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A Brick to the Head
"That's a nasty cut. You might want some healers to look at it."
"I'll be fine. Besides, they're busy enough already."
"Well, drink this at least. You deserve that much."
Jaina Proudmoore didn't drink alcohol that much. At best it was a distraction, at worst, it was the pathway to a pounding headache made worse by Aegwynn screeching like a banshee. But gone were the days of her mentor and friend, as was her aversion to alcohol. So as she took the flask of night elven wine from Varian Wrynn, all the former ruler of Theramore could reflect on was that the king better have some grog of the dwarven variety.
"More..." Jaina rasped as she set down the goblet of Stormwind Keep's dining hall.
Varian raised an eyebrow. "Milady, maybe you should-..."
"More..."
Gone were days of giving a damn about etiquette. Gone were the days of giving a damn that Varian Wrynn was the supreme commander of the Alliance and even if Theramore was an independent kingdom, she owed him her respect. Gone were the days were Theramore actually existed...days where she was in a position to take the moral high-ground on the rising tension between the Alliance and Horde.
"You might not want to hear this..." Varian continued warily as he drew back the flagon of wine and declined to replenish his own goblet. "But Theramore's loss is being keenly felt. Even as it lies in ruins, our forces are making headway in the Southern Barrens and...you sure you don't want that looked at?"
Jaina shook her head, making the gash in her forehead bleed all the more. Maybe Varian was genuinely concerned, maybe the irony of it all was getting to him. A single brick to the head had killed his wife Tiffin, while Jaina had been hit by falling masonry in the attack on Theramore, yet managed to avoid Garrosh's axe and teleport herself and as many others as possible across an entire sea. Others that were being treated right now while her people sought aid elsewhere.
And maybe Varian saw other similarities. Physical, emotional...Thrall had often commented in more peaceful times how similar she was to Tarethra, and for all she knew, she had a doppelganger in Stormwind as well. Certainly it might explain Varian's unusually reserved nature right now, what with the Horde attack being the kind of incident he'd often warned her about. He was right, Jaina was wrong, and now he had the proof he needed to show the world that escalation of the "Fourth War" was the only way to end it.
And Anduin even calls me "auntie..."
The former ruler of Theramore allowed herself a brief smile as she reflected on the prince. Safe with Velen studying the Light, devoting himself to a life of serenity. Would it be possible for him to maintain it now? Would he still call her "auntie?" Right now, Jaina was feeling once removed from Anduin, twice removed from her past self, and an entire family tree removed from the principles of peaceful resolution she once stood for.
"You know, since we're going to have this conversation eventually, I'll admit I was wrong," the sorceress said suddenly.
"Pardon?' Varian asked.
"You know...you were right, I was wrong, and the only way this conflict is going to end is when Garrosh's head hangs from a pike."
Varian raised an eyebrow. "And how many Hor...people...have to die for that to happen."
"I'm past caring," Jaina murmured, helping herself to another serving of wine and making a mental note to ask Tyrande how the hell she put up with such weak grog. "Why? Is that a problem?"
"If means this is the kind of person you've become...then yes."
Jaina blinked. "What?"
"I know what it's like to be divided," Varian murmured. "Even after...merging my two selves after Onyxia's meddling, I've often felt torn. You, on the other hand, have done a one-eighty."
"And you're objecting to that? After all the times I've objected to your tough stance?"
"After seeing what some reversals of character can do...yes. I am...concerned."
Jaina's eyes narrowed. She wasn't in the mood to be coddled by Varian any more than she was in the mood to listen to references to Arthas. He was dead. Deathwing was dead. Illidan Stormrage and a dozen other threats to the world were dead. Now many more were going to die, and until Garrosh was among them, that was all she could focus on.
"I should turn in," the magic-user said eventually. "Goodnight, my king."
Varian remained silent. Jaina fell silent. And outside Stormwind Keep, the screams and moans of the wounded continued.
Ignoring them, Jaina headed for her quarters.
Her forehead was still bleeding.
A/N
Obviously taking some stabs in the dark as to the content of Tides of War and Mists of Pandaria, as to how Theramore's destruction and the effects on Jaina play out. Still, what also inspired this fic is her relationship with Varian. I've noticed the physical similarities between her and Tiffin, said similarities being...well, similar to the ones between her and Tarethra. And with Anduin calling her "auntie" in The Shattering and Thrall hooking up with Aggra...
...anyway, better this than pandas. 0_0