Chapter five, The Next Step
Jaina had really not been looking forwards to this part. Standing on a balcony of the citadel, she gazed down upon pretty much every citizen in Theramore. Some, who did not want to stand in the crowded courtyard area or the side streets, had climbed onto the rooftops of the nearby houses, and every window in sight was open and crammed with faces.
So far, at least, no rotten vegetables had been thrown. The air lay thick over the entire city, however, buzzing with disbelieving murmurs and fearful glances.
Knowing that Aegwynn gave her encouraging looks from behind her back, Jaina took another step forwards to be more visible. She took in a deep breath, and spoke, her voice once again magically strengthened to be heard by all. Everything else fell silent at her first words.
"I understand that the question in everyone's mind today is, 'why?', and the next one is 'what happens now?'" Jaina said, trying not to let it show how much her stomach clenched when she watched the thousands of silent faces below. She spread her hands. "I ask all of you to trust not only me, but also the Warchief, as you did in days past when we faced a common enemy together with the night elves. We still face common enemies today, enemies who feast on the skirmishes between Alliance and Horde, exploiting the differences to grow fat and strong while we bleed into the sand. The Burning Legion did not fall with Archimonde, and the Lich King still sits atop his throne in Northrend, gathering his forces by each passing day."
She let this sink in for a moment, although she did not much like having to rely on scare tactics. But those were strong memories, and the best official argument there was. Let them remember the war, and the reports from Outland, and the brief, testing Scourge invasion hardly a year ago.
As much as she had braced herself for speaking of Arthas like that, she was surprised at how little emotion it stirred in her.
In the crowd a nervous murmur began – difficult to tell what it meant. She caught both tones of agreement and skepticism.
"In the face of this, the Warchief and I agreed that we must put up a unified front once again," she continued. "No one can tell when the Burning Legion and the Scourge will attempt to attack. The ongoing battles between humans and orcs only serve to make us all easier prey. Remember Hyjal. We won then, together. Remember Onyxia. The Warchief sent his warriors to slay her in order to protect us. He did this unasked, honoring our friendship of old."
People were looking at each other now, some nodding slowly. Far from convinced, but it could be done, if they only got enough reason to swallow the shock. Aegwynn stepped forwards, silently handing Jaina a document which she unrolled and held up.
"To answer the second question," she started again, regaining their full attention, "the Horde lays no claim on Theramore. We are still members of the Alliance, and I will fight for our right to remain in it should any other country think differently."
One could almost make out a single word of the grumbles from the crowd this time. How much would anybody bet that Stormwind would be very verbal about this? Stormwind, that always wanted to claim ownership of Theramore and its people, despite their background.
"What this union with Durotar means," Jaina went on, "is that the Warchief will aid Theramore in any way he can, should we be threatened or attacked. Likewise, Theramore will stand up to defend Durotar and its people. Any orc loyal to Durotar, who, for any reason, harms or kills any citizen of Theramore will henceforth not be protected by the laws of war, but made to stand trial as the crime demands. The same rule applies to the people of Theramore."
Even now she could see how this would be abused, or attempted to be abused, by anyone wanting to sow hatred. But it had to be so – turn "honorable battles to protect land and people" into "murder" and a great step forwards would be taken.
"For now," Jaina said, "that is enough. The finer points of this union will be hammered out, and we will face any issue that it brings and forge a strong, protective bond from this. Do not be afraid to voice questions about this matter. I understand well what a surprise this is."
She lowered the paper, and smiled.
"We shall have a feast in celebration of the marriage, in a week's time. This is because we gave such short notice on what would happen. The Warchief wishes you all to know that he will have many fine hogs sent to Theramore for this occasion, as a gift to you, the people."
From citizens whose main diet consisted of fish, making meat a rare delicacy, this was met with a first wave of positive – if careful – reactions in the form of less worried and more intrigued murmurs.
When the Elites clapped, and the soldiers below followed the cue, the people followed along after a moment. Few cheered, but it was a good sign nonetheless. Still smiling, Jaina bowed and backed out of sight.
Aegwynn patted her shoulder, following the Lady back to her chambers.
Once they were alone, Jaina slumped in one of her armchairs and allowed herself a long, relieved sigh. Her entire body tingled from the tension and anticipation of the day, and though she felt exhausted, at the same time she could not think of sitting still. After a few seconds she stood back up and began pacing back and forth. Aegwynn watched all of this from another armchair, lips twitching.
"Let it out, girl, for goodness' sake," the old sorceress finally said.
Jaina bit her lip, then crossed the floor and grasped her chamberlain's old, wrinkled hands with fingers trembling from excitement.
"We did it!" Jaina hissed, smile nearly splitting her cheeks. "Light, we did it!"
"You sure did." Aegwynn let hear a hoarse, hearty laugh. "I have never seen such a spectacle."
Though she laughed as well, an elated, brief sound, Jaina then wrestled control of her grin and straightened up.
"Well, we did a start," she said and rubbed her forehead. "Now comes the part where we start fighting everyone else about whether or not I'm insane or under a spell."
The second was an accusation she anticipated would be voiced by many. Moira Bronzebeard had paved the way to it just a few months ago. Jaina sighed. If that idea just merely touched the dwarves' minds, there would be no hoping for support from them. But then again, the dwarves did have reason to be thankful of the orcs, Thrall had tried to help them with their princess… unless, of course, people came to accuse the orcs of working with the Dark Irons, now using the same hypnotic magic on a second woman.
Conspiracy theories were certainly already running wild. Any mage watching the meeting and the wedding had without a doubt launched through portals to the capitals, bringing the news to their leaders and people.
Jaina set her jaw. That was her first order of business to deal with, now.
"I have to-" she started, but Aegwynn stood up and caught her wrists.
"Sit down and have a drink of tea to calm your nerves," the old woman kindly but firmly said. "I'd recommend some rum in that, too."
"No time…"
"The world won't fall apart if you take a twenty minute break. We can discuss what you're planning to tell the other lords and ladies of the Alliance while we wait and drink."
Saying so, Aegwynn marched over and pulled the cord to call for a servant. When a rather wide-eyed woman knocked on the door in answer to the summons, the chamberlain ordered for tea with rum.
Surrendering to Aegwynn's blunt doting was not easy, but as Jaina forced herself to calm down she felt grateful for it. In truth, she felt mentally exhausted and a short break was what she needed to clear her head enough for what she had to do next.
She only had a little bit of rum in her tea, for those same reasons, but Aegwynn surely was right about how well-needed those drops of alcohol were for Jaina's electrified nerves.
When they had finished the pot of tea, then the wrestling with paper, ink and words began.
In all kinds of communication, there is a trick to expressing things differently depending on your intentions and the reactions you're hoping for. Jaina exercised all her training in that art during the rest of the day, and handed the results to mages with slightly dazed expressions after showing the letters to Aegwynn. The chamberlain added very little to the process, apart from laughing out loud at the end of the first letter. She was not a very diplomatic person, herself.
To His Royal Highness, Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind,
Honored Highlord Fordragon,
and His Eminence, Archbishop Benedictus
My most revered greetings to You all.
I, Lady Jaina Proudmoore of Theramore, send You this letter in order to bring You tidings from Kalimdor. I do not doubt that You have already received word of the affairs I now wish to explain.
As You are all aware, Theramore, being situated on Kalimdor, lies closer than any other human city to the lands claimed by the Horde. Ever since the Third War, it has been our fervent wish to maintain ceasefire with the orcs, trolls and tauren. I need not remind You of the fact that it was our alliance with them and the night elves, which successfully defeated the demonic invasion led by the demon Archimonde. Who can say when, rather than if, the Burning Legion will attempt another full scale assault on Azeroth?
The times remain troubled, and the people of Theramore are deeply concerned about this. We are not alone in this anxiety. All the people on Kalimdor remember what happened on Mount Hyjal. Yet, the constant infighting between Alliance and Horde eats away at our very hearts. I have long feared that we are playing into the Burning Legion's hands. Warchief Thrall has expressed the same concerns many times in the past years.
Therefore, for the sake of stability on Kalimdor, in an attempt to end the draining skirmishes, so that we can hope to have the strength to defend ourselves against the demons once again should the need arise, I have agreed to a political union between Theramore and Durotar. This union comes in the form of the marriage between myself and the orcish Warchief.
I understand the outrage this will cause, and I humbly ask of You not to judge too quickly. Theramore has not betrayed the Alliance, nor do we wish to leave it. Our port and lands remain open to all humans, dwarves, and gnomes, as well as the night elves and draenei. This action, which I do not doubt will be called scandalous by many, is one of hope for peace.
You are, of course, most welcome to send representatives to join the celebration in Theramore, should You wish to.
Warchief Thrall sends his well wishes to You all. He also wishes to know if Stormwind would accept the skull of the dragon Onyxia, currently kept in Orgrimmar, as a show of good will.
I remain Your loyal ally,
Lady Jaina Proudmoore of Theramore
A copy of the above message (minus the mention of Onyxia's skull), was sent to His Royal Majesty, Magni Bronzebeard of Ironforge and of the honorable Bronzebeard clan, and the honored High Tinker Gelbin Mekkatorqe, King of the Gnomes.
To the revered Prophet Velen,
the honored Farseer Nobundo,
and the draenei council
Greetings,
Surprising news must have reached You by now, and I hope to be able to shed some light upon what has occurred. Forgive me, for I honestly lack the knowledge of Your culture to know whether this will seem strange or even barbaric to You.
Foremost, however, I wish You to know that Theramore remains Your friend and ally, and our gates are open to You all in no different way than before. If You come to resent Theramore and myself for my actions, I will deeply lament the loss of friends. I implore You not to judge too soon, no matter how shocking it all may be.
It is not customary on Azeroth for people, leaders or no, to suddenly marry as Warchief Thrall and I did today. I assure You that You were not the only ones surprised to receive the news. We merely kept it secret for the sake of safety.
It is, however, an old tradition among leaders on this world to marry in order to bridge hostilities between nations and people. What Warchief Thrall and I did, we did in the name of peace. History has not been kind to Azeroth, nor Draenor, and we hope to prevent bloodshed from escalating once again.
You will surely have questions for me, and I will do my outmost to answer any concern You may have.
In a week's time there will be a feast in Theramore to celebrate the marriage. You are warmly welcome to send representatives to participate. Be aware, however, that I will be unable to meet with any emissary then, as I will partake in the celebration held in Orgrimmar, at my husband's side.
Light bless You.
-Lady Jaina Proudmoore of Theramore
Enclosed with the above letter was also the one below, the first of two papers she had received the night before. She folded the two messages gently and sealed them as one with Theramore's emblem in wax.
Light willing, both would be read.
To the revered Prophet Velen, honored Farseer Nobundo,
and to the entire draenei race
Hail the Light and the spirits,
I write to You by way of my wife, Lady Jaina of Theramore. It is my fervent hope that this message will reach You, and that You will at least take the time to read it. It is all I can ask of You.
I will not, I cannot ask of You to forgive what cannot be forgiven. The suffering my people rained upon Yours on Draenor was an act of despicable atrocity. That we were fooled and made into tools by the Burning Legion is not a worthy excuse. There is no excuse.
Since You arrived on Azeroth, you have observed yet more strife, and surely borne witness to other violent acts by my people. You are all aware of the strains on this world, and in Outland. Yet some of Your people have chosen to dare bridging old fears and join forces with the Earthen Ring, among other things, to which I extend my deepest gratitude.
If at all possible, I would wish for an end to the conflicts between Alliance and Horde. We share a common enemy in the Burning Legion, but if You cannot bear to trust us, or our allies, I can only accept that. We are no longer slaves to the demons, yet nobody can ever forget those times.
This I swear on the name of all my ancestors, however, that as long as I draw breath, nothing like the war on Draenor, or the wars on Azeroth initiated by my people, will ever happen again.
-Warchief Thrall, Leader of the Horde, Lord of the Clans and of Theramore
"You go and tell him that I think he's good at groveling in the dust without sounding too pathetic," Aegwynn commented as she read that letter.
Jaina just shook her head, even if she couldn't help smiling at the dry comment – although she felt a little guilty about that. Leaving the subject, she simply turned back to her desk for the next letter.
To High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind
Greetings, my friend,
My people are bewildered, and so are surely yours, because of what happened between the Warchief and I in Ratchet today. Perhaps you are, too. However, if I ask you to remember the battles on Hyjal, is there a possibility that you could push the surprise aside? I have written to many other leaders in the Alliance today, to explain my actions. Of all of them, I hope that you will have the easiest time to understand why Warchief Thrall and I did something so drastic. It may have seemed like a spur of the moment action, but I assure you that we have discussed it for a long time. Perhaps it began to take shape even weeks before Hyjal, in that cave when the Warchief, Cairne Bloodhoof and I met the Prophet Medivh.
I apologize from the bottom of my heart for not letting you know of our plans beforehand. I assure you that I meant no offense. It was purely a matter of caution.
If you could spare the time, I would be glad to meet with you in the coming days and discuss what has happened and what it entails. In one week there will be a celebration in both Theramore and Orgrimmar in honor of the union between the orcs and us, and because of that I might be unable to speak with you on that day and at least one day after. You and anyone of your people who wish to join the festivities are warmly welcome.
Best wishes,
Jaina
This one, too, was sent with an accompanying letter.
To High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind
Greetings,
Communications between our races have been sparse and painful ever since the end of the third war. As You must know by now, however, Lady Jaina and I have taken a rather surprising step towards peace. In honor of this, if at all possible, I would like to seek an end to the hostilities between Your people and mine, as well.
I know full well the bitterness felt in Darnassus, and the rage aimed towards the entire Horde. Many certainly say that there is nothing to discuss. However, though it may not be my place to do so, I wish to invite You to a dialogue about Ashenvale and Warsong Gulch, with hopes of ending the conflicts peacefully. I am certain that both Theramore and Ratchet will gladly supply a neutral meeting ground for our representatives.
-Warchief Thrall, Leader of the Horde, Lord of the Clans and of Theramore
Finishing that, Jaina took a break to call for the head maid after sending the letters off. When the middle-aged woman appeared, she wore an admirably blank expression. It cracked a little, however, as Jaina ordered for a bath to be prepared, with some rose water added.
"Of course, my Lady," the woman said, folding her hands behind her back. "Shall I order flowers to braid into your hair, as well?"
In the background, Aegwynn turned to the window to hide her smirk, in a rare act of empathy for an already rattled woman.
"Thank you," Jaina said with a soft smile, allowing herself a brief, distant expression before looking at the maid again. "But I think that we will save that for the night of the celebration."
The maid dropped a stiff curtsey and left. Jaina chuckled to herself as the door closed, knowing the woman would fly down to the kitchen as quick as her legs could carry her – and dignity allowed. Within an hour everyone in the citadel would know that Lady Proudmoore groomed herself like a bride for her wedding night. The whole city would know before nightfall.
Well, they already knew it is my wedding night. Now they'll know that I will go through with it, too.
Rather, think they know.
She smiled to herself for another moment, but then her amusement faltered. Was it too much, perhaps? What would they think of her in the morning?
Too late, now.
The thought ran along, and she wondered what Thrall's allies were thinking about this. Drek'Thar had grinned during the ceremony, but what of Vol'jin and Cairne? She did not even want to think about what Sylvanas might have to say, and the blood elves may or may not care… unless they got some idea about Kael'thas fancy for her and more or less silently chose to support his side. A disturbing prospect, certainly.
"You're a sneaky little vixen, you know that?" Aegwynn said, crossing the floor to her and jolting Jaina out of her concerned thoughts. "Except that was about as subtle as an ogre's club to the face."
"I'm not very good at sneaky, no," Jaina admitted, letting the 'vixen' comment be since this was Aegwynn speaking.
"You say that as if it's a bad thing." The old woman's smirk softened. "Now… you have one more letter left, don't you?"
Pursing her mouth, Jaina nodded.
"I will leave you to that, then," Aegwynn said. "It's nobody's business but yours and his." The smirk returned, but it was a warm one, as she backed towards the door. "As for the rest, I wish you a good night, Jaina."
No blush managed to conquer Jaina's face this time either, but it was another close call. She did not manage to gather the wit for a reply quick enough. Chuckling softly, Aegwynn slipped out and closed the door.
Jaina rolled her eyes and went to write the most difficult letter, the one she had saved for last. It required a lot of paper, for she wrote several attempts before she finally felt as at ease with the result as she possibly could. The head maid and two more maid servants appeared and left several times, carrying buckets of hot, rose scented water to fill the bath tub in Jaina's private bath room.
By the time she was done with the letter, the water was prepared and waiting. Jaina read through the text one final time.
To the Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras, Tandred Proudmoore
Dear Tandred,
Trust me when I say that this is not an easy message to write. You will be confused, you may even feel hurt and betrayed. I can only hope that you will control yourself and at least try to understand.
I cannot know if you have already been informed of what has happened, when you receive this letter. If not, I hope that your shock will not be so great, if I can tell you in my own words. If you have, perhaps I can at least offer some comfort.
It is the truth that through marriage with the orcish Warchief, I have solidified peace between Theramore and Durotar. You surely suspect foul play and dirty politics. There has been nothing of the sort, believe me. This match is the result of a long discussion between the Warchief and me, on how to end the conflicts between our people. It came to be through free choice and agreement, and there has been no force, whether military, physical, or magical, involved.
You know that it is no false rumor that both of us have kept and treasured the memory of our alliance on Hyjal. We both saw then, what great things our people and friends could accomplish when they dared to put aside their differences. Neither of us want to see that potential of greatness bleeding dry from senseless hatred.
I know that this is very hard to believe. There is much reason to fear the orcs, yet I do not. They were friends of the people in Theramore, many of them would still want to be. If the Horde is nothing but evil, then why are their warriors joining with the Argent Dawn, the Cenarion Circle, and the troops in Outland, to fight what evils are still threatening us all? Are all battles on this world initiated by them?
Warchief Thrall is an easy scapegoat for everything evil that the Horde does, and has done. Yet, if you will take my word for it, he is an honorable man, a scholar as much as a warrior. Given the choice, he would always turn to diplomacy rather than weapons. He has done so before, even broken up a would-be war a few years ago.
I know that this is an outrageous match, but I hope that people will come to accept it in time. Please believe me when I say that I am perfectly at ease with the situation.
Yours fondly,
Jaina
It was as good as it could get. Sighing softly, she sealed the final letter and called on one last mage to deliver it.
Finally done. Soon she would be able to lay this insane day to rest. A sting of the thrill she had suppressed with concern for her people and everyone else's reaction escaped her control. Meeting with Thrall now would, in practicality, not be any different from her earlier nightly visits to his chambers. Raw practicality tends to shatter when the mental situation is more outspoken, however.
Jaina stretched and walked through the door to the bath room. The three servants stood beside the steaming tub, faces schooled into calm masks. They curtseyed as Jaina entered.
"Your bath is ready, my Lady," the head maid, needlessly, announced. "Is there anything else?"
Respect and politeness was definitely not the only reason they waited on her.
"No, thank you," Jaina said with a smile. She studied the three women for a moment, then allowed her relaxed look to falter.
Most leaders would not even consider speaking with their servants on any important matter, but Jaina had worked with "common people" at the hardest of times. And really, she wanted to know what Theramore thought, desperately so.
"I will not punish you if you speak your minds honestly," she said, and added when they blinked like owls, "were you shocked today?"
Silly question.
The women exchanged glances, looked at her, then at each other again. Finally, the head maid cleared her throat.
"Well, my Lady," she said, hands wrenching in her apron, "it was, uh, a bit sudden, that's all."
Jaina nodded, smiling a little.
"Yes, I know. We feared that there might be attempts to disrupt the wedding if we announced it," she said.
"The blood elf prince, did he threaten you, my Lady?" one of the younger women blurted. Of course, that mysterious, nightly visit had been the greatest news until today.
The maid immediately blushed crimson and pressed a hand to her mouth. However, Jaina merely nodded again.
"Yes, he said…" she hesitated only for a moment, then decided that it would be very effective to let that juicy piece of intimidation be known to more people. As she told the women of Kael'thas final words the other night, their eyes widened and their mouths turned to half-horrified, half-intrigued Os.
Frightening, immoral, and certainly giving the Warchief a better sheen. Honestly, Jaina reflected, had Kael'thas not realized how much he sounded like the villain out of a heroic folktale?
"What… what did the War- his Lordship say when, uh, if you told him about it?" the same maid as before asked.
"Oh, something about breaking bones the elf doesn't even know he has in his body, if he as much as tries to lay a finger on me," Jaina lied in an easy tone, smiling again. She leaned forwards a little, adding in a lower voice, "Warchief Thrall is very much a gentleman, when it comes down to it."
The women exchanged glances, and then again when another thought struck for probably the thousand time. Silence hung in the air for a moment, and then:
"You are really going to, err…?" the head maid started, faltering with a horrified look as she realized that she really might be pushing it.
Jaina smiled.
"It is my wedding night," she said in a soft tone. "I will bring myself to Orgrimmar, with my magic, after I have bathed."
She sent them off with that, saying that they could take the rest of the evening off since it was, after all, a special day. Once alone, Jaina slipped out of her dress and hung it on a waiting hanger on the wall. Her socks, underskirt and everything else went into a small basket for that purpose.
It was with a great sigh of relief that she sunk into the warm water, leaned her head back against the wooden edge of the bathtub and closed her eyes. A smile overtook her lips, growing to a grin and then to an exhausted chuckle.
We did it, we really did it… she mentally repeated to herself, grateful to Aegwynn for letting her voice those words to somebody earlier.
What a day. What would the history books say?
She snorted at that runaway thought, knowing that those texts only would be written years and decades from now. Every last word depending on how things worked out in the near future.
All of a sudden she felt exhausted, and the amusement faded away. Wiping a hand against her forehead she found a thin layer of crusted dust and sweat. The heat in the Barrens, the speech to Theramore's people and her own high strung mind had left traces of grime. Grimacing, she grabbed the sponge and bar of soap to remedy that.
The smell of roses got a bit overwhelming after a while, but she bore it until she had cleaned herself. Unfortunately, that also of course made it impossible for her to relax in the bath any longer. Aside from the scent filling her nostrils, she was growing impatient to leave.
After climbing out of the bath, she dried herself and pulled on a simple, soft dress. She could sleep in that, but chose to wear a more elaborate gown over the first. One should not face the evening of their wedding day dressed too lightly.
Orgrimmar was never silent. However, gazing upon it from one of his large windows, Thrall noticed full well that there was a quiet, confused air to the nightly activities. People filled the streets at all hours, and the hum of their talking reached all the way up to him if he strained his ears. Not so animated as usual, though. People were thinking and wondering.
"So this means… we win?"
That question had been brought to the Warchief from a frowning grunt, who claimed that somebody on the street had asked him. Whether that was true or not, Thrall had snorted at it and said no, not at all. We've solidified old friendships.
He certainly hoped that that the mindset behind that seemingly innocent question would not take over. Knowing his people, though, they might go for a chance to lord superiority over the people of Theramore. The internment camps were not forgotten, regardless of whether those humans were guilty, regardless of Hyjal.
That, of course, was only the beginning of the tangle that would have to be sorted out. It would take years, he and Jaina had already spent years trying to keep the mess from growing too big. However, at least now they had solid ground to stand on while pulling at all those issues, and with some luck it would add voice to the people on both sides who agreed that the skirmishes had to stop.
And then, those were only questions for Theramore and Durotar. Soon every other leader, commander and noble would have had time to react, and that would be yet another thing to deal with.
He allowed himself some hope, though. No matter the responses, at least Jaina and he had taken a stand, and with her help he had been able to reach out to the other Alliance factions on Kalimdor. The future would be interesting to say the least. Also, he already knew what Cairne thought, at least, and that was heartening – as opposed to Vol'jin's concerned scowl.
No, Thrall certainly did not blame the witch doctor for his worries, but those too could be met with more efficiency now, hopefully. One had to focus on the possibilities, not the fallacies, or there would never be anything done.
His gaze wandered towards the unwavering, purple glow rising from the Cleft of Shadow, and he grinned nastily. Down there in that eyesore, several people were not amused. During his speech to the inhabitants of the city, Thrall had caught the look of barely contained frothing rage on Neeru Fireblade's face. Apparently something like this had not at all been included in the Burning Blade's plans.
Excellent.
All this thanks to Jaina not accepting his own initial, brittle hesitance to the match. He allowed himself to chuckle.
A human as a mate. His grandmother, at least, respected his choice though she thought it odd. The thought gave him some pause, wondering what his parents and Taretha would say about it. It was not the first time he wondered, of course, and he felt certain that Tari would have approved.
His parents… he could not tell, but if Geyah could accept this, then their spirits hopefully did as well.
In a much more sober mood Thrall looked upwards, at the deepening blue of the sky. A couple of stars already twinkled up there, but the day was not quite past yet. Below, torches were being lit along the streets.
Though he knew that it was silly, when he considered the time he felt a stitch of worry at Jaina's absence. He pushed that away - they had agreed to meet by nightfall; she was not at all late.
Shaking his head he turned and walked away from the window, picking at the leather straps holding his armor in place. He had meant to do that when he reached his room earlier, but ended up by the window instead. If he was honest with himself, he had simply not relaxed and therefore kept the armor on. There was no immediate danger he could perceive, as much as there were angry schemers in the Cleft – and that was certainly not the only place. Still, the spirits softly mumbled, perfectly at ease.
Thrall pried off one after another piece of Orgrim's armor – and what would he and Hellscream have to say? – and carefully set them on the sturdy, wooden armor stand. With some annoyance he noticed how stiff the familiar motions seemed. Every muscle in his body was tense as if preparing for a defensive stance, and he could do nothing against it.
He was just reaching to remove the chest and back plate when a tingling sound came from behind him. Turning on his heel he met Jaina's gaze.
A huge grin spread over Thrall's face, matched by her stretching lips, as the two leaders met halfway across the floor. He reached down and her eyes widened briefly in surprise, but when his hands closed around her waist and hoisted her upwards she wrapped her arms around his neck and laughed. He too laughed, shifting his grip to hold her more comfortably.
We really did it.
"The looks on their faces!" Jaina chortled, forehead pressing against his jaw line.
The comment made Thrall chuckle even harder. Every speck of tension had fled his body.
"Indeed," he said, clearing his throat to compose himself enough to speak properly. "And you should have seen Neeru's expression later on."
He set her down so that they could face each other, both still grinning wide. Now that he had calmed down a little, Thrall noticed the sweet, flowery scent.
Jaina took note of his nose curiously wrinkling, judging by the smile and the soft snort.
"I took a bath with rose water to make it official that I was going here. It's a tradition for brides," she explained, watching him. "I hope the smell isn't unpleasant."
"I see. No, not at all." It really wasn't. But speaking of official, he nodded and looked at her more seriously. "How is Theramore?"
"The good news is that there's no revolution going on right now at least." With a relieved sigh, Jaina rolled her shoulders. "But it was probably a good thing that you didn't make an appearance in Theramore today. I think people just feel confused right now. They liked the sound of the feast, though."
"That's good to hear. Wait a moment."
He gestured at her to sit down on one of the pelts, then went to the door and opened it. The two guards outside kept their faces admirably emotionless when hearing that the Warchief's mate had arrived. Both of the Elites saluted, and one went to find a servant to bring food and drink.
That done, Thrall closed the door and walked back to where Jaina had made herself comfortable on a bear pelt. He sat down before her, crossing his ankles comfortably.
The rumor of Jaina's presence would spread through Orgrimmar like fire through dry grass. Like it did through Theramore already. No reason to sneak anymore, although people wouldn't know that this wasn't the first night they spent together.
There would be times for official visits, with announcements beforehand, and guards surrounding them. At those times they would be at their most vulnerable, when their enemies might plan an attack. But not now. They were still breaking the rules, as they had done for years, to carve a new path.
"How did your people take the news?" Jaina asked.
"People are confused here as well, but nobody was shouting," Thrall replied. He gave a dry smile. "Perhaps we'll know more tomorrow, when they've slept on it."
"Light!" she muttered and rubbed her forehead, but the sigh was not as much exasperated as accepting.
He watched her as her outburst subsided, thinking she seemed a little out of place on the pelt, in her fine, white dress with its purple and gold inlays. And still she looked perfectly at home sitting there, conversing with him.
Being alone together in his room remained a little bit foreign, but they were passing that. Especially now, when their people knew, and soon all the world would know. The news spread even at this moment, sparking outrage and scandal.
He held back a laugh, allowing himself to admit feeling triumphantly rebellious. It was insane, that was true, but they had done it anyway. Yes, lots of work remained before this new situation would even begin to make sense to anybody, and it would certainly be a rocky ride, but he didn't fear it. Neither did Jaina, sitting there with determination blazing in her eyes.
Let the dissenters come.
Thrall let those thoughts pass, then tried to shrug them off. There would be problems ahead, and right now, he didn't want them to intrude on this moment.
But on that tangent…
"Cairne sent me an immediate reply to the news, through the troll mage messenger," he said, dry smile turning warmer. "He was surprised, but I believe he actually laughed. We have his full support."
He found that he took a kind of pleasure from the way the hard look peeled away from Jaina's features, and she relaxed.
"I'm glad to hear that," she said. "He and I haven't interacted as much as the two of us, but he is a friend."
And one more ally in this.
As Thrall nodded, Jaina tilted her head slightly.
"You never had a chance to tell me how Vol'jin and Drek'Thar took it," she said.
"Ah, yes."
He described the initial hesitance, and the acceptance in Drek'Thar's case, as well as the more defensive stance Vol'jin took. Part of him – the practical, Warchief part – wanted to bring up that one recent discovery which could back up Vol'jin and many another skeptic's voice. Thrall refused that part of him for now, however. This was not the time. That disturbing text found in Tiragarde Keep deserved no more mention than any other problem on this night.
A pair of orc women arrived carrying a tray of food each, the scene reminiscent of Geyah's visit a few days earlier. The women looked between the two leaders with a mix of curiosity and hesitance, but did not comment. They merely placed their burdens on the pelt, then politely bowed and left again.
Thrall and Jaina exchanged glances and chuckles, and that was the end of that.
They ate and talked in a warm, relaxed atmosphere. After a while, both of them even managed to occasionally forget that this in no way was their private wedding night – because half the world, and more and more people for each passing minute, were thinking about them.
A letter was sent in Outland also, one enchanted so that water would not do a thing to it.
Honored Lady Vashj,
You are of course aware that I would not call upon you unless it was important, my Lady. I, and the rest of your loyal allies here in Tempest Keep, are at our wits' end, and therefore we turn to you.
Disturbing news has reached us from Azeroth, and though it has little impact on our plans for Outland, it has unfortunately wounded our Prince deeply emotionally. He is quite mad with rage, and we cannot calm him, nor can we see an end of it. I beseech you to come here and reason with him, as your sage advice would surely reach him just as it has done in the past.
Glory to the Illidari
-High Astromancer Solarian
Author's note: I am a little late to say this, but I am in absolute awe at all the positive response this story has gotten. Thank you all so much!
Don't misunderstand though, there's a lot more to go on this one. We're only about halfway through now.