"Why do you think I'm wanted at the banquet hall?" Jaina asked, rubbing her shoulder as she walked.

To her left, Tyra shrugged. "Don't look at me, ain't something' worth questionin' the Dark Lady on, aye?"

"Are there things worth questioning her on?" Jaina asked.

Tyra's gaze slid to Kalira. "Aye. There is."

A smile crossed Jaina's lips. In the aftermath of the latest war, it was good to see things starting to return to normal, and it was really good to see Tyra and Kalira being relatively open with their affections. They weren't large on PDA, but they did share obvious glances, which Jaina found adorable. "Speaking of, that offer is still open."

Kalira shook her head. "We don't need a romantic vacation."

"Just a few days. No prying eyes, just the two of you and a few birds."

"Birds are tasty," Tyra rasped, and then countered. "Take t'lady, then."

'Romantic getaway' and 'Sylvanas Windrunner' did not belong in the same sentence, Jaina thought; even if the idea was incredibly appealing. "I'm not sure there would be a Horde left by the time we got back."

Kalira pressed the attack. "I'm positive that spending two days away is not going to be the end of the world."

"I'll think about it," Jaina relented. "But I'm not really the one that needs to be convinced, am I."

The banquet hall was dim, but Jaina could smell roasting meats and… more roasting meats. Was there some event she'd forgotten? It had been weeks since Nazjatar had returned to the bottom of the sea and what passed for normal would still take some time to resume as Stormwind and Orgrimmar came down from a war footing; a fact that both Nathanos and Genn had fought against, but Jaina had insisted upon.

Light suddenly flared, and when Jaina's vision cleared she saw that a table had been filled with food and pastries. Sylvanas leaned against it near a large, three tiered cake, arms folded.

Sylvanas wasn't alone; a dozen other people were also present, if one included Tyra and Kalira. Baine, both of Sylvanas's sisters, Anduin, Minuial, Yukale and her mate Unariel, Enda, Vereesa's new girlfriend Cenengel, and Ihz. Ihz had one hand gripping Nettle's collar and stood with nearly every other person between herself and Sylvanas. Jaina read her expression as 'just here for the free food, lady.'

Jaina narrowed her eyes as the scene registered. "If this is what I think it is I'm not going to like it."

"Happy birthday," Sylvanas said, a pleased smile spreading across her face.

"I don't like it." Jaina looked around, trying to figure out which of them told Sylvanas when her birthday was. She caught Anduin's sheepish smile and glared at him. "We have more pressing concerns than-"

"No, not really." Minuial strode over, putting her hand on Jaina's arm, voice low. "This is more for your friends, than you."

Jaina stared at her, then put her hand over Min's and nodded.

"And a little bit for you," Min said, guiding Jaina over to Sylvanas and transferring her hand to Sylvanas's arm.

Maybe Min was right. This wasn't the first time there'd been an excuse to loosen up and they'd taken it, but it felt like the first time that it was … intimate. These were her friends, some of whom would have surprised her years ago.

"I'm jus' here for the food, Lady," Ihz said, and Jaina laughed.

She looked around at the people gathered around. Friends. Family. Well, her mother and brother weren't present, but she'd felt increasingly distant from both since she'd married Sylvanas. Jaina wondered where she'd gone wrong, with that, and what she should have done differently.

Jaina had just decided to write her mother a letter when Varian skidded into the hall like Ragnaros himself was after him. He had a fabric scrap in his mouth and rolled to a stop against the leg of the table as he played and batted at it.

With quickly mounting horror Jaina realized he'd raided her underwear drawer. As if sensing his impending doom, Varian looked up at his human, mewled once, then bolted out of the hall.

"Now, now, dear." Sylvanas said, hand on Jaina's forearm. "Try not to murder our son."

"Your son has been in my dresser again," Jaina hissed through clenched teeth.

"Oh, he's my son now." Sylvanas slid her hand around to the small of Jaina's back, leaning in until her mouth brushed her ear. "I have something for you, tonight."

"I wanted to ask you something too." Jaina shivered, suddenly forgetting what exactly she - oh yes, a romantic getaway. "Just not here."

"Ah," Sylvanas said. "And here's grandmother."

Jaina turned her head in time to see her mother step into the hall. She blinked once, then twice, muttering in a half-whispered aside. "She kind of is one. I really should… talk to her about Kalira."

"Would she even care?" Sylvanas asked.

"It's the only grandchild she'll get out of me instead of Tandred, so she might."

Removing herself from Sylvanas, Jaina approached her mother. She didn't expect a hug, not in public like this and certainly not in public in Orgrimmar, but Katherine gave her a warm smile. "Happy birthday, Jaina."

"Thanks." Jaina glanced towards the door. "Can I talk to you about something?"

"Of course." Katherine's eyes glided around the gathered people with assorted degrees of disdain reflected in them. Jaina started to regret this almost immediately.

Once outside, she folded her arms crossly. "Thank you for at least being somewhat polite in front of my friends."

"Your friends." Katherine sighed. "I'm not in the mood to argue, I just wanted to see you."

Jaina wondered, briefly, if that period of peace between them had been real or a product of pending war. Oh, she knew her mother loved her, she just didn't believe her mother got her. And she'd changed so much in the past five years that she was probably even more of a foreign mystery than previously. "It's good to see you, mother."

A hug would be nice, but none was forthcoming.

"Are you doing well? The war took a lot out of you, I'm told."

Jaina smiled. "I'm doing better than I did after the attack on Orgrimmar. I was better prepared this time, and I had more time to ready myself and tap my magic reservoir." She tugged at a thread on her sleeve. "There's something I need to tell you. And ask you. Really I could use some advice."

Katherine tilted her head. "You can ask me anything, darling. I'm always here for you." There was something in her eyes, something urgent and concerned, and Jaina sighed.

Maybe her mother never really would trust her. "I know you never expected… How do I even… you're a grandmother, mother. And I don't mean Tandred's brood."

"Are you pregnant?"

Jaina's head jerked back. "Excuse me?"

Katherine regarded her imperiously and then repeated, "Are you pregnant?"

"No!"

"Are you planning on it?" Katherine folded her arms. "You don't exactly have much time left."

"I'm a mage, I've got another fifteen years at least, maybe twenty," Jaina protested, then shook her head. "No! I don't plan on it!"

Assuming it was remotely possible for the undead to procreate that way, it would in no way be possible without magic anyway.

"Then don't you think this joke of yours has gone on long enough?" Katherine was saying. "You can call Varian your son all you want, that doesn't make him a child. He's just a cat."

"...You think I'm talking about the cat?" Jaina threw her head back and laughed. When she regained her composure, her mother was staring at her. She shook her head and gestured towards the hall. "Haven't you ever wondered why Sylvanas favors one particular Dark Ranger over the others?"

Katherine's lips thinned out into a line, and she glanced towards the hall as well. "Her daughter?"

"Adopted. But that still makes her my daughter too. Which is what I wanted advice on, because I still don't really know how to approach her."

"I'll send her a box of innards for Winter's Veil, then." Her mother's voice was cold, expression shutting Jaina out as quick and final as a headsman's axe on the block.

"Mother," Jaina said, sharply. "That's a cruel thing to suggest."

"It's no less cruel than pretending she's your daughter," Katherine replied, voice lowering to a dangerous pitch. "No less cruel than dangling this concept in front of me only to have the gall to tell me that thing is my grandchild. No less cruel than for you to submit yourself to that monster's bed chamber."

Jaina took a step back, as if she'd been slapped. Her mother was hard, she knew this, but only once before had she heard words like that from her, words that dripped with hate and anger and bitterness. Had this been what Jaina had sounded like, after Garrosh? During the war with the Horde? Had she been that ugly? Her limbs felt numb. "Who are you? Because the mother I came back to seven years ago would never-"

"Let us help you," Katherine whispered, reaching for Jaina's hand. Hers were chilled, clammy. "Please. Just say the word and I'll whisk you home, take you back to where you're safe."

"I'm safe here." Jaina's chest ached, the heartbreak in her voice impossible to hide. "This… this is my home, mother."

Katherine stared at her, eyes reflecting some kind of sadness or grief. "Of course. This is your home." She took a step back, and inclined her head. "I'll leave you to your party, Lady of Orgrimmar."

Jaina stared at her retreating back as dust made her eyes water.

The thing about war was how quickly life could return to normal for the vast majority of people. Even Nathanos marveled at it, though for different reasons than others might. He hated the idea of celebrations, of parties, he hated normalcy. At least, normalcy like this.

Six months, seventeen days and sixteen hours since the end of the war with Azshara and what did they have to show for it? Nothing. Except, perhaps, Proudmoore's little party a few weeks ago, as if that amounted to anything but a waste of resources. And besides that?

A fragile peace, a blockade above and under water, and a dozen lost garrisons from Northrend to Pandaria. Most had been lost during the war, but a few had gone silent in the months since. A fragile peace, indeed.

Five years. For five years he'd stood by and watched his Lady be drawn into Proudmoore's orbit and it grated on him as it always did. In five years he'd turned over every stone he could find in an effort to prove to Sylvanas her trust was misplaced. Her … heart was misplaced.

Oh, Nathanos was under no illusion as to the nature of Sylvanas's affections for him, no matter what others might think. He himself was barely capable of anything so base as love. Long ago, perhaps, he'd felt such a thing.

Now, though. Loyalty. Duty. Those were his motivations. Loyalty and duty to Sylvanas, the Forsaken and by extension the Horde. A duty he believed in above all else, and would fight for at any cost.

Five years. Five years of peace between Alliance and Horde, of intermingling and the slow erasure of borders and fences. Nathanos scowled, watching his lady dance with her lady, as fireworks shot into the night. But even he had to admit this was good for morale.

"Lord Ranger." Rankin Bass's gravelly voice drew his attention from the dance floor below.

"Report."

"Our teams have recovered the wreckage of Wraith's Shadow. Captain Raze's body was not on board."

Nathanos nodded. "I expected as much. If he is somehow still alive, I look forward to wringing his neck on behalf of the Warchief."

"Shall we proceed as planned?"

Eyes darting back to the dance floor, Nathanos weighed his words carefully. "The Dark Lady believes it is worth it to attempt the project again. Do be sure the Alliance learns just enough to be intrigued."

"One of our scouts could lose his missive near Kul Tiras. They've been particularly nosey over the years."

"Exactly. We can play right into their expectations." Nathanos turned his attention fully back to his ranger. "Our scouts in the Howling Fjord?"

"Garrison was completely empty, except a few corpses, both our people and Naga. They believe the Naga pulled the rest into the water for reasons unknown."

"Queen Azshara continues to ignore diplomatic overtures." Nathanos sneered. This celebration may be a bit premature, but if things played out how he expected, he would do what he could to ensure the Horde came out on top.

And the Alliance?

"One more thing, Rankin. Before you go."

Rankin remained silent, waiting. A good soldier, a good ranger.

"Use Alan Claremont and have him report to me. There's a mission I've in mind for him, once he's ensured Kul Tiras has recovered our little report."

"As you command." Rankin saluted once, then melted into the shadows.

Nathanos watched until he was certain he was gone, then returned his attention to the festivities below.

Loyalty. Duty. His life forever in her hands, Nathanos would do anything necessary for Sylvanas to remain as she was.

At any cost.

Anduin should be used to formal dinners. In the past six months alone he'd attended dozens; it seemed like every time he blinked there was another formal dinner on his schedule.

There'd been the one after announcing a second joint city on Kalimdor. The one after the first real joint army regiment had proved successful and the one after that to celebrate … at this point Anduin couldn't even remember.

And then a dozen more diplomatic dinners to figure out how to deal with the Azshara problem.

He had to admit it was better than war or conflict. But not by much.

Tonight was in part because of the opening of formal diplomatic relations between the Shal'dorei and the races of the Alliance and the Kaldorei and the race of the Horde; part of a push he and Sylvanas had agreed to in an attempt to keep one faction from having too much of an advantage over the other.

Princess Greymane had flagged him down earlier to warn him she had an announcement of her own to make. From the expression on her face he was already prepared to calm Genn down.

But the idea of facing tonight alone left him grinding his teeth. Besides the fact that everyone seemed to be pairing off, he was somewhat jealous of Sylvanas and Jaina so easily having each others' backs.

He'd never tell them, but that didn't make that fact any less true.

The dining table had been painstakingly laid out. The First Arcanist and High Priestess were seated next to each other. Anduin at the head of the table, assorted diplomats along one side, Genn, Tess and Lorna, and Baine, who'd come to represent Sylvanas and was escorted by Lady Liadrin. Alleria Windrunner was supposed to come as well.

Anduin's eyes drifted around. There were sixteen guards visible, both Horde and Alliance, and … there, hidden in an alcove, was Valeera. He'd seen her purely because she'd chosen to be seen. He nodded at her once, and she disappeared, only to reappear in one of the doorways, walking in to take her seat. She exchanged a look with Tess as she did so, a quiet smile. A smile that widened when she sat across from Liadrin.

"I'll have the appetizers brought in to start, everyone," Anduin announced. "Alleria should be here shortly."

Anduin took his seat, smiling at Baine and then Tyrande. "I have a radical proposal that involves completely revamping the way we handle diplomacy."

"A nice, comfortable outdoor picnic?" Baine suggested.

"Underneath a canopy of trees," Tyrande added.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one growing weary of the formalities." Thalyssra twirled her wine glass between two elegant fingers. Amusement glittered in her eyes, and Anduin almost missed the way Tyrande's hand slipped down under the table.

"Well, if you're growing weary of formalities," Anduin decided. "Then that's certainly saying something."

Thalyssra laughed. "I promise you I forgave you that faux pas ages ago."

Laughter rippled along the table and Anduin's face heated up. He lifted his glass. "Water under the bridge, then."

Everyone broke off into their own conversations, and even while engaged in conversation with Baine or one of the people near him, Anduin paid close attention to everyone else.

Valeera, he noted, was as sharp-eyed as ever, though she also directed her focus with a razor edge on Liadrin and, eventually, Alleria when she arrived. The eldest Windrunner took a seat next to the paladin, looking at Liadrin with eyes like pools of night. He'd never actually seen Valeera enjoy herself before, but she seemed to be having a good time putting one or both of the women on edge.

He'd have intervened, excepting that Liadrin seemed to be slowly relaxing the longer the three spoke. Anduin wondered if they'd all known each other, before Quel'thalas fell. Before the Sin'dorei became the Sin'dorei and families were split down the middle.

His attention returned briefly to Tyrande and Thalyssra; like the human kingdoms of old, the elves had suffered through multiple splits and divisions. And, now, like the human kingdoms of today, they were beginning to mend old wounds and renew ancient ties.

In a way, it gave Anduin a great deal of hope for the future.

Tess Greymane tapped a spoon on a glass, continuing to do so until conversation quieted and she had everyone's attention. She was wearing a lovely gown, blue and white, that suited her figure well. Sometimes, Anduin wondered what that would be like.

It couldn't be any less uncomfortable than ceremonial armor, anyway.

"I'd like to announce something," Tess said, then cleared her throat as her eyes drifted first to Anduin, then to her father.

Genn seemed to perk up as he noticed her look at Anduin, and took a sip of his wine.

"I've become engaged to be married," Tess said next, her father looking pleased and nodding along as he drank. "To Lorna Crowley."

Wine went straight up Genn's nose and down his windpipe, and he coughed loudly, beating his fist on his chest. Valeera reached over and smacked him on the back once, and the coughing stopped.

Tess held her father's gaze. "I love her, father."

Barely containing his mirth, Anduin offered, "Congratulations! And Genn, as you well know there are plenty of ways for them to ensure an heir."

"I'll talk to you about it later, Princess," Tyrande called out, and to Anduin's delight Tess actually blushed.

Slowly, Genn set his glass back on the table, then rested his hands in front of him. He still held Tess's gaze, before speaking evenly. "I'm happy for you, Tess. Even if I have no idea where this came from."

"Father, I've told you on sixteen separate occasions."

"I suppose… I wasn't ready to hear you were in love with any Crowley." Genn glanced at Lorna, then nodded gruffly at her. "No offense."

"None taken. But didn't you and my father make up?"

Genn chuckled. "I suppose we did. And Tess can't do much better." He hesitated for a moment, before someone refilled his glass. He stared at it, and then stood, holding it out. "A toast then. To happiness, love, and letting bygones be bygones."

Recently, during one of their private dinners, Genn had confessed to Anduin that he had been having difficulty keeping up the old anger. He'd told him that, somehow, the whole situation with Jaina had forced him to reconsider many things he'd known. Anduin had agreed with that, and for the same reason.

As he lifted his own glass in toast, he shared a look with his old mentor, and wondered if those bygones were more than just Greymane versus Crowley.