I'd like to thank MelanaAdara and BEST OC Maker or Gigabyte for reviewing last chapter! Your kind words helped me finish this when life decided to get in the way. It's my summer break so expect more frequent updates! I'm eager to tell these Gilneans' story, for I have a lot planned for them! Reviews are more than welcome!
"How can you change forms so easily? I struggle with my feline and my bear forms!"
"Comes naturally, I suppose. I am envious with how well you can cast both offensive spells and healing spells!"
Tess laughed wearily and playfully bumped Jeanne with her hip. "Oh, stop it! Your Starfire has one hell of a kick! I can only hope to reach the power that you have."
Jeanne grunted though a small smile danced across her lupine lips. "Did it help any?"
Tess hummed and ran a hand through her tangled onyx hair, wincing slightly when her fingers caught a snarl. "I feel... like I have a better grasp on the spells I do know. I do think it's helping...I just need more time with this method."
Jeanne nodded. "You need to tell Celestine about it tonig—"
An eerie howl echoed through the trees at that moment, cutting Jeanne off and making both women freeze. Jeanne's ears flew forward, her eyes narrowed, and her lips thinned.
"That was a call," she informed a wide-eyed Tess, "We all need to get back to the Oak. Now."
The worgen dropped to all fours and glanced at the princess. "Climb on. We'll get there quicker."
Tess eyed the worgen with no small amount of trepidation. "Joan, I rather not... You're not built to carry people like some kind of animal..."
Jeanne rolled her eyes and snorted. "Tess, I'll not have you walking there alone and we're needed now! Get on before I drag yer sorry arse there!"
Tess hesitated but tentatively approached the worgen. "I...I have no idea how to—erm—ride you..."
Jeanne snorted and the princess's face coloured. Without another word Jeanne ducked under the woman's legs and urged her arms to wrap around her furry neck. As soon as she was secure the worgen took a few test strides, allowing Tess to make her own adjustments, and jogged back towards the Howling Oak. The scent of fear and unease of the pack hit the worgen as she got closer and she whined low in her throat. Something was very wrong.
Jeanne slid to a halt at the edge of the clearing and let a shaky Tess clamber off her back. A mass of worgen surrounded the Oak—the air buzzing with pack-speak and heavy with tension—and Jeanne had to push her way through the throng of worgen to see what was going on. The scent of blood and death hit her a second before she laid eyes on the source and her mind blanked in shock.
A worgen, a blue and grey female, was on the ground, dead. Though Jeanne's seen plenty of dead worgen, it was the manner of this one's that really shocked her; her torso was in pieces and, quite frankly, looked like she swallowed a bomb that had detonated shortly after.
"What happened..?" Tess gasped from behind her and Jeanne moved so that the princess could squeeze through.
The few worgen kneeling beside the female glanced up at her words and Jeanne identified them as the King, the priest trainer who's name escapes her, and Cerdic. Eadrik stood off behind them, ears flat and determined not to look in the body's direction.
"Eadrik found Aislinn here in some sort of magical trap," Genn grunted, "We got to her too late; Sister Almyra believes her heart exploded when she was removed."
The king stood, circled around to where Tess and Jeanne were and pulled them into rough embraces. Jeanne made a noise of surprise but ultimately allowed it; it took very little to shake the formally unshakable king since Liam... and the Storm.
"I was worried you two had suffered the same fate," he ground out, "No one had seen where you went."
"Father, it's alright. We are well," Tess soothed, stroking his arm.
Genn snorted and drew back, nodding once and clearing his throat. His steely gaze flew over the crowd of worgen until it alighted on one in particular.
"Eadrik!" the king barked and the worgen was at his side immediately. He was still tense and there was a haunted look in his hazel eyes.
"Find Archdruid Malfurion and inform him that we will be tardy to the feast. Do not give him a reason to suspect anything amiss. Be swift and be wary."
Without another word Eadrik launched himself into motion and bound out of sight. Jeanne lifted a lip in irritation—miffed that the king asked him to deliver a message to her master—before realizing that Genn had turned back to the body.
"Jeanne, find Celestine," King Greymane ordered, "You two are needed for the burial. Meet back here."
Jeanne snorted and dove back into the crowd, letting her nose lead her to former master. The elder worgen was on the outskirts of the crowd, clearly uncomfortable with all the bodies pressing around her. Her slightly milky brown eyes lit up at the sight of her former student though dimmed when Jeanne relayed the order.
"Very well," Celestine sighed, shaking out her sleeves, "I need a few things from my dwelling. Come, you can assist and learn what you'll need for a Gilnean burial."
Without another word Celestine spun on her heel and wove her way through the crowd. Jeanne's ears flattened as she sent a glance back towards the Oak, swallowing nervously before turning to follow Celestine.
The ceremony was only long enough to do the slain worgen justice. Aislinn's family—consisting only of a brother—had been killed in the Battle of Gilneas and so Celestine had taken over the duty of bringing the mementos and dressing the body. Jeanne assisted in cleaning the wounds as best she could and wrapping old bandages around her torso to keep the remaining blood from staining the burial clothes. Sister Almyra asked the Light to treat her tortured soul kindly and help her find her peace. After that, Celestine placed one of her mementos, a small carving of the Ancient Goldrinn, in the worgen's grasp and she and Jeanne called upon their powers to urge the earth to accept the body. Celestine quietly instructed Jeanne as they went and soon the earth churned as dozens of roots wrapped themselves around the body and gently dragged it downwards, allowing the earth to settle back over like nothing had ever happened. With a little more power, the druids urged grasses to spread over top of the soft mound. As a final touch, one of the former masons had carved a simple headstone bearing the worgen's name and placed it at the head of the grave. Celestine had buried another offering, this time a simple medallion bearing an etching of Gilneas's forest, shallowly on the surface and marked the ceremony as over.
The ceremony left the young druid shaky from overexertion of her power and she gratefully took a long draw from an offered waterskin. She gave it back when enough of her power welled back up to stop her trembling and she sent a grateful whine to her former master, who only nodded her acknowledgment.
"Cerdic, Jeanne," the king called gruffly, straightening up after sending Eadrik off, "Change into your human forms. We leave shortly and we do not want to alarm any of the other races there."
With a weary sigh, Jeanne did as she was bid. A lock of her crimson hair flopped in front of her eyes and she picked it off, wrinkling her nose at how tangled it looked. A gentle tug on the rest of her hair startled her and she whipped around to meet the exasperated eyes of her twin. He lifted a brow and held up her hairbrush, a small amused smirk teasing the corner of his lip. She rolled her eyes and turned back around, allowing him to deal with her messy hair. He made short work of it, much to her disappointment—she finds the gentle tugging rather soothing—and he stowed her brush away back in his pack.
"Are you done?" Eadrik barked impatiently—having just arrived back from his short mission—and drew identical looks of annoyance from the twins.
"Peace," Genn chided before either sibling could shoot back a retort, "Lady Delroy is right to worry about appearances. First impressions are everything."
Jeanne barely squashed down the childish urge to stick her tongue out at Eadrik but did give him a small victorious smirk. His hazel eyes narrowed in dislike but not another word was said between them. The king glanced over the four briefly before turning and ordering them to follow with a wave of his hand.
The feast was held just outside the main city of Darnassus, a place where the trees weren't encouraged to grow. It served well for situations like this, when the entire Alliance congregated in one place to feast and discuss things of grave importance.
The sounds and smells of the feast hit the Gilneans long before it came into sight. Dozens of pairs of voices babbled and overlapped each other, mingling with the melody the elvish musicians wrought to create a rather pleasant cacophony of sound and life. The bouquet of the many foods from all over the world had Jeanne's mouth watering in anticipation and even Genn was sniffing the air eagerly.
What was felt next was the power each of the visitors possessed. One presence stood out in particular, feeling much like the power Malfurion and Tyrande possessed. Jeanne quickly ruled them out of the potential identities—they were already accounted for beside the unknown individual. The way that Genn's shoulders tensed told her that she wasn't the only one who felt it. He did not slow or even hesitate his forward march, confidence oozing off the pack leader in waves. His confidence was infectious and the druid felt her companions respond to it. She herself felt her shoulders squaring, her chin lifting—as if preparing to spit defiantly into the face of her enemies.
Her gaze became watchful as they approached the feast, emerald eyes flickering over the suddenly silent crowd and taking note of the individual races and faces. Her eyes lingered on her master and his mate as Genn led them towards the center of the banquet, a sense of ease trickling through her body at the familiar faces. Her king held up his hand, an unspoken signal for them to stop, and he paced forward a few steps. Jeanne and Cerdic shared a brief uneasy glance before returning their attentions on Genn as he started to speak.
"My apologies, my delay was unavoidable." Jeanne resisted the urge to snort decisively; that was an understatement if there was one. She observed the subtle motion of his head as he looked to his right and, presumably, the person that was seated there. "You must be the Prophet Velen. I've heard much of you. I wasn't aware you'd be here. I am Genn Greymane."
Jeanne's eyes flew to the introduced being, a bolt of shock jolting through her body as she placed a face to the name. The draenei had an aura of peace and knowledge about him and his luminescent blue eyes radiated a warmth despite not having a visible iris. His alabaster and silver head dipped in acknowledgment to the introduction and he returned, "Greetings, King of Gilneas. I am also familiar with you."
Jeanne smelt Genn's scent change slightly at the dismay the title inflicted. Before he could say anything more on the matter both Malfurion and Tyrande rose as one and turned welcoming faces towards them. "Welcome, Genn Greymane! Please take your place with us!"
"Before I do, I must say something to all here."
The other leaders all shifted and began muttering among themselves, some shooting curious glances at him, the others' wary. Even Malfurion seemed a tad unnerved, if his scent and body language had anything to say upon it. Jeanne fought the urge to Change and flee to a dark corner and away from all this scrutiny. A trickle of warmth and reassurance found its way into her chest from the connection in her soul and the druid's nerves calmed some.
"Please speak, Genn," Malfurion finally encouraged and the procession fell silent at his words. "We will be glad to listen."
Her king nodded. "I'll make this short. I made some terrible decisions years ago. I abandoned the Alliance for what I thought was the right course for my people. That proved to be a sorry mistake." Genn cleared his throat. "What I'm saying is that I thank you all for giving us this second chance."
With that final thought, Jeanne saw her king—one of the most prideful men she knew—bow to the other leaders. She barely caught the unspoken request to follow in her shock and, before she knew it, she was squeezed in between Ammon and the Prophet Velen. Eadrik had been regulated to Genn's right and Cerdic was seated next to him. The druid shook herself out of her shocked stupor and accepted the offer of a rather juicy looking roast that made her mouth water.
Jeanne fell into old formal dinner habits and had just taken a small, almost delicate bite of her roast when she was drawn into conversation.
"You harbor a vast well of power, young druid," a calm voice commented to her right and she turned to find the Prophet Velen himself scrutinizing her.
The druid blinked in surprise and drew upon her courtly manners. "So I have been told. I am Jeanne Delroy, daughter of Anthony Delroy. I have read much about you, Prophet Velen, and I find it an honour to have the opportunity to speak to you."
The draenei dipped his head in acknowledgment of her words. "Well met, Jeanne, daughter of Gilneas." He paused and tilted his silver head slightly, as if listening to a voice only heard to him. "I do not think this is the last we will see of each other, young druid. You and your kin are destined to do great things."
Jeanne didn't know how to respond and, as if the draenei knew she wouldn't be able to answer, dipped his head once more to her and turned back into the flow of conversation, particularly with the group of dwarves seated across from them. The druid, still stunned at the brief but meaningful conversation, turned back to her own food. She kept to herself during the rest of the meal, gracefully brushing off many of Cerdic's attempts to draw her into conversation. The only thing that drew her notice was when Malfurion and Tyrande rose from the table and moved away. She looked past them and made out a pair of Sentinels looking rather nervous about something or another. When she could glean nothing from the clearly important meeting she turned back to her, surprisingly tasty, poached salmon.
A rustle of cloth beside her drew her attention and she glanced up long enough to watch Velen round the table to where a group of dark-skinned dwarves sat and engaged in conversation with them. Jeanne watched as they talked and noted how the tense, wary expressions the dwarves wore slowly melting into one of ease. A loud voice to her left tore her attention away from the group and back onto her king, who had apparently just finished a tankard of dwarven ale and was starting up on his old war glories.
"Oh bloody hell, " she muttered and, quite unladylike, leaned over the table to hiss, "Cerdic!"
Her brother simply shrugged in helpless answer. "He insisted on trying the ale! It's not like I can stop him!"
"–none would have that!" Genn told his audience, his voice a tad too loud to be entirely sober, "We let out the Gilnean battle cry—"
"Consisting of a pleading for mercy so great the orcs no doubt turned from the lot of you in disgust." A deep, mocking voice interjected and Jeanne flinched as foodstuff flew everywhere as her king leapt up from the table to face his accuser.
"Who dares spout such a monsterous slur upon me and Gilneas? Who?"
Jeanne paused in the middle of wiping away dregs of her twin's wine off her shirt and surveyed the crowd. A commanding presence drew her attention to the path towards the portal and her body tensed when she saw who was emitting such an aura of power. Her mind quickly supplied a name to the face and her uncertainties mounted.
Before them was the king of Stormwind himself, Varian Wrynn.
Her king's outraged stare quickly locked onto the younger man. "You..."
Subtle disgust twisted the younger king's face as he looked upon his peer. "And having swayed the orcs so eloquently, you no doubt did as all brave Gilneans do so well: skulked away and hid until the battle was over..."
Outrage gripped the young druid and she made to stand, a snarl right behind her teeth, but Ammon yanked her back down. She settled with shaking in her seat, trying to tamp down the almost unconscious outflow of magic she emitted when her temper rose. Malfurion caught her eye with a small, almost unnoticeable wave of his hand and he gave her a chastising look. She felt the trees behind her settle and growled to herself, fisting her hands in her lap as she asserted control over her magic.
"High Priestess Tyrande," she dimly heard the newcomer greet politely, "Archdruid Malfurion. It's a pleasure to see you again."
