***THIRTEEN YEARS AGO****
It hadn't been until the very end that Jaina had given up on Arthas. Only then had she accepted that her friend and lover was gone - had been gone for a long time. But it wasn't until now that it really sank in. Now that it was all over, and at such a cost, she had no choice but to face the truth.
The Lich King was dead, and Arthas had died long before that. She was glad she hadn't been there, at the end.
The frigid wind howled, blasting at her, whipping her cloak and her hair around her as if trying to deter her from what she'd come to do. But the cold never bothered her and she ignored it as she came to a stop.
Arthas's body still lay where he'd fallen, his armor in ruins around him. The shell of the man she'd loved, pale as ice, eyes lifeless. Everything that he'd been before Stratholme was utterly destroyed now. Tarnished and forgotten in the wake of his crimes. She wondered, not for the first time and probably not for the last, if it was possible for a person to come back from that. Not Arthas, no. Not now.
But what about someone like Sylvanas? Someone corrupted by the Legion or Old Gods? Even herself, gods forbid, in an unimaginable timeline.
She stepped past him, walking up to the throne, to where Bolvar Fordragon sat. A good man, like Arthas had been, cursed to keep the Scourge in line. She rested her hand on the ice encasing him, feeling a little tug.
Jaina wondered how Anduin must feel, knowing the fate of his old mentor. And she searched Bolvar's eyes, for a flicker of recognition. "Thank you."
It was all she could give to one of the greatest heroes of the Alliance. Turning, Jaina descended the stairs, moving with purpose to Arthas's body.
Little by little, Jaina removed the ruined remnants of the Lich King's armor. Little by little she exposed the man beneath, until finally, after so many years, it was Arthas that lay before her.
Gripping her staff tightly, Jaina teleported, taking the body with her. If she'd waited a little longer, she might have witnessed Sylvanas's arrival.
The spot she chose was a respectable distance from the ruins of Lordaeron. A tall hill, obscured by trees and yet still providing a view of the city. Arthas had loved this view.
Jaina stared down at the city. It was still a nice view, if one ignored the crumbling stones and patrolling deathguards. She realized she wasn't ready to say goodbye. That she wasn't ready to let go. But these things happened whether one was ready or not, and maybe if she couldn't find the peace for herself she could give Arthas that one last gift. If she was lucky, it would give Sylvanas a vague sort of unease she'd never be able to place.
She could have used magic, or summoned water elementals to do the work for her. Even brought someone to help. But, instead, she pushed a shovel into the soft earth and began to dig.
***NOW***
There was something peaceful about the sea, A'sooka reflected. She stood at the railing, watching a gull soar alongside and then land on the railing and try to steal a sailor's lunch.
They must be getting close to Nazjatar; which meant that she damn well better get ready and that sailor would soon have much more important things to worry about. She turned to look at the other people on board. Most were human, but there were other Alliance troops as well as some Horde, and standing above it all was Jaina Proudmoore. Just out of view of the starboard railing A'sooka knew Windrunner's ship sailed. In another time it would have left her uneasy; but she'd spent the better part of two years in constant contact with the Horde and she'd long ago shed her prejudices.
Slowly, The Banshee's Wail came into view. It creaked and swayed in the gentle swell and just as slowly came close enough for Windrunner to easily leap on board. She walked up the steep stairs to where Lady Proudmoore waited. As if not caring about people watching, the Warchief tangled her fist in the front of Lady Proudmoore's robes and kissed her.
Okay. So that was a thing now.
Turning away, A'sooka looked for a very specific and familiar face. She found Belariss at the bow and approached cautiously, throwing a casual 'hey' in her direction once she'd stopped alongside her.
"Are you ready for this, A'sooka?" Belariss glanced in her direction out of the corner of her eye. Her hand inched closer until it rested on A'sooka's arm.
"We're champions and we'll do what champions do best," she replied, tucking hair back inside Bela's helm, feeling emboldened not just by the bet they'd made a few days ago, but also by what she'd witnessed near the helm.
"And what would that be?"
Giving Bela a cocky grin, she replied. "Stab the people that piss us off."
The paladin rolled her eyes, then edged closer. Her eyes flicked past A'sooka, then back to her face.
"I owe you something." She leaned up and kissed A'sooka on the cheek.
Breaking into a wide smile, A'sooka rested her hand on the hilt of her favorite dagger. "So do you have any plans for after we defeat the Naga?"
"Dinner." Bela replied, eyes now focused on the land appearing through the mist. "At Qrawk's. First night we're back in Orgrimmar."
A'sooka's smile only grew brighter. There was more she wanted to say, more she wanted to do. Time she wanted to spend with Bela in various states of dress and undress.
But then the mist parted and they could see the beach. Most of the Horde and Alliance armies were pinned down in segments all up and down the beach. She could see magical shields wavering and crackling under an intense barrage of Naga magic and arrows.
And then the Naga on the ridge spotted the approaching reinforcement, and fire rained down on the deck.
Bela grabbed her, using her shield to deflect the bulk of it as they rushed for cover. Proudmoore's voice boomed out orders, and cannonfire quickly followed.
A man to their right was engulfed in flame, screaming as he rolled over the railing and fell into the sea below. Arrows took several other sailors down before a shield of arcane energy rippled between the ship and the shore.
Unslinging her crossbow, A'sooka looked for something to hit when a presence appeared behind her and the Warchief's voice rang with the sound of death.
"Champions, we have a mission for you."
They had the beach.
Mostly. It was the closest landing point to Azshara's throne, and heavily defended. On the other side of the ridge above the beach was a mostly straight shot to the city, but if Azshara's deployment was as Sylvanas suspected, it would also be like swimming through Naga.
Yukale and Galnir had done the best they could holding the beach over the previous weeks, and the arrival of the bulk of the Horde and Alliance had forced the Naga to retreat to the ridge.
Therein lay the problem, as Sylvanas's keen eyes took in what they were dealing with. With all those mages and archers on the high ground, any attempt to climb the ridge turned it into a killbox. The stone and sand were already soaked with the blood of previous attempts. It would get worse before it got better if the plan failed.
Wrynn had landed nearby as well and they would meet on the other side of that ridge, assuming they could get over it. Sylvanas looked to the champions. "We do not have all day."
A sudden salvo crashed down around them, blocked only by a shield of golden light that wobbled from the impact. The priestess nearest was a familiar, though strained face, and Minuial gave Sylvanas a distracted nod. No, they most certainly did not have all day.
Another salvo, and Minuial fell to one knee. Galnir glanced in her direction, but did not leave his position. If anything, the look from her mate bolstered the priestess and she stood, sweat pouring down her body as she strengthened her shield. Several other priests stepped in as well.
The Kaldorei rogue, Yukale, spoke. "Everything else is in place, right?"
"Naturally."
"Then it's time." Yukale nodded and lifted up a small grey box. She tweaked a dial and then pressed a button. Static crackled from a little speaker as she shouted. "Rogue squadron, go!"
Chaos erupted on the ridge as a dozen rogues suddenly appeared, stepping out of shadow and through thick smoke. They were quick, efficient, slicing throats and sinking daggers into the spines of the Naga, moving through the ranks in a deadly dance. Blood sprayed and Sylvanas felt her body sing.
A red rocket launched from Yukale's glove, exploding thirty feet above them. Galnir bellowed a battlecry and started to move up the ridge, a line of shields stretching out on other side of him, hunters moving behind them losing arrows as quickly as they could. From the safety of the shields, mages and warlocks threw fire and ice ahead of the warriors. Sylvanas risked a glance at her wife.
Jaina simply watched as the defense strategy she'd originated at Orgrimmar was used offensively here.
The Naga not busy fighting the rogues turned and unleashed their magics on the advancing line. Three warriors went down in quick succession, only for their spots to be filled by the next warrior in line. Horde, or Alliance, it did not seem to matter. They fought as one and only moved faster the closer they got to the top.
Another rocket shot into the air, this one gold. Sylvanas could feel the ground shaking under her feet, and her eyes focused on movement to the west. Horses, rams and Elekks all gleaming gold or red shone like the sun as a hundred paladins charged up the ridge, flanking the Naga line. She could see Liadrin and one of Yukale's Vanguard at the point of the spear.
Above them, a cloud moved rapidly through the sky and Sylvanas narrowed her eyes. That wasn't part of the plan. But before she could sound an alarm she realized what she was seeing. Sylvanas shot an impressed look at Yukale.
Druids, nearly as many of them as there were paladins, shot through the sky and towards whatever Naga were hidden by the ridge. One let out a screech, the sound taken up by the rest. As though they were all of one mind, they began to dive.
The first shifted just before going out of view. Cats and raptors and bears rained down onto the Naga position and the sound of Naga panic was loud enough for Sylvanas to hear. One druid shifted into a stag, legs flailing as she fell out of view and joined the cacophony of violence.
Sylvanas raised her eyebrow. "Unorthodox, but effective."
Yukale drew her swords as she prepared to move up the ridge as well. "Thanks."
A horn blew, and she spotted Wrynn and Greymane leading the charge from the east. Greymane quickly left the others behind as his powerful body charged uphill.
"I don't think so, you mongrel. Tyra, Kalira, stay with Jaina." Unwilling to let either Greymane or Wrynn beat her to the top, she sprinted as fast as she could.
Once she came to a stop, she stared as the true scope of the battle became clear to her. Even Greymane was silent as he took it in.
The Naga stretched for what seemed like miles on the path leading to the city. There were types and varieties that Sylvanas had never seen or heard of before. To make matters worse, they had sea giants and Faceless Ones. Three hundred Hydra heads waving and snapping and howling as the Hydras stomped their feet.
Relaxing at the city gates, protected from the sun by slaves holding umbrellas of seaweed, Queen Azshara watched the battle unfold as though it was the finest entertainment imaginable. She seemed to lock eyes with Sylvanas as she bit into some kind of pink fruit.
Sylvanas felt her sisters join her on the ridge, and Jaina's presence appeared to her right. Sylvanas almost felt worried. "I can feel her power from here."
Jaina flexed her fingers. "If she wants a show, we can give her one."
"She means to exhaust us before we even get to her." Tyrande rode up on her Frostsaber. "But for this to work, we must give her that show."
As if to punctuate the high priestess's words, the front lines of the Naga broke. Galnir led the charge through the lines as the paladins and druids barreled through at an angle and a contingent of death knights carved through another angle. Yukale and her rogues had completely disappeared from the battlefield, but that had been expected.
So if Azshara wanted to be entertained, they would entertain her. Sylvanas inclined her head towards Tyrande. "After you, then."
Tyrande studied her for a moment, then nodded her head as a feral gleam sparked in her midnight eyes. With a single graceful bound, the Frostsaber took Tyrande into the fray. Sylvanas admired her efficiency and the fluid grace with which she cut through the opposition. Tyrande was just so much more interesting without Malfurion around making the air feel stagnant.
She turned her head, noting where Alleria and Vereesa stood, and then gestured with her hand. "Let us make sport of it."
Alleria moved first, a flurry of darkness and shadow that made something inside Sylvanas recoil. She ignored it, drawing a black arrow and taking aim as Vereesa joined the eldest Windrunner. Alleria veered left and Vereesa right as Sylvanas fired, the projectile leaving a swath of destruction and death between them.
"Are you going to let them show you up?" Jaina asked, her presence a strange sort of comfort at Sylvanas's back. The mage had her eyes locked on Azshara, trying to gauge her power.
Sylvanas touched Jaina's cheek. "Remember the plan."
Jaina simply smiled and used her magic to launch Sylvanas into the air. It was an exhilarating feeling, and Sylvanas angled her body, flinging arrow after arrow into Naga bodies as she reached her apex and began to fall.
Hitting the ground, Sylvanas rolled, sweeping her bow out and sending Naga flying. She felt a low growl, turning slowly to see Greymane standing nearby. He locked eyes with her, and her fist clenched tighter around her bow. She stared back, lifting her chin in challenge, before swinging her bow into position and loosing an arrow.
It sailed past Greymane's cheek and sank into the throat of the Naga that had crept up behind him. Sylvanas tossed him a merry salute, before turning to stalk her way through the battlefield like a reaper of death.
Light flared as King Wrynn pushed another line of Naga back. He was flanked by a number of champions and Sylvanas joined them.
"Lovely weather we're having," Anduin said, expression grim.
This was not what he was made for. Not like Sylvanas or even Greymane. Wrynn was not the warrior his father was; and yet over the years Sylvanas had grown to respect him, in a way. He had spine. "Not a cloud in the sky."
"Not yet, anyway." Jaina strode past them, waving her hand in front of her. Spears of ice rained down on the Naga ahead of them, and Jaina turned to smile at them.
Sylvanas gestured at the Naga. "Finally. I could use the break, my love."
Anduin blanched.
Jaina rolled her eyes. "Who knew Warchief Sylvanas was so lazy?"
"If you want to work, I can think of a few things you can do."
"Would you kindly focus?" Anduin asked.
Jaina cried out suddenly, staggering. She shook her head, then shouted, voice booming. "Take cover!"
Red energy washed over the battlefield, crackling like fire and lightning. All across the Horde and Alliance lines barriers went up and champions and soldiers hid behind shields and magical bubbles, or dove behind boulders. Jaina's own wall of ice went up and then rattled and cracked and shattered.
All Sylvanas could see were thousands of Naga corpses, bodies with blue and red tabards spread throughout.
And moving leisurely through the carnage was Queen Azshara.