Five Years Ago

"They sent back almost everything, my lady."

Katherine barely noticed the steward, focused as she was on the chests, boxes and crates that now occupied Jaina's rooms. Clothing, mostly; she knew that not everything had been returned, but enough had to set her teeth on edge. Slowly, she fingered the sleeve of one of Jaina's dresses. It was blue, the shade that Jaina typically preferred in her formal gowns, and Katherine wondered what the Warchief was up to.

"What will she make my daughter wear?" Stepping away from the dress and slamming the chest closed, Katherine stormed out of the rooms.

Someone called after her, but she ignored them, marching through the keep and into the war room. Jerking her chin at one of the guards, she ordered. "Send for the spymaster."

Jaina wasn't willing, or able, to tell her what was going on, but by the gods Katherine would find out.

***Now***

Her dreams had been disturbing. Not every night. Not even most nights, but frequently enough that Jaina could only draw the conclusion that she was still feeling the after-effects of her discussion with Sylvanas.

She couldn't even put into words exactly what had happened. Had she been possessed? Physically combined with Sylvanas? Or had it been something purely mental and emotional?

Whatever it was, she dreamed of Sylvanas dying. Of being raised. Of raising others.

And Sylvanas would have raised her, if she'd actually died. Raised Jaina against her will. And how dare she!

Incensed, Jaina slipped out of bed, pacing a little, running her fingers through her hair. And she'd have no possible way to stop Sylvanas from doing so. Because the dead could not consent.

Stopping abruptly, Jaina ran her hand down her face. The dead could not consent and Sylvanas had been raising people this whole time. What was wrong with her? Jaina felt suddenly sick, and leaned against the desk to keep herself steady.

"No, no," she murmured, looking down at Varian as he weaved around her legs. "Let's think this through, Varian. True, the dead can't consent, but neither can anyone who's injured and unconscious, or unable to communicate. And healers will always err on the side of lifesaving intervention in those cases. But that is different."

Wasn't it? Varian mewled at her.

Pushing off from the desk, Jaina started to pace again. "The injured are still alive, even if they're in no position to say how or even if they want to be saved. It's best to try to save them and sort it out later. Undeath is… a torment. Sylvanas freely admits this and many of the Forsaken do too. Kalira doesn't seem to enjoy her life...except she's happy around Tyra. And Tyra… Tyra is one of the most 'alive' people I've ever met. Even Nathanos enjoys his undeath."

After several more turns along the path she was wearing into the floor, Varian doing his best to be underfoot at every step, she shook her head sharply. "No, no, I'm thinking about this wrong. The actual ethical issue is that no one has the right to make that choice for anyone else. It's a slippery slope, isn't it? Deciding based on any metric whether or not a life would be worth living. So to speak. That kind of thinking leads-no. Of course no one has the right to just decide someone would be better off truly dead. But making what's essentially a medical decision, without permission-"

Jaina came to an abrupt stop. "Is it possible to choose?"

Varian mewled again, and she knelt to pick him up. Maybe, Jaina thought, the dead could consent. She just had to figure out how.

They were too close to the Maelstrom, A'sooka thought. Though she couldn't quite see it over the horizon, the Draenei was certain she could hear it, and it unnerved her. Her hand rested on the blade at her side as she surveyed the forces the Horde and Alliance had deployed on this little island in the middle of nowhere. It had been rough going at first but they've developed a bit of a friendly rivalry and some amount of camaraderie.

Constant fear of imminent danger and constant boredom probably helped a little with that.

But she didn't dare look towards the sea, feeling that if she did she'd invite trouble that they were ill equipped to handle. There were less than one hundred here; 40 Horde, 43 alliance, and a group of Shaman from the Earthen Ring investigating elemental unrest on some nearby outcroppings.

"Rangari A'sooka." A male voice drew her attention and she smiled at the balding human commander.

"Just A'sooka," she reminded him.

"Right, of course." He nodded his head. "Scouts report nothing unusual."

"For the six hundred and fifty-fifth day in a row," A'sooka mused, heaving a sigh. She was still cross there'd been no action even on the day the Old God had tried to wipe the Alliance and Horde off the map. They'd missed the good stuff; not a single Naga or Old God minion had assailed their outpost. She still didn't know what to make of it and she had kept patrols doubled ever since. There was such a thing as too quiet.

She looked towards the watchtower, up on a hill overlooking the island and small harbor beyond."How are the newer recruits getting along with our Horde friends, Captain Roberts?"

"About as well as you and Blood Knight Lightshadow lately," Roberts said, eyes glinting.

A'sooka chose to ignore that glint, flashing her teeth at him. "So a little snippy in places, and only trying to kill each other once or twice."

"Not exactly. If you don't mind my saying so, the two of you-"

"I do mind," A'sooka snapped. Roberts held up his hands and wisely backed away.

There was the sound of a throat clearing quietly, and A'sooka turned in its direction, her expression softening at the dark-skinned Sin'dorei paladin. "Just keeping my men in check."

"I'm sure," Belariss said, folding her arms and giving A'sooka a dubious look. As usual, she wore her black hair tucked beneath the helm she rarely went without, a few stray locks escaping. Her armor was blues and greys, similar to the coloring that A'sooka wore, though A'sooka's leathers tended to be closer to blue and green.

She just stared at Bela for a moment too long, before waving her hand in the vague direction of camp. "Do you want to get lunch, kitten?"

"Yes," Bela said, holding A'sooka's gaze long enough to make her cheeks burn. She never objected to the pet name, a fact that always made A'sooka feel like she was on uneven ground. That was probably the point.

Bela had replaced the previous Horde Commander six months ago; her calm quiet was a far cry from the Troll, who'd been as thrilled by danger and excitement as A'sooka was.

But he was gone now, on to more exciting postings the lucky bastard, even if his replacement was both easy on the eyes and nice to talk to, once they'd gotten over that rough first two weeks.

Deciding to just go for it, A'sooka ran a hand up Bela's arm, enjoying the way the Sin'dorei shivered. "Just the two of us, I mean."

She was rewarded with color on Bela's cheeks and the paladin leaning into the touch. Bela finally managed to say something. "People talk."

"So what?" She moved in front of her. "We have a peace. We have…" Decades of hostility and hurts and hates but… She tucked some hair back under Bela's helm, the stroked her fingers down her cheek. "Our leaders set the example, we're not enemies. Why should we deny something just because people talk? People have talked for millenia, that's one thing that won't change, kitten."

"Lunch." Bela's shoulders relaxed, and she got the same kind of determined expression on her face as she did when they assigned scouts. Only a smile played across her lips. "Just as long as you're not the one cooking."

Rolling her eyes, A'sooka replied, "It's a deal. I'm just glad your predecessor is gone, he really had a thing for bugs."

Before Bela could respond, the ground rocked beneath them. Alarms rang out, a bell ringing in a panic in the watchtower. A'sooka sprinted towards it, Bela on her left. They stumbled into each other when the ground rocked again, a crack running through the center of the island, with crevices spreading from it like branches of a tree.

The largest crack reached the tower, and A'sooka stared in horror as the structure collapsed into a rapidly growing maw of darkness, silencing the bell, though nothing could silence the screams.

Birds flew in every direction and she thought she saw druids fleeing in flight form as well. She hoped that was the case; they might be the only way that the Horde and Alliance could get warned of whatever was happening.

"A'sooka!" Bela grabbed A'sooka's arm and pointed towards the sea, even as the island shuddered in upheaval.

A'sooka looked, her eyes widening as land rose from the sea, displacing the ocean up and away. The wave built up and A'sooka turned and sprinted, hand tight in Bela's. They had to get to the ship, they had to get to Stormwind or Orgrimmar or anywhere. To warn their people. She shouted orders to anyone who would listen as she bolted for the ship.

A mage, a mage, why didn't they have a godsdamned mage? But there'd been those druids and the gryphons and windriders. When A'sooka looked to the roost the latter were gone.

Good.

Behind her, she heard the roaring of the surging water. Before her, the ship bobbed in the choppy waves. They were so close, she could see the terror on the faces of the crew as they cast off the moorings. Almost there. Almost...the ground opened up beneath her feet, the dock cracking and splintering.

Golden light engulfed her as the little island disappeared beneath the sea and she fell into the darkness.

Sylvanas felt a little claustrophobic. There was so much clothing on display that navigating through the small building was a challenge even for her.

"Come come."

She rolled her eyes at the commanding tone in the goblin tailor's voice, but followed anyway, half out of curiosity and half because she'd promised Jaina.

Enda led her into a room in the back with several floor length mirrors. Sylvanas studied herself in them while Enda studied her.

And then Enda clucked her tongue, rubbing her chin with one hand. "No. No. This is no good!"

Sylvanas lifted one eyebrow. "No good."

"Why the skulls? Why all the skulls?" she waved her hand. "Skulls are so six years ago, dahling!"

Perhaps it really was time for a change. Sylvanas tilted her head, her reflection's eyes glowing. "And you have a better idea?"

"Elegance," Enda murmured, slowly walking around Sylvanas. "Simplicity. No...Yes! Intimidation!"

She clapped her hands together suddenly, eyes flashing, "Oh you're gonna look bitchi- that is, marvelous, you'll look marvelous, dahling."

Elegance and intimidation? Sylvanas's interest was piqued, and she clasped her hands behind her back. "Go on."

"I will make you three outfits! Each to show off exactly who you are." Enda started to pace in a circle. "First...first… let me think."

She passed into Sylvanas's shadow, and stopped. "First, Warchief, you are darkness! You are death incarnate walking upon this earth!"

Enda framed Sylvanas with her hands. "Shadow. I will make you a shadow. But!"

Thrusting her finger up, Enda declared, "As Warchief, you are in the light. You are inspiration. Armor. New armor. Nimble but impressive. I can already see it."

"And the third," Sylvana asked, almost feeling something akin to excitement.

"The third." Enda dropped her hands to her sides, staring up at Sylvanas as she told her.

Sylvanas felt something twist inside herself. She blinked once, then twice, before rasping. "Very good."

They spoke for a few more moments as Sylvanas suffered through measurements, before she left the tailor to her work. Sylvanas turned left instead of right, walking towards the Valley of Honor. She passed under the massive overhang and into the tunnel, the torches winking out as she passed them only to flicker back to life once she'd emerged from the other side.

The sun was high, the light harsh on her eyes, the air unseasonably warm today as a shadow stood at her right. Sylvanas did not look as she spoke. "Kalira, do you remember what it was like to dream?"

"No, mother."

Mother. Kalira called her mother, and she had for some time now. When had Sylvanas stopped caring if she did? When had Sylvanas started looking forward to it?

She lowered her face from the sun, lips tight and face strained. "If I offered to unmake you, would you accept?"

Kalira started, eyes flicking across Sylvanas's face as her back stiffened. She did not answer right away, and Sylvanas suspected Kalira didn't know exactly what she wanted.

Finally, Kalira hissed. "Years ago I would have said yes. I loathed this existence, mother. It's been nothing but torment and misery, every hour of every day. There was no point in…"

"Existing?" Sylvanas suggested.

"Yes. I existed for your whim, and nothing else. And one cannot balance their life around one single person."

"No, one very well cannot." Sylvanas reached out, touching Kalira's chin. "But your answer has changed?"

Something wet oozed down Kalira's cheeks. Tears, Sylvanas realized,and she wondered if she was capable of that too. Kalira's voice was a whisper. "Yes. And not just friends I have made across both factions. We have a family. You and I. Jaina. Tyra. Nathanos. Even your sisters."

Kalira blinked rapidly, lips quivering. "We are all Windrunners."

That day in Kul Tiras, when they'd all fed her their power. Nathanos, Kalira, Vereesa and Alleria. And, yes, Jaina. Tyra. Sylvanas didn't know what to do with this strange epiphany.

Family. It was dangerous, and a weakness and she let go of Kalira's face and pressed her hand over her silent heart. "The House of Windrunner is ragged and worn, but it survives."

"And Sundreamer?" Kalira asked. "Did you ever wonder if you could have returned our mothers to us?"

"There was naught left but ash. Not even the Valkyr could return them to us." She turned on her heel, unwilling or unable to tell Kalira that she'd tried.

Vereesa wanted three things; a bath, clean clothing, and a hot meal. But all three of those things had to wait until they'd had a chance to talk to the King.

She glanced to the tall warrior striding alongside her. Cenengel was focused, though she looked as tired as Vereesa felt. Cenengel looked back at her, head tilting curiously. "What?"

"After we've spoken to King Wrynn and cleaned up, do you want to join me for a meal?"

"I don't think I have the energy for a crowd."

Vereesa frowned, but nodded in understanding. "I meant, just the two of us, alone somewhere."

Cenengel halted, and Vereesa stopped as well. The warrior took her hand, lifting it to her lips. "I think I have the energy for that."

Suddenly, Vereesa was all too eager to take a quick bath (or perhaps a long shared soak) and she idly wondered what the twins would think of Cenengel.

Someone shoved at the two of them, snapping Vereesa out of her rapidly guttering thoughts.

"You're both adorable but now isn't the time."

Flashing a grin at Yukale, Cenengel responded, "You are the last person to talk."

Yukale pushed at them again, feigning offense. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Before Cenengel could tell Vereesa whatever juicy bit of gossip she was holding over Yukale's head, they turned a corner and walked into the War Room. Cenengel bowed to Anduin while Yukale tossed off a lazy salute.

Vereesa bowed her head. "Your majesty."

"You had us worried," Anduin said, approaching them. "I was prepared to dispatch the entire 7th Legion."

"It got a little hairy there," Vereesa admitted, drawing a rolled up parchment from her pack. "They did not want us making it here alive." She held it aloft. "Word for word, everything the prisoner told us."

Cenengel took a step forward. "The long and the short of it was the offensive last year was meant to soften us up. And it was a lot more successful than they could have hoped."

Anduin glanced back to where Genn was approaching. "If that was a probing attack, I don't want to find out what else they have planned."

Genn's voice was low, a growl behind his words."They threw so many forces at us, what else could they have in reserve?"

Vereesa simply held out the parchment to Anduin. He took it and unrolled it, quickly scanning it. "Do you have a copy?"

"We made one for the Horde," Vereesa said.

Anduin handed it over to Genn then directed his attention back to Vereesa. "Clean up, get something to eat. Then I need the three of you to take a portal to Orgrimmar. I'll have a missive for Sylvanas ready for you before you depart."

"I'll inform Tyrande and the other leaders of the Alliance." Genn rolled the parchment back up and tucked it under his arm. His expression was resigned, and Vereesa could only guess at what was going through his mind. "We're going through with your plan, aren't we."

Clapping his hand on Genn's shoulder, Anduin replied, "I'm just making sure you get your life-long wish of working alongside Sylvanas Windrunner towards a common goal."

Vereesa had never seen a Worgen turn that shade of green before.

"Next time you have an important message to deliver," Jaina said, offering Vereesa a drink. "Find a mage."

Vereesa smiled cheekily. "We didn't really have time to wait around. I'd hoped once we'd gotten to Ironforge there might be one available."

Jaina shook her head, then stared down into her drink. It was going to take time to mobilize, and both Factions would be vulnerable to attack in the meantime. But if Azshara truly planned a war of conquest, something that made the previous attack look like a gentle prodding, there was little choice. They would have to strike first.

That Anduin and Sylvanas had been working towards a mutual defense compact was a secret known only to them; and Jaina. As much as she wanted to tell Vereesa, to get her opinion, she would wait for Sylvanas to announce it. "Nice to have you here without sneaking you in."

Vereesa's lip twitched, and she lifted a hand to brush across the light scar left behind by her sister's arrow. "She actually smiled at me. I thought I might have been talking to an illusion."

That buoyed Jaina's mood. With war inevitable, she was happy to see Sylvanas reconnect with her sisters. "You can visit more often, you know. Not just for me. But for her."

Lowering her eyes, Vereesa tapped her finger on the side of her glass. "Did you… I almost defected to the Horde, once. It was the thought of the kids that stopped me."

Her words hung in the air, and Jaina stared at her, glass halfway to her lips. Slowly she set the glass back down. "You loved her. She's your sister."

"I still love her." Vereesa pressed her fingers against her forehead. "I always have. And it's made everything so difficult. But now it's...still awkward. Like we don't know where we stand with each other. And Alleria continues to be difficult."

"She's been gone a long time from her perspective," Jaina pointed out. "And she's suffered."

"So have you. Me. Sylvanas. We all have."

"But has she tried to talk to anyone? Has anyone listened?" Jaina knew the answer was probably somewhere in the middle. It was easier to keep things in, but by the same token if no one offered to listen…

"Stop making sense." Vereesa took a sip, then downed the rest of her glass. "Can you keep a secret, Jaina?"

Jaina nodded.

"I just want us all to be a family again. The three of us and…" She smiled at Jaina. "A few new additions."

They chatted for a little while longer, before Jaina walked Vereesa to the accommodations she'd been given for the night, and had been delighted by the look on her friend's face when she found out that there was only a single, one-bed room available for Vereesa and Cenengel to share. She'd patted her shoulder, wished her luck, and returned home.

Jaina sensed Sylvanas before she'd finished closing the door behind her. "The whole creepily standing here in the dark thing doesn't work with me anymore, you know." She felt Sylvanas's fingers run through her hair, and leaned into it. "When is the War Council?"

"Assuming much, are you not?" Sylvanas's eyes were like red fireflies in the darkness, but they allowed Jaina to find her face, stroke her cheeks and her jaw.

She hadn't realized how badly she needed to touch Sylvanas today until now. "I know the summons went out. I know the Alliance leaders are gathering too. You're going to make the announcement public soon. The Joint Defence Pact."

Sylvanas smiled against Jaina's fingers. "Yes."

"We should have pursued that sooner," Jaina murmured, leaning in. "Immediately after the attacks."

"We?"

"Yes," Jaina said, brushing her lips along Sylvanas's cheek. "We."

"Jaina Proudmoore," Sylvanas said, fingers tugging at Jaina's hair, pulling her head back and exposing her throat. "Of the Horde?"

"... Yes." And something inside Jaina's heart broke a little as she admitted to that incontrovertible truth. "I think that is … evident at this point."

Sharp canines trailed across her throat; Sylvanas could rip into her jugular without effort and Jaina found herself groaning, arching her body into her wife's. Sylvanas's voice rumbled against her skin. "The days to come will be difficult for the Horde. I will…"

She trailed off, lifting her head and loosing her grip in Jaina's hair. There was vulnerability in her voice, something alien and foreign and a little wrong to Jaina's ears. "I will need you at my side."

"Lets clean up," Jaina whispered, kissing Sylvanas lightly before taking her hand to lead her towards the bathroom. She knew better than to draw attention to Sylvanas's emotions, when she had them.

It seemed to work, because the Warchief purred, "Finally."

They hadn't made it to the bedroom before someone started banging urgently on the door. Jaina lit the candles in the hallway with a snap of her fingers as Sylvanas calmly threw the door open.

Jaina barely had time to place a name to the messenger's face before he gasped out. "Warchief! Nazjatar has risen!"