Months after the demise of the foul dragon Deathwing, Jaina Proudmoore has a recurring nightmare. It drifts a wedge between her and her female Warlock lover.

Note: after playing games like WoW and Dragon Age for a long time, and my daily job – amongst other things – being a copywriter / final editor, I suddenly surprised myself in not having fully acknowledged the wonderful pleasure of rewriting canon lore. I have always, with great pleasure, read the often enticing and beautiful stories of very accomplished writers in English. But it never occurred to me – since my mother tongue is Dutch – that I could give it a go myself.

Note 2: inspiration for this story came from the track Blue Foudation - Eyes on fire.

Disclamer: sadly enough, I do not own Jaina Proudmoore or any other WoW characters, but the young warlock Morgana is entirely mine.

So here we are. My first ever posting on a fanfic site.

Seriously, I have no clue.

Please forgive me my bad grammar, and other mistakes in Universal Language. I would love to be tutored.

Don't be too harsh on me tho…

Eyes on fire

Part 1

I listen to the distant sounds of the Dustwallow marsh while I caress her. She moans in her sleep. Not the exquisite, enticing moans of our lovemaking earlier tonight. I can see her eyes fluttering, restless beneath her eyelids. She's having nightmares again.

I think of the wonderful beasts that live in the ancient swamp. The faint sounds of hissing raptors and croaking frogs float through the window of Jaina's bedroom, accompanied by the first light of dawn. It makes me wonder. What horrors haunt her in her dreams?

She has not been herself of late.

I am confused. After the demise of Deathwing, Azeroth is finely coming to a well-deserved rest. Theramore was heavily damaged during the cataclysm, but even so quickly rebuilt.

I ponder the day I saw this beautiful woman for the first time. It was at the meeting of the Honour Delegation in Stormwind. A weighty gathering of politicians, nobles, delegates. Among them the Lady Jaina Proudmoore, Leader of the Kirin Tor, Ruler of Theramore, still grieving over her treacherous prince. But even more concerned than ever, with the rising tensions between the Horde and the Alliance.

I could never have imagined that she would be in my arms now.

Jaina has gone through a lot. I know that. But I have a history of my own.

I was not always the one with whom the powerful Archmage can rest, and be vulnerable, after she makes decisions about the future of a world. I was not always the one to whom she can find discharge, after her always impetuous - though measured - performances, as one of the most important leaders of Azeroth.

The world is watching Jaina. But no one sees her as I see her now. Drained - in a pleasant way - after our lovemaking. Vulnerable, incredibly beautiful.

Jaina struggles with her abhorrent dream and tries to wake up with all her might. For the umpteenth time, she has the same nightmare, in which everything she loves, goes down in a heinous blast of purple-blueish light that changes the world forever. Deep down she knows that the foreboding will come to pass. That there is nothing she can do to prevent it.

Eventually she is awakened by desperate crying. When she feels the comforting grip of Morgana's strong arms, she realizes that it is her own cries.

Morgana holds her firmly and whispers comforting words.

As she opens her eyes and looks into the loving, purple gaze of the female warlock, the powerful mage feels ever so grateful that she has met this young woman, who gives her the sense of security she no longer can get hold of herself.

"Jaina?"

The Lady of Theramore feels Morgana's warm body against her own nakedness, and memories of the hours earlier come to surface. Despite herself, Jaina feels the warm glow between her legs again, which fortunately has not been dispelled by her horrible dreams.

Morgana observes her with a worried look, gently wiping the tears from her cheeks.

Jaina wants to reassure her lover, but knows she would have to lie. How can she tell the raven-haired warlock that their remaining time together might be short? How can she appease her own fear? She is a powerful mage, she tells herself. But she knows her dreams are not mere dreams. They are omens of disaster and doom.

"Are you okay my love?"

In response, Jaina treats her lover to small, sweet kisses. First lovingly, but soon the kisses are filled with desire. The female Archmage can't help herself. From the moment the dreams started, her need for the soothing touch of Morgana has become near obsessive.

She knows that Morgana knows this.

It does not matter to her. She wants to polish away the dreams with erotic glory. She wants to forget.

Morgana is a lot younger than she is herself. Apparently outside of her own knowledge, the owner of a delightful body. Morgana's skin is of the fairest porcelain. Her small, delicate breasts firm and high. Her raven locks fall forward onto Jaina's breasts, as the girl looks into her blue eyes. Jaina's nipples immediately respond to the subtle touch. The Archmage sighs with a thrill of arousal.

The female warlock studies her with eyes that glow purple. A consequence of the Fel magic she wields. The girl refuses to tell Jaina whom was her master in the dark arts. It frustrates her. How is it possible? How did her sweetheart acquire this knowledge at her age? Most warlocks need a lifetime for it, if ever.

Morgana, as young as she is, is the only warlock Jaina has ever met, who does not succumb to the extremely addictive energy of the Fel magic. She wields it sparingly, with deadly efficiency. The Archmage has observed many a foe misjudge the young woman's seductive and innocent appearance.

An error that none of them lives to tell.

"Tell me love, what happens in your dreams?"

Jaina Proudmoore cannot keep her eyes from the pink nipples, swaying close to her face. Just like the icing on a cake, delicious in every way. They defy Jaina, stiff and mischievously. Probably more of the cool morning air, than of excitement, she considers.

Despite her age, the young Lock has a low and slightly hoarse voice. Listening to her is enticing, no matter what comes out of the pretty girls mouth.

Morgana has no fault that Jaina can see, her perfection magnified by the early morning sun, streaming through the window.

A hot throbbing starts between her legs.

Oh yes. This is what the blonde mage desires most now. This is what she needs.

Instead of answering the girl, she locks eyes with the beautiful sorceress. Without a word, Jaina starts to touch her breasts, very gently rubbing the erect nipples with her thumbs.

Morgana looks back at her. Silent. Knowing.

Jaina hates herself, but she knows she's in for a bedroom rodeo.

We have been through this before. As much as I covet the touch of my mistress, I know that something is wrong. I know Jaina is trying to hide something. I just can't read her anymore. She keeps shutting me out.

She has been like this for weeks now.

The righteous and merciful ruler of Theramore, darling of the Alliance, can be incredibly selfish and arrogant, if she's not comfortable in her skin. A side of her she allows few people to see, I think. A doubtful honour.

However much I love her, I loathe her when she is like this.

I know what game she plays, and I won't play along this time. I can sense something is terribly wrong.

"Talk to me Jaina. What is going on?"

The beloved and merciful Lady of Theramore Isle, choses to ignore my worry. Instead, she lets go of my nipples. Then she draws my naked body over hers, with great demand.

I lie on top of her, unmoving, feeling her magnificence. Hot skin, nipples hard.

"Touch me", she hisses. "Like this."

Her hands are hard on my waist, my buttocks, gripping my thighs, searching my breasts. The exquisite sensations mix oddly with the faint, bestial sounds from the marsh. I can feel lust stirring in my loins.

Her face becomes twisted, the picture of naked arousal. I wonder what her many admirers would think if they could see her now. Scared and desperate, clinging to a female warlock almost half her age. The traces of tears still on her now flushed cheeks.

In a wicked moment I think of sharing my thoughts with her.

Never. I could never hurt her. Not like that.

She pushes her tong against my lips, licks me, bites me. Not stopping. So good.

A warm hand hits upon my now red-hot pussy.

I can't help myself.

We exchange fiery kisses. She smiles, growls approvingly, thinking she has won.

She should know better by now.

I deny her the touch she craves so badly.

I know her letch is mixed with guilt. I know the tears will come again when she is relieved. No matter how powerful she is when she performs her office, she knows perfectly well that I am the strongest of us.

I could flay her alive. One word and she won't survive. I'm not scared of her power. I see right through her any hour.

She feels my resistance and plays her ace.

She stops kissing me. Withdraws her hand from my begging sex, and lets her head sink into the pillow.

I feel a desperate sense of loss.

"My darling Morgana, have we ended up here again? Playing the worried good girl, hm?"

Her voice all sweet and husky.

We look into each other's eyes. Icey blue against deviant purple. Her eyes are on fire.

"I know you think you have to protect me. I know that that is just about the goal in your life. But you can let it go now, poppet. I don't need your protection. I just need you to fuck me."

With her left hand she grabs my hair and pulls my face very close to hers. Her right hand goes down to my pussy. Skilfully she spreads the sensitive sides of my sex. She pushes her middle finger deep inside me, and makes maddening laps.

I am overcome by lust, despite of myself.

She studies me, amused, whilst continuing her ministrations.

I hear myself moaning, panting, against her cheek. Trying to catch my breath. Trying to resist.

It is not a pleasant sound.

Is this what she wants?

I think of it. As far as I can think, feeling her inside of me.

Jaina Proudmoore will never, ever, give anyone a true glimpse into her soul.

In a stolen moment, I muse over the men and women - that I know of - she has denied. Thrall, Warchief of the Horde, madly in love with the Human mage. She never even considered. Kael'thas Sunstrider, Prince of Quel'Thalas, put aside for a treacherous Human prince. Aegwynn, ageless mother of the sorcerer Medivh. Her might in service the Burning Legion, but secretly in love with the female leader of the Kirin Tor. And last but not least, her bodyguard, the strikingly attractive Night Elf Pained. Who is no doubt listening right now, behind the closed doors of Jaina's private quarters, to our painful, maddening love game.

The most powerful, charismatic creatures of Azeroth have wooed her. Man or woman, she let them shit the creek when it comes to love. Jaina only ever wilfully surrendered to the erratic emotions of the foulest creature ever to set foot on Azeroth.

And to me.

I know she loves me. But sometimes I wonder. What am I to her?

When I first met her, The Archmage had never been with a woman before. My once student has disturbingly fast become my equal in the fine art of lesbian lovemaking.

When her finger shows up again, it is shimmering wet. She looks at it triumphantly, and then puts it in her mouth. She tastes me, licks the finger slowly, seductively.

"Honey, still defiant?" Her voice all sweet and playful. "It seems to me that you are enjoying yourself. Why deny yourself the pleasure, hm? I know you want to talk. We can do that. Later. But we cannot talk down the fact that you want to feel me in that horny pussy of yours, just as much as I want to feel you… Am I wrong?"

Her conversational tone infuriates me, just like her refusal to take my concerns seriously.

I slap her in the face. Not very hard, but painful enough to get her attention.

The spot on her cheek where I hit her, leaves a slightly red mark.

I know her well. This is exactly what she wants.

Jaina doesn't miss a beat and smiles her sweetest smile. "Well well, putting up a fight now, are we?"

In one agile move, she raises. The blonde mage pulls me my by my hair onto the bed. She moves her body on mine, and with her right leg she cleverly spreads my legs. Then she pushes her hip against my soaring cunt and lusts up and down.

O my god.

"Jaina", I gasp.

The Archmage leans on her arms, her royal breasts jiggling above me while she moves. Her right hand goes down again. She pulls her hip back and lets her hand rest on my sopping cunt. I cannot help it and moan long and deeply.

Her fingers teasingly start exploring my most sensitive parts. She keeps her eyes locked on mine, and again smiles her most seductive smile, almost comforting.

"Does this feel good, my love?"

I am overcome.

I can feel my juice pouring out of me, flooding her hand, in soaking wet waves.

I don't want her to stop. I am no longer capable of resisting her.

I know she knows.