Important note: This is a raunchy story. Since explicit content isn't allowed on this site, I gutted the numerous sex scenes and you can consider this to be the "SFW" version (well, uh, kind of). The full version is hosted on Archive of Our Own (AO3) under my pen name Hidari, so just google that if you want to read the uncensored smut. I also recommend that copy because it's more edited, and you can view the tags for updated content warnings.
I'll still upload here regularly, and reviews/PMs through this site are more than welcome!
Chapter 1: Cardinal Sins
"Kael was so many things Arthas wasn't. Older, more sophisticated, experienced, powerful, and almost impossibly physically perfect. Arthas felt jealousy growing inside him in a cold, hard knot."
—Arthas: Rise of the Lich King
At first, Kael had chalked up the series of incidents to sour happenstance. Now, faced with Arthas's smug stare, he could no longer deny his rival's unmistakable intent.
It all began with the night he had followed Jaina Proudmoore to return her dropped book, only to discover her wrapped in Arthas's clutches. Kael was disgusted to glimpse the human prince's lips pressed hungrily against her neck, and they lingered there for a pause even after he made his presence known.
Perhaps Kael had committed a great mistake by revealing his wounded jealousy, for in the weeks that followed, Arthas appeared to delight in parading his romantic victory. Jaina herself seemed unaffected by the crackling tension as Arthas flirted and pawed at her conspicuously when Kael was near. The elf, to his credit, bit his tongue and restrained his anger well; aside from his gritted teeth and clenched claws, he was a model of refined composure.
Unfortunately, his civility was only rewarded with an apparent escalation of such occurrences. The Violet Citadel was not exceedingly large, yet even this fact could not explain the frequency at which he came across the human couple. The gardens, hallway alcoves, and even the stairwell leading to the Kirin Tor mage lodgings had all been befouled by the sight of Arthas and Jaina engrossed in their tangled passions. Not once had Kael actually witnessed the Lordaeron prince studying, which was the purported reason for his visit in Dalaran. Kael wondered if Jaina, the ever-studious mage, would lose patience with Arthas constantly launching himself at her like a lovesick dog.
On this particular sweltering summer afternoon, Kael had settled into the library for a focused session of reading. The cavernous room was cool and devoid of people, and he savored the peaceful atmosphere. He sat on a burnished wooden bench between the stacks, absorbed in a leather-bound tome. Only the occasional faint rasp of a turned page broke the silence.
An hour later, the door creaked open, ushering in a gust of balmy air and a pair of muffled footsteps.
"Arthas, once again, you needn't accompany me here. I only plan to read, and it will be terribly boring for you." Kael's pointed ears pricked at the hushed sound of Jaina's voice.
"Please. There's no such thing as a dull moment when I'm with you." Kael sighed, pinching his brow. No corner of Dalaran was safe from Arthas, the horny plague.
His narrowed green eyes tracked Jaina's midsection through the shelf spaces as she approached the adjacent aisle, her suitor trailing close behind. She wore a short silvery gray frock, a marked change of pace from her standard flowing robes. Kael noted how the thin material clung tightly to her waist, and it briefly crossed his mind that perhaps the week's heat wave wasn't entirely unwelcome. Arthas too was clad minimally in a white tunic that exposed his tanned forearms, and his long blond hair was swept back in a ponytail.
"Would you help me find the book, Arthas? It's called Creatures of the Arcane, by Goyen." Kael could see Jaina's back directly in front of his gaze as she scanned the packed rows of texts.
"Of course." Arthas turned and knelt opposite from Jaina, running his thumb across the tome spines. Kael's lip curled into a sneer as their eyes suddenly met across the gap. He glowered haughtily for a few seconds before redirecting his attention back toward his reading material, pointedly ignoring the other man.
Arthas's face hovered between the shelves, and his mouth twitched into a smirk at the sight of the elven prince scowling into his book. A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes.
"Jaina," he murmured, straightening to stand beside her. He leaned in conspiratorially, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm getting rather distracted," he said in a husky whisper, just loud enough for Kael to hear.
Kael cursed inwardly. If only he could pyroblast Arthas all the way back to Lordaeron…
"Arthas, please. Not right now."
"Please what?" he purred lazily, stepping closer.
"I really must find this book and read it today, so we can't—"
Kael, still adamantly refusing to raise his head, grimaced at the faint wet sounds of locked lips. His ears flushed as Jaina broke away, panting slightly.
"Arthas! Not here!" she pleaded quietly.
"Relax. Nobody's around." His arms snaked around her waist, effortlessly drawing her against him as he backed against the shelves, facing Kael.
"How do you know? There could be—"
Once again, Jaina was cut off, and her whisper dissolved into a low moan. Arthas held her jaw in one hand, while his other reached lower to grasp her backside. She writhed against him, her ragged breathing betraying her excitement.
A stifled squeal caused Kael to finally glance up, against his better judgment. Arthas had jerked up the hem of Jaina's dress waist-high, exposing her blue satin underwear and smooth skin. His fingers caressed and squeezed the supple flesh. Kael gawked, transfixed with a throbbing sensation of mixed outrage and titillation.
Arthas dug his nails in gently. "You like that, don't you?" he breathed tauntingly against Jaina's neck, staring at Kael over the crook of her shoulder. His eyes glittered with triumph.
Kael suddenly stood; he dropped his hefty spell book on the bench with a booming clap. Jaina gasped and lurched backwards, frantically tugging down her dress.
"Excuse me," he snapped, voice dripping with scorn as he strode around the shelves. He stopped at the end of the aisle and cast a withering glare upon the couple.
"K-Kael!" sputtered Jaina, wide-eyed. Her lower lip was swollen and glistening, and Kael was grateful that the heavy crimson fabric of his robes concealed any sign of his arousal.
Behind her, Arthas smiled innocently. "Prince Kael'thas," he said with a nod.
The elven mage's nostrils flared. "May I remind you," he hissed, "that this is a library? Not your bedroom." Before either of the humans could reply, he turned with a huff and stalked out of the building. The heavy doors banged shut behind him.
Arthas looked at Jaina in amusement; her face was nearly as red as Kael's robes. "He likes to toss books around when he's upset, doesn't he?"
Jaina crossed her arms, brows furrowed. "Arthas! Don't embarrass me like that!"
"Who cares what that stuffy elf thinks? Personally, I find his fingernails more embarrassing than anything else. What kind of man files and paints his nails like that, anyway?"
"I care what he thinks!"
"Oh?" A hint of petulance crept into Arthas's voice.
"In fact, I care what everyone here thinks," continued Jaina. "I need to be taken seriously as an academic, not dismissed as a prince's plaything."
"Jaina, nobody but Kael'thas has seen us together like this. Besides, this was hardly the first time for him." He paused. "Or the second, for that matter."
"What?!"
"Never mind." Arthas reached over to play with a lock of her hair. "You know he's just madly jealous that you're mine."
Jaina swatted his hand away. "I'll have no part in this juvenile game of yours," she said coolly, and turned back to the bookshelves.
Kael fumed, marching up the stairs of the citadel tower in a flounce of billowing robes. He flicked a bead of sweat from his temple. The image of Arthas's crude, possessive display was seared into his mind.
At the top of the staircase was a wooden door, emblazoned with a gilded eye. Here was the Kirin Tor's observation chamber, a room used for magical demonstrations and examinations. Due to the recent drought of newly admitted mages, the beautiful yet secluded space hardly saw use anymore. Kael had taken to visiting it for his private sessions of contemplation and brooding.
The marble interior sides of the broad chamber were carved with a twisting lattice pattern, and an amber stained-glass window spanned the west wall, overlooking the gardens far below. In the evenings, the setting sun would coat the room with a rich golden glow. A wide and elegant oak-trimmed sofa was tucked neatly in an alcove, padded luxuriously with black velvet; it was flanked by a pair of ornate cabinets, which Kael knew contained a variety of magical scrolls, potions, trinkets, and other such supplies. To the far end of the room was a shallow fountain that was used primarily for conjuring.
The most prominent feature of the chamber was a giant enchanted mirror that cut across the room. It was nigh unbreakable and lacked a single smudge. Behind the glass was a smaller section featuring an arrangement of desks, accessible through a curtain at the far edge. This side of the two-way mirror afforded a panoramic view of the room while allowing observers protection from stray spells. Performers were unable to watch the reactions of the audience, which could be either a welcome relief from distraction, or utterly nerve-wracking.
Kael checked behind the curtain as usual, just to be certain he was alone, and then slid onto the sofa with a deflated sigh. He tugged irritably at the collar of his robes before shrugging them off altogether. The fabric pooled around his hips, and the skin of his bare torso felt slightly damp with perspiration.
Why, he pondered, did Jaina so favor Arthas? He gazed dourly across the room at the mirror, scrutinizing his reflection. Undoubtedly, he was handsome by both elf and human standards. His face was aristocratic and youthfully masculine, framed by fair silken hair; his body was tall and athletically muscled, with a broad chest, lean waist, and toned legs (regularly ascending the countless flights of stairs within the Violet Citadel had given him phenomenal calves beneath his robes). And although Arthas had an undeniable boyish charm, he possessed none of Kael's lithe grace.
His focus switched to his tapered ears and sweeping eyebrows. Could his elven nature be the issue? Kael knew of some high elves who would balk at the idea of intimacy outside of their race, and disdainful whispers circulated Quel'Thalas regarding the Windrunner sisters and their rumored love affairs. Certainly some of his people would be appalled to learn of their crown prince's private penchant for humans. Indeed, Kael had told Jaina of how he often hungered for foods from human lands, but in truth his appetite went well beyond apples.
No, he thought. He had become familiar with Jaina during their mutual time in Dalaran, and intuitively he was confident that she held no such racially guided aversions. With some amusement, he recalled how she even leapt to defend the dignity of brutish orcs.
In Kael's mind, the only realistic edge that Arthas had was his roguish charisma. Kael was loath to acknowledge that his own impeccable manners and refined restraint had done him no favors toward winning Jaina; she remained ever untouchable behind the frustrating veil of polite formality. Jaina was slightly shy, as well as exceedingly study-oriented, but Arthas had somehow apparently barged and groped his way into capturing her attention. A sharp twinge of jealousy uncoiled in Kael's abdomen as he remembered the earlier scene in the library.
Look at what you can't have. Arthas didn't even need to say those words, as the message was blatant in his gloating expression. Disgusting. Kael would never dream of debasing Jaina like how Arthas did, flashing her naked flesh to other men as though she were his mere brothel toy. Even worse, the Lordaeron prince coyly refused to publicly acknowledge any speck of interest in Admiral Proudmoore's daughter. In Kael's eyes, Arthas was simply a licentious coward, and he couldn't help but wonder if Arthas maintained similar furtive relationships back in his capital city. Jaina surely deserved better.
"Jaina…"
Kael closed his eyes, his mind returning to the irrepressible memory of her bare skin and stifled moans. Hot blood rushed to his loins as he pictured her smooth thighs and curved backside. How he'd love to knead her flesh beneath the blue satin, run his tongue along the delicate dips of her lower back dimples, relish in the sound of her gasping his name…
Yes, if only given the opportunity, Kael would eclipse any carnal experience with Arthas. And if Arthas's exhibitionist trysts with Jaina were any indication, the apprentice mage was surprisingly receptive to erotic advances. However, Arthas had the advantage of easy familiarity with her; around Kael, Jaina instead seemed reserved, almost as though she were intimidated by him. Kael would need the aid of some sort of social lubricant.
A bold, terrible scheme began to emerge in his head.
Kael stood, pulling his robes back over his shoulders. He walked over to one of the cabinets and rifled through the contents. In the bottommost corner was a tiny crystal flask, no larger than a sample bottle of fine perfume. The container was intricately carved to resemble a coiled serpent, and its jaws gaped upward to seal around a dropper cork. Within the transparent ophidian's belly was a meager quantity of carmine fluid. Kael raised the bottle contemplatively, and the contents caught the light like molten ruby.
The liquid was incredibly expensive, having been distilled from the venom of a rare snake native to the coastal valleys of central Kalimdor. The tiny label on the underside revealed its identity as an obscure and highly potent aphrodisiac. Once, upon first chancing across it amongst the sprawl of miscellaneous supplies, Kael's curiosity gained the better of him. That day after dinner he had returned upstairs and surreptitiously let a couple droplets fall on his tongue, purely for the academic purpose of expanding his firsthand knowledge. Hours later, sprawled on the floor in a sweaty disheveled heap, he soberly questioned the quality of such a decision; he had spent the entire evening fervently rubbing himself raw, and at one point even gave serious consideration to the velvety cleft between the sofa cushions. Copious amounts of semen had been rinsed off into the conjuring fountain, and thankfully no mage had subsequently used the waters and wondered why their elemental summons appeared oddly cloudy. Even for several days afterward he remained restless and hypersensitive.
Truly, a substance capable of reducing the esteemed prince of Quel'Thalas to nearly fucking a couch was fearsome indeed. He needed to carefully deliberate over the gravity of administering it to another person, as the act would tremble upon the line that separated seduction from predation.
In fact, Kael wondered why the Kirin Tor even stocked such an item in the observation chamber. What magical demonstrations could it possibly aid? The implications were downright disturbing. As a member of the High Council, he could not recall the subject ever being discussed.
Kael gazed thoughtfully at the room's giant mirror with an expression of faint bemusement. Suddenly, a deliciously vile notion slithered through his mind, causing a sadistic smile to unfurl along his lips.
"I should hold myself to a higher standard," he voiced aloud, thinking once again of Arthas's arrogant leer boring into him over Jaina's shoulder. Kael yearned to incinerate the smug grin right off the bastard's face.
"I absolutely should not consider it," he repeated, dwelling on the memory of Arthas's fingers roaming across Jaina's exposed skin. Kael's emerald eyes flickered dangerously. What pleasure it would bring him to grind Arthas's bloated pride to powdery ashes.
"Why, it's patently unthinkable," he said with a low laugh, fingering the serpentine flask.
The blazing sun had finally sunk beneath the horizon, and the sky over Dalaran was now a deep dusky purple. Beyond the citadel windows, wind rustled the trees and shook down sparse curtains of dancing white petals.
Kael paced down the hallway toward the mage quarters study lounge, where Antonidas's diligent apprentice spent most of her nights. As he anticipated, Jaina was planted at a narrow corner table, poring over a book by candlelight. At the sound of approaching footsteps, her head perked up expectantly.
"Oh, good evening, Kael," she greeted, smiling with visible apprehension.
"Ah, Jaina. I was searching for you." He walked over to stand before her. "Are you free? I'd like to request the pleasure of your company for a while."
Jaina's eyes darted to the doorway behind him. His tone was measured and pleasant, but its slight edge of urgency gave her a ripple of unease. "Well, I would love to join you," she began apologetically, "but I've been waiting here for Arthas. He told me he would meet me over an hour ago. And I also must finish my reading tonight."
An almost imperceptible cast of amusement flitted across Kael's face. "Surely at this point, you needn't wait any longer? Regardless, I promise to not keep you for long." This time, he thought with determination, he would not be turned away.
She hesitated momentarily before nodding. Kael looked satisfied as she stood and gathered her book under her arm. The tome was jacketed with fine magenta silk, and the title, Creatures of the Arcane, was embossed in silver text on the cover.
"Please, come with me."
Jaina trailed him through the winding corridors and up a spiraling flight of stairs. As they walked, Kael asked her questions about her new book, and they soon delved into a discussion about mana wyrms.
"The illustrations are stunning! I'd like to see one in-person someday," she said.
"When you visit Quel'Thalas with me in the future, I'll show you. Among my people, they are tame."
She smiled. "Yes, I'd like that."
"As I've said before, I think you would love many things about Quel'Thalas."
The pair reached the top of the stairs, and Jaina blinked in surprise as she entered through the doorway. It had been months since she'd last been in the observation chamber, the day she had passed her first set of conjuring examinations with flying colors. Kael had been one of the judges behind the silent glass wall. Now, the chamber's atmosphere was far more relaxed and welcoming; glimmering sconces filled the room with a warm glow, and the fountain trickled softly in the background.
At his gesture, Jaina seated herself on the velvet sofa and placed her book on the low tea table. She felt self-conscious in the presence of the looming mirror, and hurriedly fixed her hair as Kael retrieved a bottle of wine and two glasses from the cabinet.
"Will you have a drink with me?" It was hardly a question, as he had already begun to pour, watching her carefully with an inscrutable expression. A light chink sounded as he placed the glass of dark crimson before her.
"Thank you." She swallowed, embarrassed by the hint of tremor in her voice. Jaina had always found the elven prince to possess a peculiarly intense, feline quality; at times he was skilled at putting her to ease, but sitting alone with him now, she felt like a fawn being circled by a covetous panther. "The bottle is beautiful," she said, admiring the vessel in Kael's slender hand. Its violet glass was encased in a delicate creeping pattern of pearlescent flowering branches.
"It's an elven wine, from the vineyards of Silvermoon." He settled on the sofa beside her, and the aura of his heavy warmth seemed to consume the gap between them. "I've been saving it for a special occasion."
"So then, what is the special occasion tonight?"
"Well, Jaina, I've been very impressed by how your studies have progressed recently. You've achieved quite a transformation from that student who lit my books aflame." Jaina's cheeks flushed at the memory of the mortifying accident. "Antonidas speaks highly of your talent. I would like to congratulate you, for proving yourself to be one of Dalaran's most promising new mages." Kael raised his glass toward her and smiled, baring a white gleam.
Jaina laughed. "You flatter me," she said, clinking her glass against his before taking a sip. The wine tasted rich and fruity, with a foreign, startling bite of musky spice. "The wine is lovely." Kael's green eyes glinted eagerly.
"You know," she continued, looking about the room, "I was so nervous last time I had an examination here. I hate not seeing who's scoring me." She turned her body to face him, leaning her shoulder against the sofa. "Watching my own reflection just causes me to overthink everything."
"You needn't feel that way," Kael assured her. "I was there. You were flawless. Watching you perform was a pleasure."
Jaina blushed, his words causing her to think unwittingly of their encounter earlier that afternoon. She took a sip of her drink, anxiously wondering whether or not to mention it. Kael, offended as he appeared at the time, seemed to have let it go entirely. However, Jaina supposed, a proper apology was warranted.
"About today in the library," she began awkwardly, running her fingers along the stem of her glass. "I'm sorry for disturbing your studies. My conduct was unbefitting, and I meant no disrespect toward anyone." He gazed at her silently. "It certainly won't happen again, and I hope you won't hold it as representative of my character."
Kael reached over and took her hand in his; he was intrigued to discover that her skin burned with heat. "Never mind that," he said with a sigh. "You must know by now that it pains me to see you with Arthas." He cocked his head slightly and leaned in towards her ear. "I'm surprised by what you let him do with you," he added, his tone dropping.
Jaina's heart thumped in her throat, and she wondered if Kael could detect the trembling of her fingers. His touch and voice were sending goosebumps along her arms. She drew her hand away and took another sip of wine, wracking her mind for a proper response.
"Arthas… is a dear friend of mine."
Kael smirked wryly. "Clearly he is." He shifted on the sofa, causing his knees to brush against hers. "Although, 'friend' is an interesting choice of words."
"We cannot be more than that. Arthas must go back to the capital, and I am devoted to my studies here in Dalaran." Jaina's voice was tinged with disappointment. "He is a prince after all, so I understand his priorities. I'm sure you could relate to that."
"On the contrary, my duties to the crown and my presence with the Kirin Tor are not at odds with one another." He paused, studying her intently. "Jaina… Nothing would stop you and me from being together." His hand rested on her lower thigh, and she shivered as his thumb swept beneath the hem of her dress, stroking her skin like a feather. Jaina glanced down, and for the first time noticed that his typically sharp nails were trimmed short.
A fluttering shadow of doubt rose in the back of her mind. She realized that she had been unconsciously leaning forward toward Kael, lips parted, as a strange heady fire coursed through her veins. Why were high elves so uncannily attractive?
Get a hold of yourself, she thought, inhaling deeply. She drew back and assumed a serious countenance.
"Forgive me, but I don't understand. What interest does elven royalty have in an apprentice mage?"
Kael chuckled. "Don't act so humble, Jaina Proudmoore," he teased liltingly, his eyes flicking down to her mouth. Any man can see that you are achingly beautiful, and fearsomely talented." He caressed her jaw, letting his fingers trail delicately down her throat. "Your presence drips with magic." His voice lowered to a whisper. "I find it quite… addictive."
Jaina stared up at him, frozen like a rabbit. Kael could feel her pulse hammer through the skin of her neck, and her blue eyes were glazed with unmistakable desire. He placed his hands gently on both sides of her face and bent close, his lips hovering a hair's breadth from hers.
"Be mine, Jaina," he breathed.
"But Kael, Arthas—"
Kael pressed forward, steady and warm. Jaina shut her eyes, entranced. He kissed her tenderly, struggling with restraint as he pulled back.
"Forget about your friend Arthas. Allow me to be more than your friend." He claimed her mouth again, and Jaina shuddered with pleasure as his tongue brushed against hers, soft and relentless like licks of rain. By the time he withdrew, her body was alight with yearning.
Kael drank in the sight of Jaina's flushed lips, slightly parted and wet with his kiss. He had barely sipped his wine, yet a desperate tide of lust was surging within him.
His hands roved down her back and encircled her waist as he pinned her back against the sofa. "Do you want me?" he asked huskily, sweeping back her hair to kiss her ear. How he loved the endearingly rounded ears of humans. They reminded him of little mice, and he was the cat. He ran the tip of his tongue along the outer edge, tracing down to catch the lobe between his teeth. A tiny moan escaped her as he began to suck gently.
"Shall I stop?"
[…]
Kael released her wrists and collapsed over her, his breathing labored. He brushed his lips against her shoulder and lay still, listening to the pattering thrum of her heart. Jaina dragged her fingertips absentmindedly down his spine and smoothed over the raised welts that her nails had left behind. As she basked in the satisfied afterglow, it occurred to her how Kael seemed like an entirely different person; the panting, sweaty man stretched on top of her was far removed from his typical immaculate and regal image. He looked profoundly human now, or as human as any elf could be.
"It felt wonderful," she murmured, and he smiled lazily.
"I'm glad." He kissed her mouth gently, lingering affectionately before moving to stand up. She watched as he retrieved a handkerchief from the cabinet and wiped his hand, and then pulled on his breeches and robes. Jaina reluctantly peeled herself from the sofa and dressed herself as well, wincing at the cold, damp sensation of her wet underwear.
"You barely drank your wine," she noted, picking up his full glass and touching it playfully to her lips. A faint look of alarm crossed his features, and he turned swiftly to pluck the stem from her fingers.
"I was quite distracted by something that tasted much better," he said. Jaina reddened and laughed. Kael took a casual sip and placed the glass back down on the far side of the table, safely beyond her reach. He was confident that he had calculated the wine quite well, and he had no desire to let Jaina continue drinking and potentially be reduced to a worg in heat. He cringed as he recalled his original self-experimentation.
"Kael," she began, still grinning shyly. "It's quite late now. I have class to attend early tomorrow morning, so I'd best return to my room."
He nodded. "Allow me to accompany you."
They left the chamber and descended down the winding staircase into the network of hallways, their footsteps echoing across the darkened stone. Kael's hand roamed her body as they walked, caressing her hair, fingertips, and lower back; she flashed him a coquettish smile, and his heart swelled fondly. He would have to thank Arthas for giving him the inspiration to finally win her over.
They rounded the corner, and Jaina gave a start. A man's figure stood silhouetted in the broad arched window, silently staring outside at the flurry of moonlit petals swirling in the night wind.
Arthas, thought Jaina immediately, her stomach plummeting with dread.
The mysterious person turned, revealing a bushy white beard that shone in the gloom.
"Ah, Prince Kael'thas. Jaina. It's a lovely night."
She felt her chest deflate in relief. "Hello, Antonidas."
Kael slipped his hand from Jaina's waist and bowed his head politely. "Antonidas. An unexpected pleasure."
The archmage knitted his bushy brows, evaluating the pair suspiciously. "I could certainly say the same to you." His moustache twitched in reproach at the sight of their flushed faces and tousled hair, and he shot Kael a penetrating glare that communicated words unspoken. Just WHAT are you doing with my apprentice?
"I shall see you tomorrow morning, Jaina." Antonidas's tone was clipped. "Good night, Kael'thas." He redirected his solemn gaze back to the window, hands clasped behind him.
The two continued down the hallway, quickening their pace. Jaina glanced behind her furtively, suddenly paranoid of encountering Arthas. She shook her head. No, there was no way that he would be searching for her in the citadel at this hour. He was, by all odds, fast asleep in his lodgings at the nearby inn. Guilt trickled through her stomach like sand in an hourglass.
"Are you alright, Jaina? Never mind what Antonidas may think of us."
"I'm fine," she lied, anxiously tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Kael smirked deviously. "You do look, shall I say… freshly fucked," he whispered, eyeing her with amusement. "I'm sure it was a shock for the old man to see his student appearing less than innocent."
Jaina's cheeks burned. She thought, with a pang, that his teasing remark sounded just like something Arthas would say. And how would Arthas react if he could see her now? Would he detect the musk of sex on her skin, or notice the trail of dried fluid that crept down her inner thigh? Surely he would discover the splotchy love bite that Kael had created on her neck…
I am only his friend, she reminded herself firmly, the sting of Arthas's unromantic proclamation still palpable in her chest. Arthas may be hurt, but I don't owe him such fidelity.
They soon reached the door to her room, and Kael bent down to capture her lips. To his surprise, Jaina deepened the kiss, tugging insistently at the front of his robes.
"Actually, will you come inside with me?" she asked, her tone hushed and coy. Her curled fingers dragged down from his chest to his hips, and he realized he was hard again. He wondered if perhaps he should have forgone the earlier mouthful of wine.
"We could just lie down together for a bit," she added hopefully, dreading the prospect of retiring alone to her bed with haunting thoughts of Arthas.
Kael's smile was warm. "I would love to," he said, stroking her cheek. She looked confused as he clasped her shoulders and delicately separated their bodies. "However, I have a few obligations that demand my attention before tomorrow."
"Oh," said Jaina, disappointment evident on her face, and he kissed her forehead in apology.
"I'll come back afterwards."
Jaina pressed forward again, gingerly stroking him through his robes. He suppressed a groan and grabbed her wrist. If she continued, he would be too tempted to stay…
Yet Kael did indeed have other obligations. Or rather, one obligation in particular.
"I'll return shortly," he promised, disappearing back down the dark corridor and leaving a forlorn Jaina in his wake.
Arthas jerked his body uselessly once more, the veins in his muscled arms bulging as he strained against the enchanted bindings. The heavy chair he had been attached to for the past couple hours bucked slightly with the force of his movements and raised a silvery plume of dust from the shadowed floor. He shut his eyes in an attempt to calm himself, his snorting breaths punctuating the silence.
His eyes snapped open again upon the creaking noise of the door, and he curled his lips into a feral snarl at the sight of the elf entering the room on the other side of the glass.
Kael flashed a cocky leer into the mirror before striding to the far end of the chamber and slipping past the heavy curtain. Arthas resumed his thrashing, practically frothing as he gnashed his teeth into the gag, his eyes wild with hatred.
"Greetings to you too, Arthas." Kael stalked towards him, appraising his rival with a supercilious expression. He dragged a chair over and took a seat before him. The normally tan skin of Arthas's forearms was a bloodless white against the bindings as he struggled to break free.
"It's no use. My magic is more powerful than the likes of any human." He crossed his legs primly and examined his lacquered fingernails as Arthas continued to writhe with futile rage. "I cut my nails for Jaina," he remarked casually, emerald eyes flicking upward with a cold glint. "Her skin is so delicate, after all. I couldn't risk damaging it."
Arthas went still, trembling with wrath. "So," Kael continued, "do you get it now? Your time on stage is over. Jaina is mine. Perhaps my lesson was cruel, but you were practically begging for this to happen." He tilted forward with a sneer. "Yes, that's right. Insolent whelp. You honestly believed that you could get away with your endless provocations? Let it be known that the pendulum swings back hard."
A menacing, muffled growl rumbled from Arthas's throat. All he wanted to swing was his fist, right into Kael's villainously monologuing mouth.
"Oh, sorry, what was that? I didn't quite catch it." Kael snatched the enchanted wad of fabric from between Arthas's teeth, wrinkling his nose at the slimy layer of foam. He tossed it aside and rubbed his fingers on his robe.
"Fucking elf!" Arthas rasped, and spat in Kael's face. "I'll kill you!"
Kael wiped the saliva from his cheek and leaned close, grinning wickedly. "Will you? How savage."
"I love Jaina," Arthas blurted out, and his voice cracked. Kael scowled, noticing for the first time that Arthas's eyelashes were spiked with moisture. He felt a flicker of uncomfortable sympathy.
"Is that so?" Kael leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed. "I seem to recall that at dinner last month, Antonidas directly inquired about your romantic prospects, and you were ever so tight-lipped." He folded his arms. "I personally won't hide my relationship with Jaina from anyone. Granted, I'm not a coward."
"Your relationship?" Arthas looked disgusted. "She's not yours because you raped her, you filthy knife-ear. Jaina loves me, and you can't change that."
Kael's elongated eyebrows shot up. "Rape?" He let out a peal of scornful laughter. "Is that how you've rationalized it? Jaina was screaming for quite a different reason." He paused, smugly savoring the moment as Arthas clenched his fists. "Yes, she's mine now, Arthas. You were merely a setback."
Arthas fixated on his lap, shaking with anger; his long hair cascaded down and obscured his face. Kael tilted his head to the side, pupils dilated dangerously. Sadistic triumph and lingering aphrodisiac coursed hotly through his veins, washing away his last vestiges of propriety. He reached out and lifted Arthas's chin, causing the human to flinch and snap his teeth.
"Don't touch me!" snarled Arthas.
Kael tutted. "Now, now. Play nice." His eyes glowed with a surge of magic, and a prickling sensation flowed from his fingertips and spread through Arthas's jaws, causing the man's lips to part slackly. Kael scooted toward him until their noses nearly touched, and the green fire in his stare danced with manic cruelty. "Since I'm in a generous mood, I'll let you have one last taste of Jaina."
Arthas bucked at his restraints as Kael pressed his lips forward. He was powerless to bite down as the elf's tongue lashed against his own, painting the inside of his mouth with a sweet, faintly tangy wetness. Kael lapped harshly, probing deep before breaking away. He released Arthas's chin, and the paralysis spell faded.
"She tastes good, doesn't she?" he breathed. "She was absolutely dripping for me."
Arthas swallowed thickly, searching for his voice. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He glared at Kael and recoiled at the sight of the elven man's feral, unhinged expression. "You're sick!"
"Hm. Perhaps." Kael stood and leisurely strolled around to Arthas's back, resting a well-manicured hand on his shoulder. "But it's only because I despise you so very much, Prince Arthas Menethil."
Arthas was unable to see behind him, but the mocking sneer was evident in Kael's voice.
"The feeling is mutual," he spat. There was a pregnant pause as Kael's presence loomed ominously.
"Oh my," came the elf's gleeful voice, and his hand dipped along Arthas's torso to rest upon the center of his lap. "Where did this come from?"
Arthas glanced down, and with a clenching sensation of utter horror, realized that he was partially erect. A tiny moist stain dotted the fabric of his trousers, and Kael prodded it with one extended finger.
"Did you enjoy watching Jaina being pleasured? Or was it her second-hand flavor that gave you this?" Kael hissed in his ear. "Or… Was it perhaps me?"
"Light, no!" Arthas grimaced. "I'm not a freak like you are!" A shiver rolled down his spine. The prince of Quel'Thalas was indeed more insane than he had ever fathomed, and he regretted spending the last several weeks figuratively tossing pebbles at the wasp nest named Kael'Thas Sunstrider.
Elven men. In Arthas's mind, Kael just epitomized every distasteful stereotype about them. Stuffy and quiet, yet prone to fussy temperamental outbursts. Vain and snooty, constantly preening. Fragile superiority complexes. Hedonistic and sexually deviant. Weirdly androgynous and eerily perfect-looking. Kael was beautiful, and Arthas hated that.
Kael closed his fingers over Arthas's bulge and stroked audaciously with his thumb, reveling in his enemy's humiliation. With fleeting curiosity, he wondered how large Lordaeron's prince was; surely not bigger than him, he thought conceitedly.
Arthas flexed his thighs, desperately willing away his swelling rigidity. "Why don't you untie me?" he said. Kael hesitated at the hard, leveled edge of his tone.
"And why should I do that?" Arthas suppressed a shudder at the hot rush of breath in his ear, and steeled his nerves.
"Do you plan to keep me bound to this chair forever? Why not face me like a man, rather than fondling me from behind? Haven't you done enough molesting for tonight?"
Kael halted, rankled, and withdrew his hand. "Swear that you'll keep your distance from Jaina, and I'll let you walk free right now."
Arthas craned his neck to flash Kael a challenging glare. "Fight me first." I'll beat the sorry shit out of you, he thought.
"Fight you? What an inspiring idea," Kael drawled, a look of amusement on his face. "I could fry you to a crisp in an instant, if I pleased."
Arthas snorted. "Afraid to take me on like a man? Aren't you elves capable of anything beyond flipping your hair around and juggling fireballs?"
Kael's eyes narrowed as he rose to the bait. He slinked to stand before Arthas, and fixed upon him with a cold stare. Wordlessly, he untied the sash of his robes and tossed the elegant garment to the side, baring his muscled body. He towered over Arthas in his breeches and raised his right hand.
"Test me, paladin."
Kael snapped his fingers, and the binds around Arthas immediately unraveled and slid to the floor. Arthas wasted no time in hurtling out of the chair, and a loud thump reverberated through the room as he slammed Kael backwards against the enchanted glass. Arthas was surprised to discover that the full weight of his heavy brawn barely winded Kael; the elf deftly caught his incoming fist and kneed Arthas brutally in the stomach.
Arthas reeled back, wheezing, but before Kael could open his mouth to make a snide comment, Arthas swiftly grabbed his shoulders and forced them down. His skull smashed into Kael's with a dull crack. Kael hissed in pain and pivoted around to seize Arthas's burly arms, ramming him forward into the back of the mirror. He twisted hard, and the other man emitted a choked cry. Arthas writhed free and stabbed his elbow backward, knocking Kael in the jaw. The pair struggled, flailing and staggering lengthwise along the smooth wall of glass.
"I'll make you pay!" spat Arthas between grunts. They grappled recklessly toward the far curtained edge, and the sudden lack of support behind Arthas caused him to stumble backwards into the main chamber. He caught his balance, chest heaving. Kael cursed, momentarily wrapped in the heavy fabric; Arthas pounced on the opportunity to land a frenzy of blows on his encumbered foe. Kael snarled, and his foot swept out in a blind kick that barely missed Arthas's groin. He desperately threw his weight forward to tackle the other man, and the curtain tore from its track with a loud rip.
Arthas lurched backwards upon the clumsy impact and banged into a tall wooden cabinet. He straightened, teeth gritted, adrenaline screaming in his ears. Silky strands of the elf's hair hung from between his curled fingers, and his hands itched to grasp the cool weight of a sword.
Kael threw the ruined curtain from his head; his handsome face was contorted with icy fury. His posture was hunched, and he winced as a throb of pain racked his body. The two blond men regarded each other with hatred from across the room, panting.
"I should end this now, and render you a pile of soot," Kael growled, palms glowing dangerously. "Terenas could sire a new son. Surely that would be a desirable improvement for the people of Lordaeron."
"Go ahead and do it, then! My kingdom will raze Quel'Thalas to the ground."
"Feh, what a joke."
Arthas scanned his immediate surroundings, and his eyes fell upon the wine bottle and glasses on the tea table by his knees. He scowled and picked up the bottle, holding it up to his face. The miniature blossoms adorning the violet glass sparkled like shards of seashell.
"You have the style of a woman, Kael'thas." His voice was laced with scathing jealousy. "You truly believe Jaina will fall for a mincing elf like you?"
"It's already evident that she spreads her legs for me, not boorish excuses for human royalty."
"Jaina will loathe you once she finds out what you've done." Arthas took a long, exaggerated swig from the bottle, eyeing Kael with fierce cockiness. He wiped his mouth on his forearm and tossed the bottle carelessly into the conjuring fountain, where it splashed and shattered with a clear tinkle. The wine diffused like a cloud of blood in the water. "Elven wine? That tastes like fruity piss."
A vein in Kael's temple twitched. "You're well-accustomed to that flavor, I'm sure." He began to pace towards Arthas, ignoring the soreness of his bruised flesh. "I've had quite enough chit-chat. Isn't it time for you to trot along home like a good boy? Tomorrow I'll speak with Antonidas about helping you arrange an early journey back to Lordaeron."
Arthas glared, baring his teeth. Kael scarcely managed to react as Arthas tensed and lunged forward like a bloodthirsty wolf.
"I'm not going anywhere—"
The elf narrowly blocked the blow and spun to seize the furious human in a chokehold. Arthas gasped for air as Kael squeezed his elbows together punishingly; he scrabbled and thrashed as Kael fought to keep control. Kael staggered backwards, and his foot slipped on a magenta book that was splayed on the floor. The silk cover had no friction against the smooth tiling, and Kael was sent crashing downward with Arthas in tow. Fortunately, the edge of the sofa broke their fall.
Kael heaved them both onto the seat, his arms still wrapped around Arthas's neck like a pair of pythons. Arthas's wild kicking caught the tea table and sent it skidding across the room, and slivers of broken glass scattered when the cups toppled and broke. Arthas's movements became increasingly erratic and limp; Kael loosened his constriction and flipped the prone man to pin him securely against the velvet upholstery.
"Are you done yet?"
Arthas gazed up blearily, the edges of his vision bleeding black. Kael's flawless features swam before him; his smooth chiseled jaw, contemptuous lips, sharp nose, cat-like green eyes, sweeping eyebrows, unblemished skin. The elf's lustrous hair spilled down over his shoulders and brushed Arthas's cheek.
A peculiarly intense sensation pounded in Arthas's abdomen. He felt a raw tide of desperate, excruciating longing. What right did Kael have to steal Jaina and vulgarly humiliate him, and then saunter away with infuriating perfection? In that moment, every fiber of Arthas yearned to see the prince of Quel'Thalas humbled, bent to his knees. The agony of his broken pride gouged him like spurs. He would not accept defeat, even if it killed him.
"Fuck you," he croaked, tears studding his eyes as he jerked dizzily upwards, smashing his mouth against Kael's. His lips moved with feverish abandon, crushing and biting. "Fuck you—" His words were muffled, and the hint of a sob trembled in his throat.
Kael froze, and his eyes squinched at the rasping friction of stubbly skin against his own. He tasted a surge of metal as Arthas's incisors sank into his bottom lip, and the burst of hot pain sparked a riling inferno within him. Arthas, like most humans, was endlessly stubborn; he was a thorn in Kael's side, an arrogant nuisance, a cur yapping at his heels. Know your place and submit, he thought, gripping the sides of Arthas's head and kissing him back domineeringly. His tongue forced out Arthas's and plunged forward.
Arthas groaned unthinkingly, and the noise was guttural and erotic, inciting Kael to push him harder into the sofa. Arthas lifted his freed hands and fisted them in Kael's golden hair, tugging aggressively. The locks felt pleasingly silky and knotless, just like Jaina's, and the unexpected association caused his fingers to loosen and comb. A pang of grief echoed in his chest. Would he ever hold Jaina in his arms again? A hurricane of memories thundered through his mind; Jaina as a child, sitting in the grass and smiling shyly as he poked a daisy behind her ear; Jaina leaving to study with the Kirin Tor, her sweet scent filling his nostrils as he embraced her goodbye; Jaina dancing with him in the snow, her peals of laughter bringing a wide grin to his face; Jaina kissing him passionately in all the secluded corners of Dalaran, a bitter elf sulking somewhere in the background; Jaina staring at the floor, poorly attempting to hide her crestfallen expression as he told her they were only friends; Jaina gasping and writhing, naked, clutching a familiar long-eared head between her legs; Jaina crying out in ecstasy as she came on another man's—
"You've craved my attention so badly, haven't you? Parading Jaina around in front of me like a—" Kael grunted mid-sentence, interrupted by Arthas groping at his crotch. Arthas bucked beneath him and flipped the pair over, taking advantage of Kael's stunned reaction.
Kael lay rigid and still, apprehensive yet curious. "You're hard," said Arthas, surprised to find that this discovery pleased him. He wondered fleetingly if Kael had cast a spell on him. Another one of your mind games? His fist clenched around Kael's shaft, bunching the thin silk of his breeches. The flesh was warm and throbbing against his palm, and with a heady rush of powerful control, Arthas suddenly understood why Kael had fondled him so spitefully earlier. Confused excitement pounded in his chest, and his pupils were black and wide as he began to pump his hand.
"Arthas," gasped Kael huskily, and Arthas was thrilled by the bewildered tone of his voice. Kael bucked his hips, mind buzzing with agitated, incoherent lust. He reached upward and yanked the other man's tunic over his shoulders, exposing a broad muscled chest that was dusted with blond hairs. Kael raked his blunted fingernails down hard along the skin; he wished he still had filed claws that could gouge bleeding scratches down Arthas's sweaty torso.
[...]
"Arthas?!"
A feminine voice pierced the room, jarring him from the heady whirl of strange thoughts. He froze.
No. No. No. Arthas had never been Lordaeron's most virtuous paladin, but if the Holy Light had any mercy, if it offered any divine protection, then this could only be a figment of his fevered imagination. Kael's face below him paled with dread, and the stimulated groan on his lips died as his mouth snapped shut into a grim line.
"Kael?" The sound of disbelief was palpable.
No, no—Arthas finally broke his eyes away from the graphic sight of Kael's slippery, engorged cock nestled flush against his own. He looked up with a surge of panic and met the shocked blue gaze of Jaina from across the room. Her hair was wet, and for several excruciating seconds, only the soft impact of a water droplet hitting the marble floor perforated the silence.
"Jaina!" he sputtered, scrambling off of Kael's lap and tugging up his pants, desperately attempting to stuff away his swollen rod. Despite his hasty efforts to conceal, it bulged haphazardly through the fabric. "What are you doing here?" Kael remained limp on the sofa in apparent mortified surrender, and he made no move to fix the breeches bunched around his thighs.
Arthas stepped hesitantly toward Jaina. She gaped, immobilized, like a bloodless statue bolted in the entryway. The airy folds of an indigo nightgown hung motionless over her body.
She swallowed, struggling to process the surreal scene before her. "My book," she began. "I forgot… I came to… I—Arthas, what's going on?" The tint of hysteria belied the forced, stilted calm of her voice.
Words caught uselessly in Arthas's throat as he glanced numbly at the magenta tome on the ground. It lay splayed and creased, its spine partially ripped. Of course, Jaina's trampled book was the least of his immediate troubles.
"I saw everything," he blurted. "Jaina, Kael'thas is a madman. He forced me to watch you lie with him, from behind that mirror."
"What?!" Jaina's exclamation was hoarse, and her arms were stiff at her sides. "Kael—?"
Kael slid lithely off the sofa, his breeches now secure at his hips. Like with Arthas, the thin fabric did little to disguise the deflating evidence of their interrupted activity. He arranged his rumpled hair back behind his shoulders and stood tall, in spite of his demolished dignity.
"Yes, it is true, and I was terribly wrong to have done it," he admitted, his voice carefully leveled and contrite. Jaina's face burned red, and all she emitted was a faint choking noise. "Please forgive me, for I—"
"I can't believe this," she said, stricken. Blood crashed in her eardrums like a waterfall.
"Let it be known that Arthas started this," he snarled, turning to glare accusatorily at the other man. "He's exposed you all over Dalaran. Surely at least half of the Kirin Tor has glimpsed beneath your clothes, thanks to him. I merely sought to teach him a lesson."
"That's a lie! I've only done that in front of Kael'thas. Nobody else saw us."
Ashamed, angry tears welled in Jaina's eyes. She had naively believed in the men before her as authentically affectionate, but now she realized the true extent of their vindictive, prideful rivalry. Her face dropped with broken hurt, unwilling to sustain her gaze upon the pair. With their sweaty, bruised chests and wildly tousled hair, they appeared less as sons of royalty and more like mangy street dogs, brawling over the same piece of meat. I've been exploited like a fool, she thought, with a pang of violated betrayal. Caught between two entitled princes engaged in a posturing contest... Jaina didn't dare to ask the context of their frottage, and at that point, she hardly desired to know the answer. Arthas had apparently changed beyond recognition in his past years of young adulthood, and Kael was a cunning mystery.
"Jaina," began Arthas softly, reaching out to touch her arm. She flinched away. "I'm not upset with you, so…"
Her eyes flashed icily. "I have nothing to say, Arthas." No sugary consolations could change the fact that he'd used her. She scooped up Creatures of the Arcane from the floor, hollowly assessing the damage. What on Azeroth happened in this room, she wondered with perplexity, her eyes scanning over the askew furniture pieces, scattered shards of glass, torn curtain, and diluted wine trickling in the fountain. These men are animals.
"Prince Kael'thas." Kael stared at her apologetically, wounded by the frigid, bitter formality. "May I remind you that this is an examination room? Not your sex theater."
He opened his mouth and then closed it, his usual eloquence failing him. Jaina turned and strode to the door, jaw set and shoulders held back. I will not cry over this, she told herself with determination, carrying her battered book and bleeding pride. Men, sex, romance—just distractions, mistakes, folly... I need to study.
Arthas and Kael exchanged glances, and in that moment reached a silent understanding of their common goal.
"Jaina, wait," Kael called, hurrying past her and blocking the entryway. "You have every reason to be upset. But please, allow Arthas and me to explain. Neither he nor I ever intended to hurt you."
Jaina stopped, and though her features were arranged stoically, tears welled in her eyes. Kael was so charming, yet all along he had only been manipulating her…
"Your conduct has been outrageous, and I have no desire to be deceived any further," she said threateningly. "Let me go, or Antonidas will hear about this." In reality, the idea of explaining how the prince of Quel'Thalas used her to unknowingly sexually humiliate the prince of Lordaeron in the examination room caused her insides to shrivel with mortification. No, Antonidas would certainly never hear a word.
She tensed, bristling, as she felt Arthas's warm hand grasp her shoulder gently from behind.
"Jaina, I would never lie to you."
"What are you intending to tell me, Arthas?" she replied, voice cracking. "Perhaps you and Kael'thas should ride your horses to the nearest brothel, and leave me out of this altogether."
"This was all about you!" he insisted, fingers tightening. "Don't you see that he and I are both mad for you?"
A single tear slipped down Jaina's cheek, and she hastily bent her head down, hoping her hair would hide the sight. "Yet neither of you respect me," she said quietly. "I told you, Arthas, that I didn't want to play such games."
Kael walked towards her, arms open. "Jaina, this will never happen again," he pleaded. "Allow me to make it up to you. I'll do anything you wish." She stepped away as he began to close in, and her back bumped against Arthas.
Jaina's heart pounded as Kael reached forward and brushed the tear from her face. The tall men both radiated heat, and their broad bare chests to her front and back caged her in like the walls of a furnace chamber. She stood still as Arthas tentatively stroked her damp hair.
"I thought you two didn't like each other," she muttered. Arthas caught Kael's eye over her shoulder; he could still feel the memory of the elf's hard flesh imprinted on his palm.
"We don't." He could hardly rationalize the spontaneous situation to himself, let alone to Jaina.
Jaina hesitated. "So why were you and Kael…" she trailed off, her face burning as she recalled Arthas straddling Kael's lap, so lustfully engrossed with his task that he didn't even notice her standing in the doorway. If she hadn't watched for as many seconds as she did, she scarcely would have believed the scene to be real.
Arthas scowled, embarrassed. "I don't know!" He rested his hand on Jaina's waist, and Kael raised a wry blond eyebrow at him. "Besides," he continued, "are you really the one to ask me about that?" He dipped down to her ear. "Remember, I saw everything you did with him." The memory of Jaina and Kael together triggered a resurgence of adrenaline in his veins; whether the fiery emotion throbbing within him was anger, excitement, jealousy, disgust, arousal, or some combination of them all, he couldn't say. "I always imagined I would be your first."
Jaina fixed her eyes at the floor, silent. It was true, she supposed, that she had no right to question Arthas about what he did with Kael, however shocked she might be.
"So, was he that good?" asked Arthas suddenly, petulant curiosity getting the better of him. His voice was husky and bitter behind her ear.
Jaina shut her eyes. "Arthas, please…"
Kael's arms snaked out to grasp Jaina, turning her and pressing her back against him. His hands rested over her hips as he smiled at Arthas, eyes narrowed. "Yes," he replied silkily. "I am." His fingertips played with the thin, sleek fabric of her nightgown. Jaina's face was flushed, but she made no move to break free from his embrace.
Arthas glared. This fucking elf, he thought, perturbed to realize that he was once again simultaneously pissed off and turned on. "I don't care what you've done with him," he announced, ignoring Kael and cupping Jaina's face. "I'll still always want you." He bent down to kiss her, and her lips were soft and yielding against his.
Jaina's eyes shimmered with reluctant desire at the proclamation from Arthas "Just Friends" Menethil. She relaxed her fisted hands as his tongue slipped inside her mouth, sweeping hungrily against her own. His hand wedged itself in the warm crevice between her back and Kael's abdomen in order to curl around her waist. Another brush of fingers fluttered lower to stroke her inner thigh, and she realized the touch belonged to Kael. We've lost our minds, she thought, intensifying the kiss as lust and heartache pooled in her stomach.
"Jaina," growled Arthas, temporarily breaking away. "Come to me next time, not him."
"Should I say the same to you?" asked Jaina, only half-joking. Arthas and Kael, she mused, still digesting the concept. Shocking indeed, as the two men together were like oil and water in a frying pan. Yet in spite of everything, she felt an undercurrent of twisted, voyeuristic interest roll through her.
Arthas wrinkled his nose, and behind her, Kael's lip turned up in a sneer. "Rest assured, that isn't a concern," said Kael, perhaps a touch too emphatically.
"If you say so." Jaina felt breathless, and she wondered if the effect was due to Arthas's ravenous mouth against hers, the firm pressure of muscled bodies sandwiching her from both sides, or perhaps something else… She took a deep breath, drawing in a heady lungful of their combined masculine scent.
[...]
Kael's gaze shifted to Jaina. She sat in a daze, legs folded to her side, and her breathing was audible as her chest rose and fell. Her skin glowed under the sconces with a light sheen of perspiration, and her hair tumbled down in loose waves. Trace moisture gleamed below her lower lip and from the shadows of her thighs. Her tangled gown hung askew, the color of a darkened ocean that made her clear blue eyes seemed abnormally bright in comparison. Kael scanned his eyes across her, silently drinking the sight. She was truly the image of a sorceress, he mused; her magic went beyond the spell of an ordinary woman. He was reminded of a painting of a siren, lovely and bewitching and always barely out of reach, driving men mad as they dove in the icy sea to touch her. He'd had his coveted taste of Jaina Proudmoore, and he thirsted for her more than ever.
Jaina trembled, collecting herself. In the absence of constant stimulation, she was able to will away the swirling, desperate cloud of arousal and frustration. Her climax had been snatched from her, leaving a vacuum of crashing reality. What have I… No, what have we done? She'd engaged in something certainly outrageous, unspeakably so, but the two naked men before her were equally complicit.
In a single night, everything had changed between the three of them. Or had it? Did Arthas and Kael still despise each other, as they formerly claimed? Jaina eyed how their legs casually touched. Regardless of sexuality, what sort of enemies looked like that?
Jaina blushed and turned her head. Would she and Arthas remain as mere "friends"? She and the Lordaeron prince had toed the line of propriety many times before, but now, their mutual attraction was finally consummated. Her transient, passionate hysteria had faded, and although she did surely love Arthas, love and practicality seldom aligned. Aside from the element of sex, their circumstances remained the same. Arthas ultimately belonged in Lordaeron, and she in Dalaran.
And then there was Kael'thas Sunstrider, mage prince of the quel'dorei… Be mine, he had said. Was she "his" now? No, she told herself. It was ludicrous to claim that a woman who slept with multiple partners at the same time could belong to any man… Perhaps to a brothel, she thought with an ugly pang of self-consciousness.
Deep down, Jaina knew that none of it mattered. Her life's dream was to become a great mage of the Kirin Tor, not a caged bird confined to the gilded palaces of Lordaeron or Quel'Thalas. The power she craved was arcane, not diplomatic. Whatever romance happened—or didn't—with Arthas or Kael was tangential at best, and distracting at worst, to her ambitions. Dwelling on the night's consequences would accomplish nothing.
I entered the Violet Citadel to study, not make love with princes. Tonight I must finish my reading, and early tomorrow morning I have classes to attend.
The reminder weighted her churning mind like a cool anchor. She stood purposefully and gathered her book from the floor, ignoring the sensation of gravity drawing a rivulet of wetness down her inner thigh. Kael rose to his feet as well, tall and nude; the intensity of his stare in her peripheral vision gave her a flicker of anxiety.
He surveyed Jaina with mounting concern as she smoothed down her nightgown. Her face was eerily composed, and her eyes avoided his own. "Jaina," he began, unsure of what to say. Beside him, Arthas sat up.
"I really must go get my reading done." She paused and smiled prettily, lips tight. "Kael, Arthas, good night." She turned, cheeks beginning to color.
"What? Jaina, wait," said Arthas, stunned by her abrupt departure. He reached out his hand helplessly as she walked away.
Kael watched with dread as the wooden door closed shut. From the quick pattering of footsteps on stone, he knew that she was running.
In the days that followed, Jaina was nowhere to be seen. She evaded Kael adroitly to the point where he may as well have hallucinated her entire past existence. The night she had left, Kael had hastily tugged on his clothing and hurried to her room, Arthas stumbling after him and buckling his belt mid-stride. Her door was locked and silent, and no light spilled from the crack below. The pair had waited in the gloomy hallway, tense and awkward and unsure; eventually they had no choice but to return to their respective lodgings.
Unable to concentrate on his studies, Kael spent most of his spare time combing the halls and rooms of the citadel. He'd find his gaze constantly drifting to the windows, hoping to glimpse a familiar blonde figure crossing the grounds outside. At night he would retire to his bed, unsuccessful and frustrated, hungrily replaying memories of her writhing in his arms. Every place he typically encountered her was fruitless; even her bedroom was virtually abandoned, and several times he had caught Arthas lingering at the door like a confused ghost. The library, the gardens, the mages' lounge, Antonidas's study—all yielded no promise.
"You're here again, Kael'thas?" The archmage had exited his office, only to find the elven prince pacing the hall for what seemed the umpteenth time that week. He raised a silver eyebrow.
"Antonidas." Kael gave a brief nod, his eyes searching sharply beyond the old man's shoulder. "Is Jaina here?"
"No, she is not. She left my study an hour ago." Antonidas's frown bent his drooping moustache. "May I inquire what this is about?"
"I wish to speak with her, that is all."
Antonidas remained motionless, appraising the elf with piercing grey eyes. "Prince Kael'thas… All I shall say to you is this." His voice carried a stern, warning edge. "Jaina is quite young."
Kael's ears flushed, and he turned his head away. "I'm aware," he snapped, then bowed his head in a respectful motion. "My apologies for the intrusion. I will consume no more of your time." He strode back down the hall, uncharacteristically temperamental, long hair and robes fluttering in his wake.
Antonidas shook his head in disapproval. After taking on a youthful and attractive female apprentice, he expected to catch eventual wind of some such tomfoolery brewing in the walls of the Violet Citadel. But it surprised him to find that Kael'thas Sunstrider was the one moping around like a lovestruck schoolboy.
Nearly seven days had passed when she finally reappeared, standing in the doorway to Kael's study. She wore the same silvery dress he had peeled from her body before, and his heart leapt in his throat; he wondered briefly if her presence was the product of his wishful imagination, like a shimmering mirage in the desert. A filmy violet scarf was wrapped around her neck in spite of the summer heat.
"Would you like to have dinner later?" she asked lightly, as though nothing at all had ever happened. She took a bite of the scone she carried, awaiting his response.
His chair scraped as he started to his feet. Where have you been? Are you alright? Have you thought about me? Why were you avoiding me?
"I would love to," he replied automatically, striding over in disbelief. His eyes were glued to her, afraid to blink lest she disappear. He touched her arm hesitantly, and her flesh was cool and solid beneath his fingers. "Jaina, I've looked everywhere for you."
She smiled, perhaps apologetically; he couldn't tell. "Ah, well, I've been quite busy."
He frowned, hurt and unsatisfied. "Yes, but…"
"I believe I've perfected my ice barrier this week. Perhaps you'd test it for me?"
His heart pounded heavily. She was just as she'd always been, eager to discuss magic with him and advance her studies. Just as she'd always been… Kael felt both relieved and disappointed.
"Jaina." His voice dropped, and he glanced furtively down the corridor. "Would you come inside and speak with me?"
"I can't now. I'm meeting Arthas out in the garden soon." Kael's eyebrows shot up.
"Oh?" He made no attempt to hide the jealousy in his voice.
"Yes, I sent a letter, so I expect him to be waiting. And then the three of us can meet together for dinner, if you'd still like."
You didn't mention Arthas before, he thought with mild annoyance, although the paladin's presence would hardly discourage him from seeing Jaina again. He wondered if he was being invited to join Arthas and Jaina, or if Arthas was the third party. Hopefully the latter, probably the former. "I'll come outside with you," he said, stepping across the boundary and shutting the door to his study.
They exited the citadel together, and the late afternoon sun lit their golden hair. Kael resisted the urge to touch her, irrationally afraid that she'd flit away like one of the elusive songbirds that darted overhead.
Jaina seated herself on a shaded stone bench in a secluded corner of the garden; waxy white flowers hung down from the tree above, and the warm breeze carried their honey scent. Kael recalled witnessing her here with Arthas last month, her peals of laughter breaking the calm silence as the Lordaeron prince pulled her onto his lap. It seemed like so very long ago. Kael's chest tightened as he sat beside her and folded his hands, handsome and stiffly regal.
"He's not here yet," she said, scanning the far perimeter of the grounds. "Usually I'm the one who's late."
Kael watched her intently. He rested a cautious hand on her knee, wishing she would turn to face him. "Jaina… Have you been well? Your absence caused me worry."
"I'm fine," she replied softly, cool eyes cast downward to the scone she held. "Everything's been great. Antonidas has begun to instruct me in advanced counterspells. I wondered if perchance you would recommend me some extra reading material." She took a slow, focused bite of the scone, and he wondered if she only did so to further avoid connecting with his gaze.
"I missed you terribly," he said bluntly. He stared at a tiny crumb that clung to her lower lip. Unable to restrain himself, he reached out to brush it away; he lingered, stroking the velvety pink skin with the pad of his thumb. Jaina went still. Her lashes flicked downward, then finally up. Her wide blue irises were vulnerable and translucent, and Kael thought unwittingly of Antonidas's reproachful words. Jaina is quite young. Had Kael known beforehand that she was a virgin, would he have still fed her a laced drink? He'd always been painfully aware of her human youth, yet that fundamental guilt did nothing to dissuade him from his admittedly underhanded maneuvers.
He seized the opportunity to kiss her chastely, brushing her jawline with a gentle caress. She closed her eyes, and his tongue darted out questioningly; her mouth remained closed and unmoving against him, and he sensitively withdrew.
Jaina clasped his hand in her lap, looking away with a troubled cast to her face. "Kael," she began, and his throat constricted at the distant tone. "I treasure you greatly as my friend and fellow academic. I wish for us all to be normal again… Can't we be?"
Friend. Fellow academic. Kael was silent as he considered her naïve, earnest words. His stomach sank as he wondered if the essence of the Jaina he had made love to that night—the Jaina who kissed him back passionately, stroked his hair, pleasured him eagerly with her mouth, cried out his name—existed only in that tiny snake-shaped bottle.
His grip tensed around her slender hand. "What precisely do you mean by 'normal'?" he asked with quiet desperation, although he already knew the answer.
Jaina was saved from responding by the sight of Arthas rounding the hedges across the lawn. He paced towards them eagerly, Antonidas following in his wake. Jaina stood expectantly, and Kael followed suit.
"Jaina!" Arthas cried out, reaching to wrap her in his arms. "I'm so glad to see you." He buried his nose in her hair. "You have no idea…"
Antonidas stopped behind him and cleared his throat loudly, causing Jaina to extricate her body from the suffocating embrace. "Jaina, I've been looking for you," said the archmage. "Tonight I must leave Dalaran on short notice, and I require your presence immediately to discuss the coming week's schedule. I have some materials for you as well, so please accompany me to my office." He paused, noticing Arthas and Kael fixing him with twin expressions of dismay. "It will be quite brief. Minutes at most," he added, annoyed. If not for his pupil's stellar academic performance, he would be inclined to voice his concerns over their constant demands for her time.
"Of course!" Jaina stepped towards her mentor, who nodded and began to walk away impatiently. She turned apologetically to the two. "Forgive me, I'll return quickly. Here, Arthas." Arthas blinked as she handed him her partially eaten scone. He watched in disappointment as she strode off hurriedly, the silver hem of her dress rippling in the breeze.
Kael resettled himself on the bench, leaning back with a low sigh. Arthas glanced at the elf, and after a brief hesitation, sat down beside him. There was an extended silence as a heavy flower petal dropped between them. Kael noted with distaste how Arthas's thighs sprawled open wide, one knee flopped inches from his own. The human prince's hands fiddled restlessly with the scone, breaking off little crumbs and tossing them into the grass. A sparrow sprung from the bushes and cocked its head warily at the men.
"How has Jaina been? She disappeared entirely," said Arthas finally. His voice was apprehensive, tinged with resentment. Kael tilted his gaze toward him, surprised. If Jaina had been avoiding Arthas as well, then surely her rejection wasn't personal… She's only afraid of what happened, he realized hopefully. Not me.
"I haven't seen her either until just today. Although not for lack of trying," Kael admitted. Arthas's expression lightened, and his hands relaxed. "She told me she's been well, engrossed in her studies with Antonidas, I suppose." The sparrow nabbed a fragment of scone and then dove to the safety of the foliage.
"Ah, I see. I've been busy studying as well. There isn't much else to do here in this city." Arthas had successfully convinced King Terenas and Sir Uther that an extended stay in Dalaran would serve as unparalleled educational enrichment, but it was plainly apparent to the other paladins that their prince came solely for Admiral Proudmoore's daughter.
"Have you really?" A smirk tugged at Kael's lips. "I've been curious what a paladin is learning in the city of magi."
Arthas shrugged, biting into the scone. It was buttery and soft, scattered with sweet blueberries. "Well, you know. History. Theory. I'm expected to have a conceptual understanding of magic, if not the ability to practice it myself. I was never born with the talent for that—Not like Jaina." Or you, Kael'thas. He swallowed the faint taste of envy in his mouth.
"You might surprise yourself," said Kael carefully, observing Arthas as he ate. The tension between them sagged wearily, and he realized that this was the first civil conversation they'd shared that wasn't forced for appearances. "Contrary to popular belief, the ability to harness magic is not limited to proficient mages, nor is it always evident by adulthood." Kael crossed his legs. "Perhaps I could teach you a spell or two, in our spare time. After all, it would be a shame to leave Dalaran after months without a single trick to show for it."
Arthas was taken aback. He looked at Kael with wary curiosity. "What sort of tricks do you have in mind, Kael'thas? Do you intend to teach me the art of binding men, paralyzing mouths, or raising cocks?" he asked dryly.
Kael's eyes widened, flicking sharply to Arthas's face at the blunt reference to the unspeakable night. He raised his long blond eyebrows, detecting no hostility upon the other man's features. "If you wish," he replied airily. "Although that last one is hardly an arcane skill."
Arthas merely snorted. The sparrow from earlier hopped tentatively forward, rustling the blades of grass as it regarded Arthas with bright, beady eyes. He tossed it another crumb and consumed the last bite of scone. "In truth, I've always admired how Jaina can light a candle with a simple touch of her finger."
Kael smiled. "Ah, yes. Learning to summon energy at all is the difficult part, but once you've achieved that, producing a spark is elementary. I have a deep affinity for fire magic, so I could certainly show you the basics."
"Thank you," said Arthas cautiously. "Your offer is generous." His cheeks colored as he struggled to suppress a surge of unbidden memories bubbling up in his mind, the haunting images echoing with snippets of Kael's smooth voice.
I'll let you have one last taste of Jaina. He wet his lips, recalling the slippery tongue lashing hard inside his defenseless mouth.
I should end this now, and render you a pile of soot. His chest still ached with splotchy bruises, souvenirs from their heated brawl.
You've craved my attention so badly, haven't you? Looking at Kael now, Arthas could remember exactly how his body appeared beneath his robes: smooth, muscled, lean, hard—
Arthas! The shocked sensation of spilling his climax in Kael's hand had inexplicably wormed its way into his nightly thoughts of Jaina; it was almost as though…
Arthas blinked rapidly. A shiver rippled across his skin despite the summer heat. He drew his legs together, suddenly self-conscious of his close proximity to Kael. A part of him desperately wondered what the other man thought of everything that occurred between them, but the elf's coolly impassive face proffered no clues.
"She's back," said Kael, his attention fixed to the distance.
Arthas followed his gaze to see Jaina jogging across the lawn. They stood to their feet, and the sparrow fled twittering up to a high tree branch.
"I'm sorry for that," she said, slightly winded. Her blue eyes sparkled animatedly. She swept back a lock of blonde hair from her forehead and adjusted her scarf. "It's all taken care of now. Shall we go?"
"Sure," said Arthas, and Kael nodded. Arthas's eyes were glued to her, fraught clearly with helpless affection and tender worry; Kael recognized the emotion with a familiar pang. Perhaps it was pathetic, he thought, that he would gladly take his meals each evening beside Arthas if it meant being with Jaina too.
"What urgent business does Antonidas have?" Kael asked, as they began to walk in the direction of the citadel dining commons. Jaina grinned, and her cheerfully enthusiastic demeanor caused his heart to rise fondly.
"I know he looked severe just now, but it's actually good news. Well, I don't know the entirety of the details yet, but Antonidas is on the brink of a major breakthrough regarding his research on the orcs' condition. If all goes well, I'll be traveling to join him in Durnholde Keep."
"Durnholde!" Arthas looked alarmed. "Why would you need to go there?"
Jaina cast him a quizzical expression. "I'm his apprentice, Arthas. Of course I would go." Her tone grew hushed. "Antonidas and his contact may finally develop a successful cure. It would be truly historical." She glowed, giddy at the thought. To Jaina, such achievements were the pinnacle of academic glory.
Arthas frowned. "Yes, that would surely stir some excited controversy." All three of them knew very well that supporting a so-called cure for the orcs was a politically unpopular stance. Kael personally saw no merit in the notion, and he viewed Jaina's oddly defensive investment in the topic as the symptom of a girlish bleeding heart. After all, she was too young to have witnessed the damage wreaked by the orcs' cruel barbarism. "Are you sure it's not a contagious disease that's responsible? When would you be back?"
"Oh, I don't know. And I have faith in Antonidas's research. You needn't worry, really, Arthas." She clasped his hand reassuringly. "Kael, don't you agree with Antonidas?"
Kael's lips tightened. He couldn't pretend to care about the plight of the orcs, not even for Jaina. "Hm. Perhaps his withdrawal theory is correct."
Jaina shot him a shy glance. She scanned the grounds furtively before lacing her fingers with his.
"I'm thrilled to be studying in Dalaran during these important times," she said, and he smiled at her happiness. Admiring her from the corner of his eye, Kael thought she appeared every bit like a young girl's fantasy; beautiful, talented, promising, flanked hand-in-hand by two handsome princes.
The coil of her scarf loosened and drooped, and for the briefest moment Kael glimpsed a faded blemish on the shadowed surface of her skin. He swallowed and wet his lips.
I wish for us all to be normal again… Can't we be?
No, he thought, and waited for the charade to fall.