firms.
He’s more diplomatic than he would have been if he was sent by Varian Vrynn. Gad I hate that guy. RAR!!
I’d say something witty about that PR firms comment in return, but I’m drawing a blank XD All I can think of when I see PR right now is “Power Rangers” because I talked with a friend about them the other day.