Darkness lashed out, gripping Sylvanas by the throat and dragging her down into the abyss. She clawed at the tendril and with a nerve-shattering shriek, she broke free. Sylvanas burst to the surface, where a storm raged. She turned towards land and saw-
Sylvanas opened her eyes. One of her aides was droning on about some ridiculous issue over trade with the Alliance. She was supposed to have people that dealt with such minutiae. She felt Jaina's eyes on her, but no one else seemed to notice her momentary lapse.
Refusing to give Jaina the satisfaction of an answer, Sylvanas stood. "What, exactly, are you suggesting I do with-" She glanced at Jaina, who mouthed 'import processing' at her. "Import processing? Come up with a plan and execute it. That is your job, and I suggest you do it if you wish to still have it tomorrow."
She knocked the orc by the shoulder as she passed him and walked to the elevator. Before she could activate it, Jaina had joined her. The mage said nothing, which was fortunate for her. Sylvanas was in no mood for clever talk; or any talk whatsoever.
She'd been terse around Jaina since her traitorous conversation in the tailor's shop. But Sylvanas had kept her word; there was no point in punishing the co-conspirators. If anything, doing so would backfire, both with Jaina and with the populace.
Besides, not only would Sylvanas agree with being called a horrendous bitch, she didn't particularly care what people thought about her as long as they followed orders and didn't commit actual treason.
The old Warchief's residence was on a floor above the main throne room. The elevator lifted up into a defensible corridor and wide, steep stairs led to a wide open loft. Sylvanas had ripped down all the walls, setting up several hardened archery targets along the curve of the north wall. On the west wall was a fully-stocked bar, and across from the bar were comfortable couches. Sylvanas headed towards a set of spiral stairs behind the targets.
"Does drink even affect you?" Jaina asked, stopping at the bar and pulling out a bottle of brandy with a red label. She looked so startled when she saw the label she nearly dropped it.
"In great quantities." Sylvanas approached her and took the extremely rare bottle from her hands, putting it back. It was impossible to get now; Arthas had made sure of that. "Many things about me 'still work,' as you so crudely put it. Just slower."
"Saving that for a special occasion?" Jaina asked, looking forlornly at the bottle. A blush crept across her face.
Instead of answering, Sylvanas handed Jaina a bottle of Darkmoon Special Reserve, then turned and walked up the stairs. She expected Jaina to follow regardless of her clear desire for privacy, and was unsurprised when she did.
This third floor of Grommash Hold used to be Garrosh's actual bedroom. Nothing of what had been before remained; Vol'jin had ripped out any trace of the despot for himself and then Sylvanas had converted it into a sitting room of sorts. It was a memory of another life. A sanctuary.
Candles lit the room, making shadows dance on the walls. The furniture was elvish in make, much more comfortable than Forsaken decor; but like everything Sylvanas owned, it was dark and gloomy. It suited her.
She expected a smart comment from Jaina, but her wife instead located two glasses and filled them. Sylvanas had barely sat before she was given one. Looking at the glass, then at Jaina, she fought the twitch of a smile and mostly succeeded. She was still supposed to be angry. "Bribery will get you nowhere."
Sighing, Jaina moved to sit across from Sylvanas.
"No. Not there. Here." Sylvanas gestured to the cushion next to her as she got comfortable, leaning back and crossing her left leg over her right knee.
"I can't sit where I want in my own home?"
"Technically, this isn't your home."
"I'm the Warchief's consort, and this is the Warchief's sanctuary," Jaina countered.
Sylvanas regarded her a moment, then gestured. "Sit where you wish then."
Smirking, Jaina sat next to Sylvanas. "Was that so hard?"
"Like pulling teeth," Sylvanas drawled.
"So are you done sulking and giving me the cold shoulder?" Jaina took a sip of her drink and closed her eyes as she savored it.
Sylvanas watched as Jaina's tongue flicked out to catch a stray drop on her lips and then tore her gaze away from the enticing sight. "I do not sulk."
"I acknowledged where I went wrong, and it's been weeks."
Looking at Jaina again, Sylvanas allowed herself to smile. "Have you missed me, my dear?"
"Of course not." The lie was blatant and even Jaina didn't pretend otherwise, but she continued. "Are you going to talk about what happened earlier?"
Here, where not even Nathanos was allowed to tread, Sylvanas let her shoulders sag. She leaned her head back against the cushion. "Other than our bedroom, this is the one place that none are allowed. Not my rangers, not even Nathanos."
"Sylvanas."
Sylvanas closed her eyes. "I find this place to be more comfortable even than the residency. A place where I can feel most myself."
She hoped Garrosh was turning over in his grave at the very notion. Opening one eye, she saw Jaina leaning in towards her, concern etched on her face. It was… alluring, and that was one weakness she'd not allow Jaina access to.
And yet, despite herself, she ran her fingers along the side of Jaina's left cheek and across her temple, wondering what it would feel like to take her hair out of that braid.
"You're avoiding the question," Jaina said. "And you're being weird about it and that's alarming."
"When was the last time you slept?"
Jaina snapped, though it was not as harsh as it could have been. "Don't change the subject."
Sylvanas twirled a blonde strand in her fingers. "Must I order you to take a nap? What do I have to do to get you to rest?"
That heat returned to Jaina's face as one of Sylvanas's fingers stroked along her jawline. Her chin. She rubbed her thumb across Jaina's lower lip and felt, rather than heard, the intake of breath. The contact burned her, but she would not relent.
"I get rest." Jaina sounded strained, her voice light as her lips moved against Sylvanas's thumb.
"Six hours in three chunks doesn't count." Sylvanas smiled to herself. Taking advantage of how touch-starved Jaina was allowed her to keep the subject off of herself and her lapse earlier. And it was just a little fun.
"How do you - you check on me?"
"Of course I check on you, Lady Proudmoore. Your wellbeing is an investment." Sylvanas realized she was talking more to Jaina's lips than the rest of her face and immediately corrected her mistake.
She didn't move her hand, though. No, she wanted to see how long Jaina tolerated it. Nothing more.
"Sometimes I think you're in bed with me." Jaina said. "Is that you checking on me?"
"I don't need sleep."
"Right." It was obvious Jaina didn't believe her, but Sylvanas would neither confirm or deny these allegations that she might, horror of horrors, occasionally need rest in her own bed. She derived far too much amusement from this.
Sylvanas lazily moved her fingers over Jaina's lips. Jaina's eyes flashed. She reflexively attempted to lick her lips and instead flicked her tongue against one of Sylvanas's fingers.
It was a small one, but a jolt went through her. Sylvanas uncrossed her legs, rolling her hips slightly as she recrossed them in the other direction.
Accepting Jaina's action as a challenge, Sylvanas ran her finger along the inside of Jaina's lower lip, studying her as a flush went across her skin and her pupils dilated.
Jaina swallowed, just hard enough to entice as her tongue flicked against Sylvanas's fingertip again. Then she pulled away and shakily poured herself another drink.
Victory for the Forsaken.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Jaina said, turning towards her and stopping half way as if she couldn't decide how close she wanted to be.
"Am I ever 'all right?'" Sylvanas raised her eyebrow, and sipped at the drink, shifting on the couch again. Surprisingly, she actually felt the burn down her throat. Jaina must be having more of an effect on her than she'd thought.
"That wasn't normal. We both know this. Tell me what's going on." Jaina was finding her voice again.
Sylvanas could just detect the scent of her arousal and was actually a little impressed that Jaina's voice was that steady right now. But despite her distractions, Jaina was persistent. Perhaps Sylvanas had been too obviously reluctant to speak. "When we speak alone like this. Here, or the bedroom, it doesn't matter. When we are alone, nothing goes past us. Do you understand? What I say. What you say. These conversations are in strict confidence until permission is given otherwise."
"I understand," Jaina replied, and something in her eyes told Sylvanas she understood it was reciprocal. Whether or not she'd take her up on that implied offer was up to Jaina.
Sylvanas weighed saying anything, but she supposed trust should go both ways. She took a moment to collect herself. "It was strange. I'm not prone to daydreams or visions. But this felt very much like the latter."
Jaina tilted her head. "What did you see?"
"The ocean in a storm, and the Void. I … returned to myself before I could see anything else."
Jaina frowned and Sylvanas wanted to stroke her lips again. "I think we should do some discreet inquiries. See if any adventurers have heard of any problems that related to the Void or Old Gods."
"Besides half of Kul Tiras and Zandalar?" Sylvanas asked, amused.
"New problems," Jaina corrected herself.
Sylvanas was fucking with her. Jaina was certain of that. The problem was that she couldn't help her own reactions and part of her enjoyed the game. Wanted it, even. And she could have stopped it at any time and yet she hadn't.
Maybe it had just been so long since she'd felt an intimate touch that even Sylvanas managed to ignite fire in her skin.
Jaina had needed a bath to feel clean again. An icy one.
She didn't bring it up, instead losing herself in the day to day work that Sylvanas gave her. And she took on more work, whatever she could, whenever she could. There was the public library to set up, and some kind of festival to prepare for. That had been interesting. She'd managed to win a ribbon for pig wrestling, though she still hadn't the faintest clue how that had happened.
She'd hung it up in the living room, much to Sylvanas's apparent dismay-but she couldn't help but think that Sylvanas liked it. She hadn't even chided her for engaging in activities below her station.
Drinks in the Sanctuary had become almost a regular thing. Jaina couldn't be sure if that was the 'real' Sylvanas she saw on those nights, or just another mask she wore to protect herself. In that sanctuary, Sylvanas always seemed so tired, like she let her control slip and couldn't even summon up the anger that usually fueled her.
"Jaina?"
Jaina was startled from her thoughts by Baine's voice. She lifted her head and gave him a smile. "Sorry. I got a little lost in thought there."
Baine… Baine was complicated, but in a different way than Sylvanas. She'd blamed him along with everyone else for Theramore, though it was obvious now that he could have done nothing to stop it, any more than she could have. Or even Rhonin could have.
When had she come to that conclusion? Had she realized it before the marriage, or after? The irony would never be lost on her. She'd gone from trying to dismantle the Horde to … this.
"Anything I can help with?" Baine asked.
Jaina shook her head. "It's nothing, really." Sylvanas didn't see Baine as a threat, so he was one of the few people she could truly meet with alone, and with no fear of the conversation making it back to Sylvanas. Still, the contents of their private conversations remained private, and weren't always about business. Jaina was not going to breach that trust that had so tenuously been formed. "Just… a little amazed at everything. It's been nearly a year. I'm still alive, the Horde is doing much better and by all accounts so is the Alliance..."
"Compared to total annihilation," Baine said.
"Am I actually more optimistic than you?" Jaina asked, grinning.
"No, no, I'm optimistic. I wasn't sure at first, but I think you've somehow tempered her. And you seem healthy." His heavy brows furrowed. "You would tell me. If she hurts you?"
The idea of anyone tempering Sylvanas was laughable at best, but Jaina had managed to get to a point where she was listened to, so perhaps there was merit in that. "She hasn't hurt me, Baine. Infuriated me on occasion, but not hurt me. She wouldn't want Kul Tiras sailing on Orgrimmar, to say nothing of how Genn might respond. I have more freedom, too, than at first."
Certain rules must still be followed, and the Compact was clear on what else Jaina could do; but more than once she'd asked Sylvanas for a few minutes away from everyone, and had been granted it. Jaina had a place she went, far, far away. A place she could scream or cry or laugh or just sit there for five minutes and contemplate existence with no responsibilities and no eyes on her. Even in her bedroom she felt eyes on her.
The only place in Orgrimmar she didn't was Sylvanas's sanctuary.
Nathanos was never happy about it, but he could stuff a potato up his ass for all Jaina cared. She avoided talking to him almost religiously because if she didn't, the odds of Sylvanas being minus one Blightcaller went up dramatically.
"Anduin worries about you. We all do."
Jaina was unsurprised that Baine had resumed communication with Anduin. Sylvanas undoubtedly knew, but Jaina wasn't going to bring it up unless asked. She didn't see the harm, not with the Horde and Alliance attempting cooperation. Building friendships across faction lines was, in fact, one of the points of this. So Jaina was willing to encourage it. At least, it might help spread some of the pressure of everyone getting along past just her. "Anduin is another little brother to me. I always got along with him better than Tandred. Of course he worries. You tell him that I'm fine and…"
"Happy?"
"Content." Happiness had eluded Jaina since she'd turned her back on Arthas. She couldn't begin to say what it felt like.
Baine nodded. "Very well. But he asked me to ask you to write, if you could."
Jaina smiled. Maybe that felt kind of like happiness, that thought. "I will. I should write mother, too."
She didn't need permission to write her friends, though she expected Sylvanas' spies to inspect her letters carefully. Jaina would have done the same if their roles were reversed.
After they finished chatting, Jaina and Baine sat and watched the sun set, before she bid her farewells and returned to Orgrimmar. There was a stack of papers waiting for her on the bedroom desk; and while that could have waited until morning, she set to work with a relish anyway.
At some point, Jaina must have passed out, because she woke up in bed with the blanket tucked around her. She pushed herself up onto an elbow, looking around, blearily. It was still dark, the lone window in the bedroom letting moonlight filter in.
Twin red orbs burned by the desk and she realized Sylvanas was sitting there. Groggily, she asked, "Are you working in the dark?"
"I can see just fine, go back to sleep."
Jaina sat up entirely, but then Sylvanas was there, pushing her back down and pulling the blanket back up. "Sleep, Jaina. I won't have you working yourself to death, they'd blame me for it."
Jaina snorted a laugh, but let herself be pushed down. She really was tired, and it suddenly felt as though the past ten years had finally caught up to her. That was the only reason she could think of when she heard herself ask, "Please stay."
Sylvanas didn't answer, only stepping away from the bed. Jaina sighed, closing her eyes. She'd just about drifted back off again when she felt the blanket move, the other side of the bed dip down. Cold skin and soft breasts pressed into her back, Sylvanas's arm sliding across her hip and fingers touching her stomach.
The feeling was welcome despite her best efforts to the contrary, and Jaina wondered how much longer she could pretend that she didn't need this. But she didn't dare call attention to it as Sylvanas's skin warmed to match hers. This would just be one of those things they didn't talk about.
"Next time," Jaina murmured, as sleep started to reclaim her. "I'm the big spoon."
Lips curved against her shoulder. "Agreed."