A year ago today, Jaina had traded her freedom for the security of the entire world.

There'd been celebrations to mark this first anniversary. Most of them had been organized by vendors and shopkeeps, giving the city a festive atmosphere. There were even games set up at various points in each Valley.

Jaina had made a passable effort at appearing to enjoy herself and even won a prize, but much as she tried not to dwell she'd still spent most of the day lost in thought.

The party showed no signs of stopping as the sun began to set, and Jaina eventually ducked into the canyon shadows to breathe; surely there was somewhere in the city where she could be mostly alone for just a few minutes. So Jaina wandered for a time, keeping to herself and watching everyone enjoy themselves. There were fireworks planned for later-Jaina couldn't remember if that had been her idea or Sylvanas's-and hunting restrictions, put in place to prevent a populace under hard rationing from wiping out the wild boar population of Durotar entirely, had been lifted for a handful of carefully chosen hunters. The promise of the display and the smell of roasting meat began to make people drift towards the fairgrounds, set up just outside the main gates.

She found herself in the Valley of Honor, near the pond that Tyra was so fond of fishing in. There weren't too many people around, now. Most were in the Valley of Strength or the fairgrounds. Jaina didn't mind this. It gave her time to think, and reflect, even if that had been what she'd been doing all day.

Voices brought her out of herself, drawing her attention to a motley assortment of people sitting on a craggy outcropping on the north face of the canyon. Jaina couldn't tell how they'd gotten there, but they seemed relaxed, sharing laughter with each other. The group was made up of just about every race in the Horde and included a human, Vulpera, and a Draenei.

Jaina tilted her head, watching them curiously and grateful for something to focus on. She smiled as they started to play. She recognized the song; not the tune or the lyrics exactly, but as the kind of old foresheet shanty that was universal among sailors no matter where they hailed from. She closed her eyes, humming along as her smile settled into her soul.

They finished, an Orc laughing lowly. Jaina opened her eyes again. The Draenei was fiddling with a wooden flute, kicking lazily at a troll trying to assist her; after a moment the Vulpera glanced up at Jaina's alcove, grinned in surprise, and waved at her. Jaina waved back with a smile and placed a finger on her lips. She didn't want to intrude. Their little group was an odd sight, but perhaps it shouldn't have been. Independent (mostly pirate) crews had long ago shed the concept of faction divisions. Orcs and humans worked the mainsail together, elves and gnomes scaled the rigging and as evidenced by this little gathering, they sang together too.

The songs wove together into a humble tapestry. Some were sad, others bawdy. There was the hilarious Ballad of Two Tail Willey that Jaina couldn't help but laugh at; and, scandalously, sing along with.

Tyra joined them, which was curious. The warrior seemed to know them. Except for Yukale, Jaina couldn't think of a time she'd seen Tyra with anyone who might be considered a friend. She spoke to them for a moment before they started playing a tune from Lordaeron, and Tyra spun around, singing in her raspy voice.

Untamed 'n darkness 'n Shadow fall
lost ta shinin' light
Answering the Siren's call
What once was wrong made right

Under shining moon footsteps fall
The sky eternal night
Across great seas the homeland calls
The land is scarred in blight

Shoulders squared and standin' tall
Blue sky as far as sight
Grey gulls cry out their call
For there are wrongs to make right

The song trailed off, and Tyra stopped singing, though she spoke the next as a poem.

Brought ta darkness broken
shattered light
a soft voice spoken

Spear raised tall
sword glint of steel
broken, but I shall not fall.

She met Jaina's eyes, and Jaina realized that Tyra was crying bloody tears.

The warrior looked away, hefting her sword onto her shoulder. She didn't look back at Jaina as she walked towards the Drag, and Jaina did not try to follow her. Some pains were not meant to be shared.

Jaina stayed around for a few more songs, and was about to leave when the Orc glanced at her, then plucked a few notes from her strings.

She might as well have pushed her hand into Jaina's chest and squeezed her heart.

A tall, thin human woman with obsidian skin and bright brown eyes started to sing in a clear, deep voice. It was a wistful melody, a hopeful one, a song for the sight of port in the distance and the promise of a waiting lover's arms.

Far from home I've gone
to distant shore
cross wave and briny deep
to the song of Kul Tiras

Far from home beneath the dawn
to come and lay once more
in the endless sleep
to the song of Kul Tiras

It had been sung in Kul Tiras for as long as Jaina could remember. It had been sung in Kul Tiras for as long as Kul Tiras had existed. It was homecoming, for the men and women of the sea. It was a promise that they would find land again.

She hadn't expected to hear that song again in her lifetime, let alone here. Tears stung at Jaina's eyes, her back ramrod straight and her hands shaking at her sides.

In my chest
beats my heart
more than any lass
the song of Kul Tiras

Home I'm blessed
ne'er long apart
For nothing can surpass
the song of Kul Tiras

Regret and loneliness welled up inside her. Her mouth formed the words but she couldn't make a sound. She couldn't even turn away, even as the tears spilled over, a hollow feeling in her chest.

And once she started crying, she couldn't stop. It wasn't their fault, she knew. They couldn't have known how homesick she was.

Jaina hadn't known how homesick she was.

But it was a kind gesture, they had meant it to be kind. So she wiped her eyes until they dried, and went to thank them for giving her something she hadn't known she'd needed.

She didn't linger long, half out of fear they'd figure out another song to break her heart with. But she chose to walk, hoping the time it took to get home would help her settle her thoughts.

Realizing that she'd started thinking of the Warchief's residence as home nearly made her start crying again. She ascended the dangerous stairs and let herself in, praying Sylvanas hadn't retired early. Or that she wouldn't retire at all. There was no light within, save that of a few candles that cast a warm, gentle glow.

"That is not the expression I'd hoped for, on this, our first anniversary."

Sylvanas's amused tone did nothing to curb the turmoil in Jaina's heart. She scowled, opening her mouth to say something before she decided it just wasn't worth it.

She turned, spying Sylvanas standing in front of the unlit hearth. Jaina felt a chill run down her spine for no other reason than that Sylvanas seemed to look right through her, leaving her feeling raw and exposed.

Not a hard task, considering the tumult of her emotions right now. Jaina didn't bother to try to hide it. "It's been a day."

"So I've heard." Sylvanas approached her. "I have something for you. A gift."

Sylvanas's hand touched her face, thumb brushing her lip before she took her chin between two fingers and stared into her eyes. They were so close that their breath mingled, and Jaina had the sudden epiphany that Sylvanas breathed. Or at least had the approximation of breath. Cold and faint, but there. How?

And how had she never noticed that before? The question distracted her from the jolt that ran through her body at the contact and an almost sickening urge to close the distance.

"...A gift?" She managed, after far too much of a delay.

"That's what they do on wedding anniversaries. Or so I've been told." Sylvanas stepped away and Jaina's head swam like her wife's hand had been the only thing keeping her upright.

"They do a lot of things on wedding anniversaries," Jaina pointed out, before she blanched in horror at herself. She sighed, rubbing at her eyes as that raw empty feeling returned, the sound of music echoing in her mind. "I didn't get you anything."

"Why should you?" Sylvanas replied, simply, waiting for Jaina to follow her.

Jaina hung her cloak on a hook near the door, and then followed her. "It doesn't really seem fair. Not that anything about this is fair."

"Don't worry about gifts. But before I reveal yours, I have something else to give you." Sylvanas stopped, turning to Jaina as she held out a hearthstone.

Jaina's heart leapt into her throat as she stared at it, recognizing her own runes. Anger warred with relief and won; she could only imagine it had been reset to Orgrimmar, and the desecration on top of everything else was too much to bear. As Sylvanas dropped it into her palm, she had every intention of turning the stone to ash.

The moment it touched her hand, she knew, and she froze. An achingly familiar buzzing tingled on her skin.

Home, it hummed to her. Theramore, the one place that had been more home to her than any other. Dalaran, Kul Tiras, they were home too, but Theramore had been where her heart had beat the strongest and where her heart had died.

She blinked tears from her eyes, but more fell. Her hand shook as she closed her fingers around the hearthstone, Sylvanas's ring glinting next to the wedding band.

Sylvanas touched the ring with one finger, her other hand brushing at the tears on Jaina's cheek.

Jaina hated herself for this show of weakness. But she was tired, so, so tired, her emotions raw and unbalanced and she held home in her hand. "Thank you," she rasped, and felt like she was breaking.

It was Jaina's idea to have any kind of celebration at all; it had been a full year since the end of the war and the start of a shaky peace. While there'd been plenty of disputes, they'd all been resolved without anything more than the occasional fistfight.

Sylvanas had reluctantly agreed, as long as someone else did most of the planning; she'd have preferred no celebration at all while pretending that she and Jaina would celebrate privately. Perhaps they could share a drink, at most.

Because much to Sylvanas's displeasure, she'd started enjoying Jaina's company. Even the anger. Especially the anger. It reminded Sylvanas of the anger that fueled herself.

She knew that this had been much harder on Jaina than on anyone else-missteps and mistakes and a yawning abyss within her that Sylvanas could not leave unaddressed. She'd decided, a few weeks earlier, that she'd return the hearthstone that night. Sylvanas had carried it on her person the entire year, and thought Jaina had earned enough trust for that; and perhaps deserved whatever small comfort it offered her.

The other gift had been prepared, signed and sealed a few days before, and Sylvanas also carried that on her person as she sat through mundane matters of state and the continued insistence of certain advisers that she be needed for every little thing.

Fantasizing about their heads on pikes over the gates only got her so far, and she dismissed everyone early in the day, telling them to enjoy themselves. It left her blissfully alone as she walked to the elevator and took it up. Sylvanas didn't retire to the sitting room, instead standing in the middle of the archery range and relishing the silence. She moved to a window, opening the shutter and peering out through the glass.

People were already celebrating. She watched as a large Tauren toppled over under the weight of too much drink, only to be caught by a Pandaran and Worgen.

Damn, but she was never going to get used to that. Her fingers twitched as she imagined putting an arrow through that Worgen's eye.

Of course, that would ruin everything she'd done and Sylvanas was not going to sabotage herself. She'd had a hard enough time over the last year trying to set an example by playing nice with the Alliance. Her eyes flicked towards the gates and she finally, reluctantly, put to bed the fantasy of Genn's head on a specific pike.

Watching a few moments longer, Sylvanas realized that clearly her damned anniversary was going to have to end up a state holiday. It was close to Hallow's End, but not so close as to interfere with those traditions. Sylvanas sighed, putting the thought to the back of her mind.

She made her singular appearance, sharing a dance with a silent Jaina, then retreated back to the Hold, in no mood to celebrate.

It was curiosity and boredom that brought her back out. She'd almost said something when she saw Jaina watching the sailors play their songs but chose instead to hide in the shadows. One of the songs was one she hadn't heard in years, a Quel'dorei dirge that made her actually feel an emotion.

Her hand went to a necklace that she still wore, though she'd sooner face the Void than let her sisters know about it.

The Sin'dorei's voice was rough, but that only made the song all the more poignant as the last somber note rang out.

"Elor bindel felallan morin'aminor." Sleep forever in quiet serenity.

Sylvanas swallowed, jaw tight. She'd sung that dirge herself once long ago, as Ranger-General Lireesa Windrunner burned atop a pyre next to the Rangers who'd fallen along with her.

Her predecessor.

Her mother.

She pulled out the necklace, rubbing her thumb over the sapphire as a happier song played. It felt wrong, after the dirge, and it made her irrationally angry to be longing for a time that could never come again.

The light folk melody shifted, the lute plucking more softly, and Sylvanas's head snapped up when she heard a gasp from Jaina.

This song she didn't know, but Jaina clearly did, and it cut through her much more deeply than the dirge had Sylvanas. Pain rippled through Jaina so strongly that Sylvanas could almost see it wisping around her like smoke.

She watched for a moment longer, before something made her slip away into the shadows. Some weaknesses were meant to remain hidden.

The residence was quiet as she lit a few candles for light, and finally picked up the armor from her wedding. Conceding that Jaina had won that particular battle, she turned the breastplate over in her hand, before taking it to the training room to put on a display dummy.

Jaina returned not long after. She looked...as expected, and Sylvanas studied her as they spoke. The set of her jaw, the anger and confusion in her eyes when she beheld the hearthstone. Jaina's tears burned on Sylvanas's skin, giving her the strangest desire to taste them.

Her eyes fell to the ring, and she touched it, stirring long-buried memories, hopes and dreams. Ignoring Jaina's half-whispered thanks, she took her hand to look more closely.

"Of the three daughters of Lireesa Windrunner, I was the one to follow in her footsteps when she fell. Alleria took her bow; I took her position. And her ring."

She made a show of sounding bored, as if this were just another story and not something that resonated to her core with sadness and regret.

"There was a ranger who served under her and died in the same attack. I had thought, some day, to give her this ring."

"Why are you telling me this?" Jaina asked.

"Most who would know of it are dead," Sylvanas said, darkly. "Even my sisters have forgotten her. So that is my secret to you. I hope you'll share one with me eventually."

"Two." Jaina said. Whether her eyes watered from earlier, or some kind of sympathy, Sylvanas couldn't tell; but if it was pity, she was liable to get violent.

"Two?"

"I owe you two secrets," she said, and flowers formed from ice in Sylvanas's hair.

Sylvanas dropped Jaina's hand, anger flaring up from deep inside her. "Smart-ass bitch. Don't think I forgot that."

"I was trying to be nice!" Jaina took her hand again, and this time Sylvanas was the recipient of a hand on her face.

They glowered at each other, Sylvanas feeling the conflict down to her bones. An angry Jaina was an attractive one. Something about the way her eyes flashed and the heat that rose to her face when Sylvanas was too close, as if she couldn't tell how she was supposed to be feeling when they were together. But it woke that desire that Sylvanas had thought was long dead, even if all it was useful for was toying with her wife.

There'd already been too much emotion today for Sylvanas to handle, but she made sure Jaina was the first one to break eye contact.

Mollified somewhat by the victory, Sylvanas reached up and pulled Jaina's braid aside, dragging her fingernails along the slope of Jaina's shoulder, to her neck and then her ear.

Jaina opened her mouth to say something, but after a long moment once again came up silent.

Humans had such pouty lips, and Sylvanas was amused by how easily she could confuse Jaina with something as simple as a thumb on her mouth. Letting go of her hand, Sylvanas pulled her fingers through Jaina's hair, and started to, very slowly, undo that damn braid. Jaina's eyes fluttered closed.

She moved her hand to Jaina's cheek, then under her chin. Jaina's lips parted as she tilted her head, just enough that Sylvanas knew she missed the contact.

Damn her, but she missed it too.

She turned Jaina around before those lips could tempt her, and continued to undo the braid. Occasionally, she'd let her fingers trail ice over Jaina's shoulders and neck, or around to her throat. The latter brought out noticeable reactions in Jaina, though the mage struggled to hide them even as she tilted her head back against Sylvanas, eyes closed.

Sylvanas stared at her lips, fingers twitching in Jaina's hair as that temptation rose again. She focused a little too closely on the way they parted when her finger brushed Jaina's ear.

Jaina softened against her, caught herself, then started to pull away. Sylvanas barked out a laugh. "Hold still, I'm almost done."

Jaina looked simultaneously relieved and disappointed. Sylvanas let a smirk cross her face as she freed Jaina's hair. She ran her left hand through the loose strands, feeling a shiver at the pleasurable sensation. Her other hand caressed Jaina's face again, her lips. Sylvanas wanted to know what they would look like wrapped around her fingers. Her hand tightened in silver-white hair, and Jaina shuddered against her.

She realized she could do anything she wanted right now, and Jaina would let her. Jaina, who burned her when they touched, who wore her mother's ring, who hated her with every fiber of her being. Sylvanas pulled Jaina's hair back, leaning forward so that her lips almost brushed Jaina's ear, and then almost brushed her neck.

Sylvanas could own her. Control her. Make her beg to come undone...and she was forced to admit she wanted that. What to do about that want was another matter entirely, and one on which Sylvanas found herself conflicted.

Jaina turned in her arms and they stood there like that, Sylvanas's hands in Jaina's hair and on her shoulder, Jaina's ragged breath like fire on Sylvanas's face. Jaina's heart was pounding so loud Sylvanas could hear it.

"Lady Proudmoore," Sylvanas murmured, letting go of her. "You're not in your right mind."

Jaina stepped back, chest heaving, and Sylvanas's eyes dropped against her will. Jaina's response was breathless. "Neither are you, Lady Windrunner."

She'd also sounded annoyed. Good. The fog was clearing.

Sylvanas flicked an envelope at her. "Your actual wedding present."

Catching it, Jaina broke the seal and scanned the letter. She blinked twice, then looked at Sylvanas. "Really?"

"Truly." Sylvanas kept her voice even. "The week after Hallow's End, you are to lead a diplomatic envoy to Stormwind for a two-week conference. I expect you to handle yourself with your usual dignity and as a representative of the Horde."

Jaina grinned, her shoulders relaxing as the shadows lifted from her eyes. It was quick, too quick and unexpected, but she wrapped her arms around Sylvanas and brushed her lips against her cheek, before letting go and turning toward the bathroom. Sylvanas was left standing in shock as she heard bathwater start to run, wondering if Jaina even realized what she'd done.

"...Do you want company?" Sylvanas asked, trying to regain her footing.

She was gifted with a rude gesture as Jaina closed the door, and all was as it should be.