It really shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. Jaina knew she shouldn't have expected any less. And yet…
Sylvanas had pushed her away, and Jaina knew she'd done nothing wrong. And that was what upset her more than anything. After all that had happened, the years they'd spent together, the blood they'd drawn together, she liked to think she'd earned a little bit of something from her wife. Some consideration.
Some emotion.
Varian hopped onto her desk, weaving his way across paperwork and her coffee to butt his head against her face. A smile tugged at her lips, and she stroked her hand down his back, and up again, digging her nails into his fur for the especially deep scritches.
Once in awhile she wondered how Human Varian would have reacted to having a cat named after him, let alone a cat mutually owned by Jaina and Sylvanas. Maybe he'd have found it amusing.
Jaina trailed her nails around to Varian's chin, lighter scritches now, but still making him purr loudly and pleasantly. She nuzzled her nose against the top of his dark head. "At least I know you love me."
At that, Varian squirmed away from her, hopping down from the desk and disappearing behind a flag hanging on the wall.
Sighing, Jaina looked around her office. There was absolutely nothing for her to do today; she'd finished her week's work while nursing her lip the previous night and had spent the past two hours re-reading the same report on tax revenue without actually seeing the words.
Getting up, she stepped beyond the curtains that blocked off the more private area of the office. Even though she was alone, she suddenly felt like she needed a little extra barrier between her and the rest of the world as she sat on the couch.
After a moment's thought, she scribbled a note and magically whisked it away, then leaned her head back onto the couch and closed her eyes.
It might have been ten minutes. It might have been an hour. But she opened her eyes when she felt a presence outside the curtains. Sylvanas stepped in, that traitorous cat balanced on her shoulders. She was dressed casually, no armor, though Jaina knew better than to assume she was unarmed. "My, how productive you are today."
Jaina rolled her eyes. "Can I help you?"
"What, I can't see how my own wife is doing?" Sylvanas took a seat next to Jaina, putting her arm on the back of the couch behind Jaina's shoulders. She leaned in close, breath cold in Jaina's ear.
"Nice try," Jaina murmured, fighting the shudder than ran through her. She scooted away, eyeing Sylvanas. "Really, what do you want?"
Sylvana's expression shifted. Not hardening, but not going soft either. Like she was hurt. Like she had something she wanted to say, so Jaina went silent and waited.
Predictably, Sylvanas started to play with Jaina's hair, in a fashion that was almost like a nervous tic. "I wanted to ask your help with something. But first I need to explain the context for it. So if you could hold yourself in check long enough, I would appreciate it."
"All right." Jaina nodded in agreement, her nails digging into her palms. "But an apology would be nice."
Sylvanas pursed her lips, eyes flicking to Jaina's lip and back up to her eyes. Jaina didn't expect her to actually say anything, but there was enough of a flicker on her face, a muted sigh, that Jaina accepted that as close enough.
"I am sure you can understand by now that everything I do is for survival. Mine. The Forsaken. The Horde." Sylvanas continued finally, hesitating before she added, "You. The Horde is in a better position than they once were. Always precarious, but a little farther from the edge of the cliff."
Sylvansas's fingers moved more quickly in Jaina's hair, in random patterns, twirling locks around fingers and brushing through silken strands. Jaina took a breath, and said, "But the Forsaken…"
"We dwindle a little more, each year. We cannot be replaced at a rate fast enough to remain even, let alone grow."
"It is not something many are willing to volunteer for," Jaina replied flatly.
"No, I suppose not. The Valkyr are the only hope we have," Syvlanas explained. "And there are only a few left." Her fingers stilled, her eyes boring into Jaina's head. "I save her for myself. To forestall the inevitable. Death cannot be escaped, merely delayed. Eventually that dark will claim me and I shall suffer everything I deserve."
"I…" Jaina didn't know how to answer that, or what to say to it, or where this had even come from. It seemed to be out of the blue, but must have been at the back of Sylvanas's mind for some time.
"I would use her for you," Sylvanas continued.
Jaina went deathly still, her blood turning to ice in her veins as she stared at Sylvanas from the corner of wide, dilated eyes.
"You would hate me for it at first. Perhaps you would always hate me, the way Kalira does. But I would make that sacrifice to have you with me."
No, the sacrifice wasn't Jaina hating her. The sacrifice was her own get-out-of-death-free card. The sacrifice was the Valkyr Sylvanas held in reserve for just herself. And if not a Valkyr, the sacrifice would have to be something or someone else.
The ice turned to liquid and started to boil as Jaina dug her nails into her legs. Her voice was a strained whisper, ragged like a flag flown too long in a storm. "Sylvanas, if you think for one minute I would allow-"
"You would be dead, Jaina."
Sylvanas said that so calmly that Jaina's anger faded, the flame snuffed out. It didn't make it better. "So you'd do to me what Arthas did to you?"
The temperature behind those curtains dropped several degrees as Jaina found herself frozen by the cold fury in Sylvanas's eyes, as surely as if her wife had put a dagger to her throat. "How dare you!"
Magic crackled in the air and Jaina held Sylvanas's gaze defiantly, tilting her head back, baring her throat as it to dare Sylvanas to draw a weapon or use her teeth.
Instead of doing either, Sylvanas dug her fingers into her thighs, her voice drained. "If you think that being raised by the Valkyr is anything like what Arthas did to me, you're a fool."
"Then tell me, Sylvanas. What did he do to you? We've known each other this long, and yet …" Arthas had always been a taboo subject between them.
Sylvanas looked at her, and Jaina realized the Warchief's hands were shaking.
Vereesa watched the fire crackling in the pre-dawn light; or rather, she watched the way the shadows danced and flickered on Cenengel's sleeping face, making her hair look like it was bathed in flame. She reached out, hesitated before her fingers were close enough to touch Cenengel's cheek, then drew her hand back and looked around. The sun would be rising soon, and they would have to get moving, but she wanted just a few more minutes to herself.
They'd decided that secrecy was the best route to take, rather than risk anything that might draw attention to them. But with secrecy came other dangers; the fact that it was just the two of them left them vulnerable, no matter their individual skill.
The sea was a few miles west, close enough to smell. The stream nearby bubbled along, and Vereesa's sharp eyes scanned the ridge and the tree line.
Something whispered that it was time to go, some instinct that she'd learned long ago to trust. She leaned forward, putting her hand on Cenengel's warm, bare arm, and running it to her shoulder before shaking her awake. "Cene, it's time to go."
Cenengel opened her eyes, gazing groggily up at Vereesa, a sloppy smile on her lips. "Morning beautiful."
Vereesa pulled back, her face heating up as she set herself to the task of breaking camp. Cenengel rose, visible out of her periphery, and kicked dirt over their fire before she strapped her armor on.
"If we're fast enough," Vereesa said quietly. "We can be in Dun Morogh before nightfall."
"I don't think we'll make Ironforge before then," Cenengel reasoned. "I hope you like the snow."
"There are ways to keep w-" Vereesa's head snapped around at the sound of something in the stream. As the dawning sun started to filter through the trees, she spied movement.
Naga surged towards them and Vereesa unslung her bow and sent an arrow into the eye of the nearest. Metal and leather creaked as Cenengel lifted her swords. She shot forward on powerful legs, leaping through the air and landing boot-first on the head of another Naga. The creature's spine snapped as Cene's momentum drove it to the ground, her weight crushing its head.
She parried a trident from a Naga on her left, slashing to the right with enough force to sever another in half with her claymore then slammed her head into the jaw of a third.
Vereesa could only watch in admiration a moment more before she was loosing arrows into the Naga. There were dozens of them, maybe even breaking a hundred, and she focused on the mages so that her companion could fight toe to toe with their warriors, lost in a berserking blood-lust as her massive swords swung through the air with increasing speed and ferocity.
Ten naga turned towards Vereesa and charged, mages on the back line flinging fire and ice in her direction. She flipped backwards, springing off of the ground with her hands and in a fluid mid-air movement drew three arrows, nocked her bow and and fired, striking three Naga true.
Three more were dead before Vereesa touched the ground again and began to backpedal through the clearing. She snapped her bow out, cracking the head of a Naga brute, twisting out of the way of a spear to her left and using an arrow to gouge out the eye of the spear-wielder. She shot that arrow into a mage as she pulled back, searching for Cenengel in the mass of snake-like bodies.
Cenengel roared somewhere to her left, and a half-dozen Naga were flung into the air as the warrior charged for Vereesa's position. She smashed and slashed her way to the archer's side, covered in gore and worse, but alive.
"I'm giving you a bath after this," Vereesa remarked, drawing her sword.
"Better make it a tub for two," came Cenengel's response and Vereesa wondered if she was trying to get her killed.
But, just in case one or both of them didn't live to see the sun finish rising, she turned her head and kissed Cenengel. Quick, messy, tasting vaguely like fish and not the kind of first kiss she'd imagined, but then nothing about her life had gone the way she'd imagined in far too long to count.
There was no time to say or do anything else as the Naga swarmed them. Steel clanged against steel or cut through flesh and Vereesa fell into a killing calm, quick and efficient, not wasting a single movement.
The ground rumbled, and the Naga pulled back. Vereesa retrieved her bow from where she'd dropped it, and counted her remaining arrows. All two of them.
Trees swayed and rustled, and then a monstrous crab came crashing across the forest towards them.
"Go," Cenengel said, twirling her claymores. "Get the message to the king, I will hold them as long as I can."
"Bullshit," Vereesa snapped. "I've faced worse."
"Even the mightiest among us can fall," Cenengel reminded her.
She thought of Sylvanas. Rhonin. Varian. Before Vereesa could respond, something fell from the sky, bounding off of the shell of the crab and almost immediately exploding. The crab made a chittering, screeching sound as it jerked away, shell cracked and smoking.
Five figures dropped from above as well, hitting the ground hard and rolling before they tore into the surprised Naga.
Cenengel cheered, whooping and clanging her swords together to greet the new comers.
Vereesa caught a glimpse of violet hair and the flash of swords. Another Kaldorei and a Ren'dorei calmly pumped arrow after arrow into Naga, driving them back. A second violet-haired Kaldorei wielding a massive hammer smashed her way towards Vereesa and Cenengel.
The woman stopped, holding her hand out as light erupted beneath a group of Naga when she closed her fist.
Running to her, Cenengel lazily knocked aside a Naga and slapped her hand against the Kaldorei's shoulder. "Nyana, are we glad to see you."
Nyana flashed her a winning smile as a mechanical squirrel peered its head from under her cloak. "Looks like we almost missed all the fun. Isn't that right, Squee?"
Cenengel nodded, patting the machine on the head.
Vereesa had joined them by then, the others of their rescuers forming a circle around them, the Naga staying back as they tried to assess the new threat.
She recognized Yukale, and a second Ren'dorei and gave them a nod. "We got swarmed quickly."
"I've got my sister and her mate keeping them busy by the ocean and Tess Greymane is harrying a flanking force to the north," Yukale said, and Vereesa was too tired to remember who else usually accompanied this Champion. "They'll pull back once we've extracted you." She glanced at Cenengel. "Both of you."
"Pah." Cenengel sheathed her claymores on her back.
"What's the plan?" Vereesa asked.
Nyana grinned again, pointing up. Vereesa tilted her head back to see several gyrocopters hovering above them. Their secrecy was shot anyway. She looked back at Yukale and her Vanguard, and nodded.
Pressing something inside her glove, Yukale glanced up as ropes descended. Vereesa reached for one, Cenengel for the other. As they started to rise, she heard Yukale order two of her people to keep them safe. One of the hunters and the Kaldorei … Paladin? Started to ascend.
She called out to Cenengel as she settled into the gyrocopter. "Can we never let my sisters know that a hundred Naga and a giant crab actually gave us trouble?"
"Not here," Sylvanas said, staring at Jaina as numbness settled into her limbs. She stood, shoving the curtain roughly aside and then turning towards the stairs, towards sanctuary and the one place in Orgrimmar that was truly private for either of them.
She sensed Jaina following, but was inside before her consort had even reached the first step.
By the time Jaina had closed the door to the stairs, Sylvanas stood nude, shadows dancing on her pale bare skin. Jaina approached her, fingers trailing idly up Sylvanas's arms, before she moved her hand to the scar on her chest. "Arthas."
Jaina had often touched that scar. Stroked it. Kissed it, in an obsessive way that wasn't much different from Sylvanas and Jaina's hair. Sylvanas had never called attention to it, though it was impossible for her to say if it was because she didn't want her to stop or because she didn't have the words.
Her own voice was hollow and distant to her ears. "Yes. Whatever magics preserved my body could not rid me of this reminder. A reminder of the scars he left on my soul."
"All my scars from him are here," Jaina said, taking Sylvanas's hand and pressing it to her heart.
"You loved him," Sylvanas stated. "A foolish thing."
"I've asked myself a thousand times, if I'd just refused to see who he was," Jaina replied, running her finger down the scar and back up again. "If love had blinded me. Or if he'd truly been a good person and become corrupted."
"He made the right choice, in Stratholme." Sylvanas said, fighting the urge to shut down. She felt so tired. "It was a kinder fate than that which he would later bestow upon his kingdom."
"And yet," Jaina said, her finger touching the underside of Sylvanas's chin. "You would subject me to your fate."
"I, at least, admit to my selfish desires," Sylvanas replied.
Jaina sighed, eyes flicking to the scar again. "I could have made a different choice. And I did not, and the blood of Silvermoon is on my hands. The blood of Lordaeron. Of you."
"Is it?"
"Yes." Jaina looked back into her eyes. "If I hadn't abandoned him, he might not have gone to Northrend. Found Frostmourne. Let the Lich King poison his mind and his soul. We could have found another way to stop the plague."
"Or it might have been you who succumbed to that cursed blade," Sylvanas pointed out. How easily the wheels of fate turned, how precarious the balance. She imagined Jaina Proudmoore, the Lich Queen, all her considerable power brought to bear on the world, and decided that all would have been lost.
She took Jaina's hands, guiding her to the couch and pulling her down as she sat. Her nudity didn't bother her, she long ago had shed any sense of shame.
It was fairly well known, Jaina's role in that saga. She'd turned away, gathered what survivors she could, and saved them. Sylvanas could appreciate that, even if part of her wished that she'd done the same for her own people.
"Sylvanas…"
"No." Sylvanas put one finger over Jaina's lips. "No. I need to speak. I need to say the things I have never spoken aloud and I need to say them to you."
The question was in Jaina's eyes but Sylvanas was not ready to face the answer she'd give in return. "Arthas did not simply kill me, and raise my spirit to serve him. Those chains were bad enough."
Just the memory was enough to spread darkness and rage through Sylvanas. It was like the grating of metal scraping on metal, children screaming. It was a chasm that opened up beneath her, an endless abyss through which she could fall forever and never see the light.
Jaina's hand on her face brought her back to the now, and she shuddered when she met those sapphire eyes. "He tore my soul from my body, and then, out of pure spite, he tortured me. It is not a pain that can be put into words, to have one's soul flayed over the course of days. Days that felt like years. Millennia."
Flaying wasn't even the right word, and Sylvanas, frustrated, wished she could simply share the memories and be done with it.
Share the memories…
Jaina said something, but Sylvanas didn't hear it, her eyes widening slightly, the red reduced to points as the idea struck her like a killing blow.
It was monstrous, but she was a monster, accepted it, reveled in it and yet…
Sylvanas cupped Jaina's face, drank in her eyes, and said. "There are no words for the suffering I faced, Jaina. Just as there are no words for the pain you have felt. But we can share it."
The only sound in the wake of Sylvanas's words was Jaina's shallow breath and the loudness of her heartbeat. And then, without really understanding what Sylvanas had planned, she nodded.
Turning into mist and shadow and darkness, Sylvanas poured into the pools of Jaina's eyes. Deeper and deeper she went, until she was Jaina and Jaina was her. Their souls lashed together and ripped apart, Theramore exploded around Sylvanas and Arthas ran Jaina through.
As one, they screamed.