A:N- There is a plot in here I swear! And thanks to Yingyanggirl for reviewing my chapters ^.^

~8~8~

After his meeting with Zaela, Garrosh should have gone back to Orgrimmar; there were many things that needed to be attended to. He knew the moment he stepped foot back in Grommash hold, he would be beset by advisors and councilors, arms and tongues laden with scrolls and decrees that needed his direct attention, each more urgent than the last. Before he could even sit down on his throne he would be neck deep in hard decision making. Yes, he should have gone back to Orgrimmar, but instead ordered the mage to conjure a portal to the maelstrom.

The world turned instantly from the tranquil Highland shores, to the deafening sound of waves crashing about large pinnacles that jutted out from the sea. The wind blew ferociously, bringing stinging tears to the Warcheif's eyes. Bringing his hands to his face, he struggled to regain sight.

"Garrosh, what brings you here?" The familiar voice of Thrall asked, very surprised.

As Garrosh's vision cleared, he saw Thrall resting by a magically kept fire, a bowl of soup in his hands, his hood taken off his head by the wind. In his eyes Garrosh saw alarm and worry.

"Has something happened to Orgrimmar?"

Garrosh couldn't help but smile, seeing Thralls concern for his people had not lessened while fraternizing with many he believed were the enemy. He shook his head taking a seat opposite of Thrall. "No, all is well with Orgrimmar, I came to pay you a visit, see how you were doing."

"I am tired, Garrosh." Thrall sighed, before taking another mouthful of soup. "Very, very, tired."

Both were silent for a moment, Garrosh peering into the fire, as Thrall swirled a bobbling bit of meat in his soup bowl, drawing what they could from the blunt confession. It was not like Thrall to sound so disparaged, out of the two of them he was always the optimistic one. Always seeing the bright future that lay ahead, not so in this case.

"Orgrimmar is safe and secure, the goblins have fortified much of the city, and we have renewed our peace treaty with Theramoore."

Garrosh knew that last bit would cheer Thrall, and kept back a satisfied smile as the far seer's head perked up. When it came to the leader of the small port town, all knew Thrall had a liking for her, even though they themselves tried to convince people otherwise. The instant pleasure in Thrall's eyes was immediate and his gave a wide tusky smile. "That's very encouraging to hear, I've had little good new since I arrived here. And what have you been up to of late, son of Grom?"

Garrosh shrugged casually, as if it was nothing important, though knew this was the real reason why he had come. "I have been talking with our new allies, the Dragonmaw. They have acquired deserters and their leader wants them put to the gallows, yet I want the same strategy I used in Northrend."

"So when are the exchanges going to be made?" Thrall asked, glad to have his mind taken away from the present duties, for a little while.

If Garrosh wanted his way, he would get it, there was no doubt of that, he was his fathers son, determined and unrelenting. He could only feel bad, for the poor fool who had tried to argue otherwise.

"They may not happen." Garrosh admitted quietly toying with a half burned stick, lying out of the fire.

The hiss of soup hitting flames sounded out right after the confession, whisking steam off with the howling wind. Thrall coughed up the soup that had gone down the wrong pipe, laughing at Garrosh's admittance. Garrosh not getting his way? Thrall had not had a good laugh in a long while, yet much to Garrosh's fury he did so now. "You're telling me, this other Warchief has defied your orders and they're not dead yet?"

Garrosh growled, breaking the stick in two with merely a flick of the hand, rising to pace, something he only did when he was confounded and upset, not knowing how to react. "Warcheif Zaela has a convincing argument, along with being stubborn, strong, proud-"

"Beautiful." Thrall slid slyly into Garrosh's rant. Zaela was a feminine name and guessed immediately the source of Garrosh' irritation.

The hulking orc nodded absentmindedly. "Beautiful, infuriating-" Garrosh stopped, turning to stare wide eyed at Thrall, his face flushed of all color, embarrassed at his own unwitting confession.

"You love her." Thrall stated simply.

Love? Surely not. The idea was laughable, but Garrosh was in no laughing mood. He glared at Thrall growling. "I do not love her, she is…attractive."

"Attraction doesn't make one change their entire demeanor." Thrall countered. "You ordered Sylvanas about with out a second thought, seeing your instruction were carried out despite her protest, and yet this one woman confronts you and you back down. You my friend are in love."

Love…Garrosh did not have time for love. He had a people to lead, and enemies to crush beneath his heel. Besides, what good was love when he had plenty of women who would swarm to him, seeing all his needs met with the snap of his fingers, what more could a man want! The Warchief offered a rude snort, turning back to the portal. He had hoped Thrall could see past the problem plaguing him, but had only aided in confirming his fears, "What do you know of love, Thrall, you can't even court one of your own kind!"

"Love comes in all shapes and sizes, my friend." He replied, and Garrosh knew Thrall was smiling but did not look back walking through the portal to Orgrimmar.

As incredulous of a notion as it was, not even worth thinking about, Garrosh could not shake Thralls words. He wasn't in love. He did not need to be in love, he couldn't afford to be in love.

As he walked through the portal to Grommash hold, as predicted, he was immediately pressed by advisors, all talking at once, many shouting to be heard. All it took was one of his infamous, murderous glares, to make them all step back a wary silence falling over them. Angrily he pushed through their ranks, headed towards the private quarter of Grommash hold.

"Get out, all of you!" He roared, not waiting to see them depart, all of them frustrated, just as he, but for far different reasons of that there was no doubt..

Garrosh's private quarters were large, but he had no need of the space, he barely slept here, usually drifting off in a study, still combing over a scroll or map. When he did come here it was almost always with another, and well… it wasn't usually sleep they found.

He sunk into a large fur covered chair, picking up a few grapes from an earthen bowl beside it. He had planned to rid himself of the thoughts of Zaela, by calling a few women to his chamber, and yet he doubted they would be of much help. In truth he had no desire for anyone else, even when he thought about another woman who wasn't Zaela it felt wrong. Yet to his endless fury he wondered why it felt wrong…why it felt like cheating. Cheating! He wasn't even together with the woman, and he thought he was cheating! You're loosing your mind, that's what you're doing, Garrosh! Putting both hands on his head he tried talking sense into himself, there was no love. He did not love her! But what else could it be? He fought the question down, using his entire mind not to let it resurface. Determined to prove it to himself, he began to call for one of the Kor'kron stationed outside the door to bring in a few women, but found his voice taken away. Berating himself profusely, he sunk lower into the chair, knowing he hadn't the heart or desire to call anyone to him, not until Zaela was out of his head. But that would be a mighty challenge, one Garrosh was dubious he could win.

A long, long, long time away from her would be the best remedy from his current…problem. A sting of guilt pierced him at calling it that, but he shook it off, wondering how else he could rid himself of these strange new feelings.

~8~8~

Half a world away standing on the deserted Dragonmaw docks, Zaela looked to the hanging crescent moon, allowing herself a silent sigh. She had come out here to clear her head, and yet all her focus stayed on Garrosh. Zaela thought it unfair how she couldn't keep her mind off him, and he probably never gave her a second thought.

Sometimes late in the night she would imaging what it would be like to reveal her feelings to him. Afterwards she would curse herself for day dreaming like a child with her first crush, if she ever did do something so foolish, he would probably laugh in her face.

Scowling, she knew she didn't have time for this, in two weeks the bargaining would take place, along with more construction on the port in between.

She should have been sleeping.

He should have been sleeping.

And yet both stayed awake, thinking of the other.