Another Proudmoore in need of a good kick in the face? Time will tell.
Had he not already given permission she would have asked his opinion.
This sounds too expository. Perhaps truncate it to “He had already given permission”, that is a reasonable thought to follow the previous sentence.
Her memory of every exact words
“I would not wish to inflict any pain upon your people, and I only regret that I must bring you such disconcerting tidings.”
Finally, a threat (under the cover of apology)! It’s weird seeing war leader Jaina have to do so much balancing and be painfully nice to everyone (her allies, heh).
the Lady took note of only when the sound had already escaped her.
Ditch “of”.
Nice ending, things seem about to get heated. Can you tell me why I picture every diplomatic dealing in this story as a 19th century affair? Orcs with smocks, the award-winning musical.
Rig: Orcs in smocks sounds like it would be worlds and worlds better than this exercise in WTFery, at least.
Manus: I read a fanfic the other day where it finally turned out that Tandred and Jaina had had a rather morbid relationship in their youth. Not so much here. Sheezus, ew.
Lots of new stuff due to this being one of those parts I wrote aaages ago. It just needed some superglue and tweaking to make readable.
The first shock gave away for a steel hard, icy determination and Jaina’s face hardened. She had not been sure what to expect from her last living brother, but she would have thought that he would write her back. That he appeared here, suddenly and alone, told her that he wanted to deal with this issue personally.
“I am glad to see you, brother, but should you not travel with an escort?” she said, keeping her voice neutral.
Aegwynn’s expression hardened as well, and the guards finally caught up with the facts. They hurriedly recoiled from trying to hold the wild-eyed man back. Tandred crossed the floor, the carpet on the ground doing nothing to soften the in Jaina’s ears thundering steps. For a moment she thought that she saw not him, but their father – moments before Daelin Proudmoore had declared her unfit to rule and shoved her aside to nearly damn Theramore in his hatred for the orcs.
“Jaina, Jai-” Tandred’s voice broke. He reached her, grasping her hands in gloved, trembling hands.
She blinked. In his stare there was fury, true. But more than that, there was fear. He swallowed hard, and spoke again before she could collect herself.
“Why didn’t you call for me?” he asked, “I would have done anything, anything to help!”
Light. Tandred didn’t at all think she had betrayed her family and the Alliance. He thought her a victim. The realization threatened to crumble the very base of Jaina’s determination – in relief or dread she did not know. Relief for his lack of rage towards her, dread because she would have to correct him, thus coaxing that rage into existence.
She shook her head.
“Oh no, no, no,” she said, trying to gather her wits.
“Jaina, just thinking about him touching you…”
Tandred faltered, looking like pride alone kept him from tears. It cut like a dagger in Jaina’s heart – anger and shouting she had been prepared for, not this despair. But she squared her jaw and straightened up.
“Let us discuss this in private, brother,” she said.
Clenching her grip of his hands, she cast a spell that brought both of them out of the throne room and to her private quarters. Tandred stumbled at the dislocation, but caught himself quickly.
“How could this happen to you?” he blurted, his face painfully tight. “What did we do to deserve the Horde picking us off one by one? First Derek, and-”
“Tandred, Tan,” Jaina said, hoping the childhood nickname would help soothe him. Wriggling one hand out of his grip to place it on his shoulder, she looked him in the face. “Listen to me, you judge the Warchief too harshly.”
Tandred opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, then straightened up.
“He killed our father.” This time, his voice was deep and hard.
Jaina pursed her lips and looked away, unable to meet her brother’s gaze.
No, he didn’t.
“And now he wants to claim your life as well.”
It’s not like that. But you will hate me for it.
“How can you ask me not to judge him as his actions deserve? I read copies of your letter to Stormwind, you were more honest to them about the situation. You didn’t have to wrap it in silk when you wrote to me!”
That was more than enough to break her numbness. She firmly shook her head.
“You’ve got that wrong, it’s the opposite,” she said. “Stormwind and the other kingdoms would be quick to condemn if I didn’t convince them that this is something they recognize. You know that there have been unions of this kind throughout all of human history. Heirs betrothed while still in the cradle-”
“That’s different!” Tandred threw up his arms. “That’s diplomacy, what is this? You, sitting here trapped on the edge of a swamp! He’s got half the world’s armies at his beck and call-”
“It’s not so simple,” Jaina sharply said. “An attack against Theramore would have started a world war, and Thrall would never risk that.”
“So he proposes instead, with his armies standing silently on the horizon?” Tandred furiously paced as he spoke, waving his hands at the windows.
Jaina’s eyes narrowed. True that Thrall rather saw the Alliance blaming him for the marriage, but this bitter passion tipped the scales dangerously. They certainly did not want people deciding she needed “saving.”
“He was not the one who made the suggestion,” she said in a steady voice. When Tandred spun around and stared at her, she added, “That’s something not many will know about.”
“You-”
He fell silent, then leant his face in a hand.
“Your people would not ask of you to do so much for them,” he finally said. “It’s inhumane.”
Still he refused to see what she tried to tell him. Seeing how the truth of the proposal ran off him, Jaina chose not to press the similar facts immediately. She could not tell how he would react, if she had right at that moment told him of the emotions she shared with Thrall.
“The people of Theramore remember a time when they fought alongside the orcs,” Jaina said instead, her tone stricter than she had intended. “There are threats to all life on Azeroth still, we cannot afford to fight the Horde when the real danger-”
“Jaina!” He cut her off, striding up in front of her. Watching her face, he took in a deep breath. “Your reasoning is a leader’s, but I’m thinking about you.”
“Tan.” She held up both hands. “You don’t…”
However, he silenced her again by once more enclosing her hands into his, and gazing at her with pain and not just a little fear in his eyes.
“Answer me,” he hoarsely said. “Has this marriage been consummated?”
She looked at him, and wished that she could have put his mind at ease with a word. This was not a pompous diplomat from Stormwind or any raging dissenter. This was her brother, torn apart by worry for her.
Yet, no matter if she told the truth or lied, it would not help him – to simply say it had not yet happened would lend him defense to an impossible argument to have the wedding nullified. To claim it had happened would underscore his horror.
“Listen to me, Tan,” she said. “There’s something you just don’t understand. Will you listen and not interrupt me?” She waited until he had given a numb nod before she went on. “Since the wedding, I have gone to Orgrimmar to sleep beside him. People know this.”
The last she emphasized to make sure he understood that this alone made a barrier against any annulment. Nobody would believe that her going off to share the Warchief’s bed meant anything else. Jumping to conclusions, Tandred let hear a tortured groan. Jaina shook her head and continued.
“To sleep beside him.” He looked up with a start. “I tell you the truth because you’re hurting for my sake. You needn’t be. He waits, he was the one who said to wait, until I feel ready.”
“You… have not, then?”
You and Kael’thas, minds in the gutter…
But a small, scornful voice deep down inside Jaina questioned her own innocence in that matter. She ignored it.
“No,” she answered his question. Then she pursed her mouth. “But I will. He is my husband, Tan!”
For a moment he just stared at her, working his jaw. Then he let her hands go, and ice ran through Jaina’s entire body, expecting his condemnation.
“No. No, why would he do that?” he said, hoarsely, shaking his head and looking away. “You’re only trying to soothe me.”
“Tan-”
He snapped his face back towards her, tortured scowl digging into his forehead.
“And what of… heirs?” he demanded. “Are you going to have me see you dead in childbirth, to put a half-orc on- which throne?”
“Enough!” Jaina’s fists clenched, arms rigidly shooting down along her sides.
Tandred actually jumped at her tone. She met his disbelieving stare with narrowed eyes.
“I can force you to be silent with a single spell,” Jaina said. “I’d rather not, but you need to calm down and listen to me.”
“How can I calm, Jaina?” he shot back, bitterness and confusion mingling in his voice and expression.
“You don’t know Go’el.” When Tandred looked at her in confusion, she quickly corrected herself, trying not to let the sheepish feeling dent her resolve. “Thrall. Go’el is his real name, according his grandmother in Outland.”
“You do meet with him.” He paced up and down the room, hands slicing the air again. So much for staying calm.
“As I’ve told you,” Jaina pointed out. “It should be fairly apparent at this point that I have done so for years.”
“I never imagined it was something like this!” he snapped, and Jaina clenched her teeth hard. “The Alliance would have your head. They may want your head now.”
“Sometimes we don’t have the luxury of time enough to call on a formal meeting.” She folded her arms across her chest. “The Warchief has been my friend and one with whom I could always discuss the strains between our nations and factions efficiently. And not only that, but anything we have felt like talking about.” Then, even colder, “Do you despise me?”
He spun around, glaring at her.
“Despise you?” he growled. “I came here thinking you had been forced into marriage by that orc! If anybody called you orc whore I’d wring their goddamn necks off and now-”
He shrunk back, leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
“… now I’d still wring their necks, but Light, Jaina! Why?”
“You have not met him. You haven’t heard him speak, you haven’t seen him in action. He changed the orcs, he made them, the trolls and the tauren cooperate with us and the night elves and defeat the demon Archimonde. He would have reasoned with father rather than fought him. He sent people to save king Bronzebeard’s daughter and to slay Onyxia.”
It was a speech, and she had planned to bring it out whenever necessary – albeit not for him. But perhaps it suited his ears better than a diplomat’s.
Tandred opened and closed his mouth a few times. Then he abruptly turned, but only partly away from her, and pressed a hand to his eyes.
After a moment, hearing her pulse rush through her ears, Jaina walked closer and touched his arm. He straightened and faced her, conflicting emotions, mainly confusion, flitting around in his gaze. Still he did not know what to believe, and it would surely take time. But she was more relieved than she could say, that his rage seemed to have deflated – and his promise to punish anybody speaking ill of her made her heart flutter in gratitude. Not because she felt as if she needed the protection, but because he was still her brother. He did not hate her.
“Your wish to defend me means the world to me,” she said. “I didn’t know what to expect.”
Sighing, he shook his head. When he didn’t speak, she opted to try steering the discussion to more practical matters to give them both some breathing room.
“What do people over there in the Eastern Kingdoms say?” she wondered.
“How would I know, they look at me and they only see the sad remains of a once great fleet. Jaina…” he looked torn, and spoke bitterly with an expression of disgust at his own words, “Kul Tiras is weak, and me having an orc as a brother-in-law won’t help us gain the friends we need.”
That flutter of gratitude blasted apart and her eyes narrowed at his half-accusing her of further damning her homeland. However, she controlled herself – it was another reality she had already considered for a long time. The knowledge didn’t make it hurt less to hear those words from him, though.
Wetting her lips to calm herself, she wrestled the anger aside.
“King Bronzebeard has stated that he refuses to condemn this union,” she said. “He may actually be annoyed at Stormwind’s insistence that he do so. You could find friends there, if you voice support of the dwarves’ neutrality.”
“But I…” he paused and rubbed his eyes, then gave her a pained glare. “Jaina, I’m the ruler of Kul Tiras.”
“You don’t have to take my ad-”
“But I’m grateful for that information,” he quickly cut her off. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m just so upset. How do you expect me to deal with this? Politics be damned, I’m fearing for you, I tell you.”
Jaina swallowed hard against the tightening lump of tears in her throat. She prided herself with control, she wanted to be angry at him, but when he spoke and looked at her like that, there was nothing but a worried brother. They were both staring at the last family they both had. Months and years of holding back tears in the face of horrible odds threatened to crumble before that.
“I know,” she said, reaching out to hug him as if they were still children. “I know, I’m sorry I frightened you.” Her voice wavered once, but then her willpower proved stronger than the sobs.
Tandred returned the hug, squeezing her back protectively with strong, if slightly shaking arms.
“You really mean that you’re happy about this, then?” he murmured after a moment, stepping back so that he could look her in the eye. The anger had deflated, but the hesitance remained.
Jaina nodded.
“I am, I swear it,” she said.
He opened his mouth, then closed it and finally just sighed, looking away.
A few seconds passed. Jaina gave him time to breathe and try to begin to process this whole thing properly before she asked her next question.
“Will you come with me to the celebration in Orgrimmar, Tan?” she said, smiling carefully as she touched his arm. “You should meet my husband.”
Tandred turned back to her, and wet his lips nervously.
“I… of course.” His shoulders slumped.
For a moment Jaina hesitated, but there was something she had thought about for several minutes already.
“Actually… perhaps you should meet him in person before the celebration?” she said.
He gave her a wary look.
“There will be time to speak with him later,” Jaina continued, “but if you get it over with you may feel better.”
“I would…” he paused, considered it for a second and finally shook his head. “No. Not right now, at least. I could not remain calm.”
She merely nodded, and didn’t make a comment about telling her husband about all of this, later. Tandred did not look as if he could handle something like that.
After gently guiding her brother to an armchair, she went to the door and asked for a servant. As a maid quickly answered the summons, Jaina ordered that tea should be brought. With rum. Aegwynn had the right idea about that. When the maid had curtseyed and hurried off, Jaina sat down in the armchair opposite Tandred’s. The wild look may have gone from his eyes, but he still rubbed his face nervously.
“There is one thing, Tan,” Jaina said, watching him seriously.
He sat up straight as if stung.
“What?” he asked.
“First of all, please try to stop hyperventilating,” she said, smiling in an attempt to calm him down. Then she cleared her throat and started again. “An emissary from Stormwind, Arthur Dunhave, arrived earlier today. He acted fairly politically correct, but the message is clear that Stormwind is not at all amused.”
Tandred’s eyes darkened.
“They would still claim ownership of Theramore?” he asked.
“Would you support them?” she asked back, studying him.
He opened his mouth, then did a double take and caught on. A tortured scowl overtook his features.
“Jaina,” he said, and it sounded almost like a plea for mercy.
It went beyond Theramore as – theoretically, as the population was far more mixed – a Kul Tiras colony, which Stormwind would rather see under its protective ownership. Now it was a question of supporting, even defending, this alliance with the Horde.
“I don’t mean to upset you,” Jaina said, shaking her head. “But he will talk to you at the first opportunity he gets. He’ll try to get under your skin about this.”
“I would…!” Tandred paused and took a few deep, calming breaths. “I would not let myself be manipulated.”
Watching him, however, Jaina felt rather uncertain about that claim. She trusted him, but he was distraught enough to be swayed by any silver-tongued speaker who could throw more doubt onto his fears.
To cement his shaky belief in her being just fine with the situation, she told him at length about the reactions from King Bronzebeard and the other Alliance leaders. Tandred read their letters with a frown, eyes widening as he saw Tyrande’s declaration that she would take part in the celebration in Orgrimmar.
The tea arrived, and the letters were set aside.
Some time to calm down and reading those messages had done a good job on Tandred, Jaina could see it in his lowered shoulders. The distant, concerned look remained, however, even as he sipped his tea.
“Stormwind,” he finally said, putting his cup down on its saucer. “Are you worried about them?”
Jaina had to suppress a smile. There was something there, of a brother wanting to protect his sister even if she was fully capable of doing so herself. But, it was a step in the right direction and she could keep nudging him that way. Especially since she truly was worried about this matter.
“They lost many teeth when Tyrande and Velen gave their support, and the others chose to stay out of it,” she said. Then she pursed her mouth and looked at the tea. “I don’t doubt that Stormwind will try to find some way to make things more complicated. They could claim I am insane or under a spell, or find some obscure law annulling this marriage.”
“Or they could try to get me to declare you under my guardianship, and that you could not have made this choice for yourself, then marry you off to, say, Lord Fordragon, or King Wrynn should we ever find him,” Tandred said, teeth clenched though he rolled his eyes at the improbability of such marriages. “That is what you worried about, wasn’t it?”
Although she would have liked to deny thinking such things, Jaina could not. She slowly nodded, setting her cup aside.
“I tried to think of everything before the wedding,” she said, “but I may have missed something they could try to twist for their purposes.”
Tandred nervously pulled at his short beard.
“Paranoia is the last thing I need right now,” he said, “but think of the worst case scenario. Stormwind uses this to declare you an unsuitable leader and manages to overthrow you. Then I would have to stand up and protect Theramore, which Stormwind could use as an excuse to declare war on Kul Tiras. I honestly don’t know if we could win as we stand right now. It would cost them dearly, but…” He trailed off.
“I have thought of that, believe me. With support from the night elves and the draenei, however, I don’t think that Stormwind would dare to do it.”
“I don’t know, Jaina. Their politics have been very strange lately. Even if Lady Prestor was scheming to- where is her head?” He gave a start at his own words, as if the realization about the dragon Onyxia suddenly hit. “They- the orcs took her head, didn’t they?”
Jaina smiled and reached for the tea pot to refill his cup.
“In Orgrimmar, although Go’el bade me to ask the leaders of Stormwind if they wanted it as a gift. Didn’t you say you had read a copy of my letter?”
Tandred stared at her for a moment, then sunk backwards, shaking his head and letting out a short, breathless laughter.
“I wasn’t in a mind to notice that part when I read,” he said. “Light…”
Though his chuckle was in the same family as a hysterical laugh, Jaina nodded agreement and gave him an approving look. Then she smiled again, one of those not very kind ones.
“The real issue is, though, and I’m sure Stormwind understands that after Go’el spoke with their emissary today, is that-”
“Wait, what?” Tandred shot up straight again.
Sipping her tea with a carefree air, because it made her chuckle again despite Dunhave’s low blow at the end, Jaina retold the entire affair. At the end Tandred was shaking his head again, leaning it on a fist.
“You’re playing with fire,” he commented.
“Perhaps, but I will not let Stormwind think that they can intimidate me or Theramore,” she said. “The thing is, you understand, now they know that if they make one single move against me, Go’el will know it and he will not sit idle.” She sobered. “But the one thing I know could be problematic is if you did claim I am under your guardianship. I was worried, I admit that.”
“Huh.” He was silent for a moment. “You wouldn’t have accepted it, though.”
She shook her head with determination.
Neither of them dared to say a word about what happened last time a male member of the Proudmoore family pushed Jaina aside and seized control of Theramore.
“I would have put up a fight, though it would have hurt me a lot,” she said.
He hummed, leaning back and rubbing his forehead.
“Are you worried that Stormwind plans to make a move against Kul Tiras?” she asked.
“I may still be paranoid after all the things Lady Prestor, Onyxia, was doing. Everyone was on edge. Still…” Tandred straightened up, pursing his mouth. “If Lord Fordragon is in control of himself again, there should be nothing to fear. But my informants tell me that word on the street is that Stormwind ought to prove itself as the capital of the Alliance. It’s not just the streets, many nobles are frothing around the mouth.”
“A war amongst ourselves would play the Legion and the Scourge right in the hands, can’t they see that?” Jaina said, sighing as she sat back. Of course they did not see it. It was exactly that kind of squabbling that let the Plague fester until it was too late for Lordaeron. It was that kind of squabbling that bolstered the ranks of the Scarlet Crusade and left the people of Alterac to suffer to this day, never forgiven although twenty years had passed since their king betrayed the Alliance.
“It wouldn’t be war,” Tandred dryly said. “It would be a friendly take-over to protect the people of Kul Tiras. The nobles in Stormwind quiver at the thought of having our fleet, small as it is now, under their command. Now they’ll start screaming that we’re supporting the Horde, too.”
He gave her a pained look.
“I’m sorry, Jaina, I don’t mean to accuse you but they will fall over every argument they can find.”
“I know,” she said, then tried to smile as he refilled her cup as a clumsy peace offering. “Thank the Light that Lord Fordragon is a sensible man.”
“He is not the king, however,” Tandred said. “I shudder to think what would happen if he was schemed out of the way and replaced with somebody dead set on taking these everyday skirmishes with the Horde to an all out war.” Again he pulled at his beard. “I don’t like the Horde, I won’t lie. I fear them a great deal, no matter what you say. But it’s the senseless, hotheaded fools who don’t realize what would happen if we all exhausted our resources fighting each other.”
“I don’t think demons giggle in glee, but I can picture them rubbing their hands,” Jaina said. She had to suppress a shudder at the mental images of the Scourge pouring across the landscape, feasting on the worn out spoils of war. She had seen it, before and on Hyjal.
Arthas…
He would be the first to rub his hands, but the Legion would surely find a way to storm into Azeroth and finish the job. It would be undead against demons fighting over the dead remains of a once thriving world.
She shook herself out of it.
“I truly hope that King Wrynn will be found soon,” she said, “he would be far more difficult for ambitious nobles to get rid of than Lord Fordragon.”
At that time, she had no idea that she would look back on this discussion, and her picturing King Wrynn as a defense against rash, hotheaded nobles, with more knowledge and a bitter taste in her mouth.
OH THE IRONY, IT BURRRNSSS!
As you may notice, I’m breaking canon as stated by the comic. I started writing this before the canon story was that king Wrynn came along and slayed Onyxia, and so it stays. The truth was unveiled by some adventurers instead. I’ll back up and make that clearer in the finished version of the story.
I spent some good eight minutes yesterday watching a youtube clip of a 100 or so man raid on Stormwind to kill His Royal Majesty McGruntypants. It was beautiful. Ahh… you know, when people raid Orgrimmar and kill Thrall, they do it because it’s epic. But raiding Stormwind is now, I believe, a case of “GET THE DAMN RACIST PSYCHO BEFORE HE DAMNS THE WHOLE WORLD!”
Caps Lock makes it truer.
This chapter was supposed to end with Sylvanas announcing that the Lich King wants a word with the loving couple, buut that’s been delayed due to technical problems with the plot programming.
Speaking of which I’ve read some questline info for WotLK, and I find it hilarious that the Lich King almost gets his ass handed to him at least three times, that I’ve seen so far. Once by the Apothecaries, and TWICE by Sir Fordring. Can’t they just make Tirion leader of the Alliance instead? I mean, he’s got everyone’s respect already.
NO, THE LICH KING CANNOT BE MEDDLED WITH (<Caps-locked For Truth.)
I fear that family is emo to the core, despite the brother’s grand entrance…
The only problem is that if Fordring was put in charge he’d be forced to waste a lot of time dealing with petty squabbling instead of trashing the Scourge with his new toy. Ah damn, just thinking about nobles and kings is giving me a headache. And an urge to grab a shotgun. What exactly are they good for besides spilling other people’s blood and spending other people’s money?
THEY ARE NOT PRE-sorry.
I fear that family is emo to the core, despite the brother’s grand entrance…
Manus: But they can pose and look pritti!
Seriously though, Jaina is a nobel too, that proves not all of them are asses.
Warcraft IV: Bauernkrieg
Warcraft V: Vive la Révolution!
The problem is, people might ignore Jaina’s more than reasonable advice just because she’s young and a woman. I mean, you even have female bishops in WoW, but you know that nobles tend to fall into certain bad habits. Anyway, I wonder what would happen if Jaina was stuck in charge of the whole Alliance for a while as a result of the other leaders running off somewhere or being indisposed or something. The nobles would soil themselves.
P.S.: I’m still not sure how the hell they intend for Varian to replace heroes that are old, dead or have become supervillains if he makes his start in WoW as a clubhead warmonger. Sure, the orcs had it coming for several reasons, but Conan the Barbarian there is just going to make everything worse.
Verily, the meritocracy is corrupt.
(Somebody on my friends’ list got that piece of irony out of a fantasy land generator or something, and even though it doesn’t quite fit here… well, I suppose Wrynn is king because he’s the biggest badarse Stu in the Alliance right now eyeroll His lineage and everything else just cruuuumbles in the face of his badarseitude. I hope Sargareas makes him into a claw shishkebab, I really do. It would be so great if he got a really ironic death.
Unfortunately, the author in me, who knows how to work emotional impact, morbidly suspects that Thrall is gonna kick the bucket long before Wrynn does.)
Conan is actually the smartest character in most of his stories
It’s true. Surprisingly so, but true.* Also he’s scared spitless in as good as every story when he faces the monsters, but he clenches his teeth and fights anyway.
*Well, there’s that time he gets arrested because despite beating up the guards coming to arrest him, he’s so drunk that he misses the door and knocks himself unconscious against the wall when he makes a break for it…
Ha ha…PWNT!
Neither am I. They said that he was Thrall’s opposite number; he seems more like Grom Hellscream in beige greasepaint to me.
Sure, the orcs had it coming for several reasons, but Conan the Barbarian there is just going to make everything worse.
Hey! That’s base libel! As far as I know, Conan the Barbarian was never a brainless thug. [strike]Unless you count the films…[/strike]
But seriously…I had the gall to criticize Varian’s behavior at WOTLKWiki, and got accused of being a Horde faction snob. 
It came up randomly at the Seventh Sanctum Fantasy Race Generator.
[…]and even though it doesn’t quite fit here… well, I suppose Wrynn is king because he’s the biggest badarse Stu in the Alliance right now eyeroll His lineage and everything else just cruuuumbles in the face of his badarseitude. I hope Sargareas makes him into a claw shishkebab, I really do. It would be so great if he got a really ironic death.
Word. And the sad thing is, he’s got slobbering fanboys already. (Some yutz on WoWHead was going off about how “if Jaina hadn’t decided to be such a bitch, Varian would have pwned Thrall!” or some such. I contradicted it, and got immediate repeated downraves. Ugh.)
For the record, my trollies have recently taken to attacking the heroic training dummies while yelling “Take that, King Varian!”
Unfortunately, the author in me, who knows how to work emotional impact, morbidly suspects that Thrall is gonna kick the bucket long before Wrynn does.)
Yeah, I’m inclined to agree. They’d do that just because Thrall inspires so much loyalty. And to mess with the Horde’s collective heads.
The first thing we ever actually see Conan do is, as some guy whose book I read pointed out, writing. Also he speaks many langauges fluidly and knows tactic and many different trades aside from fighting. He’s a schmort guy.
In the originals.
As for the corrupt meritocracy, yeah, it was probably from that generator 
Alrighty then! I shuffled that scene with Bashana Runetotem to the front here, because I felt I needed to make it clear just how messed up my timeline is in compare to canon. I’ve understood by at least one reviewer that they think that Wrynn is on his throne already. Probably need to write an author’s note about that to make it clear. sigh I hate having to do that. Damn Wrynn, messing up my story!
“Either way, if I may issue a practical protest myself,” Tandred said, giving her a joyless smile. His tone did not quite manage to hold through the jocular tone. “You did certainly put a strain to the rules of noble courtship.”
Glad to move the topic onwards, Jaina nodded and returned his attempt of a smile with a faint one of her own.
“Go’el stretched the rules for orcish traditions as well,” she said. “For a start we should have gone on a courtship hunt and then worn some trophy from that as a sign of being married, but he settled on counting the battle of Hyjal as that hunt.” She smiled wider, though with a grim undertone. “Not many things from there make good trophies to wear.”
She almost said “mated” instead of “married” but stopped herself in time.
“I’m sorry, that sounds terribly… brutish.” The pause underlined Tandred’s struggle to find some word that was not too insulting.
“I know. Go’el once explained to me that it’s not about the killing of game, though, at its heart it’s a test to see if you can cooperate and live together.”
“But what about them?” Tandred asked. His voice and the look on his face made it clear that he still could hardly believe he was even having this conversation. “He’s their king, doesn’t that demand even more conduct than you ignored for yourself?”
“At the wedding, the Far Seer Drek’Thar stated, as I understand, that I have proven worthy to be part of the Frostwolf clan. Go’el’s clan,” Jaina replied. “We will finish that ceremony at the celebration. It’s not ideal, but we didn’t want to give anything away beforehand. Nobody knew anything about it until the very day, for safety’s sake.”
The last was a lie, but an extremely white one. It would only hurt him if he knew that she had affirmed her chamberlain’s guess, but not breathed a word about it to her own brother. However, he must know what would have happened if Jaina had told him – that knowledge probably did not make him feel any better, though.
Tandred was silent for a moment, just watching her. Then he slumped backwards, groaning and pressing a hand over his eyes.
“My sister is an honorary orc.”
Jaina would have laughed, but at her own last comment a thought struck and she frowned.
“You haven’t even heard about Prince Kael’thas, have you?” she asked.
“What, the blood elf?” Tandred’s hand dropped, and he looked at her in confusion.
Pursing her mouth, Jaina straightened up and for a second time that day relayed the story about the nightly visit. At first, Tandred’s eyes widened until finally narrowing in a scowl.
“That cur! How dares he?” he snarled, slamming his fist into the chair’s plush armrest.
“Go’el was, to put it mildly, not amused,” Jaina finished.
“I see I have to agree with him on something, then. Did the blood elves in Silvermoon have anything to say about that?”
Nodding, Jaina told him of the meeting just a little over an hour before. In the end, Tandred shook his head.
“They don’t want to believe it,” he flatly commented.
“I do believe Lord Theron is aware that something isn’t right,” Jaina said. “Of course, that disbelief was the only way they could duck condemning or supporting Kael’thas in this. They certainly couldn’t say he had a right to act as he did, not to Go’el’s face at least. Without the support from the Horde they wouldn’t stand a chance right now.”
“Light have mercy…”
Tandred rubbed his face and looked at her, and as he did, realization flashed in his eyes. It left him with a bleak expression rather than an enlightened one, however.
“It’s been, what, two days since the wedding, and you are already that deep into Horde politics.” A sound like a mix of a laugh and a groan escaped him. “I didn’t even know they had politics. It always seemed like he had the whole Horde in the palm of his hand.”
“Hardly.” Allowing herself a sigh, Jaina shook her head. “The Warsong Outriders don’t agree with him about ceasing the battle with the Silverwing Sentinels, and there are some orc clans that refuse to follow him. And those are just the orcs. There’s as much political squabble in the Horde as in the Alliance.”
“Unbelieveable.” Tandred sat silent for a moment, absently rubbing his jawline. Then he looked up and frowned. “What’s that?”
As he pointed, Jaina looked down and saw a soft glow shine through the cloth of her skirt. Even as she dipped her hand into the pocket and drew out the magical rune, the glow faded only to return. Jaina just watched it for a second, knowing that Thrall’s rune glowed in return at this very moment. Two glows meant it was important. The light died away, then flared up a third time.
The signal system might be simple, but clear enough – it was [i]really[/i] important. And that surely equaled unpleasant. Unease stole over Jaina. After Stormwind, the blood elves and Tandred’s bursting in, she felt as if this day had brought enough tension to last a month. What more could come at them?
But she squared her jaw and looked at Tandred. He would not like this, but it could not be helped.
“It is a signal,” she said as calmly as she could, “between Go’el and me when we need to confer immediately.”
Something hard came to Tandred’s eyes, but she met his gaze and finally he was the one who glanced away.
“I still don’t like it, but I would not try to stop you from meeting with your husband,” he muttered.
She stood up and as she walked closer he too got to his feet, although with a wary look on his face. That expression twisted between pain and uncertainty, as well as something softer, when Jaina gave him a quick, second hug. It was unusal of them to show sibling affection so much, but this was an unusual situation.
“I don’t expect you to fully accept it just like that,” she said as she pulled back and looked at him. “But just that you don’t condemn it anymore means more to me than I can say.”
He opened his mouth, closed it again and finally tried to smile. It didn’t work out too well, but at least he tried.
“Very well then,” he said. “I’ll meet with my troops down there and do my best to duck that Stormwind emissary.”
She smiled back, wider than him, and then stepped back. Holding the rune tightly she drew its power into her teleportation spell, letting it draw her to its twin. It was by now far easier than the first time she had used Thrall’s rune as a beacon.
She flashed out of existence and reappeared to find herself standing before him, in full armor, in his chambers. The dark look on his face did not make the sinking feeling in her gut any favours.
“What is it?” she asked.
He quickly shook his head, but the concerned expression remained.
“It is nothing great, although it is very troubling,” he said, and motioned to the side.
Turning her head, Jaina found that a female tauren was also in the room. Though her braided hair had a grey hue, she did not look old, and her fur, largely pale but with darker spots, had a fine, fresh shine to it. She bowed, gracefully despite her size, and Jaina turned fully to her and bowed her own head in reply.
“My Lady, I am Bashana Runetotem, daughter of Arch Druid Hamuul Runetotem,” the tauren introduced herself. Straightening, the light leather armor she wore creaked slightly. “May the Earthmother smile upon this meeting.”
She spoke Common with some accent, but it was so slight that it may as well only have been part of her warm voice.
“Light be with you,” Jaina replied, though she could not keep from frowning. “What is the matter?”
“Ah,” Bashana said, shaking her great head so that the twin braids brushed against her shoulders. “I wish I could have the honor to meet yourself and the Warchief with merely joyful matters, however… my father sent me here to tell you of this in private, as it is a rather unpleasant business.”
She sighed, apparently not at all bothered by how her longwinded speech stalled the matter. Jaina, on the other hand, was by now plagued by quite a few vague ideas about what this could be about, although she could not really brave a guess. Hearing Thrall shift, she looked up and saw the concerned look deepen on his features.
“Though I’ve tried to root it out, you know that slavery still exists in our society,” he said, jaw clenched tightly.
A cold suspicion gripped Jaina’s heart, and she numbly nodded. As Bashana spoke again, the blonde head swiveled in her direction.
“My father asked me to tell you that he recently aided two gladiators in escaping their orcish ‘master’,” the tauren said, filling the last word with contempt both with her tone and the look on her face. “That is all well, however, these two were a night elf and a human.”
Jaina’s breath caught in her throat and she pressed one hand to her lips until both lips and fingers whitened. Part of the message, that those poor men had escaped, was of course good. However, it should never have happened in the first place.
And even worse, they would have a story to tell their kindred. Slavery might be a painful reality in the dark corners of both sides of the world’s conflict, but this happened at the worst possible time.
“Who were they?” she asked, “where did they go?”
Bashana nervously toyed with one of her braids.
“The night elf’s name was Broll Bearmantle, a powerful druid. The human appeared to have amnesia,” she said. “He was dubbed Lo’gosh, Ghost Wolf, by the people watching him do battle. As for where they went, it could be anyone’s guess. I would believe either Theramore or any night elf settlement would be a logical step.”
Jaina nodded again, but her hand pressed tighter against her mouth as she thought. This was bad, very bad indeed, and at the worst possible time.
“Bashana, I understand your father’s unwillingness to tell me the name of that orcish slavemaster, if they are old friends,” Thrall said, and his voice took on a very dangerous growl. Bashana shifted uneasily under his glare, and even Jaina watched him warily. “But, we cannot have this, not ever, especially not now. If these two turn up anywhere and make noise, as they certainly will, that orc must be arrested.” His fangs flashed in the torchlight. “This goes beyond my own feelings on this matter. Tell Hamuul I will come over there and shake it out of him myself if I must.”
“Warchief…” Bashana looked away, staring at the floor for a moment while her tail lashed from side to side. Then she straightened. “I understand. My father understands as well. If it comes to that, he knows he cannot hide even an old friend.”
“I don’t want to make threats,” Thrall said, then shook his head, rubbing his temples. Finally, he looked at Jaina with a tight expression. “I will write Tyrande about this. It is better I let her know as soon as possible.”
“Agreed.” Jaina lowered her hand, but clenched it instead. “If they come to Theramore, I will try to meet with them. But if they hear about our marriage, they may not want to have anything to do with Theramore.”
“Even so, best they get an official apology, wherever they turn up,” Thrall said. He growled and massaged his scalp. “I would let them hear it personally, considering.”
“I don’t mean to make threats, but I advise even you to be careful about them, Warchief,” Bashana said, pursing her mouth. “They surely feel they have reason to hate orcs, and they took down an earth elemental with their bare hands.”
Thrall merely grunted, but Jaina raised her eyebrows at that last bit. What kind of warriors were these two gladiators? Looking at Thrall though, she pushed that thought aside. There was pain in his gaze, pain of understanding – and knowing that this human and night elf probably never would understand that the Warchief very well knew of their pain.
She touched his hand with her so much smaller, dainty fingers, and he gave her a brief, grateful look for her silent support. Still, he did not speak until Bashana had left, murmuring a final, apologetic farewell.
“I’m sorry, this situation should not even exist,” Thrall rumbled, heavily sitting down on a chair. “It’s one of the worst things that could possibly happen right now.”
“I know you’ve done all you could to stop this kind of thing,” Jaina said, but her jaw remained tight with worry where this might lead.
“It’s not enough, apparently. But that orc will regret this, I swear it.” He growled, baring his teeth for a moment. When Jaina instinctively drew back he settled however, and offered his hand. “Pardon if I seem brutish, but it makes me furious.”
She shook her head, regretting her recoil.
“Think nothing of it. I understand your anger,” she said and laid her hand in his, drawing close again.
He hummed, gratefully touching her shoulder. They remained like that for a moment, allowing themselves a brief respite from the world. Then Jaina straightened slightly and gave him a wry smile.
“I have news as well, thankfully not as worrisome as I feared they might be,” she said.
In silence he listened to her brief account of her brother’s arrival and eventual, grudging… if not acceptance, then at least lack of furious rejection.
“What is this, did everyone conspire to act on the same day?” Thrall finally said with a tired, joyless smile.
“I’m starting to wonder about that myself,” Jaina said with a similar expression. She leaned forwards and touched her brow to his temple, closing her eyes briefly. “Let us hope that this is the end of it at least for a while.”
But even as she said so, she knew that they would not be given much respite. Even so, all the leaders of their main allies had reacted by now – even Sylvanas, although Thrall had summarized her reaction as “she said she was amused.”
Sylvanas…
Jaina’s thoughts made a jump past the undead queen onto somebody else, and she winced. Opening her eyes, she caught the slight, concerned scowl on Thrall’s face, and she shook her head as he opened his mouth.
“It is nothing new,” she said.
He watched her for a moment, but then let it rest.
Even so, even as she tried to focus on the warmth of Thrall’s skin, Jaina could dispel the cold premonition. There was somebody else, beside Kael’thas, who might speak up in a similar way as he had.
The logical question, “why would he even care?” did nothing to calm her, for nobody knew what prince Arthas thought of these days.
Good going there, invoking Murphy’s Law.
Next, I’ll have to write Tyrande and Fandral Staghelm. GODDAMN YOU, WRYNN! This is your fault too!
I kid, I kid with this rabid hatred for the guy.
Mostly.
“My sister is an honorary orc.”
“That cur! How dares he?” he snarled, slamming his fist into the chair’s plush armrest.
See him go from witty to ye olde lord. Though I can’t deny “cur” is characteristic enough.
Something hard came to Tandred’s eyes
Please, ditch that one? Too much of a cliché. His strong chin…
and knowing that this human and night elf probably never would understand that the Warchief very well knew of their pain.
Why is that? One of them is amnesiac, ok, however I’d expect that the tales of the glorious Warchief who escaped slavery to lead his people to glory and prevail against their demons yadda yadda would be the most popular story at the time (except for Arthas’ creepers).
Wrt slavery why would be Jaina or anyone else be shocked (shocked=disgusted) if it’s known orcs keep slaves? After all humans kept orc camps as well, no?
But even as she made that dry joke, she felt a chill of premonition.
You could omit that sentence without consequences. The reader has seen Kael’thas’ name enough times to know he’ll do something, the next couple lines make it clear Jaina knows too. Mentioning it again is like these guys from Earthbound :hint::hint:
Implausible as it seemed, she could not quite shake the fear that the blood elf Prince would not be the last one of her old loves to speak up on this matter. The logical question, “why would he even care?” did nothing to calm her, for nobody knew what prince Arthas thought of these days.
How did we move to prince Arthas? Aren’t he and Kael’thas in different factions?
Arthas and Jaina had a thing so she’s paranoid about him
Cless got it right, but Rig is spot on that I was taking leaps of logic right there. Note to self, don’t write and post when you’ve stared at the screen for four hours straight.
Daym, people are going to feel so ripped off about what Kael’thas actually end up doing ^^;; Pretty much, the story seems to end on a triumphant note as Jaina and Thrall use their combined powers to reduce Tirigard Keep to rubble while people from both sides cheer them on. Triumphant, hopeful… but THEN!
… I’ll finish writing it for ya’ll and you’ll see.
A HeartWarming Christmas Special where Kael’thas modifies his fireball spells to rain down warm candy on every single kid and make a mushy “MERRY XMAS NECROS!” appear over the Forsaken areas. Kil’jaeden eats a stray candy and remembers how his childhood nickname, “Kill’joy”, turned him to evil and decides to become good and promote green energy sources in Azeroth.
Is that it?
A most compelling idea that we shall take under careful consideration, Mr. Rig. XDD
In the meantime, this is the original plan.
(Also I edited the last entry to make it more logical and less clichéd where applicable.)
Lady Vashj could tell that her personal guards were not at ease, although they kept their complaints to themselves. She could not blame them, for the air in Tempest Keep held a metallic, burnt stench that seemed to dig into her scales, dehydrating her. Arcane bolts of lightning tore at the sky outside, above the cracking landscape. Part of her was thrilled at the vast amounts of power apparent in the area, but another part felt unease at the tear of the land.
She had lived in the ocean for millennia – a world embodying eternity did not scare her. However, one could not swim in the Nether. Only fall, by the way it looked. She had no wings.
And the Netherstorm was far too dry for her tastes. However, she had been made to understand, by several increasingly frantic letters, that this was a matter she truly had to take into her own hands.
The naga were met just outside the portal by very much relieved blood elves, and Lady Vashj slithered alongside high astronomer Solarian’s hurried steps through the long, confusing corridors of the keep. More elves with harrowed expressions passed by, proving just how badly this situation was worrying them all.
Following a final turn and heading towards a guarded gate at the end of a corridor, a distant, muffled scream was heard from where they were heading. Lady Vashj tilted her head, frowning.
“Is he torturing prisoners?” she asked. She did not disapprove, exactly, but it did not seem like Kael’thas to dirty his hands with such things. Then he must truly be beyond furious, dangerously so.
The pale, fine face of her guide scrunched up in a grimace, and Solarian actually winced when another scream rung down the corridor.
“No, my Lady,” the elf said with badly hidden distaste. “It is worse than that.”
The scream continued, ending and beginning again even as the two women stopped a few steps from the doors. Difficult to say if it was the same voice screaming, distorted as it was by pain.
The several guards mumbled grateful welcomes to the naga, which she ignored.
The snakes on Vashj’s head obediently laid down and themselves into a braid. She knew that they disturbed the Prince even after all this time, and she had no intention to make him even more aggravated.
While Vashj focused on this, Solarian knocked on the great doors. The guards looked on with great apprehension apparent on their faces.
“Your Majesty?” Solarian called, keeping her voice neutral. “Your Majesty, Lady Vashj wishes to see you. May I open the door?”
A second passed, with a lull in the screaming, and then there was a snarl from inside. It may have been an acknowledgement. Solarian squared her jaw and pulled one half of the gate open.
Roaring, a full grown orc, in black mithril armor lined with copper, flew through the open door. Solarian recoiled, crying out in shock, and Vashj’s snakes rose up with an alarmed hiss as she too drew back, eyes wide.
However, the huge thing went straight through Solarian as if it was… just an illusion. Despite its lack of matter, it crashed on the floor loudly and then laid still. A smoldering hole went straight through its chest. Luckily, the magic at work could not recreate the smell of burnt flesh and blood.
Vashj and the elves stared at the thing by their feet, Solarian gasping for breath and pressing a hand to her chest.
After a moment, the naga shook herself out of it and her snakes laid back again as she squared her jaw. She had never seen this orc in person, but knew him well enough from pictures and memories drawn into moving images.
“I sssee,” she said, hissing with the distaste she felt.
Small wonder that the elves had called for her help if their Prince had sunk so low as to play sadistic games with illusions. Such things amused their Lord Illidan from time to time as well, but it was not the sign of a healthy mind. Vashj really had had higher thoughts of Kael’thas.
Still hissing, she swept past the blood elves. Her tail whipped out and right through the fading image of Warchief Thrall.
Kael’thas’ chamber was, to her surprise, pretty much intact save for a few torn pillows and papers scattered across the floor, splattered with the ink from a bottle. Judging from the splotches along the floor and wall, it had been thrown across the room.
There was a human shaped, pink image curled up on the ground, blonde hair splilling over the dirty papers. Vashj pretended that it wasn’t there as she slithered towards Kael’thas. The distaste kept her anger up for a moment longer, but she controlled it and let it fade to annoyance and then concern as she looked closer at the Prince.
He lounged on a divan, glaring at her with his head propped up on a fist. Rage and lack of sleep lined his handsome features, encircling his eyes with dark rings. His fine red robes were in disarray, and he made no move to appear more collected under her gaze.
Behind Vashj, the door was silently shut.
She slipped up close to where he was, then lowered her body on her long, thick tail so that their faces were at the same level.
“I’ve never seen you like this, Prince,” Vashj said, lowering her voice to a soft rather than harsh hiss.
He glanced away.
“I’m sure they have informed you well enough of what has happened,” he countered.
Unperturbed by his cold tone, Vashj leaned closer.
“You should speak with Master Illidan,” she urged. “He knows your pain. He would help.”
“It’s too late.” He said it dully, shaking his head. “It was always too late, they moved too quickly. We could not have amassed the troops in time to stop them in Ratchet…”
His words faded into a growl. On the floor, the image of Jaina Proudmoore curled up, covering her head pathetically as trembles wrecked her naked form.
“… and now they sit behind their walls.”
“She is not worth this much pain, my Prince,” Lady Vashj whispered, stroking his cheek with the back of her fingers.
“No, by all hells, she’s not!”
He shot up suddenly, clenching his hands at the trembling illusion.
“To be scorned in favor of an orc!”
“Kael’thas, calm yourself!” Vashj sharply said.
With a combination of quickly softening orders and careful touches to his arms, she managed to soothe him back down on the divan. He still glared between her and the illusion, but at least settled down.
“You know humans, Kael’thas,” Vashj said, shaking her head. “They are foolish, frightened little things. When they’ve made a decision they’ll defend their choice with blind pride, because they’re deathly afraid to realize that they are wrong.” She wasn’t sure if a sneer would be a good idea, considering his state of mind, so she kept that to herself.
She motioned towards the source of the quiet sobs, still refusing to look.
“Let her suffer through all the nights she can bear with that orc,” Vashj whispered into Kael’thas long, elegant ear. “That is sufficient punishment for her, until the day we can crush all of them. Then you shall have her, if you want her.”
After a moment he slowly nodded, but she was not sure if it was in real agreement or just a more polite way to make her stop talking.
She could feel it, if not her very eyes could have told her the same, what a dangerous blow Lady Proudmoore’s actions had been. Illidan was difficult enough to deal with. Kael’thas had to stay sane, but he had already lost so much.
Unbeknownst to her, in the silence between them he listened to another voice, far deeper and more sinister than Vashj’s could ever be.
Kael’thas stood up abruptly, surprising her. The snakes on her head rose in alarm, but she ordered them back down as she studied his face. Though the rage remained, the worst tension melted away under his massaging fingertips.
As he snapped his fingers, the sobs instantly ceased and the illusion on the floor froze.
“Pardon me, Vashj.” Kael’thas took in a deep breath and held a hand to his forehead for a moment. “It was a heavy blow to my pride, I admit that. I have made you all worry.”
“You did,” she agreed, watching him warily. The change was welcome, but she was not certain that it had not come too easily. “I and your people care a great deal about you, and we hate to see you suffer. Are you feeling better now?”
“Yes. Thank you for taking the time, dear friend.” His smile was charming as always, but also, as always as well, a little tight.
Vashj nodded and returned his smile. She noted, however, that he did not dissolve the illusions. Shaking his head, Kael’thas made a move to start walking towards the doors.
“There are, indeed, matters I must attend to,” he said. “I have high hopes that we may soon begin the next step in rejuvenating the Sunwell. Once that is complete, I will have more time and means to discuss how to go from here with my people’s allies.”
And he smiled, grimly, bearing his pearly white teeth.
As great a thing as their marriage were, the Warchief and Lady Proudmoore could not influence the actions of their enemies. They could only take a stand amongst their allies. For the forces of the Burning Legion cared not a whit about those wedding vows that rocked the political world of Azeroth.
The world itself, and its defenses, still rested on the shoulders of not only the leaders and generals of Azeroth – but on those brave men and women ready to risk their lives in the everyday battles to protect it from the demonic forces.
Aaaand that’s how I mean to end it, in a "the power is YOURS"shot Ow. Sorry. Well, open ended, although we all know what comes next. “A raid group? Don’t they have anything better to do?!”
Well THIS is bound to end well! 
cough, cough Anyway. Good work.
A most compelling idea that we shall take under careful consideration, Mr. Rig. XDD
You will get in contact with me? I’ll be delivering pizzas for some extra time 
high astronomer Solarian’s
wink, wink.
More elves with harrowed expressions passed by, proving just how badly this situation was worrying them all.
Leave proofs to math. You only need to show something, not hammer it in, even if the harrowed expressions here were conceived only to show the reader how much they are worried. Something like “passed by, a sign of how badly” would work better.
The snakes on Vashj’s head obediently laid down and themselves into a braid. She knew that they disturbed the Prince even after all this time, and she had no intention to make him even more aggravated.
So much for elvish superiority. Even though coming to terms with new circumstances isn’t their strong point, historically.
Small wonder that the elves had called for her help if their Prince had sunk so low as to play sadistic games with illusions.
The whole part with the illusions is a nice touch. Too bad “The Tortured Prince” is a title already in use.
He lounged on a divan, glaring at her with his head propped up on a fist.
“You should speak with Master Illidan,” she urged. “He knows your pain. He would help.”
“You only have to sign this little contract… with your blood.”