Strong content warning for this chapter.

Auriana

For what felt like an eternity, Auriana wallowed in a deep pit of despair. Throk'gar had continued his hateful visits, of course, but more often than not she had been left alone in the dark to ponder her fate, and more frighteningly, that of Varian. As much as Auriana hated herself for it, Blackhand's threat against Varian's life had all but broken her heart, and she had made no further attempts to aggravate Throk'gar. Gone was the fiery bravado with which she had suffered through his earlier efforts, replaced instead by a dark depression that had irresistibly begun to consume her from the inside out.

The most recent session she had endured had been one of the worst, but even Throk'gar's eventual departure did nothing to ease her pain. The torturer had taken to leaving her alone for hours before sending the shaman to heal her wounds, and Auriana could no longer remember a time when she hadn't been in agony. It also didn't help that the shaman's work had been less and less effective. In the beginning, it had perhaps taken him a handful of minutes to heal the damage, whereas now he would often spend up to an hour working on her injuries. Auriana had also found that it was harder to breathe the longer she hung in suspension, and there was a deep and weary ache to her bones that no amount of healing had been able to relieve.

Of course, Auriana's physical anguish paled in comparison to her tormented thoughts. She became trapped in an endless cycle of self-recrimination and guilt, cursing herself for having been captured and used to bait Varian to Draenor. More than anything, Auriana felt a profound and devastating sense of regret at having run from Varian's confession of love. Once again, she had fled from a man who had opened his heart to her, and once again she would lose the opportunity to ever make things right. There was no point denying that she was in love with the King, at least not to herself, and more than anything else she wished she had taken the chance to tell him how she felt.

On the other hand, she also regretted the audacity of her belief that she could have some kind of relationship with the King of Stormwind without everything going cataclysmically wrong. While Auriana could accept that capture and torture were an ever present hazard in her line of work, it hurt her like a physical blow to realise that Varian was at risk simply because he had fallen in love with her, of all people. It would have been bad enough to have put any man she loved at risk, but Auriana also had to contend with the fact that Varian was the High King. If he came charging out to Draenor to ransom his life for hers, the consequences for the Alliance as a whole could be devastating, and it would all be her fault. In her darkest moments, Auriana genuinely lost all hope, and she became a hollow shell of herself as she simply waited in the dark to die.

And yet…

The more she thought about Varian, and the way that Blackhand had tried to use the King's impossible love for her as a weapon, the more furious Auriana became. Varian's love was both unexpected and quite frankly, unbelievable, but it was also something strong and pure and light, and Blackhand had no right to turn something so miraculous into something so twisted. The thought suffused her with a sudden anger, burning brightly against the gloom that had ensnared her heart. Her ire spread throughout her chest with a furious purpose, and Auriana soon realised that she was also angry at herself for having accepted this turn of events without resistance.

More than anything else, what Auriana and the King shared most was an untameable fighting spirit and an indomitable will to win, even when victory seemed impossible. Auriana was certainly no stranger to fighting against the odds. She'd stood against the Scourge and the Burning Legion, against the madness of the black dragon Deathwing and the tyranny of Garrosh Hellscream, and she had never once fallen so low as she had on this day. Even facing certain death, Auriana realised, she had stood proud and fearless at the vanguard… until now. Now she hung uselessly, cowed and broken by an orc who could not have held a candle to any of the enemies she had faced in the past. In giving up hope, Auriana knew she had betrayed Varian, the Alliance, and most importantly herself, and she resolved right then and there to fight. She had accepted her imminent death, but she did not have to accept Varian's, and nor did she have to cower in fear before Blackhand and his monstrous torturer.

Auriana surged with sudden adrenaline, though she had to acknowledge that her options for rebellion were rather limited. She looked up at her hands, staring hatefully at the ensorcelled iron that kept her from her magic, and wondered whether she could break the spell. It was fiendishly complex piece of sorcery, and Blackhand had evidently had the sense to use some of the strongest shackles he could find. Auriana had certainly never heard of anyone breaking arcane shackles, but that didn't necessarily mean it was impossible. Auriana knew she'd have a reasonable chance of escaping the Foundry if she were successful in breaking the bonds, and with any luck she'd be able to intercept Varian and keep him safe. Of course, the most likely result of her attempting to break the enchantment by force would simply be that nothing happened. It was also fairly likely that she would killed, though at least in that case Varian would have no reason to mount a rescue...

Auriana's train of thought was interrupted as the door to her room suddenly swung open. Her heart began to race, until she realised that it was not Throk'gar who had returned, but rather the shaman tasked with keeping her alive. She relaxed ever so slightly, or at least as much as she was able given her current predicament, knowing that the shaman likely meant her no harm.

She had noticed that the small orc often winced noticeably as he tended to her wounds, and Auriana certainly didn't get the same sense of raw hatred from the shaman as she did from Throk'gar and Blackhand. In Auriana's experience, there were two types of people who engaged in torture. The first were those who were simply following orders or who were in a desperate situation without an alternative, while the second were monsters like Throk'gar, who derived a sick and powerful pleasure from the suffering of others. Auriana strongly suspected that the shaman was one of the former, and the newly rekindled fight within her soul wondered if that wasn't something she could exploit.

"What's your name?" she asked quietly, forcibly lifting her weary eyes.

The shaman gave her a startled look but remained silent, busying himself with preparing a pitiful bowl of gruel. Blackhand had requested for her to eat and drink occasionally, wanting to keep her alive just long enough to entice Varian to Draenor. Auriana had initially refused, knowing that failing to eat would hasten her death, but Throk'gar had simply had the shaman force the food down her throat while he held her jaws apart. Since then, Auriana had decided that it was simpler to just eat what she was offered, and to try to bait the orcs into killing her another way.

As was their usual ritual, the shaman lifted spoonfuls of gruel up to Auriana so that she could eat, feeding her as if she were a child. The orcish gruel tasted like rot and old boot leather, but Auriana nevertheless managed to choke down the entire bowl. While the food was of little comfort, however, she genuinely appreciated the cool, sludgy water that the shaman trickled into the corner of her mouth after she had eaten. She always drank greedily, ignoring the acrid, metallic taste of the liquid, until the shaman pulled the skein away and turned his attention to her wounds.

Today, he started with her mutilated hands, his worn face distorting in concentration as he called on the elements of healing. Auriana could see that the work was difficult, but she appreciated the fact that he genuinely appeared to have been trying his best.

"Shaman?" Auriana repeated. "What's your name?"

He looked down at her reproachfully, and Auriana could practically taste his apprehension.

"It's just a question," she sighed. "What am I going to do with your name?"

"Blackhand warned me not to trust you," the shaman said finally, not meeting her eyes. "He said that you are an off-worlder witch of terrible power."

"Do you really think I'm much of a threat to you like this?" Auriana said, flexing her wrists within the shackles.

She was wearing nothing but her underclothes, and she was covered in days' worth of grime and dried gore. Her skin was practically translucent from the blood loss, and she was so physically spent that she could barely raise her head. Nevertheless, the shaman's eyes flicked upwards towards the arcane bindings around her wrists, and Auriana choked out a somewhat hysterical laugh.

"If I were capable of breaking out of these shackles, I would have done so by now," she assured him, though she vaguely wondered if she were perhaps telling a lie.

The shaman still looked very skeptical and he turned away, but a second later he answered her question.

"Kelruk," he said reluctantly. "My name is Kelruk."

"I'm Auriana," she said. "Though I suppose you already know that."

The shaman grunted and continued with his task, moving on to heal the tortured skin of her back. His touch was impossibly gentle compared to the sharp sting of a whip or the bite of a knife, and Auriana had to resist the urge to groan in relief as she felt the rends in her skin slowly knit back together.

"You're a shaman," she said quietly, as he continued his grim work. "I would have thought your kind frown on torture."

"What do you know of shamanism?" Kelruk said bitterly. "How would know whether torture is acceptable to us?"

"You are right," Auriana agreed, "I know little, though I was taught that shaman were deeply spiritual, and have a profound sense of respect for all life."

"There is a difference between respect and stupidity," Kelruk countered, though he sounded unsure. "If I were to undo those shackles, you'd kill me in an instant, would you not? How are you and I any different?"

"If I were free, I would give you the honour of a warrior's death," Auriana snapped. "So that you might stand proud before the spirits of your ancestors. I would not chain you up like an animal. I would give you the chance to fight back."

She could see that her harsh words had struck a nerve. The shaman was clearly one of those from the old tradition of the Horde, the Horde that valued honour and bravery above all else, rather than the Horde that delighted in killing and chaos.

"Is there honour in this?" she challenged, and Kelruk looked suddenly stricken.

Auriana was encouraged by his reaction, wondering if she might be able to use the shaman to escape, but he was saved from having to answer her question by the sudden return of Throk'gar. The shaman slunk off into the corner to gather his things as the torturer strode into the room, his entire posture wracked with shame and fear.

"Did she say anything, shaman?" Throk'gar asked as he regarded Auriana thoughtfully.

Kelruk looked up, his eyes meeting Auriana's, and to her great surprise he shook his head.

"Nothing, Master," he lied quietly. "Nothing at all."

Auriana offered the shaman her silent thanks, but it appeared that Kelruk would not be doing her any other favours anytime soon. It was clear that the shaman was terrified of Throk'gar, and he declined to say another word in her defense as he scampered from the room and left her to the torturer's attention once more. Auriana watched the shaman go, and with him any of hope of an escape from the Foundry that didn't end in her death.

She sighed, and turned her attention back to Throk'gar. He unfurled his bundle of torturous implements on the table, as he usually did, but this time Auriana refused to let herself be cowed. She lifted her head and met the torturer's gaze levelly for the first time since Blackhand had revealed his plan to capture Varian, and grit her teeth defiantly. Auriana was always most alert after being healed, and she intended to use her temporary lucidity to stand strong in front of Throk'gar.

"I have good news for you, Commander," Throk'gar said, idly playing with one of his more vicious flensing knives as he paced around the room.

"I'm sure I can't wait to hear what you have to say," Auriana said sarcastically.

"Oh, are you talking to me again?" Throk'gar asked. "What's changed, Commander?"

"I was getting bored with the silence," Auriana said lightly. "You aren't the best conversationalist, I'll admit, but I suppose you're better than nothing."

Throk'gar growled deep in his chest and cracked his knuckles, but did not otherwise acknowledge her little barb.

"You will be pleased to know that the Warlord has sent notice of the ransom to Lunarfall," he continued. "Your time in the Foundry is nearly at an end."

Auriana suddenly fought to control her breathing, terrified that the next thing Throk'gar would tell her was that Varian had been captured and killed. Throk'gar noticed her discomfort and grinned cruelly.

"Never fear, little witch, we've not yet had word from your King... though of course we both know he will come eventually," he added triumphantly. "In the meantime, Blackhand has requested that you and I continue our good work together."

Auriana sighed with relief, though she knew that she was rapidly running out of time. If Varian had received her ransom, he would likely already be on his way to Draenor, and Auriana was freshly determined to have Throk'gar kill her before the King arrived.

"Let's not, and tell Blackhand that we did," Auriana suggested slyly. "It'll be our little secret."

Throk'gar barked a harsh laugh at her words, and placed his flensing knife back on the table before turning to face her once more.

"I will give you this, witch, you are strong. I've broken some of the greatest orcish champions in a matter of hours, and yet you have lasted days with your pitiful sense of humour intact," he said. "You are quite remarkable, Commander."

"Has it ever occurred to you that you simply aren't very good at your job?" Auriana jeered provocatively. "And that those orcs were just weak?"

She took some small satisfaction in the fact that Throk'gar bristled visibly at her insult. He was far more volatile than Blackhand, and Auriana knew he was far more likely than the Warlord to simply snap and kill her should she continue to provoke him.

"I have not even begun to show the extent of the torment I can bring down upon you, bitch," Throk'gar hissed.

"Oh, please, Throk'gar. You've whipped, beaten, burned, and starved me, and you still haven't broken my spirit. What else could you possibly do?" she said tauntingly.

Throk'gar stepped in so close that Auriana could feel his hot breath on her cheek. She stared into his too-calm eyes defiantly, and was not at all surprised to see madness lurking in their inky depths.

"Do you really think there's nothing else I can do to break you?" Throk'gar laughed. "Don't test me, woman."

As he spoke, he reached up and grabbed the hair at the base of her skull and forced her head backwards so that her throat was exposed. He ran his other hand down her neck to her breasts and squeezed painfully, his thick fingers disgustingly hot against her exposed skin.

"You're small," Throk'gar said darkly, "But you'll do."

The orc's intentions were written clearly all over his face, and Auriana found herself genuinely terrified by the threat. Refusing to let the orc see her fear, however, Auriana growled out loud and spat in Throk'gar's face, forcing him to step away.

"What's the matter, bitch?" he demanded. "You won't open your legs for anyone less than a king?'

"Varian's twice the man you'll ever be," Auriana snarled.

She looked down pointedly, and bared her teeth in a savage grin.

"In more ways than one," she added viciously, hoping to drive the orc into a murderous rage.

Throk'gar bellowed in abrupt fury, slamming his fist around her throat and throttling her violently. Instead of killing her, however, he thrust his other hand forcefully between her legs and pushed, drawing blood and making Auriana scream with revulsion. Something inside her mind snapped, and in that moment she realised there was one considerable weapon in her arsenal that she had completely forgotten. It was understandable, given that Auriana had fought against her darker side for so long, but if there was ever a time to unleash her wrath, it was right now.

Her heart pounding, Auriana reached blindly for the barbaric rage that burned deep within her heart and seized it with an iron grip. She may not have her magic, but she did have her fury, and for once, Auriana intended to use it to her advantage. With a feral cry, she snapped her head forwards and smashed it into Throk'gar's face. His nose splintered beneath her forehead with a satisfying crack, and Auriana was doused in a spray of hot blood.

The orc torturer howled and staggered backwards, then smacked Auriana across the face so hard that he broke her cheekbone. Auriana saw stars, but she took a perverse pleasure in knowing that she'd caused the orc to break before she had.

"That was stupid," the orc panted. "Very stupid."

Throk'gar fumbled at the buckles on his belt, his eyes burning with hatred. The orc obviously meant to rape and kill her, but Auriana would be damned if she would give him the opportunity. In that moment, she decided that there was no point in waiting for Throk'gar to inflict more pain upon her before finally delivering a death blow, not when there was the slightest chance that she could kill them both on her terms.

To hell with this, she thought ruthlessly. I'd rather die a wolf than a lamb.

"You have angered me, human witch," Throk'gar snapped, pressing a hand to his ruined nose. "Now you will pay the price."

Auriana grinned recklessly, licking the blood from her lips. The expression pulled on her shattered cheekbone painfully, but Auriana was fair beyond caring. Her rage had been ignited, and every ache and pain and indignity that had been done to her only served to fuel the fire.

"No! You have angered me!" she roared. "And I promise you, it will be the last mistake you will ever make."

Auriana lifted her eyes to the shackles and forced every thought from her mind. She could feel her magic just out of her reach, and she could see the cursed spellwork that kept it from her as clear as day. At the same time, Auriana tapped into her rage, allowing it to flood through her veins like liquid fire. She howled deliriously as the overwhelming sense of bloodlust and invincibility filled her, and she looked so mad as to give even Throk'gar pause. Auriana was beyond caring whether she lived or died, or even whether she managed to escape. All that mattered now was turning her berserker's fury on Throk'gar and making an attempt to break her shackles, in the hope that she might keep Varian alive.

"I'll see you in hell, orc," she snarled, summoning every last drop of will that she possessed and cackling madly as she tore reality apart.