Jaina was floating in a sea of darkness, surrounded by nothing and no one and totally alone. It could almost be peaceful, except she was deprived of all her senses, unable to feel anything. For however long she floated there, Jaina could make no sense of time or place. Had this driven Sylvanas mad, and would it do the same to her?

But then she heard the voices. They were familiar. Sylvanas and Arthas somewhere distant. Jaina tried to move in that direction, swimming and kicking her legs in a futile attempt to reach them.

Red eyes opened to fill her vision. All at once the memories assaulted her, battered her. Sylvanas's undying love for her people, her loyalty to them and her city, the fear she kept carefully hidden as Arthas advanced. Anger and regret and a name. That defiant final stand.

And Jaina felt the wound in her chest burning like cold fire and a sensation like a violent wind and Sylvanas screamed, a broken, shattered sound. Theramore was no more, a crater of memories and loss. Wrath washed over her, a maddened grief that consumed all thought and reason. Flooded with power and fueled by rage, Jaina finally snapped, and there were no gods here, only endless agony and torment.

Sylvanas was pulled like a loose thread, in a thousand directions and shredded by countless lashes. Nails like iron and steel dug into her and ripped her apart, violating her mind and soul and making her feel unclean. Jaina understood pain as she never had before, unrelenting, unending, a thousand and a hundred lifetimes, she-

- wanted to destroy them all. Blood for blood and flesh for flesh and Sylvanas had thought she'd known anger and vengeance and despair but not like this. This was madness, mindless hatred, the ruin of all things good and hopeful and peaceful. Everything Jaina believed and fought for turned around and thrown back in her face, emotions amplified by the arcane crackling in her veins. The Horde laughed and mocked, no one had stopped Garrosh, no one had stood up to him. They could have turned on him sooner, should have seen what he was doing. She would see them all-

-burn. Quel'thalas burned, her people trampled under the inexorable march of the Scourge. Men begged and children screamed as Arthas unleashed Sylvanas on them, her will shackled, her actions not her own. A face stood out from the masses, staring up at her as she dug her fingers into yet another victim's chest.

Kalira mouthed the word 'mother' before the light left her eyes. Sylvanas-

-fell, the rocks rushing up to greet her. Arthas was gone, she was free and yet empty, so empty, without purpose any longer. But there would be no peace, and Jaina stared into a dark so empty and filled with terrors that fear clung to her like icy chains, weighing her down. It was nothing, an eternity of nothingness and yet something waited for her in the dark and those claws rent at her again and again and again and she-

-screamed.

Words and sentences began to overlap, talking over each other and around each other the worst of them echoing around like a ghostly serenade. She'd been so sure of their loyalty, too certain, too overconfident, she should have seen the betrayal coming, should have- This is the hour of the Forsaken-

I will remove the Sunreavers by force, then-

Arrows in the quiver-

Thrall, do what you must-was there truly no way to save him?

Burn it!

I can't watch you do this...

Jaina rubbed at her skin, her face, an ancient ache pulsing in her soul and drawing tears from her eyes.

She dropped her hand from her face, staring at Sylvanas's limp body before her. And when next she moved she wasn't sure if that was herself or Sylvanas that did so, or if they were in Lordaeron or Orgrimmar or who was who. Sylvanas was a cold presence in her mind, a warm comfort, a sensation of wholeness and completion that neither woman had known in what felt like a thousand lifetimes.

Jaina heard them, felt them, the words Sylvanas could not say, emotions that swallowed them up and battered them about like a rowboat lost at sea. The world went black again, and when Jaina was herself once more she felt a little more empty, a little lesser.

Hands stroked at her hair, Jaina opening her eyes to see Sylvanas looking down at her, her head cradled in her lap.

Sylvanas's eyes had narrowed to points, though Jaina could not read what the expression meant. Tired and drained, she nevertheless made herself sit up, and leaned her shoulder against Sylvanas's. She searched for words that would not feel inadequate, Sylvanas's arm snaking around her back to rest her hand against her waist.

"Are you angry?"

Jaina turned towards her, shaking her head. "You could have been a little more clear as to what you were going to do, but no, I'm not angry."

The expression on Sylvanas's face shifted, almost into a vulnerable softness that Jaina had never seen there before. A feeling rose up wrapped in the veil of Sylvanas' lingering memories; a certainty in Jaina's heart that if she asked, Sylvanas would break the compact and end the marriage. Setting Jaina free, some might say. Or casting her aside.

Jaina could not voice the emotions she experienced at that. Confusion, maybe even irrational anger at the thought, but it was a hollow anger, one that could no more remain lit than a candle in a vacuum. Sylvanas had not told her she felt that way because she did not want her to leave. It was a feeling that Jaina … understood. A need to hold onto the things that she had, the people she cared for. Because they were all too easily taken away. And now that Jaina knew she could ask, she chose not to.

Some part of Sylvanas cared about this, Jaina had learned. About being abandoned. About her people abandoning her. Because she was a monster and embraced that part of her, would not shy from it nor apologize for it.

But she was Jaina's monster. And for that matter, Jaina was a monster in her own way, as Sylvanas had now seen. The aftermath of Theramore, Dalaran … So Jaina took Sylvanas's hand and brought it up, kissing her palm.

"And now that we have both been laid bare?" Sylvanas asked, eyes fixed on her hand and Jaina's lips.

Jaina kissed her wrist next. "Are all possessions like that?"

Eyes flaring at the sensation, Sylvanas replied in a low, conflicted voice. "No. They are never like that."

She pulled her hand away, but laced her fingers with Jaina's.

Ragged. She felt ragged. And Sylvanas lived with those memories and that feeling, day after day.

"There is a … natural, justified inclination to be angry at being raised from the dead," Sylvanas acknowledged slowly. "And I have perhaps been compared to the Lich King too many times for my reactions to be … entirely rational." From Sylvanas Windrunner, that was nearly self-flagellation. Her eyes fell to their hands. "Theramore was such a strong memory for you that I could scarcely focus on anything else. But loss. Betrayal. These are things we share, and not just because of Arthas."

Jaina looked around the sanctuary. Their sanctuary. And she felt calm. Calmer and clearer than she had in nearly ten years. It was if everything snapped into place, a clarity and understanding that she'd been repressing. Not the panic she'd been experiencing since her feelings had dawned on her.

No anger. No fear. Jaina was calm. "I'm sorry for comparing you to Arthas. For assuming you'd do to others what he made you suffer through."

Then she looked at their hands, feeling the things she knew Sylvanas would never say aloud, at least not in simple human terms. Not even in this place, not even when sharing heads and hearts and bodies.

But Jaina could voice them. She could voice them for the two of them, or at least try to. The words were soft. "I'm not going anywhere, Sylvanas."

The corners of Sylvanas's lips twitched upwards, and then she smiled. "I know."

That smile was the only thing keeping Jaina from hitting her with a pillow. Jaina pulled Sylvanas close, either intent on wiping the smile away or just needing some physical closeness, she couldn't say. To her surprise, Sylvanas let herself be pulled that way and to her frustration that smile only grew against her mouth.

She pulled her head back, Sylvanas immediately going for her neck. Light bites made her shiver and she breathed, "I could teleport us to our bedroom."

"No," Sylvanas murmured, lifting her head again and brushing her lips against Jaina's, the motion fragile and a little terrifying because of that. "Not for this."

Before Jaina could ask what Sylvanas meant or focus too much on her actions, she was being pushed down onto the couch, Sylvanas kissing her languidly, hands inching slowly around and over Jaina's corset.

Jaina stroked her back, and moved her hands down across her ass, pulling Sylvanas closer as the kiss deepened slowly. This was an agony she could bear, and gladly.

Sylvanas's hands were possessive, but they always were and Jaina had grown to love it. This time her possessiveness was...not different, just slower than usual, as though there was all the time in the world to appreciate Jaina. And Jaina couldn't say if that was true or not but the kiss… the kiss made her heart wrench, like Sylvanas was telling her a secret only she was ever allowed to know.

She was so distracted by it that she barely noticed Sylvanas had stripped her until she felt the chilled skin against hers. The cold had become familiar, and Jaina could admit that it was sometimes a welcome relief against the fire that Sylvanas had learned to so expertly stoke inside her.

Jaina dug her fingers into Sylvanas's ass again, grinding her hips up into her. She let out a relieved moan when Sylvanas palmed her breast, other hand moving inch by inch between them. And suddenly Sylvanas rolled over, pulling Jaina on top of her.

Pushing herself up and gazing down at Sylvanas in admiration, Jaina remarked, "And what if I'm not in the mood to service the Queen?"

Though truth be told her exhaustion and aches had faded away, replaced by a subtle hunger and raw emotions that she was sure would make Sylvanas leave if she didn't keep them leashed.

Sylvanas ran her hands up Jaina's sides, cupping her breasts almost playfully. "That is for the throne room. Or your office. Here..."

Rolling her eyes, Jaina leaned down, lips just above Sylvanas's, tauntingly close. "Here, just Sylvanas, or my wife?"

"Yes." Sylvanas moved her hand to the back of Jaina's head, pulling her down and kissing her and then Jaina understood.

She stretched herself out on top of Sylvanas, her hands moving lightly across her skin and they spoke through actions rather than words. Jaina spread her legs, her right knee balanced precariously on the edge of the couch as she caressed at Sylvanas's thigh.

Sylvanas kept her hand on Jaina's head, her other mirroring Jaina's as she sought out Jaina's slick center.

Gently, but steadily, Sylvanas stroked at Jaina, sinking one finger in, and then two. Jaina groaned into Sylvanas's mouth, matching Sylvanas action for action and movement for movement as their hips rocked in time to each other. It was as though Sylvanas were writing a love-letter with her fingers.

Tears returned to Jaina's eyes and she let them fall, mouthing soundless words against Sylvanas's skin, body trembling as Sylvanas shivered beneath her. She'd never experienced this with any other lover, how easily Sylvanas's touch could undo everything Jaina was. The world fell away from Jaina as she lost herself in the moment.

Sylvanas lay with Jaina's head tucked under her chin. Her wife breathed slowly, her heartbeat steady as she slept.

There was a low thump from a side table; then, after a pause, the sound of gently creaking leather as the arm of the couch dipped beneath Sylvanas' head.

"You are lucky I am in a good mood," she whispered to the cat, before turning her attention back to her wife. Sylvanas rubbed her back, trailing fingers up her spine and then across her shoulder.

She didn't want to admit it, but she was exhausted. The effort to retain herself without overpowering Jaina had been considerable, and then the effort to not allow Jaina to overpower her had been just as great.

But Jaina looked peaceful, a smile on her sleeping face. She rarely looked to be at peace when she slept, nightmares so prevalent that they were the norm rather than the exception.

Varian gave an inquisitive mew and tapped a velveted paw against Sylvanas' forehead. She watched him, lazily playing with Jaina's hair as she did so. "You think you can go anywhere you wish." He rubbed his chin against the tip of an ear, and she relented. "Fine, but if I catch word of you sharing what you have seen here, I shall destroy you. Which would be a pity. I'd hate to murder Wrynn's father before our planned meeting."

The cat looked at her, blinking slowly, before wedging himself between Sylvanas, Jaina and the couch and purring loudly.

Resigned to her fate as pillow for cat and wife, Sylvanas turned her thoughts inward.

Inward to Jaina, to what they'd just experienced. She'd thought that possessing her would have made it easier to show Jaina what had happened rather than try to find words where words did not exist. Instead, perhaps by virtue of Jaina's power, they'd relived each others' lives together. The traumas, mostly, but as Sylvanas picked her mind she could remember other details.

Not quite as if they were her own. There was a thin film over Jaina's memories, as though viewing them through a sheer curtain. Sylvanas was grateful for that seemingly small detail. The ability to distinguish between herself and Jaina.

She turned her head, wondering how much Jaina had gleaned. Wondering if, once Jaina remembered the things she'd seen, she would be so eager to share Sylvanas's bed. Her life. To remain her wife.

Sylvanas felt no shame or guilt for the crimes she'd committed or the lives she'd taken. Everything she'd done she'd done for the Forsaken and the Horde. For her people.

Twirling her fingers into Jaina's hair, Sylvanas mused over that, unable to ascertain exactly when Jaina had become her people but accepting that as the truth.

If she had to tear the world down for Jaina, she would do it. Sylvanas would burn it all. And if that cost her Jaina? She would still do it.

Forsaken. Horde. Jaina. Kalira. Tyra. Nathanos. Orders and priorities and loyalties she never wanted to see tested.

It was a sensation she'd nearly forgotten. Rage. Hatred. Despair. Those were the emotions she knew the best, the ones that remained strong and made her figurative heart beat. But this … this warmth that filled the empty hollow of her chest, it made her afraid. As dull and distant as it was, it was there. Waiting to drag her down and make her remember what it was she could lose and what it would feel like to lose them.

The Compact that had been meant as a trap for Jaina and the Alliance had not only proven successful but had ensnared Sylvanas as well.

As if sensing her sudden discomfort, Varian poked his nose against Sylvanas's cheek, the roughness of his tongue allowing her to ground herself.

"Very good," she murmured, turning her face and pressing her nose into his fur. The cat understood her. He seemed to have a sixth sense about when his presence could actually help, and enjoyed unnerving people nearly as much as Sylvanas did. Together, they made a powerful team at unsettling dignitaries in the Hold.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you actually liked the cat." Jaina's sleepy voice made Sylvanas go still.

Slowly, she shifted her eyes towards her wife, feeling Jaina lift her head from her chest and gaze at her with emotion she wasn't yet alert enough to hide. Sylvanas replied simply, "He is useful."

Jaina slid her fingers up Sylvanas's arm, and then brushed them along her hairline. Her words were heavy with meaning. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Just this one?"

Jaina held Sylvanas's gaze, though it was obvious that the gears were turning inside her beautiful head by the way her expression tightened. But then she shook her head. "No, not just this one."

Trust was a tenuous bond, even under the best of circumstances; and that bond had strained and almost snapped on more than a few occasions. Yet she had been so focused on her need to make herself understood that she'd surged ahead almost unthinking, baring herself without due diligence. Sylvanas hadn't thought about what else Jaina would see. What Jaina could now use against her if she wished to.

She said nothing, studying Jaina warily. Waiting for her to slip the knife into her heart.

"I will keep your secrets, Sylvanas. As you'll keep mine." Jaina slid up, propping herself so that they were eye to eye and her hair curtained both their faces. "Though I reserve the right to yell at you about some of them."

Sylvanas felt a smile on her lips, and stroked her hand down the back of Jaina's head and through that silky hair. She knew that Jaina would not likely let go some of what she'd seen. The Valkyr in particular were likely to come up again. But not tonight, not tonight.

"Agreed." She tightened her grip in Jaina's hair, before saying the three little words that meant the most to her. "I trust you."