***Prologue***
The sea was calming to Jaina. She'd grown up on it and spent most of her life in proximity to water; while Jaina had left Kul Tiras for a time, it had never really left her blood.
But this was the wrong coast, and the wrong sea. It was too warm, too dry, and the ships in the harbor were all wrong.
Jaina stood on the docks outside Orgrimmar, watching peons unload crates from Zandalar. A Tauren nodded at her as he passed, his Darkspear companion eyeing her warily. She gave them both a faux smile and reflected on her was some irony in her being the fulcrum upon which peace balanced. She'd wanted it for so long, only to have it flung in her face again and again until all she'd had left to offer was raw, bitter anger.
A year ago, she'd been ready to obliterate the Horde. Today, she was the only thing standing between the mutually assured destruction of both sides. She was, in fact, that mutually assured destruction. As if reacting to her mood, storm clouds darkened on the horizon and she saw a flash of lightning.
"Thinking of stowing away?"
The familiar voice grated on her, and Jaina barely glanced in Nathanos's direction. "I believe I was told I had the full run of Orgrimmar. Is this not part of Orgrimmar?"
"On a technicality," Nathanos allowed.
"And if I wished to visit Thunder Bluff? Silvermoon? Suramar?"
He regarded her, face unreadable as he let her question hang in the air. Just when she was considering hitting him with her staff, he answered. "As agreed upon, all the lands of the Horde are open to you and you may, on occasion, visit with family and friends elsewhere."
Except there'd be a time limit on the latter, but it was the price Jaina had been forced to pay for that allowance. So she nodded, and looked past him, towards the fortifications of the city. Her throat tightened and her mouth went dry. "It's time, isn't it."
Nathanos inclined his head towards her, and Jaina couldn't tell what he was feeling or thinking. But she didn't really care. She looked down at herself, at the navy blue and white of her mother's wedding dress. A dress she'd once thought she'd wear for someone else. That was another irony, though one she refused to reflect on.
Lifting her hand, she gestured for Nathanos to step closer as arcane energy swirled around her. If she was going through with this, she was going to make an entrance.
***Three Months Earlier***
The war hadn't gone well, for anyone. There was little left of either the Horde or Alliance fleets; the powers of Kul Tiras and Zandalar had all but wiped each other out. Half of Boralus was rubble and Zuldazar wasn't in much better condition.
And the casualty reports… the casualty reports gave Anduin nightmares. Despite progress made in Ashenvale by the Kaldorei, the bulk of the Alliance army had gotten held back in the Barrens. The Horde's main force remained camped in the Redridge Mountains. If their supply lines were as badly disrupted as the Alliance's, Anduin was certain they were in an equal amount of trouble.
It came down to Azerite. Both sides had it, and the effects and consequences had been devastating. For every loss the Horde suffered, the Alliance suffered in turn. Reports told him that the rising death toll was becoming unsustainable. They needed peace, while there was still a Horde and Alliance to talk terms with each other.
Not for the first time, Anduin asked himself what his father would have done. Somehow, he was certain Varian could have averted war entirely. Varian Wrynn had better control over the Alliance. The other leaders respected him. Even Sylvanas had respected him.
And now, Anduin was sure they were on the verge of annihilation.
Bootsteps brought his focus back to the here and now, and he lifted his head to see a Kaldorei approaching. She had purple hair tied back into twin tails, multi-colored threads braided in her bangs and he recognized the seals of Stormwind and the Bronze Dragonflight on her fingers. More painfully,a commendation he remembered as one that Bolvar Fordragon had used to give out was positioned beneath a nightsaber patch on her shoulder. He gave the champion a smile. "Yukale, what is it?"
She shifted on her feet, then rubbed the back of her neck and held out a sealed letter before realizing she'd forgotten something and bowed her head to him. "You're not going to believe this, but the Horde wants to talk peace."
Not quite believing his ears, Anduin took the letter and stared at the seal, stamped with the symbol of the Horde. "You're sure?"
Yukale smiled hopefully. "Positive."
He knew there was probably more to the story of just how the Rogue had been given the letter, but he'd learned a long time ago that sometimes it was better to not know. He broke the seal, rolling open the missive and scanning it. And then he read it again.
Anduin lifted his head, meeting Yukale's eyes, "I need you to summon the leaders of the Alliance. And we're going to need to figure out a neutral location."
"I'll get right on that. And I think I have an idea for a location." Yukale's grin broadened as she flipped a coin to Anduin.
Looking it over, he glanced at her again, "What's this?"
"A little gift I lifted from the Dark Lady's pocket," she replied, before jogging out of the hall as the King's laughter rang at her back.
An old ship was not exactly the place that Sylvanas had envisioned for these talks. She didn't even want the talks, but she was as aware as Anduin that if the fighting went on for much longer, there wouldn't be a Horde to lead.
A position she'd never asked for, but now that she was here, she'd do damn near anything to keep her Horde intact no matter how some might disagree with her methods.
"Well, this is charming." She strode across the deck, addressing the Kaldorei leaning against the ship's mast as she chatted with one of Sylvanas's Forsaken champions.
Sylvanas had no illusion about the rogue's loyalties and where they might lay, but Yukale was one of the few of Azeroth's heroes who'd spent more time with her blade in the backs of the mutual enemies of the Horde and Alliance than in the backs of the Horde.
Ahn'Qiraj, Northrend, Deathwing, Garrosh, the Legion. Sylvanas narrowed her eyes, wondering if the Kaldorei ever considered turning those dangerous looking blades on her.
Yukale would die in an instant, but Sylvanas would have respected the effort.
The Windwhistle used to be a pirate ship. It still smelled of rum and the half-dozen crew were loitering around as the ship sat peacefully between the Banshee's Wail and a large Kul Tiran ship that seemed vaguely familiar.
Either of the warships could obliterate the Windwhistle without breaking a sweat, so it was little more than a symbolic barrier. But Sylvanas had learned to appreciate the power of symbols. She gestured for the Forsaken to join her as one of the traitorous Ren'dorei joined Yukale, leaning up on her toes to kiss her.
Rolling her eyes, Sylvanas walked across the deck, her Forsaken at her side. "You trust her, Tyra?"
Tyra turned her faintly glowing gaze to the elves. "As much as yeh could trust any o'them, my lady. But fer this? I think we gotta worry more 'bout the Alliance than her."
Tyra Cole was one of Sylvanas's more fanatical champions, taking pleasure in collecting trophies from the dead. Usually, the warrior wore a belt that dangled with ears. It was surprisingly absent. Sylvanas supposed that was a sign that her order to not antagonize the Alliance was being obeyed.
She wanted to save the antagonizing for herself.
Fingering a knitted sleeve under her armor, Tyra glanced at her, then across the water to the Alliance ship. Sylvanas could make out a boat rowing towards them. Finally.
"May I ask yer sommat, my lady?"
"Of course," Sylvanas replied, keeping her eyes on that boat.
"This is a ruse, ain't it? Lure 'em in an' then smash 'em for good, aye?"
She shifted her gaze to Tyra, "No. I am afraid this is no ruse. There is no longer a path to victory. If we wish the Horde to survive, to prosper, this is the only way."
For now.
Tyra frowned, then nodded and saluted Sylvanas. She joined the rest of Sylvanas's honor guard, standing next to an Orc and his Sin'dorei mate. She couldn't quite remember their names, but could sense the Sin'dorei was pregnant. Again. Those two bred like rabbits, and she snorted. They probably didn't know yet.
Near the wheelhouse, she spotted a dark-skinned human woman. Like Yukale, she wore a nightsaber patch on her shoulder armor. Interesting. She had a casual demeanor, but it was obvious to Sylvanas she was keeping as sharp a watch on her as her guard was on them.
As she watched, a stormcrow landed on the railing next to her. The woman reached up, scritching her fingers along the bird's neck in a familiar fashion and making it preen. Despite the sweet scene, Sylvanas had the distinct impression the druid was glaring at her.
Her orc shifted, his fingers clenching around the hilt of his axe as he leaned against the railing. Sylvanas idly wondered if he'd attack the druid; or herself. The Dark Lady was more than aware of the discontent within her ranks. This was as much a loyalty test for them as it was an attempt to broker some sort of peace.
The rowboat reached the rope ladder. Sylvanas clasped her hands behind her back as everyone else on board tensed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Yukale nervously play with something on her belt while her mate stared down the Sin'dorei as she approached Sylvanas. Leaning over, she listened as the woman spoke.
"Besides the two rogues, the druid and the paladin, there is a hunter in the crow's nest. They call themselves the Nightsaber Vanguard."
That didn't count anyone below decks or the crew, but Sylvanas didn't consider the crew a threat. The five in this Vanguard and Anduin. Herself, her warriors and priest. And Nathanos of course, in hiding. Even odds, should this all go south.
She went over her contingencies one last time in her head as King Anduin Wrynn climbed on board, Jaina Proudmoore not far behind him.
Damn, that explained why the ship was familiar. The odds were no longer in her favor. She should have brought those warlocks.
Sylvanas favored them with a smile. "I see you've left the dog at home. Wise decision. We don't need him urinating everywhere."
They could discuss further details with the other leaders of their factions later, but for this first meeting it would be just them. If they wanted peace to happen at all with in the next decade, getting all the faction leaders together for a conference this early would be hellishly difficult and likely to end in someone losing an eye.
Proudmoore was an unpleasant surprise. The boy certainly had a habit of giving her unpleasant surprises.
A table had been set up in the center of the deck with two chairs. Sylvanas approached her side, pulling the chair out and sitting without waiting for anyone else. She leaned on the back legs, propping her feet up on the table. She fixed Anduin with a look as he sat across from her.
"Well?"
Anduin lifted his hand, like he was going to pinch the bridge of his nose but stopped himself. Instead, he leaned forward on the table and said evenly, "You're the one that offered the olive branch, Warchief."
"Then let us cut to the chase, High King. Lord Admiral." Sylvanas waved her hand, one eye on Jaina as she spoke.
"My spies tell me the Alliance has three months until you run out of resources. Your subjects are starving, your cities and farmlands lay in ruin. You cannot fish, as the fish cannot be found." She pulled her feet off the table, and straightened. "I am sure that your spies have shared a similar story about the Horde. And they would be speaking the truth."
Jaina's eyes were on her, but Sylvanas refused to acknowledge her. She was here to talk to Anduin, and no one else. Making Jaina angry was only a bonus.
The mage took a step forward. Instantly, armor clanked behind Sylvanas and fabric rustled. She held up her hand and the movement stopped; after a tense moment, she heard the almost imperceptible sound of a bowstring relaxing above her.
"You're right, on all counts," Anduin said, and Sylvanas felt something that an idle part of her remembered was relief.
"Separate, we will both die. Together, we may have a chance to survive." She locked eyes with the young King, Anduin too inexperienced to hide his shock. "I've gone through every calculation I can think of. So let me assure you that this is, quite literally, the last resort if my Horde is to survive."
There were alternatives, and they hung over the table as she watched Anduin consider them as she had just a few weeks ago. The Alliance shattered; the Horde no more. Each race and each people going their separate ways or with limited ties. Half the races on both sides of the war were hanging on by a thread. Anduin could no more let the Kaldorei or Draenei go it alone in their current state than she could the Darkspear or Sin'dorei.
"You're suggesting an alliance?" The disgust was plain in Jaina's voice, her face twisted up in revulsion.
For the first time, Sylvanas met her eyes. She couldn't blame her. They were much too alike in certain ways, and the Horde had done unthinkable things to the Alliance in general and Jaina in particular. In a way, Jaina was the perfect example of the type of person within the Alliance that would be most difficult-and most absolutely necessary-to convince.
But the Alliance was not without clean hands. The war had shown them capable of the same level of brutality of which they accused the Horde. Sylvanas's eyes slid from Jaina's pretty, if tired, face, back to Anduin. "Something more than an alliance but less than annexation or absorption. Open borders, free trade, troops standing down."
"Not everyone within the Alliance will agree with that," Anduin pointed out, lifting his hand to stop Jaina from speaking. "Nor everyone within the Horde. Our respective leaderships will be… skeptical."
But Anduin was interested, the desperation in his eyes that Sylvanas kept hidden deep within herself. She could use that. "That is one thing we will need to discuss. What will be necessary to convince the others to sign on. What to do with our Azerite weapons."
"And the Blight?" Jaina's knuckles were white as she clenched them.
Sylvanas didn't look at Jaina. Instead, she looked past her, to where the Alliance champions stood. The Blight was a powerful bargaining chip, and one she would not give up easily. But let them know it was an option? She could do that. "And what to do with the Blight."
Early on, once she realized the scale of the danger the Horde faced, she'd weighed the risks of just Blighting everyone and raising them. It could make things easier.
It could also make her too many enemies to be viable, though she'd always yearn to turn Stormwind into the new Forsaken capital. But even dreams must die.
"There are certain-"
"Laws, yes, I know," Sylvanas interrupted. "And I have a solution to that. One which would ensure that neither side could act against the other without consequence."
Anduin narrowed his eyes. "What are you suggesting?"
Smiling, Sylvanas showed them her fangs. "There's going to be a wedding, little lion."
Looking like he hadn't quite believed what he'd heard, Anduin asked, "A wedding? With who?"
"Myself." There was a lingering moment where Sylvanas didn't respond. Slowly mounting horror grew on Anduin's face as he naturally assumed it would be him.
Sylvanas's eyes flicked to Jaina for a moment. Long enough for Jaina to notice, and no one else. "And I'm sure we'll find a suitable volunteer."
