The coin glinted in the dim lamplight as Valeera flipped it between the fingers of her right hand, and then to her left, and back again. One side was bare; the other bore the sigil of a sword through a broken crown. It had been several hours since Liadrin had taken her leave, and yet Valeera had not moved from her spot.

And if she was half as good as she knew she was, no one else in the tavern even remembered she was sitting here. Valeera could listen, and observe; and there was much to overhear. Anduin had released her from her spying in Orgrimmar, and now she was free to pursue … other goals. Necessities that she'd had no choice but to set aside.

Valeera wondered if that mistake was worse than she thought.

A low, hunched figure approached. To the untrained eye, it was simply a large dog or wolf, some hunter's companion wandering around. To Valeera, she recognized a Worgen who'd mastered the ability to be unseen, even without the shadows. Invisible and yet right under everyone's noses.

Talet Broadstone paused to scratch behind her ear with a foot, using the opportunity to flick a folded note into Valeera's lap. She said nothing, waiting patiently as Valeera leaned back and spun the coin on the table.

"Our new recruit settling in?"

The coin continued to spin, reflecting light in every direction as it did so, and Talet merely nodded once before giving a slightly exaggerated yawn and lying down on the dirty floor, casually within Valeera's line of sight. Valeera tossed her contact a bit of sausage and winked at the dirty look she got in response as she casually opened the message on the table.

Written in an elegant, precise script that Valeera knew was not Talet's, the note detailed the initial findings of the new Northrend garrison. Her eyes narrowed as she read it. A'sooka was indeed settling in, and had yet to notice anything untoward. Valeera had concerns about the leadership in that village, but nothing so far to confirm it.

"Have her continue to keep an eye on things. She's authorized to deal with problems in the usual way. But remind her to keep an eye on that paladin of hers."

Watching Valeera drop the note onto the candle at the center of the table, Talet merely flicked her ears in acknowledgement. The cover she'd chosen tonight precluded anything else, of course, but from experience Valeera figured meeting openly would probably have gotten her the same level of conversation.

Valeera liked that about her. One usually knew where they stood with Talet. Which is what made her perfect for Valeera's plans. Leaning back, Valeera signaled someone to order ale neither of them would actually drink. "Once you've done that, there's something else we need to do, and it's going to be incredibly dangerous."

Talet's ears stiffened, a wary glint in her eyes. She stretched, shook her fur out, and padded over in a convincing impression of a poorly-behaved pet worg begging for table scraps. Once Valeera was certain there was no one listening, she leaned forward on the pretense of playing with the friendly dog, and spoke so quietly that only the Worgen ears in front of her could hear.

The coin stopped spinning and landed crown side down.

***TWO YEARS LATER***

Sylvanas leaned against a tree, arms folded as she watched her sisters stare suspiciously at the boxes they each held. "Do you expect them to explode?"

"Were goblins involved in the manufacturing of these gifts?" Alleria countered, staring at Sylvanas with her night-sky eyes.

Laughter from across the hill carried on the breeze, diverting Sylvanas's attention. She heard Jaina's answering laugh, then shook her head. "Do you want your gifts or not?"

"I'm still trying to figure out what the occasion is," Vereesa said, kneeling in the grass and pulling her box closer. "You're not usually one to throw parties unless there's some kind of benefit to the Horde."

"There is an occasion." Sylvanas pushed off from the tree. "Is the Fire Festival not enough?"

"Well. It's enough." Alleria had sat down next to her sister, but still eyed the boxes with trepidation. "Usually you just stick to yourself."

"Or keep Jaina tied to the bed," Vereesa quipped.

"Literally on at least one occasion." To Sylvanas's delight her sisters shared a pained expression. There might be rifts between them that could never quite be healed, but this felt… adequate. It felt like she had them again, at least until time and fate took them from her, as it would take all the things she cared for. "I have something for my nephews too, though those gifts are a little more practical."

"I understand they visited with you a few weeks ago." Alleria tugged on the box's ribbon, seemingly inclined to take all eternity to open the damn box.

"Yes." Sylvanas glanced askance at Vereesa. "Someone finally let go of their leash."

"They're adults, and it was their choice. I made no attempt to influence them either way." Vereesa, for her part, was much more aggressive. She undid the ribbon and lifted up the box, only to stare into a pair of blue eyes, set into a tiny, furry head the color of gold-flecked silver.

Vereesa picked up the kitten as it mewled at her, and stared over its head at Sylvanas. Alleria tore the lid off of her box, to find another kitten, somehow a darker shade of night than even Varian was.

"Varian, it seems, has made a dear friend in one of my champions' cats," Sylvanas explained. "And when I saw these two, I knew who belonged to them. Jaina had some suggestions for names, but I…" Here, Sylvanas measured her words, before she finished speaking. "I wanted you to … choose for yourselves."

Alleria's face journey was, as usual, the stuff of legends, but Vereesa… Vereesa just held the kitten close and smiled at Sylvanas. "Thank you."

Alleria cleared her throat, carefully lifting the black kitten from its box and not seeming to know what else to do with it. "Did you ever discover what the Blightcaller had planned that involved us?" she asked, voice tighter than usual. "I'm unhappy not knowing."

Sylvanas' ears folded back at the sour reminder of Nathanos' treachery. Her spies had been unleashed like hounds along the trail of Nathanos' rogue spy network—a term Valeera Sanguinar had cheerfully informed her was redundant, before Jaina expelled the woman from Orgrimmar yet again—but they had almost been unnecessary. Rankin Bass had told them everything the moment he was asked, without even needing to be threatened.

In the end Sylvanas hadn't even had the satisfaction of executing a cadre of traitors. Nathanos held power, but not true loyalty; his entire shadow operation had been under the sincere impression that they were following Sylvanas' orders the entire time.

Part of her had wanted them dead for good regardless, but Jaina had learned how to weaponize her disappointed looks.

That he had called his operation "Three Sisters" carried dark promise, especially with far-ranging elements not entirely locked down; but as time went on it became clear that neither Alleria nor Vereesa had ever played a role in Nathanos' scheming. Almost more galling than the wasted time was the fact that it had been Katherine Proudmoore who finally solved the mystery.

"It was never about you," Sylvanas answered shortly. "Nathanos had a sense of humor, it seems." Vereesa frowned at her, and Sylvanas forced her voice to remain even. "A Kul Tiran phrase. My dear mother-in-law recognized it immediately. It refers to a type of triplicate rogue wave, ship-killers due to the effects of hitting in rapid succession."

A competent helmsman can survive a rogue wave, Katherine had told them. Even a massive greybeard is survivable, if you know what you're doing. The three sisters aren't giants, but they follow one after another with no time to do anything but hold on and pray, and you never see more than the first freak trough coming. By the nature of shiphandling, if you strike the first wave at the proper angle—do everything right—the second will knock the ship out of alignment, swamping it, leaving it foundering. A good ship with a good crew will be wet and scared, but still be able to compensate. It's the third that kills you.

"The third wave is usually the weakest," Sylvanas heard herself say. "According to the Lord Admiral. But it strikes when a ship has already been knocked far off its bearing and half-drowned, leaving no time to think, let alone course-correct."

"Poetic," said Alleria.

"I still think I've been insulted," said Vereesa. "Again."

"Not every natural phenomenon where the third of something is the weakest is about you, Vereesa," Alleria said patiently.

"Oh," Vereesa retorted, though her ears were cocked at a teasing angle. "Just some of them? Is that what you're saying, Alleria Windrunner?"

Oh, they would undoubtedly continue to bicker, Sylvanas knew, dig and pry at her and she at them. But for now, the rifts seemed a little smaller.

The little void in Alleria's lap reached up and batted at her eyebrows. Sylvanas held back a smile at the familiar emotion that evoked, and for once in her life and death did not say a thing at the tears on her sister's cheeks.

There was no particular significance for an eighth anniversary. It was between five and ten, and there were only so many significant milestones a relationship could bear. But they'd missed their fifth anniversary, and their sixth had been close enough to the war that Jaina hadn't felt much inclined toward celebrating it. The seventh had been nice and low key as well, but for the first time in quite awhile, Jaina had asked that they go all out. Not a tenth anniversary level, of course. But there were fireworks, and dancing, and tables upon tables of food.

It was the dancing that Jaina had been looking forward to the most. The dancing, and the fireworks she'd helped Harleen put together into something magical.

But mostly the dancing, and Jaina had a full dance card.

Jaina stood on the docks outside Orgrimmar, watching the calm sea, and the workers arranging the last of the fireworks for the evening's show. The rockets would shoot skyward and arc over towards the city, where they would explode against Jaina's barrier; and where Jaina's barrier would respond in kind, in a thousand pulsing colors.

Nine years ago she'd stood here, reflecting on her fate and that of the world. Jaina Proudmoore, Lady of Orgrimmar, successor and Consort of the Warchief, smiled, and teleported home.

The scent of cooking meat and baked sweets filled her senses. "That is my favorite part."

"Sure it ain't the sex?" Tyra appeared at Jaina's right, wearing a fine white shirt and black slacks. As she'd often done since the ritual, Tyra had dyed her hair and tonight it was a vibrant shade of blue. Kalira was on her arm, wearing a dress in a somewhat darker shade of the color in Tyra's hair.

"Definitely the food," Jaina assured her. She held her hand out for Tyra. "Dance?"

"Aye mum," Tyra said, taking Jaina's hand.

"You really don't have to call me that."

Grinning, Tyra led Jaina into the swing of the music, her eyes, so much like Sylvanas's and Kalira's, glinting in amusement. "Yeh know I gotta."

Jaina laughed, allowing Tyra to spin her around. "You don't call Sylvanas mother."

"Tried once an' she threatened ta unmake me," Tyra remarked. "Figure I ain't gonna press the issue."

"Give it another ten years," Jaina suggested. "She might be more receptive to the idea by then."

She allowed herself another dance with Tyra before Kalira cut in to retrieve her wife, and Jaina slipped over to one of the tables to sample the offerings. If she didn't get a few tastes in now, she knew she wouldn't ever get the chance; others might want to dance, and when Sylvanas arrived, late as always, the only thing on the menu would be Sylvanas.

A familiar-looking older human gentleman smiled at her as she tried to magic a muffin over to her plate. "Let me help you with that, Lady."

"Thank you." Jaina held up her plate as he retrieved the muffin for her. "Enjoying the party?"

"I am." He bowed his head to her. "I'm grateful for the invitation."

Jaina peered closer, and her smile grew. "Captain Edrington! It's been a long time."

"Indeed it has, my lady." He had a jovial smile that Jaina had always found charming, even when she'd been a little girl. The Captain had been a simple crewman back then, but had been a strong supporter of her father and then eventually her mother, even into his retirement. "Your mother was happy for the invitation this year, but thought it best to wait until the next time."

Perpetually grateful that he'd never abandoned her either, Jaina squeezed his arm. "Thank you for relaying the message. Could you deliver a letter for me when you return?"

"I sail tomorrow afternoon."

"I'll have to see you off then."

"As long as you don't make yourself sick from too many muffins."

Jaina laughed, but then promptly forgot about muffins or roast chicken or old family friends as Sylvanas stepped out of the hold and immediately located her. Their eyes met, Sylvanas's ears twitching as Jaina lifted her head slightly in challenge.

Setting her plate aside, she started towards her wife, smile growing as they got closer and Sylvanas stared her down. Jaina slipped her arms around her as soon as she was in range. "You're wearing the silk shirt I bought you."

"You're wearing that dress," Sylvanas murmured, hands sliding down Jaina's bare back and side. "You haven't since our second…"

"I know." Jaina brushed her fingers against the back of Sylvanas's neck. "I wanted to see if it still fit, and if I still looked good in it."

"You look ravishing." The low rumble in Sylvanas's voice made Jaina's head spin and she was insanely pleased that she still had it.

"No ravishing until I've had my dance."

Sylvanas smiled at her, showing her fangs and making it difficult for Jaina to think straight let alone hold to her words. "Have you danced with anyone else?"

"Other than Minuial, Xu, Harleen, and a very charming swordsmith?" Jaina asked breezily. Sylvanas twitched her ears back, seemingly for the principle of the thing. "Just one of our daughters. Kalira stole her away and didn't even offer to dance with me."

"We Windrunners can be possessive," Sylvanas allowed, moving slowly around Jaina and then pressing against her back. Her hand slid up the small of Jaina's back as her lips brushed her shoulder. "Of those things most important to us."

"Mm." Jaina tilted her head to the side, feeling Sylvanas's fingers in her hair. "Sylvanas, if you ruin my hair…"

"Did you expect anything else, wearing this dress?"

Jaina laughed, moving against Sylvanas. "Of course not."

She pulled away, taking Sylvanas's hand. Without another word, she pulled her away from the festivities. Overhead, the first of the fireworks lit up the night sky, multicolored patterns streaking across the shield.

Sylvanas came to a stop, staring up at the lights. Jaina slid into her, studying Sylvanas more than she was the fireworks. "What is it?"

"Nothing…"

Jaina leaned in and kissed Sylvanas on the cheek. "Are you sure it's nothing?"

"Allow me a moment to be reflective with my wife, wife."

"Of course, warchief," Jaina teased. "But when your moment is done, I was thinking we could draw a bath…"

Sylvanas's head snapped down, her eyes zeroing in on Jaina's. Then she looked around.

"What?"

"I am waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"What other shoe could possibly drop?" Jaina regretted the question almost as soon as she'd asked it. Of all people, she knew the dangers of tempting fate.

"An invasion," Sylvanas suggested. "Someone dying. Your mother visiting. Thalyssra inviting us to one of those Nightborne parties. Greymane getting fixed."

Jaina snorted so hard she saw fireworks in her eyelids. "Then we better hurry. I'm looking forward to seeing you in bubbles."

Sylvanas sneered, but did not actually object to the bubbles. Jaina supposed that some sacrifices were worth it.

It was after all, the story of their lives.

(Thank you for coming along with me on this journey!)