There was something amiss in her chambers, Sylvanas thought. The room was the same yes, the furniture hadn't moved and the air about it was still, speckled with dust, floating, stagnant. The Queen sat lazy reclined in her chair, legs crossed at the knee, elbow leant on the armrest with her chin rested in the palm of her hand.
Just what was it that was bothering her so much? She sighed, a habit she hadn't rid since death. All was quiet, not even the scuttling of rats or roaches could be heard down here. It was enclosed, a space meant for one to think, a private place where Sylvanas could be Sylvanas and not just the almighty title of Warchief of the Horde.
Three hours the Queen had sat there, still, unmoving. Three hours she had sat there with her mind going over nothing in particular. There had to be a reason. She didn't even know why she had come in here in the first place. Her feet had just carried her, silent, the hidden door closing her within and away from the outside world.
At the far end of the room, chair turned away from her desk she faced a large decorative bed, the sheets a mess from times since passed. An old feeling stirred within her gut making her squirm uncomfortably and finally move, shifting her body to a new more upright position, her hands now clawing at the ends of each armrest, gauntlets scratching at wood.
"What am I doing here..?" She asked herself, her words no more than a whisper, unsure she furrowed her brow, the bed taking up most of her vision. If she were alive her eyes would have dried from the lack of blinking, her focus that hard and fixed solely on four poster bed, the object seemed to be somewhat taunting.
Something tugged at the inside of her, something unpleasant and her ears involuntary drooped, though ever so slightly. Her guard weakened inviting a visceral memory to flash right before her very eyes shocking her into a jolt, the chair scraping loudly. Suddenly the sight before her stirred something unnerving within her gut, forcing her to look away and into the dark corners of the room.
What was this feeling? Was she missing something?
A candle on the desk beside her flickered a reddish-orange hue over her pale undead skin, the colour catching her eyes making them flare and pulse, two orbs watching in the darkness. Thinking, the Queen's attention unwillingly was brought back to the bed, her red gaze dropping, drawn to the foot of it. There on the floor lay a long forgotten garment, dust thick, covering the material.
Grinding her teeth Sylvanas got up to move, pushing away from the chair and making it scrape further back into the desk, uncaring, wax from the candle splashing over the wooden table top. Reaching the bed she hesitated, only briefly before picking up the now identified undergarments and clutched them tightly in her hand.
Just what were these doing here?
And before she she could stop herself or question them further, she felt compelled, bringing the material to her face, sniffing. Amongst the dust a mixture of musk, sea and flowers greeted her nose as she inhaled, eyes closed. It smelt familiar… just as quickly as smelled them she dropped it, like a thief caught red handed and glowered at the centre of the room.
Something was coming and she readied for it.
The air about the room had changed, dust particles now a swirl and dancing forming a shapes, and a large oval portal blinked open washing the room with a blinding blue-green light, the dust particles sucked in and whisked away to another place, to the picture of a boat Sylvanas did not know, the image pulsating softly.
The Queen narrowed her gaze, half of it due to the brightness but mainly due to when a hooded figure stepped through, a woman Sylvanas deduced from a quick study. The portal quickly dissipated, collapsing in on itself and vanishing as soon as the woman passed, halting in her step when she noticed she wasn't alone. She looked like she hesitated, though it was brief.
Moments went by in silence and then the hooded woman spoke, her gloved hands the Queen noticed were clenching and unclenching by her sides, a sign of nerves perhaps?
"Sylvanas?" The voice called out tentatively, uncertain, with a hint of something like hopefulness mixed in with it. The voice, her voice sounded somewhat familiar, again, a memory scratching at the surface.
The Warchief didn't move, or couldn't for that matter, a decision binding her feet to the floor as she gauged the woman, her mind puzzled trying to fit the pieces together. One by one more questions filled her head, more pieces left unsolved, the main one being why? And how? And more importantly who..?
As if possessed by wanting to know, Sylvanas' body moved of it's own violation. A single step forward she freed herself from her mental shackles, curious. She didn't feel threatened, no, quite the opposite in fact, her senses hadn't picked up any ill will at all, thus her defensive stance wasn't needed and she was left open, blank, and hypersensitive to a strange feeling of...longing? Feelings that were foreign, yet surprisingly to not unwanted.
The Queen mentally berated herself, narrowing her eyes in a wince. Was her mind playing tricks? Was her body betraying her? She was acting like a fool! But she felt. She actually felt something for once. Something that she could possibly grasp onto. The tendrils of darkness within her unbeating heart had started to retreat, a budding light flickering to life, growing, and growing… into something, something more.
The Queen no doubt looked daunting, her strong lithe figure adorned in her usual battle armour made her look all the more impressive, towering over the woman. The lady in question though didn't slink back or shy away, she just simply stood, her gloved hands now stilled and clasped together in front of her.
The lady may not have looked frightened but she was shaking, and Sylvanas immediately stepped closer now less than an arms length away, her eyes roving all over the human, checking, searching, was she alright? Sylvanas fretted, that too foreign to the Queen. She didn't much care anymore, she'd already given up on trying to unlock the mysteries of who she was and why she happened to be here, given up on…
The smell of musk, sea and flowers...the scent sending Sylvanas into a spiral of strange hybrid emotions. She wanted to cry, no, she wanted to be brave, she wanted, she wanted...to see.
Sylvanas' eyes softened, the red glow once fierce now tamed down ebbed softly. She slowly, methodically, pulled off her gauntlets and dropped them to the floor, and a now bare hand gingerly reached out cupping the womans face. The lady gasped at the touch, perhaps from the cold or perhaps not, but it didn't matter, not when a quiet whimper also left her plump pink lips.
"What spell have you put upon me?" Sylvanas whispered in awe, her own voice foreign to her very ears at how kind and curious she sounded. The word 'beautiful' at the tip of her tongue but not said as the pad of her thumb rubbed gentle circles across the woman's pale, living skin.
"I should be asking you that question..." The woman finally spoke again, her voice shaky from Sylvanas' touch. She leant into the cold palm, sighing with relief, her shoulders sagging, more relaxed, more open.
Sylvanas enjoyed the warmth on her skin, lost to the pleasant feeling, again, it was familiar and more so she enjoyed the overwhelming scent of salt and sea that the woman gave off. As if mesmerised Sylvanas' free hand came up to touch the hood covering up the mystery, that was the woman and slowly, ever so slowly pushed the hood back to reveal soft white locks. She swallowed abit, a habit, she was nervous, which on all accounts was laughable at best. She was the Warchief. She was a great leader. She was fearless, unbreakable and yet here she was...
"I-" Sylvanas' voice cracked, as she pushed more of the hood back, shakily brushing white hair back with it, the hood dropped down and they stood silent, both hands now resting upon the woman's delicate shoulders. The room was deathly quiet, her red eyes wavered, uncertain and unbelieving. Then gently, so gently as if the woman was made of glass curled a finger tucking it under her chin, she lifted her face.
Eyes closed the woman visibly shook, her bottom lip sucked in and trembling fighting a losing battle of staving off her tears. A droplet beaded behind her lashes and swelled until it dropped, dripping down her face and into Sylvanas' hand. If Sylvanas was alive she'd know that right now she wouldn't have been breathing. The shock had frozen her solid, and then when the woman's eyes fluttered open revealing the most beautiful blue, Sylvanas couldn't contain herself anymore, the flame inside roared to life chasing away the tendrils of dark past and she shattered, memories of when times were good came rushing back warming her cold, undead body. Her hands quickly came up cradling the woman's face, the woman she thought she'd lost. Her thumbs brushing away at her tears.
"Jaina…" She couldn't fathom this being, this beautiful being in front of her. She had returned, she had-
"I'm home" Jaina managed, through a watery smile and then threw her arms so tightly around the Queen that Sylvanas thought she had died again and woken up in some sort of wonderful world. But no, this was real and yes, she was still technically dead but she didn't feel hollow anymore. She didn't feel hate or vengeful anymore. No, all she felt was love and that love was encasing her in the most delighted embrace she had experienced since she time she thought she had lost her.
Sylvanas bent down to press a kiss to Jaina's hair, her lips lingering, her arms now wrapped protectively around her head, she whispered back, "Welcome home, my love," and kissed her again, "I missed you."