The wedding was a meaningless technicality intended solely to put a spin on handing Jaina over as a political hostage. She was glad most of them admitted that instead of hiding behind flowery language, because if no one else had, she would have.

Jaina had always been too busy studying to give much thought to her future wedding. She might have entertained the idea a little bit, with Arthas, but her desires had been simple. Her mother's dress, her father walking her down the aisle, Arthas resplendent in his armor.

But her father was lost beneath the waves and Arthas was... so all she had was the dress. It had always surprised her that her mother hadn't gotten married in her naval uniform, but the dress wasn't too much different in coloring or design.

Most in the Horde didn't really do weddings, not the same way that humans or the Sin'dorei did. Handfastings, other similar ceremonies. Many that were present looked uncomfortable. Jaina took some satisfaction in how many people on both sides jumped when she teleported in.

The last person she expected to see waited to walk her down the aisle. Go'el would not have been her first choice. Not now. Not after everything that had happened between them. Water stung her eyes as she slipped her arm through his.

"Jaina..."

"Don't." This was hard enough as it was, she didn't need to dig through layers of her emotions surrounding Thrall and everything that he represented for her.

A hundred yards away, her jailor waited, and the urge to bolt got stronger the closer she got to Sylvanas. But Jaina was no coward, and she'd faced worse things in her life. She could weather this storm as she had all the others.

At Go'el's urging, there was no separation of Horde and Alliance. Races from both factions sat with each other on either side of the long rug that had been laid out. She spied her mother and her brother, but couldn't bring herself to meet their eyes. Anduin and Velen, Baine and all the others had their own positions of honor.

And at the end, Sylvanas.

Sylvanas wore new armor and it was resplendent. While there were hints of her elvish heritage in some of the elegant designs, the colors and shape were entirely Forsaken. The armor of her people, indeed.

There was something missing, though. And since Jaina was supposed be an equal in this, as laughable a concept as that was considering the circumstances, she lifted her hand and cast a spell. Jaina could feel everyone present tense as they tried to figure out if she meant to attack.

Flowers grew into Sylvanas's hair. Flowers of ice and flowers of pure arcane energy that glimmered and waved. Jaina had not forgotten Sylvanas's confession in Dalaran. When Sylvanas realized what she'd done, the expression on her face shifted. First to some emotion that passed so fleetingly that Jaina might have missed it if she hadn't been looking, and then to unrestrained fury.

Good. Let her be angry; that would make two of them.

Fiddling with Sylvanas's ring with her thumb, Jaina took the spot next to the Warchief and had to resist the urge to wrap her hand around her father's pendant. Sylvanas put her hand over Jaina's arm, her nails digging sharply into her skin. Magic crackled through Jaina and the hand on her arm twitched. To her credit Sylvanas didn't grimace at the pain. To Jaina's credit, she didn't give Sylvanas the satisfaction either.

A marriage was supposed to be a covenant and a promise, the betrothed each offering vows to protect and cherish the other. To the young woman who'd once spent most of her time in her studies or reading books, it was a magical, romantic thing, filled with emotion and good cheer.

This was not that kind of marriage.

There were no vows. No covenant beyond that which had already bound them by a hundred pages of carefully written treaty, with the basic framework repeated by the presiding priest, Alonsus Faol. The Undead was the only neutral priest both could agree upon.

It wasn't even sealed by a kiss, a fact which left Jaina conflicted. The thought of kissing Sylvanas should have made her sick to her stomach, but at least it would have made it feel more like a wedding. A real one. The one she was never going to have now; her marriage to Sylvanas was less a wedding and more like transferring custody of a prisoner. She didn't allow herself time to think about it, or to mourn what she couldn't have.

With the deed done, she made a beeline for the wine so she could drink herself into oblivion. Maybe she could get drunk enough to blast everyone to bits. It seemed reasonable; if everyone was dead, no one could kill each other.

Though this part wasn't so bad, Jaina thought. While hesitant at first, the attendees had relaxed once no one pulled out any weapons. She heard laughter, and saw the rogue Yukale chatting with the Forsaken warrior who had accompanied Sylvanas to that meeting on the Windwhistle. Yukale hugged her, and Jaina blinked once, before knocking back her second glass at the bizarre sight of a Kaldorei and Forsaken being friends. Or perhaps they were old friends reuniting.

With the wine fortifying her, Jaina continued to look around. There were other similar scenes, as groups of Horde and Alliance cautiously approached each other and mingled. Some peons were setting up a dance floor.

There was supposed to be dancing. With some amount of dread Jaina turned back to the feast to get another glass of wine.

They had avoided a kiss, but Jaina knew they couldn't avoid at least one dance.

"Jaina."

Her stomach tightened, and she turned around to face her mother. Jaina wanted to throw her arms around her. One of the most powerful people here and all she really wanted was her mother's comfort. Jaina should probably be more ashamed of that than she was. But she forced a smile on her face. "Mother."

"I'm…"

"Please don't say you're sorry," Jaina said, letting herself step closer as she put her hand on her mother's arm. "This is a wedding, not a wake."

"You certainly look like someone died," Katherine replied, a tight smile on her face.

"Another glass of wine and I'll be light as a feather." Jaina lifted it to her lips but her mother stopped her.

"Try to keep your wits about you. We all know how dangerous this is, and will be for a long time. It will take more than one party for tensions to ease and the cycle of hatred to end."

That cycle was one that Jaina knew intimately and had done a few go-arounds with herself. But she had to concede that her mother was right, even if hearing those words from her mouth was just a little infuriating. "Do you think there's a chance?"

Katherine's smile bore just the hint of genuineness. "With you, yes."

Jaina searched her mother's eyes. Maybe, someday, when the anger faded and she could actually look Sylvanas in the face without wanting to kill her. But that someday would not be today, or any day soon.

"After you have your bridal dance," Katherine said. "I'd like to dance with you. The way your father would have."

Neither of them were willing to say that Daelin Proudmoore would never have allowed this wedding, let alone come to it. But it was a nice sentiment and Jaina was willing to accept it for what it was.

"I guess I shouldn't drink so much, if there's going to be a line for me on the dance floor." It would be longer than Sylvanas's, she knew, and she made a mental note to make a point of dancing with Sylvanas's sisters more than once.

It was the little things that mattered.

Sylvanas decided that whoever had chosen this song for her dance with Jaina would be hung on a spear for the buzzards to feed upon. It had been slow, and intimate, and long. A traditional song from Lordaeron...so perhaps on second thought it might have irritated members of the Alliance, which immediately changed her opinion of it. Spite was always reason enough.

Jaina's face was flushed from wine, her hand too warm against Sylvanas's neck. Burning, in fact, though she felt no trace of the magic that Jaina had used earlier in their subtle little catfight. It was her natural body heat, contrasting the chill of Sylvanas's magically preserved body and frozen heart.

Contrary to what others assumed and Sylvanas preferred to maintain the image of, she did feel things. Negative emotions were strongest but positive emotions could sometimes break through the dull emptiness. She was fond of Nathanos, certain of her Dark Rangers, and Tyra. It had been that way in life too, hard for others besides her sisters to break through the shell that surrounded Sylvanas Windrunner. But not insurmountable.

And she'd never tell Jaina, but she'd begun to enjoy the dance once she decided it was worth spiting Anduin over. Even with so many years since her last dance, Sylvanas remembered the steps. She was also conscious of appearances and the need to keep them up. Few people thought this was anything other than what it was, but maintaining a semblance of niceties was required.

So she leaned in while she spun Jaina around and whispered in her ear. "I hope you are aware that we need to set the example."

Jaina didn't stiffen or otherwise physically react beyond an initial intake of breath. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"We both need to be more than just here, my wife."

That made Jaina stiffen. As if forcing the words out of her throat, she replied, "We never did discuss names."

That had been omitted on purpose. Sylvanas had no desire to shed her own, and she had decided the fight over it with Jaina would have only caused delays they could ill afford. "As I said, setting an example. I leave it up to you. Proudmoore, or Windrunner, it matters not."

Lowering her head enough to meet Sylvanas's eyes, Jaina said nothing. Her lips were drawn into a thin line and the flush on her cheeks had started to fade as she sobered up. Sylvanas felt something she knew well: regret.

The only thing she was unsure of was what exactly that regret was for.

As she'd predicted and hoped, Jaina's dance with Vereesa had made Sylvanas stare at her the whole time. And she'd seemed irritated, like it somehow got under her skin. Which was ridiculous. This was a political marriage at best; Jaina doubted Sylvanas was even capable of that kind of jealousy.

But the thing that she hadn't predicted was the dance with Sylvanas herself being almost pleasant. Maybe, actually...all right, so it had been pleasant. Which meant up was down black was white and there was something very wrong with the world.

Or it could have been the wine and Jaina's general decision to say to hell with it. She had to get through this day and this night, and many many more days and nights. She was going to enjoy the party being thrown for her at least a little bit. If nothing else, she could pretend everything was all right. Set that example, as Sylvanas had insisted. Jaina made note that Sylvanas danced with no one else.

She had her dance with her mother. Her dances with Anduin and Vereesa. An awkward dance with Go'el and a much less so dance with Genn.

She twirled a few Champions around too, particularly enjoying the way Yukale's violet hair came loose as they danced. They went back a long way. All the way to Hyjal and the days when the Horde and Alliance had bled together for a single goal, and through the early days of Theramore. Jaina swallowed a pang in her chest as she missed Pained. Her Kaldorei bodyguard and sometimes-lover would have had a lot to say about this situation. None of it positive.

But it was really the most fun she'd had since the manabomb. She resolved that, no matter what happened in the years to come, she'd remember this part of this day fondly.

She spun Yukale into the arms of her lover and found herself facing Sylvanas again.

Almost breathless, Jaina said, "Hi."

"Enjoying yourself?" Sylvanas pulled Jaina against her as a song of her choosing played.

Jaina tilted her head, seeming to listen to the music as she tried to recognize it. "I was."

"I'm claiming one more dance with you before we … retire to our chambers."

Jaina smiled, the wine loosening her lips. "You know, I've always wondered…"

"Do not finish that question," Sylvanas warned, leading Jaina through the steps of a dance she'd once planned to share with someone else.

Jaina's smile turned cutting and she leaned against her. As before, her touch burned against Sylvanas's skin, and now her breath was hot in her ear. "Won't you satisfy your wife's curiosity?"

Drunk or playing a game, or both. With so many eyes on them, Sylvanas wouldn't play along, even if her fingers dug into Jaina's back. "Did you enjoy dancing with my sister?"

"Jealous?" Jaina couldn't have missed the fact that Vereesa was the only person Sylvanas singled out, and Sylvanas bit back a curse. That had been stupid of her. Her fingers dug deep enough into Jaina's back to make the woman grunt. Almost triumphantly, Jaina murmured, "I didn't know you had it in you."

Good. Sylvanas could work with this. While she needed Jaina to cooperate, she also wanted a Jaina who was herself and not some simpering damsel. There was something about the inherent danger in baiting this woman that appealed to her, and Sylvanas could believe that Jaina felt the same.

Her other hand came to rest on Jaina's as the song came to an end, and she felt the impression of the rings there. The one she'd given her in Dalaran and the one placed on her finger today. Sylvanas wore a match of only the latter.

She stared at her, Jaina staring back. With a sweep of her cloak, she pulled Jaina by their joined hands, away from the reception. A thousand eyes followed them.

Let them assume what they wished.

The Warchief's quarters were not actually in the Hold. Or rather, Sylvanas had had them moved upon coming to Orgrimmar permanently. It was up treacherous steps carved from the stone, with only one way in save for a carefully protected escape route. From the outside, the windows were barely noticeable and the door was almost invisible. From here, she had a good view of the city gates and the hold, but a measure of privacy and a sense of her own self.

Sylvanas derived amusement from the expression on Jaina's face when she stepped inside. "This is your new home. What do you think?"

The chambers were more like a suite. Five rooms carved out of the rock, plus the entrance hall. Sylvanas had decorated them as suiting her taste. Dark colors, blacks and purples; but there was a hint of a deep, dark green in some of the tapestries that hung from the stone walls.

"Opulent," Jaina managed. She seemed surprised, and Sylvanas mused it was probably because she'd expected something more Orcish for a Warchief's quarters.

"Your things have already been delivered, though if there is anything else you wish or need, I'll have an assistant assigned to you." Sylvanas slipped her cloak off, folding it and placing it on a chair. She started to unclasp her armor.

"Do you ever actually come here?" Jaina asked.

Sylvanas paused, glancing at Jaina as she weighed how much to reveal. "Yes. While I have my places for escape, this is my home. Or as close to a home that can exist."

The armor clanked to the floor, leaving Sylvanas in a black tunic and tights that Nathanos had once told her were practically painted on. She heard another one of those intakes of breath from Jaina, and filed that away for later. "Do you want a tour?"

Jaina remained tense, despite (or because of) Sylvanas's monotone. She waited a moment, and then nodded.

There was a living room with a hearth and seating area and another room that Sylvanas had turned into a library. She nodded towards the shelves and cushy chair. "Closest thing you'll find to a proper library on Kalimdor besides Dire Maul."

Darnassus had once had a decently sized library. Neither woman brought that up.

The remaining three rooms were a small kitchen, an empty room with a training dummy and some weapons, and a bedroom with a large bed. Sylvanas noted Jaina's curiosity at the kitchen, and the way she scanned the bedroom. Four people could easily get lost in that bed.

There was a mirror, an armoire and assorted other furniture, as well as a desk against one wall. "This is … mostly for you. I have no need to sleep."

"But you enjoy reading," Jaina pointed out. "A private place to train. The kitchen is surprising, but I'll bet that you used to enjoy meal preparation. The desk shows use. You've decorated this place." She reached behind herself to try to undo the dress, and Sylvanas sighed before stepping over to help. "It's sentimental."

Sylvanas's fingers froze, and she seriously considered leaving Jaina to fend for her damned self. That they had to keep appearances made her finish what she'd started. And she had started this. The compact, as they'd chosen to call it, had been her idea. Her last resort.

Jaina had been wrong. While true, they didn't have to get along, they still had to pretend to. And it would be easier if they didn't have to pretend.

Knowing she'd never hear the end of it if she ripped Jaina's mother's dress, Sylvanas carefully pulled it down Jaina's shoulders and let it fall to the ground.

Where Sylvanas's skin had been magically rendered flawless save for a single scar where Arthas had pierced her, Jaina bore the scars of her lifetime. A subtle burn on her left hip, sword and other scars on her back, a puncture wound just below her left buttocks. But she was still beautiful. Sylvanas's jaw tightened, and she strode past her to retrieve a robe that was laying on the bed. "You should rest."

"And you'll leave your wife alone in her wedding bed?" Jaina's voice was a challenge, even as she shrugged into the robe and pulled it closed.

Anger welled up inside Sylvanas. She felt like she was being mocked or scolded, and she hadn't forgotten the stunt with the flowers. Flowers that were still in her hair, and the reminder enraged her.

Jaina needed to be reminded of exactly what she was. Shadows swirled around her and she was in front of Jaina in an instant, grasping her by the throat and pushing her against the edge of the bed. Though Jaina had an inch or two on her, Sylvanas seemed to fill the room and tower over her in this moment.

"Never forget," Sylvanas said, the words thin and echoing. "That you are my prisoner. That you live or you die by my command and that only luck and the word of your so-called friends is between you and an arrow in your throat."

Magic flashed between them, energy lifting Sylvanas off of the ground and throwing her into the mirror. Shattered glass cut into the skin of her back, black blood oozing from the sudden wounds. She pulled herself to her feet, power crackling in her head and making her movements slow, very aware that she was lucky to not be smeared across the bedroom walls.

Jaina stood at the foot of the bed, robe open and fluttering around her body as energy rippled around her, her eyes the color of the sea in a storm.

Sylvanas felt something she'd forgotten existed. Desire.

"Touch me like that again," Jaina said, voice the kind of cold rage that would turn a normal person's blood to ice. "And Orgrimmar will be barely more than a hazy memory in the minds of children."

Ripping her shirt off and tossing it aside, Sylvanas tried to reach behind her and pull out some of the mirror shards. She stared at her reflection in one, then made a disgusted sound and threw it onto the remains of her shirt. This had not been her plan for the night and there were cracks inside of her that had been exposed.

Sylvanas did not like feeling exposed.

The energy around Jaina had dissipated, though she stood ready, eyeing Sylvanas with wariness. Her voice was sharp. "I will not be manhandled or attacked. Do you understand, Sylvanas?"

The irony of the hostage making demands was not lost on either of them. Topless and bleeding, Sylvanas approached Jaina, then walked past her and into a lavatory that had lain hidden in the corner.

She leaned on the basin, weighing the costs and benefits of seeing one of the healers.

"I'm no healer, but I can help."

Lifting her head, Sylvanas stared at Jaina in the reflection of the mirror. Interesting. And not entirely unwelcome.

"Perhaps I crossed a line. Perhaps we should talk like civilized people," she said, keeping her voice even and her shoulders straight. She'd already shown Jaina enough weakness to last the next six months.

Tomorrow would be the new status quo. But tonight?

"And perhaps you can help while we talk."

"Get in the tub," Jaina ordered.

To her own surprise, Sylvanas obeyed.