Nathanos had not used poison in his attack. Jaina reasoned that since it was uncommon (but not unheard of) for Sentinels to poison their weapons, Nathanos had opted for the course that would make it less suspicious.

It made the healing go quicker, though Jaina ensured Kalira was seen to first before she allowed Minuial to heal her cheek. Despite the healer's protestations, Jaina helped Kalira up the street and towards the Hold, arm around her back. That old, hard part of her heart wanted to see Nathanos die. Or re-die, however one wanted to look at it.

Despite what he meant to Sylvanas, Jaina knew that she could not leave him alive. His betrayal was more than personal; it would set a horrible example to let his treason slide.

The irony was not lost on her, having so often been the target of his accusations.

Kalira broke the silence, her words close to Jaina's own thoughts. "He did not see himself as a traitor."

"No," Jaina agreed. She adjusted her grip on Kalira. "His loyalty to Sylvanas was so absolute that he was willing to move against her to secure her position. He saw her as infallible, and yet as wrong."

"I wonder… I wonder what else he has done, for my mother." Kalira seemed to mostly be talking to herself, so Jaina remained silent, listening. "He has spied, murdered… something all the Rangers have done. But he's always pushed a little farther. A little harder. He's been at her side since I was a child."

"What are you thinking?"

"Nothing that matters, anymore." Kalira fell silent, and Jaina did not press further. Not now, at any rate, not with the way the air suddenly felt charged.

Though not a single cloud obscured the moons and stars, thunder boomed in the distance; the slow, rumbling kind that echoed and bounced through the canyons, accompanied by flashes of lightning over the Hold. And then Jaina felt something odd. The hair on her arms and neck stood up, her stomach lurched as though the world had gone sideways, and now Kalira was the one holding her up.

"What was that?" Jaina pushed herself into an upright position, staring at Kalira's wide eyes.

"It… it felt like the day she raised me." Kalira said, after a moment of trying to speak, before bursting into a loping, hobbled run. Jaina sped after her, casting a spell on her stepdaughter to make her light as a feather before picking her up and running to the Hold.

Reaching it a few moments later, Jaina set Kalira down to allow her some dignity, and the two rushed inside. Her eyes adjusted quickly; Sylvanas was standing in front of her throne, facing the entrance as a figure knelt in front of her. A Valkyr—one of the Valkyr, Jaina realized— hovered near the ceiling.

Sylvanas' face looked calm, but when she noticed Jaina, her expression faltered for a fraction of a second. Lifting her hand, the figure rose in response. Sylvanas spoke, voice betraying nothing of the emotion that had flickered there just a moment ago. "A Queen must always have her champion. You have defended that which is mi… dear to me, risking ruination and the final death in service to the Horde and the Forsaken. Rise, Tyra Cole, Warrior of the Horde, Defender of the Forsaken, Champion of the Banshee Queen."

Tyra bowed deeply, then turned to face Jaina and Kalira. She was taller than she had been, clad in a simple black cotton shirt and pants. Her skin had an ashy appearance, sandy blonde hair turned almost white and her eyes were red. There was an almost eerily beautiful air to her, Jaina thought. She stepped down and towards them, slowly approaching Kalira as one might a wounded and cornered animal.

Jaina silently grabbed Kalira by the arm, staring past Tyra at Sylvanas as Sylvanas added, "But know this, my champion. What is made can always be unmade."

"Tyra?" Kalira asked, finally finding her voice.

"Kinda," Tyra said, in a voice deeper than Jaina had expected. "Mostly. M'sister she… she..."

"She saved you," Jaina prompted gently, eyeing Sylvanas for a brief moment.

"Gonna be with me forever now…" Tyra confirmed.

Slowly, as if not quite believing what she was seeing, Kalira touched Tyra's cheek, peering into her eyes. Her voice sounded almost sad. "I liked how you were before. But it's still … you."

From the sound of it and the kiss that followed, that was all that mattered. Movement from Sylvanas brought Jaina's attention back to her. Her wife had sat down, leaning back in her throne, her gaze miles away. Jaina squeezed Kalira's arm, then walked up to the throne, sitting in her seat. Sylvanas's hand closed the space between the thrones and rested on top of Jaina's.

"An' now I ain't gonna rot away on you." Tyra was saying, rolling up one of her sleeves and taking a good, long look at her arm. An excited smile burst across her face and she grabbed Kalira's other hand, all but bouncing in place. "Look honey! I got elbows!"

They were lucky, and lucky didn't even begin to cover it. It hadn't just been Jaina's life that hung in the balance, but the partnership between Horde and Alliance; and in some ways, Anduin had realized, the ties that bound the Alliance together had become fragile.

Anduin had never been known as a man who yelled, having spent most of his life trying to be even, and measured. And yet his throat was raw and his fingers ached from clenching his hands so tightly, even an hour after the Lord Admiral had left.

And yet, his anger had been nothing compared to Tyrande's fury.

"Thank you," he said, looking up at Baine with a grateful expression on his face. "I'm glad they chose you to observe."

"We wanted to project strength, but in a more calming way," Baine explained. "That, and I am not sure who might have actually walked out alive if the Warchief had been present."

Anduin shook his head, his gut still twisted from the entire experience, and flexed his fingers. "I can guess that she's very unhappy."

"That would be an understatement."

"And Jaina?" Anduin asked, finally willing to ask how she was handling the entire situation. With her mother, the Compact, choosing sides… It must have torn her in half.

"Unhappy would be an understatement for the Lady of Orgrimmar as well," Baine admitted. "I spoke with her privately before she portaled me to Stormwind. She did not say as much, but she's heartbroken, Anduin."

"At least this time," Anduin responded, "she didn't have to watch a family member die."

That made twice now that Jaina had chosen the Horde, and peace, over one of her parents. Anduin knew she had to be hurting, and he resolved to do whatever he could to help her feel better.

"I doubt that makes it any easier."

"No, it doesn't. It's already bad enough that she's going to be at odds with Kul Tiras again."

Baine tilted his head. "She may not be, this time. The narrative in Boralus is likely already building, but Kul Tiras turned on her over third-hand information once before, and she proved them wrong; they may hesitate to make the same mistake again, when the Lord Admiral herself acknowledges that Jaina was not the one breaking multiple peace treaties. But that may be wishful thinking. I have noticed, my friend, that our people can be fickle. They might love us one moment, but under the right - or wrong - circumstances, they can turn on us the next."

"I suppose the right or wrong circumstances depends on what kind of leader you are." Anduin folded his arms, looking his friend up and down. "And the sanctions won't help the mood there."

"Short of military reprisals I can't see any other alternative." Baine snorted. "Official reprimands and repudiation would be toothless. And since Kul Tiras relies heavily on trade..."

"They will hurt," Anduin said. "And they will in turn make their own leadership hurt."

"Do you think Katherine Proudmoore will hang on? Or pass the mantle to her son?"

"I'm not going to try to predict what she'll do, not after amassing a fleet and nearly destroying everything Jaina has fought for." A fleet that still needed dealing with. But tomorrow. Tomorrow.

Baine laughed. "I'm not going to either."

Anduin smiled. "And yet, I can't help but feel as though there will be consequences we can't predict." Rather than try to think about impossible predictions, he looked at Baine again and asked, "Can you bring Jaina a letter for me? I'd like to spend a little time with her once this has settled down. As friends." After what he was told happened with Nathanos, he thought Jaina needed that.

"Of course." Baine squeezed Anduin's shoulder.

It didn't take long for Anduin to write his missive, and he watched as the Tauren Chieftain departed through a mage portal. He immediately left the keep and walked to the new gardens that had been planted after the rebuilding. Anduin had discovered they had a calming, relaxing influence on him, and more than anything he wanted to feel calm, and relaxed.

Unfortunately, he found Genn sitting on a bench. Genn seemed distracted, almost conflicted. Resigning himself to not being relaxed, Anduin sat down next to him, saying nothing and waiting for him to voice his thoughts.

"The wedding is in a few days," Genn finally said, after several long, silent minutes. "It's a stupid thing to be … With what happened at Orgrimmar and the fallout today …"

"Your daughter is getting married," Anduin said. "You're a king, yes, but you're also a father. It's a wonderful thing to be preoccupied by, I think, especially after Orgrimmar, and Kul Tiras. And Nazjatar, even."

"A happy, joyous occasion," Genn said somberly. "That's what it is, what it should be. But I keep thinking, when is the next war? With whom? I'm old Anduin. I don't know how many more wars I've got in me and the idea of Tess having to face more without me makes me sick."

"She'll have Lorna."

Genn made a face, and yet he started to sound in better spirits, "I'm still getting used to that. Gods, when I told Darius we were going to be in-laws I think he broke something laughing."

"She'll have me too," Anduin said, laughing at the mental image. "But I like to think you'll be around a good number of years more, if only to keep Windrunner on her toes."

"Yes, well…" Genn smoothed a wrinkle on his glove. "I'll never be able to trust her. Baine… yes. The First Arcanist, maybe. But for what it's worth, the peace has become welcome. I like to hope that it's something that Tess can become used to."

"Jaina?"

"As you've told me time and again," Genn said, almost perfectly mimicking the tone Anduin often used, "Jaina is an adult who is capable of making her own choices. And I'm sure she's more surprised than anyone else at how much sway she has with the Horde now."

Anduin snorted. "That still doesn't tell me if you trust her."

Still smoothing that wrinkle, Genn huffed a breath. "Yes. No. I don't know anymore. I want to, but she's made her allegiances clear. She's Horde now."

"I tried to put myself in her shoes," Anduin said quietly. "And think about living in another city, with another people for six years. Working with them day after day, dining with them, becoming a part of their lives and they a part of mine. And I can't say that I'd have done any different."

After a long moment, Genn said, "I would die for Stormwind, Anduin. And … if I were Jaina, I would die for Orgrimmar."

He said the words like they were a bitter pill, but both men knew it was the truth. Jaina had twice over proven her word to Sylvanas and to Orgrimmar.

Anduin lifted his hands helplessly. "So what do we do now?"

"I walk Tess down the aisle."

"I mean about the Compact." Anduin dropped his hands back into his lap. "Sylvanas won't kill Jaina. And Jaina won't destroy Orgrimmar."

"Maybe we've outgrown it. Or maybe…" Slowly, Genn pushed himself to his feet. "We already have a new hostage."

"Stromgarde," Anduin guessed, standing as well. An already bustling city, filled with Alliance and Horde citizens alike, and a planned counterpart on Kalimdor. "Maybe Azshara was the last war, Genn."

"No," Genn said, dourly. "There will always be a next war, whether we're ready for one or not."

He disappeared around a hedge, leaving Anduin alone with his thoughts.

Seven years and some weeks ago, Sylvanas had stood before the world and taken Jaina's hand in marriage. Both an attempt to buy the Horde time and a plan to dismantle the Alliance in the process, it had instead morphed into something wholly unexpected. And as she felt Jaina's hand on her back, Sylvanas decided that it had worked out much better than she'd ever expected.

"So," Jaina said. "It's … official now. The Horde now has a chain of succession and I'm first in line. No more arbitrarily choosing who's next on the spot."

"Yes."

"I've been meaning to ask why. About myself, I mean."

Sylvanas turned, and looked into Jaina's eyes. "The Horde respects you. A long time ago I was wary of the way you seemed to turn our people towards you. That wariness was justified, but not in the way I'd assumed."

"You expected me to turn them against you."

"Instead, you've helped make them more loyal to me." Sylvanas flashed her a cocky smile. "Thank you for that."

Snorting, Jaina pushed at Sylvanas's back and Sylvanas started to walk. Jaina's hand lingered as she seemed to enjoy the bared flesh; it had been a miracle they'd made it out of the residency without being delayed. "I wrote my mother. I don't want to let things get that bad again."

"How long do you think she'll hold on to her position?" Sylvanas asked, oddly content to have herself nudged along by her wife. Her initial discomfort at the long, dark dress she wore had faded at the expression on Jaina's face when she'd first seen Sylvanas in it. Enda had made it for her to impress Jaina with, and yet today she wore it for an entirely different purpose. "If she can, at all."

"Longer than you give her credit for. It will be a rough few years. The sanctions are harsh, but it has to be better than war." Jaina stopped, looking around as she thought she heard someone coming.

"Sanctions are only slightly less toothless than a sternly worded letter."

"And yet you signed on too," Jaina reminded her, looking past Sylvanas and waving. "Baine!"

Baine practically thundered towards them hefting a large crate on one of his arms. He came to a stop and gave them both respectful nods of his head before thrusting the crate into Jaina's arms. His voice was harried and he scarcely seemed to notice Sylvanas's unusual clothing. "I believe these belong to you."

Sylvanas watched with some curiosity as Jaina flipped open the crate and looked inside. They were greeted with a variety of Jaina's underwear and at least three pairs that belonged to Sylvanas. Many of them had been missing for literal years. "I was wondering what happened to those. I rarely wear underwear to begin with."

Clearly not needing to know that, Baine grimaced. "I discovered these under my bed."

"My my, Baine, who knew you had such perverse interests," Sylvanas said, her grin only widening when Jaina elbowed her.

"It's Varian. He keeps coming through the portal to Thunder Bluff and hiding these in my quarters."

Sylvanas threw her head back and laughed uproariously.

Embarrassed, Jaina closed the crate. "...Thank you for returning these to us. If you would be so kind as to leave them in our residence, I would appreciate it. We have somewhere we need to be and I don't want to haul my unmentionables across the world."

Baine took the crate back. "You really need to have a talk with that cat."

"For the last time, he's not King Wrynn reincarnated," Jaina insisted.

"Are you sure about that? Are you absolutely sure about that?"

"Human Varian was many things," Sylvanas allowed. "But a panty thief he was not."

Jaina called up a portal, sounding more amused than she was letting on. "Can we not have this discussion in public?"

Laughing again, Sylvanas stepped through the portal. Jaina's general upbeat mood today was actually having an effect on her, and she sighed dramatically once Jaina had followed her. She glanced around, her face creasing as her lips twitched downward and laugh faded. "The plaguelands?"

"They wanted it in Lordaeron." Jaina reached for Sylvanas's hand, and pulled her towards a clearing. From what Sylvanas could tell, they were a few miles northeast of Andorhal.

There remained no evidence of the Scourge here. Flowering plants were visible as far as Sylvanas could see and her sensitive ears picked up the sounds of animals out of sight. Sunlight filtered through the canopy and she caught sight of butterflies fluttering about.

In another life, Sylvanas would have found it beautiful. Jaina tugged on her hand, and Sylvanas amended that thought. Perhaps, in a small way, it still was.

She came up short of the edge of the clearing, not because she sensed any sort of trap or danger lurking in the trees, but because of what waited at the center of the meadow. Sylvanas pulled Jaina back towards her, murmuring, "Jaina. I can't."

Jaina squeezed Sylvanas's hand. "Yes, you can."

Out of sorts, Sylvanas hissed, staring past Jaina and into the clearing. "She looks just like her mother."

Kalira wore a dress of silver-spun, red fabric, that exposed her shoulders and neck. Someone had braided her hair and wrapped the braid in several loops around her head, lacing silver ribbon through-out. Tyra stood next to her in full, polished armor the color of basalt, proudly wearing Sylvanas's crest on her breastplate. Sylvanas thought she'd chosen her new champion well.

Standing behind them was Yukale Ravenwing, Tyra's friend and honored guest, who was putting the finishing touches on a set of flower crowns. Sylvanas sneered, and whispered. "I am not wearing that."

Chuckling softly, Jaina pulled Sylvanas into the clearing, pulling colorful rope out of her pouch. "We both know it would make them very happy for you to wear a crown at their handfasting."

"Are you sure it won't make you happy?" Sylvanas asked.

The only answer Jaina gave her was a joyous laugh.