ATTN: This fic will no longer be updated on this site.
The story will be continued on AO3.
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Chapter 1
"You'll never know how much I loathe the fact that you're all I have." Jaina Proudmoore's voice was low as she rested the leather-clad palm of her hand against the hearth she was standing near. Her brow furrowed as the dying firelight cast a flickering glow across her features - no longer as youthful as they once were, yet no less captivating. The mage's icy eyes fell shut as she heard a whisper of movement behind her in the darkness that caused her breath to catch in her throat.
"You think not?" The Warchief's ethereal voice caused the mage's skin to crawl in ways she would never be fully comfortable with. "You built us a fire. The better to see you with, hm?"
"You've always been a touch too cocky for my liking, Windrunner." Jaina responded, finally turning to face...nothing but shadow and darkness in the room. And...yes, there it was. That dark, grating chuckle that seemed to come from nowhere. Her chest rose slowly before she let out a long, even sigh. "Neither of us has time for games, Sylvanas." Jaina's voiced was edged with no small amount of tension and as she took a step forward the sound of the tip of her staff meeting the uneven cobbled flooring was louder, perhaps, than she'd intended it to be.
Sylvanas watched her from the corner she'd retreated to, leaning into it with her arms crossed over her chest as she allowed the shadows concealing her to melt away from her form slowly. The red glow of her eyes gave her away and the corner of her lips turned up just so. "I can always count on you to be the level-headed one, can't I? My apologies, Lady Proudmoore." The Warchief pushed herself away from the wall and the creak of long worn-in armor matched the cadence of her boots as she bridged the distance between them, far enough into the firelight that Jaina could finally see her before she stopped.
There was an almost pensive look on the Warchief's perpetually placid face. The last time they had met hadn't been at all pleasant - it had taken a bit of work to mend the damage Jaina had caused in her rage and even more work to explain it away. But, as it had been since the first time they'd found solace in one another, Sylvanas had taken it. Perhaps she would always be the only one that could. It was something she'd recognized and accepted long ago and more often than not it was a small enough price to pay for what Jaina offered her. And still her last unspoken transgression hung between them so thickly it was almost palpable. Teldrassil.
Jaina hated herself for the way she softened in response to the expression on the other woman's face - the way she held herself so still and so stiffly. Braced for Jaina to express her disappointment physically instead of just verbally.
"Don't look at me like that." The mage chided as she took the steps Sylvanas wouldn't in order to bring them together. It had been months since their last meeting. Months that Jaina had spent deciding whether or not she could live without the Banshee Queen after all this time.
"How badly did I hurt you?" Her voice was scarcely above a whisper now as she leaned her staff against the wall nearby and then lifted her hand up to rest between the mail collar that covered the front of the Warchief's throat and the large, ornate pauldron adjacent to it. The only bare skin she touched was with the metal-tipped side of her thumb and she marveled at the way the Warchief stood stock still so easily despite how vulnerable she was. The mage just barely dug the pointed glove-tip into the cold, ashen skin at the bottom of the Elven woman's throat and her soft blue eyes met the familiar fiery glow that was burning into her. Subdued, now. Like hot coals in a cooling hearth. Something very few people ever got to see. The mage was rewarded with a flicker of unreadable emotion behind the mask the Warchief wore so well.
"Not so badly that I could ignore your invitation. But then you knew that before you sent for me, didn't you?" She reached for Jaina's gauntlet then, never so much as glancing downwards as she unbuckled the straps holding it on and pulled it off of her surprisingly delicate hand, leaning ever closer all the while.
"Sylvanas…" there was a warning in the warmth of that voice. A warning the Warchief wouldn't heed as she dropped the heavy piece of armor to the floor and guided Jaina's hand up into the hood of her cloak - along the nape of her neck to the simultaneously brittle and silken hair hidden within her cowl. The woman didn't struggle - couldn't bring herself to. Couldn't even manage to want to pull away as her fingertips found the cool skin they would never stop missing when parted.
"Jaina." The cold, hollow echo was still present in Sylvanas's voice even as gentle as it was as she shifted and pressed their bodies together - not daring to make a move toward any of the other various pieces of armor keeping them from truly touching. There was an unspoken plea in her tone when she said the other woman's name and it only served to further melt Jaina's resolve as she moved her hand to pull down the cowl that obscured so much of the Warchief from the eyes of so many. But not from her.
"You needn't wear that around me." The delicate way in which she spoke matched the way her fingers slipped so carefully into the almost silvery strands of hair before she touched along the upper ridge of the Warchief's long, pointed ears in a way that, any other time, she knew would've made Sylvanas shudder. Sometimes it was so difficult to reconcile how beautiful this woman was with what she was capable of. The kind of beauty songs were written about mixed with the kind of power that could tear worlds apart. That was tearing their world apart. But then she knew all too well she could've said the same of her own contrasts. She was no angel, herself. And certainly no stranger to power.
Her lips parted as her gaze shifted from the ears she'd been absently playing with to the eyes that illuminated the small space between them. It would be so easy to have her. To reach to the back of her neck and unclasp the throat guard there, the chest plate, the leggings. So many times she'd stripped away what truly made Sylvanas Windrunner what she was both physically and emotionally. And Sylvanas held the same sway over her.
"You toy with me, Jaina…" The expression the mage wore was almost unreadable - even for Sylvanas. A mixture of pain and anger, certainly. No small hint of need. But the hundred other fleeting thoughts and feelings there were lost to her. Even after so many years, there were parts of Jaina Proudmoore that remained a mystery to her. And she stood still, then, as difficult as it was. Her ears twitched beneath fingertips so warm they almost burned her skin as it seemed the mage was suddenly intent upon re-learning anything she might have forgotten.
"And you act as though it wasn't your choice to stay away from me for so long." Sylvanas whispered as her hands finally moved to the heavy buckle keeping Jaina's cloak clasped around her shoulders. She hadn't expected to be stopped and yet she was - a small hand surrounding both of hers firmly, seemingly unbothered by the plate ridges of her gloves digging into tender skin.
"Not tonight." Jaina managed. "I'd have stayed away from you forever if I truly had a choice. But you know as well as I do that there isn't one to be made any longer. There hasn't been for a long time."
"Jaina...I…" The Warchief trailed off as her jaw clenched and she glanced up at the wall behind them, her hands obeying as they always would and instead moving to cradle either side of the mage's neck, thumbs stroking along her delicate jawline and dwarfing it within their sinister coverings in a way that might have been cause for alarm if it weren't just the two of them in the room.
As though she felt bad for having rejected her in such a way Jaina pulled the taller woman's head down and let her lips brush against her temple in a fleeting kiss. Sylvanas nearly melted into the touch but settled for sliding one arm around Jaina's waist within her cloak as her other hand cradled the back of the woman's head.
"When will I see you again, then?" Her voice was slightly breathy as she turned her head in such a way that their lips nearly brushed as she spoke and she could feel the heat coming from Jaina's, they were so close.
"Soon enough." Came a response so certain and so immediate it soothed her, if only for the moment.
"And will you let me touch you then?" The Warchief hid most of the vulnerability she was feeling in that moment from Jaina but the mage knew her too well for it to be fully masked.
"I want you to touch me right now. I want you to touch me with hands that have done unspeakable things and I want your mouth all over my skin. The same one that has given orders I still cannot fully comprehend the terrible magnitude of. And as soon as I can wrap my head around that again the answer will be yes." Jaina murmured, pulling back reluctantly and reaching to fix the hood of the other woman's cloak - guiding delicate ears through the slits in the wool material and settling it back as though it had never been disturbed. "But not tonight."
And then the room filled with the momentary electrified feeling of a portal being torn open between them and the chamber behind the throne in Orgrimmar flickered between them, casting an eerie glow over both of them. The portal effectively separated them and Sylvanas knew the longer it was open the more dangerous it became. The look on her face was a muddle of anger and desperation as she looked at Jaina through the rippling, writhing surface of the spell. "I could pull you through with me, you know." Sylvanas threatened as she paced a short distance on the other side of the portal, visibly agitated at having been so teased and so denied.
"But you won't." Jaina responded with a sad smile, shaking her head at the dangerously bright flash of red eyes across the portal before the presence was gone entirely. She lifted a hand and closed the portal, feeling drained as she tried to quell the feelings roiling within her. She had wanted Sylvanas as badly this night as ever she had if not worse and had only her own pride to blame for the emptiness threatening to consume her.
Jaina made her way over to one of the nearby shuttered windows and pushed it open, looking out as nearby waves crashed against the seawall of the long forgotten town she had chosen for their meeting in an attempt to think of anything other than how close those lips had been to hers. How much the cool reprieve of the Warchief's skin would have soothed the burning of her own. They belonged to one another so wholly she knew she wouldn't deny Sylvanas when they met again. That she wouldn't deny herself, either. If she survived her journey to Kul Tiras the following day.
"Lacrymosa"
Evanescence
Out on your own,
Cold and alone again.
Can this be what you really wanted, baby?
Blame it on me,
Set your guilt free.
Nothing can hold you back now.
Now that you're gone,
I feel like myself again.
Grieving the things I can't repair and willing...
To let you blame it on me,
And set your guilt free.
I don't want to hold you back now love.
I can't change who I am.
Not this time, I won't lie to keep you near me.
And in this short life, there's no time to waste on giving up.
My love wasn't enough.
And you can blame it on me,
Just set your guilt free, honey.
I don't want to hold you back now love.
