Thought I should let you know…Diplomacy made the Fanfic Recommendations page at TVTropes.com.
asdjkfshigsk flails
Oh wow, that made my night! Thanks for telling me! ^___^
Boo, dammit!
Eeek! XD
There are critical favorites and there are popular favorites :(^^)
/pretentious
They could have bothered to add a two-line synopsis though.
Man, this chapter is just three scenes that could be longer. Oh well. I’m thinking about including Tandred’s official visit in Orgrimmar too, we’ll see.
That same morning had contained one of the most painful discussions in Tandred’s life, and that included his and Jaina’s long talk the day before. Even though he had promised her to try to avoid Sir Arthur Dunhave, he knew full well that it would be seen as an outrage if he did not address Stormwind about this whole matter. And so, he grit his teeth and called upon the emissary himself.
Dunhave came to see the Admiral in the guest chamber Jaina had ordered prepared for her brother. Two soldiers of his escort flanked him, and two Kul Tiras soldiers waited together with Tandred. It was one of those discussions that should not be kept behind locked doors without witnesses.
“I would prefer to not waste time with diplomatic small talk,” Tandred said in an even voice as both sides faced each other, standing in the middle of the room just a few steps apart. Tandred had pondered long and hard how to express himself, but he still expected some blow which he would not be prepared for. All he could do was try to remain calm. “We are in a strange situation.”
Dunhave slowly nodded understanding.
“Indeed, and I’m afraid that I was not quite expecting to meet with you, Lord Admiral, when I was sent here,” he said. “I will do my best to represent Stormwind, despite this fact.”
“Yes, I understand that, and if there is something we cannot discuss properly, we will save that for a later time. Now…” Tandred cleared his throat. “I will ask frankly, what is Stormwind’s opinion of all this?”
It took no longer than a moment for Dunhave to formulate his answer, and when he spoke he allowed a hint of concern to show through in his voice and expression. Tandred clenched his jaw further.
“In all honesty, we suspect some kind of trickery,” the emissary said. “I assure you, my superiors and I find your sister’s will to avoid another war with the orcs commendable, and I told her as much when I met with her.”
Tandred wished he could have seen a hint of mockery in the words, but he could not. It was the compliance to sacrifice herself for the sake of peace that they commended – he too had thought her a human offering, and then she told him that she willingly let the Warchief embrace her…
He had not been sleeping well.
“Marrying for peace is certainly not unheard of,” Dunhave continued, “but you must understand, Admiral, it is difficult to believe that Lady Proudmoore would agree to this arrangement willingly.”
There was an unspoken question there. Tandred had known it would come, and weighed his options carefully.
“I thought as much too, when I came here yesterday,” he admitted. “My sister assured me that it had been a decision based on mutual agreement, however.”
“I certainly do not accuse Lady Proudmoore of lying to anybody,” Dunhave slowly said, “but does anybody except for she and the orcish Warchief know how that agreement came to take place? What arguments were used?”
He didn’t know. Light, he didn’t know. Jaina had looked at him so calmly and spoken well to soothe his fears about her being forced, but what had she actually said about the Warchief’s words on the matter? No, she had said that [i]she[/i] made the proposal in the first place – but she had not told him what had driven her to it. What had she been told, what had she been asked to consider before she made the suggestion of marriage? He couldn’t keep his imagination from painting a picture of her standing in the huge shadow of the Warchief, staring up with that tight, forcefully blank face.
“That, I do not know,” he admitted, shaking his head.
“Admiral,” Dunhave said, taking in a deep breath. “We have all heard the story of King Bronzebeard’s daughter, and her enchanted love for the Dark Iron Emperor. Do you not find it strange that King Bronzebeard would not suspect that the same has befallen Lady Proudmoore? But instead, he has decided to remain neutral in the matter.”
In this case however, Tandred held more faith.
“I do not know the exact nature of the spell Princess Moira is under,” he said, “but I have been told that reports say she acted a lot more violently and spoke with more fervor than she was known to before. As far as I know, spells that control another person can never work without altering the victim’s character. I saw no sign of such things when I spoke with my sister at length yesterday.”
“Ah, that is a relief, then. We can perhaps cease to worry about that kind of persuasion.”
That kind.
“I was told that you met with the Warchief yesterday, here in Theramore,” Tandred said. It was not his intention to change the subject. He simply desperately needed to know more about the whole situation, to gain certainty. “I have not met him personally. What is your opinion of him?”
At these words, Dunhave actually winced. Within a second, however, he had schooled his face back into the calm, slightly concerned mask.
“Surprisingly eloquent, I admit,” he said. “I could not make a complaint about the way that he presented himself, though it came as a shock to see him here. Since I was not told he would be here, of course.”
“Of course,” Tandred echoed.
“I must ask you, Admiral, for the sake of the Alliance, what is Kul Tiras’ stance in all this?”
The direct question was spoken with no more urgency than anything that had come before, and still it took Tandred by surprise. He had expected a lot more wrangling before such a direct statement was asked for. For a moment he wished that he could have allowed himself to nervously wet his lips, but he could not afford such a show of weakness.
“It’s a difficult situation for me personally,” he carefully answered, “and by that stretch, for Kul Tiras as a whole.”
“Of course, Admiral,” Dunhave said, with a hint of sympathy that could very well be heartfelt. “Anybody would understand that.” He paused and pursed his lips. “If I may be so bold, my Lord, judging by your questioning me about my thoughts on the orcish Warchief… do you intend to meet with him?”
Tandred could feel even his own guards stare at him from the shadows of their helmets. Cold sweat stung his neck, but he kept his face as calm as he could.
“It is not something I would gladly do,” he said, shaking his head mostly to steady himself. “However, considering the political circumstances, I will eventually have to deal with that. As for Kul Tiras’ stance on what has occurred,” he continued, speaking with a firmer tone, “I must discuss the matter with my advisors.”
Dunhave had opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again when Tandred went on. Now, he slowly nodded, his face unreadable.
“I commend your bravery, Admiral,” he said in a neutral tone. “Whatever happens, Stormwind will surely be willing to give you aid should you ask for it.”
With those words, the political correctness didn’t exactly shatter, but a very distinct crack appeared in it. Oh yes, Stormwind would definitely be willing to aid in the liberation of Theramore.
“I thank you graciously for your offer and your time, emissary,” Tandred said, without a single twitch of his face showing either support nor denouncement.
In all honesty, he didn’t know whether to welcome the offer for help, or toss it aside.
When the men of Stormwind had left, and Tandred’s own guards had silently retreated to their own quarters as well, the Lord Admiral went to see his sister. As he was let into her chambers, she stood up from her desk, one hand still resting on a heap of reports she had been reading from. Tandred met her questioning gaze and spoke, swallowing the dread he truly felt but couldn’t admit.
“I don’t know enough about all this, Jaina.”
A little while later, emissary Southstone stepped through a portal to Orgrimmar.
I mean, if this scene, the one where Thrall discusses things with Vol’jin and Saurfang, and the one with Tyrande and Fandral make one chapter, nothing much actually happens in this chapter. And that’s pretty sucky. Man, there’s a lot of talking, isn’t there? In my defense, all this is leading up to something. Really!
It was one of those discussions that should not be kept behind locked doors [STRIKE]without witnesses[/STRIKE].
With those words, the political correctness didn’t exactly shatter
Does political correctness exist in the Warcraft world? Who supports it?
Good question, Rig. I mean, the dragons are crazy and the titans are absent (probably a good thing, really).
Anyway, le gasp! Pigs fly! An update!
We’re on a bit now that’s leading up to stuff I’ve had written for months. And with that I mean what everyone’s been waiting for since chapter one. Oooi. But nooot just yet.
The morning sun reflected sharply on armors adorned with golden anchors. Helmets covered the men and women’s faces almost completely, something they all surely felt relived about. The tension was palpable, but they stood in a neat row on the open area outside of the Theramore citadel, straight and silent. Five Elite Guards, and their commander at the front. All saluted as Jaina and Tandred walked out of the gates of the citadel, followed by emissary Southstone. Five more Elites escorted them.
Tandred looked pale, jaw clenched tightly, but he would not say more than that he was, of course, nervous. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, Jaina’s heart ached for him – and even so, she was impressed and swelled with pride for her brother. He could have recoiled and backed out, but he never did. She knew he was far more scared than he let on, and doubted that he had slept right.
Her own eyes felt rather dry from her restless slumber. All through the night she had been shifting in Thrall’s arms, and his sleep had been fitful as well. It could not have been only because she kept moving around. So much could go wrong this morning.
The news had spread quickly, of course, and it had drawn quite a crowd, watching from afar. No cheers, no boos, but a low, curious and disbelieving murmur.
Are they really going? Does the Lord Admiral dare to? Will they come back?
Jaina tried to ignore it. As she stopped walking, so did Tandred and the emissary. The Elite escort joined those who already waited, all watching her from the shadows of their helmets.
“Remember not to be alarmed,” Jaina said, hoping her smile was encouraging. They probably needed it almost as much as Tandred did. “The Warchief has prepared for his own personal guard to ensure our safety, and we will not be walking very far.” It was things she had already said when this escort was picked out from the Elite Guard, but it didn’t hurt to repeat it. “Is everybody ready?”
Metal clanged as the soldiers saluted.
“Yes, Lady Proudmoore!”
Admirably, there was no hint of anxiety in their voices. Nodding, Jaina raised her hands, focusing her mind on the spot in Orgrimmar she and Thrall had agreed on. She heard Tandred suck in his breath, a faint hiss. Then, Theramore flashed out of existence. Paved streets and stone buildings were replaced with warmly orange cliff walls and rough, six-sided buildings made of wood and clay. In front of them rose the huge Grommash Hold, spiky, rough, and with the gate open, waiting for them.
And all around were Horde.
Armor clanged as several of the Elite Guards shifted uneasily, and Jaina heard Tandred breathe in sharply. Even she herself could not help but feel taken aback.
It should not have felt like a shock, because she had expected there to be a crowd. Yet she had not seen so many people of the Horde in one place and so closely, not since the Third War – and then, they had seldom been focused on her. The streets all around were lined with orcs, trolls with their backs straightened to see better, hulking tauren, silent blood elves and Forsaken, staring coldly with glowing yellow eyes. The smell of the latter ones did not make things any better.
Kor’kron Elites formed a large circle around the area where the human visitors had arrived, but despite their imposing armor, one had to wonder if they could hold the crowd back should something happen. A murmur hung in the air, rising in the same instant as the magic around the humans faded.
Some looked curious, others disbelieving. However, many glared, right at her and at Tandred. Jaina forced herself not to glance around too much even though she could practically smell the just barely controlled suspicion. They didn’t trust soldiers, and especially not the Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras, to meet peacefully with their Warchief.
Then armor clanged again, but not from the nervous Elite Guards. A huge orc walked from the stairs leading up to the Hold’s gate, his gear making the Kor’kron’s pale in compare. The murmur changed, still hesitant but with respect easing up the tension. Even though he did not carry any weapon, Overlord Saurfang’s mere presence demanded awe, second only to Thrall himself.
Unlike her brother and the Guards, Jaina found herself relaxing when Saurfang walked forwards to meet her and the others. As frightening as he looked, she knew well the trust between him and Thrall and she could draw reassurance from that herself.
Unknown to almost everyone down on the ground, somebody moved high above on the tall, orange sandstone cliffs. There was a scrape of feet, but only the sharpest of eyes would have caught any movement since the orc in question used magic to make himself unseen. Dark, hateful eyes narrowed at the group of humans and he crouched down. Hands hidden within his cloak glowed with dark magic, building up as his focus zeroed in on the woman in white and the man standing beside her.
The orc warlock didn’t care one bit that he would be discovered the second he let lose his spell. By then it would be too late, and the Burning Blade would have their revenge. It was quite an honor, really, to have been picked to deliver the blow.
That little human whore first. It was quite nice, though, of her and the Warchief to so foolishly place her out in the open like this. They hadn’t gone to war three years ago, but the death of both Proudmoores would leave no more room for peace. Better yet, with the whole world’s eyes turned towards the union of the Warchief and Proudmoore it would create an even greater uproar.
The warlock shifted to aim better, thick lips moving rapidly to finish the spell.
A hand grabbed the back of his cloak and yanked hard, sending him off balance and rolling back. The cloaking spell as well as the glow on his hands shattered and he snarled in fury, casting his gaze around wildly. The air shifted and a troll wearing dark leather armor seemingly melted out of the shadow of the cliff. From beneath the shade of his helmet, a pair of deeply green eyes encircled by dark tattoos stared icily at the orc.
“Ah-ah-ah, mon,” the troll said. “No bleedin’ on da Warchief’s parade.”
The warlock snarled and flung out his hand, but the rogue swiftly ducked. Metal flashed, and a heavy body hit the hard ground. Grimly, the troll grabbed the dying orc’s thrashing arms and held him down until he stopped moving.
The troll straightened and looked upwards, at another plateau in the cliff. From there, an orc in dark armor gave him a thumbs up. They exchanged grins.
Down on the road, the followers of the Burning Blade kept waiting for results. But they would have to realize, yet again, that the Warchief was not so foolish as they had hoped. Instead of disaster hitting, things went on as had been planned by Thrall and Jaina.
Emissary Southstone’s fist touched his chest as he gazed up at Overlord Saurfang, greeting him in Orcish.
Jaina dared a glance at Tandred, and had to suppress a chuckle at the look on his face. Although he managed to wrestle his expression back under control quickly, the Admiral still watched the man who spoke the rough language as if Thomas were a ghost. To Jaina, who had heard a good deal of Orcish in her day, it was apparent that the words were simple – actually, one word of greeting and then a title and name – and Thomas’ pronunciation far from perfect. Her brother, however, did not know this.
“Throm-Ka,” Saurfang replied. He looked at Jaina and saluted, obviously struggling not to grin too much behind his helmet. “Aka’Magosh, mate of the Warchief.”
“Greetings,” Jaina replied. “I am glad to see you again, Overlord.” She didn’t glance at Tandred, hoping that his sense of intimidation was not rising as much as she suspected.
“As am I, Lady Proudmoore. I will escort all of you to the Warchief.”
Saurfang turned, knocking a fist to his chest lightly. The clang was still loud, and hung in the air as the humans moved to follow him towards the Hold’s stairs. Nobody cheered, but nobody threw anything either. So far, at least. Jaina’s senses were at high alert, and she knew that Saurfang and everyone else’s were too. One stone, one egg, one any small little thing soaring through the air might be all it would take.
Yet the worst tension began to ease as they got closer to the Hold, and the crowd remained icy but calm. The Elites moved as well, closing in on the humans protectively.
Suddenly hearing Thomas chuckle softly, almost inaudibly, Jaina glanced around. She saw him looking between the bulks of the Elites, and nod as if in greeting. Still walking, she caught sight of a grinning, male troll with green hair, standing by the side of the road and watching amongst so many others. Behind him stood three large raptors, seemingly at ease with wearing the reins he held in a three-fingered hand. She glanced back at Thomas, and her lips twitched slightly.
Somehow, that helped ease her tension.
They entered Grommash Hold without incident, something that certainly caused relief within many of the involved. The warm, dry smell of hot sand, and the more unpleasant stench of the Forsaken, eased up inside of the Hold. Instead, a thicker smell of furs and smoke filled the visitors’ nostrils. After the blazing sunlight outside, the inside world at first appeared cast in shadow. The many torches and burning embers in huge three-footed bowls [i]((there is a word for that and I can't think what it is even in Swedish. Halp!))[/i] helped the eyes adjust, however.
Jaina looked at Tandred as they passed through the first, smaller hall, and saw him staring ahead stiffly. Beyond the open gate was the main, circular hall of the Hold, and the huge throne, as well as the orc sitting upon it, was clearly visible. She wished she could have touched his shoulder and given it a calming squeeze, but she would not – it would only be a sign that he needed support, and that was not something he would want to make apparent.
The Kor’kron Elites spread out, leaving the floor open for Saurfang and the humans. Jaina spotted Vol’jin, standing in the background and watching with a thoughtful look. He met her gaze only briefly.
As the guests entered, Thrall rose from the throne. Glancing at Tandred again, Jaina guessed that sound of Doomhammer’s armor clanging rung like gongs in her brother’s ears. Tandred kept gaze locked straight ahead, jaw set tight and conflicting emotions warring in his eyes. Saurfang stopped walking, urging the visitors to do the same. Silently, he saluted Thrall and moved to the sidelines, leaving the humans to themselves.
Thomas took a couple of more steps forwards and pressed a fist to his chest once again, bowing his head.
“Honored Warchief,” he said. “Presenting the Lord Admiral Tandred Proudmoore, brother of your wife.”
With that Thomas stepped aside, and Thrall nodded.
“Welcome to Orgrimmar, Admiral,” he said, perfectly calm.
The unnamed troll rogue who saved the day up there is a cameo by my pal T. Mirai’s Nok. He’s from a fic of hers where he doesn’t get much limelight, but she’s also roleplaying him and I’ve been playing along using Collins and Vo’don. I won’t link you here because the place where we roleplay isn’t Safe For Work, but it’s great fun.
I can think of two possible English words (brazier, firebowl) or a French loan-word (flambeau, plural flambeaux).
Pretty sure “brazier” is the word you want. I’ve never heard the term “firebowl” before.
That said, good chapter. Always glad to see more from you.
Ah yes, brazier is the word. Thanks guys, it drives me nuts when that happens. 
And jobs be damned? I’m glad for the update, but I’m a biased party.
I’m afraid I don’t have any serious commentary as I can’t take the writing in what with all the noise here. I’m pretty sure that guy a few computers away is Swedish though. Tourist industry represent.
That reads more like your informing what people felt rather than describing it 
Imagery like people breathing in relief would do, even though too typical, but I’m sure you can come up with something better.
The many torches and burning embers in huge three-footed bowls ((there is a word for that and I can’t think what it is even in Swedish. Halp!)) helped the eyes adjust, however.
On the other hand, if you interspersed your commentary throughout the text it would work great! I’m reading Tom Jones these days and it goes the same route (though the writer be master of the inclinations of body and soul, without which proclivities let none take up the challenge of that lofty task). You could do a second version of the fic or I could er… perform surgery on it. Sometime.
Thanks for the feedback, as always. I’m trying to make the large chunks of already written chapter come together right now, and though it’s coming a little slow we’re getting there. Steady, steady… okay, let’s rock.
“Thank you, Warchief,” Tandred replied. One would be hard pressed to believe he honestly meant that, but his voice sounded admirably neutral.
“I understand that entering our capital puts a lot of pressure on your mind.” As satirical as it seemed to state something so obvious, Thrall’s tone remained as calm and serious as ever. “But I assure you that I would not allow any harm to come to the brother of my wife.”
One could have heard a needle hit the ground in the silence. It was brief, only a second or two, yet it seemed to stretch on forever. Jaina held her breath. She could tell that Tandred struggled for what to say.
Thrall left the verbal floor wide open, waiting like everyone else. If he felt as tense as Jaina did, he did not show it in any way.
Finally, finally Tandred took in a deep breath.
“I believed I would only ever meet you with sword in hand, Warchief.” He shook his head, but did not look away. “I… truly do not know what to say.”
Strangely, just a few of the present Horde members bristled at that first sentence. At its core though, what Tandred said was simply a conclusion of what everyone had believed.
Thrall slowly nodded.
“I am sure you would have wanted to protect your sister,” he said, softly.
Those words could have been a challenge, but they were not. Not the way he said it.
“Yes,” Tandred replied. He frowned slightly, seemingly trying to gauge what the Warchief wanted from him. What he himself wanted from this strange meeting. “Although she assures me that she does not require any aid.”
Glances flew between the people watching from the sidelines. Tension knotted in the air, even if the tones of the two leaders remained civil. Jaina clenched her teeth. Thrall and Tandred were tiptoeing around the shadow hanging over both of them, and her.
And then Thrall brought the verbal fist right down on it.
“My people have no happy memories of the last time we tangled with Kul Tiras, Admiral, and neither do I,” he said.
Jaina’s breath stuck in her throat, and she couldn’t help but turn her head slightly towards Tandred to see his reaction. His eyes narrowed beneath a deepening frown, but he didn’t move or speak otherwise. Instinctively, her gaze fluttered over to the others in the room. Some were exchanging quick whispers, looking between the Warchief and the Lord Admiral. Vol’jin’s piercing eyes remained locked on Thrall, she noticed. He seemed to be tensely waiting for something.
“It was a painful business for everyone involved,” Thrall continued. He calmly regarded Tandred, who remained silent. “However, that is in the past. You are the brother of my wife, and therefore I would wish to see friendship rather than enmity between us.”
Tandred gave Jaina a sharp look from the corner of his eye, one she returned with a careful, slanted smile. She had known, she had even tried to prepare him for it, but from the look on his face he hadn’t actually managed to believe her.
“You speak of a treaty, Warchief?” Tandred carefully asked, keeping his voice neutral but obviously unsure what to think.
“A peace treaty is unfortunately, as we are all aware of, probably too much to even discuss for the time being. Considering the circumstances though, a ceasefire would be acceptable to me.”
In the silence, the disbelief felt so thick you could have cut it with a knife. It emanated mostly from the Elite Guards, however. Only some of the Horde spectators looked actually surprised. Thrall must have wisely informed them. Jaina found herself glancing at Vol’jin again. From where she was she couldn’t tell for sure, but she thought his lips tightened slightly.
Another eternity seemed to snail by until Tandred finally spoke again.
“I… thank you graciously for your offer, Warchief,” he slowly said. “For my sister’s sake, I too wish for no aggression between us or our nations. Accepting even an agreement of ceasefire with Durotar would however risk the pacts Kul Tiras already has within the Alliance. I will have to discuss this matter with my advisors before I can answer you.”
Thrall nodded.
“A wise course of action. I will await your reply.” He paused briefly, but not long enough to speak in between. “That is all I wished to speak with you about for the moment, Admiral. Do you wish to add something?”
“No, Warchief.” Tandred still showed little sign of relaxing, despite the fact that the visit was obviously reaching its conclusion. “I thank you for meeting with me.”
“And I thank you for offering to meet with me,” Thrall replied. For daring to meet with him. “Good day to you, Admiral.”
“Good day.”
Jaina nodded to Thrall, and he returned the gesture. Still silent, because this was not her meeting, she raised her hands and focused. Just as easily as she had brought Tandred, herself and their escort to Orgrimmar, she returned them to the open area outside of the Theramore citadel.
There were more people outside now, and many of them jumped at the sudden appearance. Wide eyes of soldiers and townsfolk alike took in the sight of everyone returned safe and sound.
Jaina had barely begun lowering her arms when Tandred spoke.
“A word with you, Jaina?”
It didn’t really sound like a question. She clenched her jaw, giving him as honest-looking smile as she could muster.
“Of course.”
By the same spell, she brought them away from the citadel and the town, inside the chambers he had been accommodated.
She knew what to expect, and therefore she was prepared when he instantly whirled on her.
“Jaina…!”
“Don’t be a fool, Tan,” she sharply said. “We are talking about peace that have seemed impossible. Don’t throw it away without a second thought.” He started to speak, but she was louder and for a second they both spoke until he let her finish. “Don’t you think I considered all the same implications as you do now, before the marriage?”
“I can’t declare cease fire with the Horde just like that!” he said. “It’s easier for you because Theramore is here, but we have our mainland in the Eastern Kingdoms. And what would our people say?”
“What has the Eastern Kingdoms done for you, lately?” she demanded. When he jumped as if stung, she added, “I know my own homeland is ailing, Tan.”
“You still shouldn’t orchestrate something like this. I told you before, Kul Tiras is my responsibility.”
She met his scowl with the same.
“I orchestrated nothing,” she frostily said. “I only relayed your message. Go’el was the one who asked whether he should make you this offer. When he did, I told him to bring it up with you. You have to agree it’s a logical step, since he and I are married.”
“Jaina, I-” He took in a deep breath and then heavily slumped down on a chair. “I’m so confused right now. The world isn’t making any sense.”
The anger in him went out like a candle, as if the oil fueling it had suddenly dried up.
His exhausted tone and heavy shoulders killed off the annoyance in Jaina’s heart, for the moment at least. For certain the two of them would clash on this matter again, probably sooner than later, but the hatchet disappeared beneath the earth for now.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” she kindly asked, moving towards the door to call for a servant.
“Yes please, or rather something stronger. Light!”
An evil little voice urged her to call for an orcish beverage – she did suspect that he would actually like many of the orcish alcoholic creations. Most people did, once they got over their suspicion and – after swallowing – their eyes stopped rolling. She controlled that urge, however, as it would be a cruel joke. Perhaps later, though.And now it’s time for… stuff Weiila wrote months ago and still haven’t managed to puzzle together.
Because.
hoo boy
As the sun sunk towards the horizon, Jaina pushed the heap of papers aside. Just a little break before she read and signed a few more…
She stood up from her desk and stretched her stiff muscles, allowing herself a soft groan. Outside, the sky flared with gold and red, with ripples of purple clouds dissolving in the evening winds.
It had been a good day. Anxiety from the morning faded eventually once her pulse went down and she could properly digest that the meeting had actually gone off without a hitch. Although, she would have to ask Thrall if there were any reports about attempts to disturb the peace.
It wasn’t something she wanted to think about then. Gazing out at the sunset sky, she leaned her chin on a fist and for a little while let her mind wander.
Thoughts slipped from relief, to gentle pride for Tandred, past all the other things she had had to focus on after returning to Theramore. Politics. She didn’t want to think of any of that now. Idly, she brushed her fingertips against the back of her hand.
She thought about Thrall.
The sun stubbornly hung in the sky, moving excruciatingly slowly towards the horizon. In good consciousness, she couldn’t go to Orgrimmar to be with him until nightfall. He might not be in his chambers yet, either. They both had business to attend to.
Sighing softly, she returned to her chair and the papers.
There were not only everyday reports, but also letters from various people. The leaders of the world’s factions were not the only ones reacting to the latest development. Those leaders had aides, advisors, generals, everything around and below. Not to mention what appeared to be throngs of nobles. All of them sending well-wishes with more or less thinly-disguised real thoughts on the matter, be it hope or disgust.
The letters were folded with already written responses, simply waiting to be signed. A couple of scribes checked all letters not directly from factional leaders before Jaina even saw them, to make sure it was really something that deserved any attention from the lady. These days, that pair grumbled between themselves as they massaged their aching fingers, wishing that some clever gnome would invent a machine which could write texts automatically.
Jaina put yet another letter aside and glanced outside again. The warm colors of the sky were intensifying as the sun lowered more and more. Once she’d signed a few more letters, say six, and read two more reports, she could go.
When she lowered her gaze, however, she saw a familiar glow. Her communication rune laid beside the heap of papers, and even as she reached out for it the glow faded and returned. Breath stuck in her throat and her fingers froze above the carved stone. Again the glow died.
And rose for a third time.
Something was wrong. The prospect of meeting with Thrall, which had just been something she had long looked forwards to, now made her steel her mind and clench her jaw. Taking in a steadying breath she touched the rune and focused to find her way to her husband. Bright light flared around her, ripping away the environment itself.
She found herself in his chambers, gazing up at him with a question forming on her mouth already. But he raised his hand in a calming motion while placing his own rune on his writing table. Like her desk, the slab was covered with papers, as well as a few scrolls.
“It’s nothing that needs panicking over,” he said, then pursed his mouth. “At least, I hope so.”
That did nothing to make her worry any less.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I’m sorry to bring you more concerns so soon, however…” He paused and shook his head, taking a yellowed paper from the table. “Just a few days ago a group of young warriors sneaked into Tiragarde Keep. They found this.”
Jaina’s frown cut deeply into her forehead as she took the offered letter. It felt a bit oily against her fingertips, obviously well-thumbed already. The seal on top of the page, however, was unmistakable and sent a chilly feeling plummeting through her gut. As she read, her eyebrows twitched and dove, the frown deepening even further.
[i]Official Orders For The Kul Tiras Fleet
I, Admiral Proudmoore, shall lead the first landing…[/i]
It went on, the words sounding in her head as if spoken by her father’s long lost voice. That was only disturbing, however, until she reached the second half of the document.
“Light!” she hissed, pressing a hand to her lips as she read the declaration that somewhere out there was another part of the Kul Tiras fleet, set to return to Tiragarde and continue the assault on orcish lands at some unknown point.
Lowering the letter, she stared up at Thrall.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” she asked.
“My misplaced sense of chivalry, no doubt.” There was little humor in his voice and expression, however. “I received it just two days before the wedding. There were other matters to drive us both up the wall.”
“Oh, Go’el.”
She couldn’t quite decide if it annoyed her or not, but pushed those thoughts aside. The real issue was far more pressing.
“I’ve never heard anything about this scouting fleet,” she said, scowling at the letter in her hand, “and this is very old. They may have been lost at sea. But we have to show this to Tandred.”
She didn’t even think twice about the “we”, and he only nodded.
“Agreed,” Thrall said, offering his huge, gauntlet clad hand.
Jaina placed her own hand on the cool metal covering his palm and again focused her mind. It took a little more effort to bring somebody else along with the teleportation spell, but not so much that it was a problem for her. She had, after all, transported several men and women back and forth just that morning.
They reappeared in her chambers in Theramore, and Jaina immediately set off across the floor with Thrall just behind her. She could have used her magic to immediately bring Thrall and herself to Tandred’s chambers or at least to appear right outside his door, but she found it impolite to barge in on people like that. Not to mention what the reactions of Tandred, or any guard, servant or other person in the citadel, if the orcish Warchief suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
The guards on the other side of the door blinked and stared as their Lady stepped outside, with a huge orc following her. Thrall had to duck and move sideways just a little bit to get through to the corridor outside. His steps rung against the stone floor, and the carpet could only do so much to mitigate his heavy footfalls.
Looking a little dazed, the two men saluted without a word.
It was not a very long walk to the rooms Tandred had been given, but the sight of Thrall caused a few wide eyed stares and gasps along the way. Jaina gave him an apologizing glance the first time it happened, but he merely returned that look with a mild, wry smile.
There were Theramore guards, not Kul Tiras soldiers, standing outside of Tandred’s room, thankfully. They stepped back, eyes flicking back and forth, as Jaina told them to. She knocked on the door.
“Tandred?”
“Jaina? Come in,” came his reply, muffled through the wood separating them.
“My husband wishes to see you,” she said as she opened the door.
Tandred shot to his feet from the armchair he had been sitting in. A book slid from his hands and thudded against the floor, forgotten as he stared at Jaina, then at Thrall as the Warchief ducked through the door and closed it after him.
“Good evening, Admiral,” Thrall said.
“Ah- good evening.” Tandred cleared his throat and gave his sister a tight, confused look. “Jaina…?”
“This was found in Tiragarde Keep,” she said, thrusting the letter into his hands.
“Tiragarde-” Tandred started, but fell silent as he glanced down at the paper.
His eyes widened and brow furrowed as he read. That disturbed look remained as he looked up at Jaina, then turned towards Thrall.
“You could have brought this up with me earlier today…” Tandred said, in a guarded tone.
“Jaina did not help to convince you to meet me in public, just so I could accuse your men of staging an attack our lands,” Thrall calmly replied.
Tandred scowled at the paper in his hand, then suddenly straightened up.
“The soldiers stationed here have not reported to Kul Tiras in years,” he told Thrall. “What is the current situation?”
“Tiragarde is not much more than a crumbling ruin,” Thrall replied and shook his head. “About two hundred soldiers stubbornly hold it, however.”
“Two hundred?” Tandred said. He frowned up at the orc. “Warchief, if I may be so blunt, you could certainly overpower so few with ease, could you not?”
“I could, Admiral,” Thrall replied in the same formal tone. “But I have not, out of mercy and a feeling that it might be seen a declaration of war by some in the Alliance. They have been an eyesore and annoyance, nothing else, and I felt it unnecessary to crush them. That seems to have been a mistake, judging by that letter.”
Tandred rubbed his chin, staring at the report as he thought.
“And in light of these news,” he finally said, looking up again, “what do you plan to do?”
“There are voices demanding Tiragarde be leveled by the ground by our hands right away,” Thrall said. He watched Tandred steadily. “However, your sister’s and my marriage adds another political level to it. Especially since those soldiers by all accounts are rightfully yours, Admiral.”
“You would let me deal with this, then?” Tandred paused, eyebrows twitching when Thrall nodded in reply. He gestured at the letter. “But I cannot guarantee that they answer to me, from what I’ve heard they are fanatical about fighting your people.”
“Something must be done,” Thrall said. “I would prefer if a peaceful solution could at least be attempted before it comes to blows.”
Tandred opened his mouth, then paused and seemed to reconsider. Then he slowly nodded.
“I will contact Captain Waycrest, my second in command,” he said. “It will take a couple of days, but I will do my outmost to sort this out. Even if I may not have news before the celebration, I swear, it will not take long before I will have a proper overview of what actions should be taken.”
“I appreciate your aid in this, truly.”
Studying the orc for a moment, then glancing at Jaina, Tandred seemed to reach the conclusion that yes, the Warchief meant that.
“Very well,” the Admiral finally said, and raised the letter slightly. “If I may keep this?”
Thrall nodded again.
“Certainly. And I ask pardon for intruding on your time so suddenly,” he replied.
“It is no problem, considering the grave matter,” Tandred said, although the way he glanced between Thrall and Jaina showed how he had troubles reconciling this politeness with the huge orc.
“Well then,” Jaina said, nodding to her brother as she reached out. Thrall moved his hand closer to hers as she did, until they touched. “I wish you a good night, Tandred.”
“Good night…” he echoed, voice sounding just the little bit faint.
Jaina quickly cast the spell and severed the awkward farewells by simply bringing Thrall and herself straight back to his chambers in Orgrimmar.
“Thank the Light that that’s over,” Jaina breathed and rubbed her temples.
Only now, in retrospect, she realized how tense she had been. It was a relief to pull the adorned pauldrons from her shoulders. She put them on a chair, then heavily sat down on the bed.
An agreeing murmur, and a hard clattering of metal. With fingers so well honed in the movements that he could probably do it in his sleep, Thrall plucked at the straps of his armor. Bit by bit, the legendary gear came off his body and he placed all the pieces on the armor stand by the wall.
In a way, it was strange seeing him undress, even though it wasn’t the first time. She could still count the times on one hand, though. Shedding the armor made him look a little shorter, but not by much. He was tall even for an orc, and his size remained imposing even when dressed only in the simple shirt and pants he wore beneath the protective gear.
For a moment she pondered teleporting back to her own rooms in Theramore to change into her nightdress, but pushed it aside for now. It was not very late in the evening, and she was tired. Right now, she wanted to be here and breathe for a little while before she used magic again.
She smiled when Thrall met her gaze, and he returned it, walking towards her on bare feet while pulling the shirt over his head. A moment later seated himself beside her, absentmindedly folding the piece of clothing before dropping it at the foot of the bed. All the time, he watched her. By now she was so used to seeing him shirtless that the vast amount of green skin with its many scars was merely gently familiar – as long as she did not begin to think about all the pain those scars must indicate.
“Tandred is still shaken,” she commented, “but I think he feels a little less worried about me now, at least.”
“And about the rest?” Thrall asked.
“He will come to accept it.” She smiled, lowering her hands as she looked at him. “You confused him a good deal. I believe he still expected to be blamed for Tiragarde Keep until just now.”
At that, Thrall just hummed and shook his head. Both of them knew that he would never have done that, of course.
However, her eyes hardened again as she spoke.
“You know those soldiers better than Tandred and I,” she said. “They aren’t going to listen to him, are they?”
Thrall sighed.
“I highly doubt they will,” he said. “But I feel better at least giving your brother, and diplomacy, a chance.”
“Considering they aren’t loyal to my family anymore it may sound strange, but I’m glad you are willing to try.”
“Of course.”
He smiled, but they both left it unsaid that that it was hardly the strangest people he had given a chance of proving themselves.
Unbeknownst to her, he also had no intention of letting Jaina know what the Kul Tiras soldiers in that crumbling fortress had taken to shouting at anybody coming within earshot. The people of Razor Hill were getting so fed up with the crazed insults aimed at “your traitor harlot of a queen” (that being some of the kinder words) that they accepted it as another reason to beat up any straying patrols. In a way, the orcs and trolls in the village were defending Jaina’s honor, and if things kept up they might even be proud to admit it – if just to annoy the human fanatics.
But Jaina didn’t need to know anything about that. Anyway, he figured, holding back another sigh, she probably already knew by a guess.
“I also have to admire his will to do anything about it,” Jaina said, tipping her head back to stare at the rough ceiling. “It won’t make him anymore popular with the Alliance, but…”
She paused, then continued although she still didn’t look at Thrall.
“In the long run, this might not change anything about that. No matter what Tandred does, Kul Tiras will lose even more standing in the Alliance, just because he was here and didn’t talk me into breaking up this union.”
She was talking to herself as much as with Thrall. Sorting out thoughts. He simply hummed, recognizing what she was doing. After a few words, she leaned against him and he raised one hand to her back, silently inviting her to follow as he shifted further up on the bed. Jaina moved along with him, in the end resting her temple against his collarbone.
“Oh, they knew it couldn’t be done, but I’m sure they put some last hope in Tandred,” she went on and sighed. “I told him I think King Bronzebeard might be talked into offering some support, though, Ironforge and Kul Tiras could use this to cut trading deals if only the dwarves- mrr…”
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she slumped closer against Thrall’s bare chest. His body heat was inviting, but part of her mind noticed that he was a little tense.
“It’s not my business to worry about the politics of Kul Tiras anymore,” she grunted, shaking her head. As Thrall’s thick, green arms reached around her, Jaina allowed herself a brief, childish fantasy of his embrace being able to ward off her own hollering thoughts. It didn’t work, but it was a momentary respite for her brain, at least. “Enough,” she murmured. “I have been a politician for too long today.”
“Your brother is no fool, and he must be braver than your father if he dares to come to Orgrimmar to see me in person,” Thrall said. He growled, just as the words left his mouth. “No, I shouldn’t have brought him up. I’m sorry.”
“No, no. You have a valid point.”
Tandred’s and her father had been a living presence the whole day, painfully so. He’d had to be mentioned at some point. Now when it was done, Jaina found that it was actually a relief.
She leaned back to meet the gaze from his blue eyes.
“I’ve said it before, I don’t blame you,” she said. “I never blamed you.” Much as it hurt, and she had cried – no, she would not, could not, place the guilt on him.
For a moment he said nothing, only looked at her with a mix of guilt and relief in his blue eyes. There was something more behind that, also, something soft and warm and familiar, and it finally blanketed the regret.
“It must be painful having to be so brave,” he said, touching her shoulder like he had done every now and then for years.
She would have shook her head, but it turned into a joyless little smile instead – because he knew, he knew exactly how it felt. She could have said something, but no suitable, no needed words came to mind. Instead she just met his gaze in silence.
The way he watched her sent a hot thrill shivering down Jaina’s spine, chasing away the bitter smile from her face. She wet her lips and swallowed against the soft numbness filling her throat.
Not until then did she realize that she kneeled on the mattress with his legs encircling her, just as his arms did. He seemed to realize it too judging by the small start, and moved as if to bring both of them out of the situation. When she pressed a hand to his chest, however, he stopped and looked at her.
Neither of them moved, watching each other. Breathing. Waiting.
“But you are still nervous,” he finally said in a rumbling murmur.
In the silence, she nodded her head slowly.
Every sound grew loud in that atmosphere, so that the brush of Jaina’s knees against the mattress rung in their ears. It was brief, she shifted and raised her arms to reach his face. Soft, pink fingertips against coarse, green skin, a crisp whisper of touch.
“I don’t think I’ll ever stop being nervous until we’ve passed this obstacle.” She brushed her thumb against his cheek, and added, “and neither will you.”
He leant forwards then, and pressed his lips to her forehead. Not very soft, but strong and warm, and the rough texture of his tusks against her skin made her tremble in anxious anticipation. A runaway thought pointed out that that was not a very sane reaction to a simple kiss filled with fangs.
Maybe I should do something about that alliteration…
I don’t [strike]do[/strike] write sex scenes, which I’m sure is going to be a disappointment to some of my ff.net reviewers, heh (still love ya though). I’m just gonna try to make the next bit not vomit-inducingly cute… I’ve gotten a stamp of approval from a writer whose taste I trust, for the bits and pieces I have, though. Just gotta glue 'em together.
It’s good to see you’re still going at it. As for the matter of sex scenes, well, it’s probably for the best. I don’t know if I could properly write those myself either.
You bet your creativity I’m still at it I’ll be a BNF yet! … wait, I don’t want to be a BNF. brrr!
Hoookay, here we go…
Straightening, he met her gaze again and stroke a big, green thumb over her cheek, like a mirror of Jaina’s movement.
“Tell me at any time, if you feel uncomfortable,” he said, watching her earnestly. Even though those words should have been spoken by somebody who felt more secure than the one spoken to, there was an underlying note of honest worry in his voice. No warm emotion, common ground or amount of respect for each other could take away the fact of their physical differences. It was what they had to find out the truth about, now.
She nodded again, mouthing “I will”, but only part of that received any voice. Her fingers slipped away from Thrall, to pick at the thin straps holding the halves of her cloth chest piece together. The vest slid downwards with ease, and the sleeves were so wide that she could shake her arms free with a few quick twitches. As it fell towards the mattress behind her, the cloth tickled her bare skin. Glancing away, Jaina reached back and flicked the discarded cloth aside.
At first, she felt a stitching instinct to move an arm to cover her chest. She had not been naked before a man since Arthas, and that made her feel even more self-conscious in this delicate moment. At the same time, deep down she felt suddenly grateful to have some experience – in stark contrast to the years she had spent regretting her youthful breach of noble lady morals.
Suppressing that coy instinct she raised her hands to Thrall’s chest instead. He watched her face, that faint, soft smile still on his huge lips. As if he had just waited for the touch of her fingertips against his skin, he didn’t move until then. His hand slipped away from cupping her cheek, to her shoulder, where he let it rest for a moment before continuing.
Arthas had been experienced and confident, skillfully caressing with a gentleness to make her feel safe and loved. She loved him too, at that time. This was different, it couldn’t be anything but different, but not in a bad way. Where Arthas had played his fingers across her body, knowing just what everything would do to her, Thrall moved slowly. Exploring.
Jaina leaned back against his other arm, leaving herself open to his touch. Green fingers almost as thick as her wrist brushed, caressed her skin and she melted against his warmth. He did know what he was doing, she could tell, but at the same time there was a sense of curiosity. It was all familiar and foreign to both of them.
Their eyes met and she smiled, a soft breath escaping her when his hand moved on.
For a moment she wondered if this was anything to him like how a shaman seeks connection to the elements. The thought seemed so strange to her overheated brain that she let hear a short breathless laugh, which returned when Thrall quirked an eyebrow at her.
“What?” he asked, sounding amused too, smitten by her silly grin.
The last thought fluttered away, and she latched onto the next one to have something to reply with.
“Feels as if we’re breaking new land, again,” she said, still breathless. The grin just wouldn’t let go, even though the sentence sounded like gibberish once she spoke it. Was she tipsy from the wine she’d had with Tandred? No, couldn’t be, it was too long ago.
Although Thrall tilted his head a little bit, his amused look didn’t falter into a confused one. So he might be able to find some semblance of logic in her claim.
“At least there aren’t any quilboars this time,” he commented.
They stared at each other for a second, before the absurdity of what they had both said overcame them. Jaina crumbled against Thrall’s chest, his mighty chuckles rumbling at her cheek and hands while she too laughed.
“And thank the Light for that!” Jaina managed between chortles, which only made it worse. Shaking with mirth Thrall pulled her closer and she pressed her forehead to his collarbone.
It took several moments to recover, but finally Thrall sat back and wiped his eyes.
“How silly…” Jaina gasped, smiling and mimicking him. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no. Hah!”
He tipped his head back, loudly exhaling. His black hair cascaded behind him, causing a whispering rustle as he straightened again. Still grinning. The wide smile softened as he watched her though, and Jaina felt her own face relax as well.
Ridiculous as that had been, it certainly made the air lighter.
Stretching upwards, Jaina reached around Thrall’s neck. His hair tickled her arms, and she carefully brushed her lips against his, keeping his tusks in mind. It felt rather odd doing that, his mouth was simply too large for it. Odd, but not wrong.
She sunk back, and one of his hands came to meet her, warm against her shoulder blades. With his other hand he braced himself against the mattress when Jaina continued backwards until she laid down, smiling up at Thrall as he followed her.
Foreheads brushing, gently, slowly.
No more politics today.Somehow, I think some of your fans will be outraged and demand something more graphic. This is good enough as far as I’m concerned though.
“We are talking about peace that have seemed impossible."
“What has the Eastern Kingdoms done for you, lately?”
Might want to fix those.
That said, good couple of chapters. There’s a lot to be said for a well-placed fade to black.
Will fix, and thanks GG
Manus: Quoth the Yathzee: “Fans are clingy, complaining-” nah, I don’t hate my fans XD Except for the odd one who tries to give me inane plot ideas. Like that one who wanted to have a SD2 fic where the plot was that Kevin got slapped up the head for looking at Angela’s breasts.
Rephrase?
For a moment she wondered if this was anything to him like how a shaman seeks connection to the elements. The thought seemed so strange to her overheated brain that she let hear a short breathless laugh, which returned when Thrall quirked an eyebrow at her.
This is probably the turning point for this part of the fic, Jaina & Thrall, the author and the reader. It’s a clever way to set the new mood and prepare the way out, escaping from the initial awkwardness. Good idea.
edit: That SD example must have made an impression on you, judging by the few times you’ve mentioned it