It was nigh impossible for Jaina to keep a straight face as Sylvanas met with the other Horde leaders, a purring kitten in her lap. Varian was about five months old now, fast approaching the size of an adult and, apparently, capable of making the jump up to the Warchief's throne. It would still be easy enough for Sylvanas to move him, and yet she didn't.

As if feeling her eyes on her, Sylvanas looked back at Jaina without turning her head, almost challenging her to say something.

Judging from the nervous reactions of everyone who came in today, Jaina suspected that Sylvanas was enjoying unnerving people and so she said nothing about it. Instead, she listened as matters relating to food rations and an impending strike among the Bilgewater workforce were discussed.

Someone had gotten it in their heads to form a workers' union. Jaina didn't bother to hide her approval of the idea.

Sylvanas ran her hand down the cat's back as she said, "I would suggest reminding Gallywix that when I request his presence, he should come himself instead of sending a representative. Trade Princes can easily be replaced. Though should he be… challenged… I would not be able to take sides in an internal Bilgewater matter."

The goblin straightened, nodding her head once before replying. "I'll be very happy to deliver that message for ya, Warchief. "

There was a glint in her eyes, and Jaina tilted her head as the goblin stepped back, murmuring so only Sylvanas could hear. "Trade Princess Harlene Quixie has a nice ring to it."

Sylvanas's lips quirked, and she didn't look in Jaina's direction as she spoke up. "If there is no other pressing business?"

Baine shook his head. "We've covered everything, Warchief."

"Very well." Apparently disinclined to stand, Sylvanas nodded her head.

Jaina cleared her throat. "We'll convene again as usual in a month's time, barring emergencies. Would you gentlemen, and lady, like a portal?"

Harlene shook her head. "I've got a ride waitin', doll face, but thanks." She winked, then strode out of the Hold as Jaina summoned up portals to Thunder Bluff and Silvermoon. Granted, both Baine and Lor'themar had other means of travel, but Jaina liked to keep in practice.

Besides, she took a certain amount of satisfaction in the way Lor'themar edged warily through that portal. Baine shook his head, then inclined it in their direction. "Warchief. Lady Proudmoore. Varian."

Jaina fought back a giggle as the Tauren grinned at her just as he portalled away. She kept her very best straight face on as Rokhan bowed and mimicked Baine's words before he walked out.

Nathanos stepped out from his corner looking somewhat less than amused. Varian lifted his head and hissed at him. Sylvanas rubbed his ears as a reward and chuckled. "Well that was fruitful."

"Gallywix will not roll over easily," Nathanos noted. He refused to acknowledge the kitten, no matter how hard Jaina had tried to force him to lately.

"No, he won't," Jaina agreed. "And while it's true that Sylvanas cannot weigh in for or against him, I myself am quite popular with a number of merchants."

"A few well placed pieces of gossip…" Nathanos looked like he'd eaten something foul as he tried to think of some argument against the idea. Jaina knew that this being her suggestion grated on him. "It would be a very effective tool in raising the prospects of Gallywix being unfit and Quixie being better suited to guide the Bilgewater in this new world order."

Jaina knew that he had a hard enough time with her being useful and she couldn't help but twist the knife. "Thank you, Nathanos. High praise indeed. I'll get on it when I see Enda tomorrow for a fitting."

Nathanos just seethed in silence.

"I think I'll take a walk," Jaina decided. She smirked at Nathanos, then at Sylvanas, before walking out of the Hold and leaving Varian purring in her wife's lap. She stopped outside, and counted until Tyra appeared at her left. "Took you longer that time. Where's Kalira?"

Tyra shuffled one foot, then shrugged. "Warchief has her doin' somethin' else today. So it's just us."

Starting to walk, Jaina smiled mischievously. "Why Tyra, you sound disappointed."

"No I don't."

"Mmhmm." Jaina shook her head in amusement and started for the Drag. After a minute, she changed her mind; an expedition was being planned for some uncharted lands near the Maelstrom, and she wanted to check on how far along the preparations had gotten.

She exited through the main gates, taking the road that led to the sea. Supplies lined either side of the road. Knowing that the plan was for fifteen soldiers, four specialists and a champion, she estimated they had enough to last them a month.

Spying a familiar face, Jaina walked over and stroked the nose of Millet the mule. Five more fuzzy noses pressed forward hopefully, the rest of the train snuffling at Jaina's pockets in search of treats-save for one dark brown jenny that pinned her ears back suspiciously and visibly measured the distance between her teeth and Jaina's arm. Jaina ignored her in favor of rubbing her knuckles between Millet's eyes. "Well hello there. Are you going on an adventure or just making a delivery for the expedition?"

Her mistress's head popped up from a pile of crates. "Jus makin' the delivery. Don't you go givin' your wife any damn ideas, Lady."

From her tone, Jaina suspected Ihz had experience with trying to keep a seven-mule string healthy and sane in the hold of a ship and would be willing to do anything up to and possibly including arson to avoid repeating the ordeal. But she also knew if Ihz hung around for too long there was a good chance Sylvanas would task her with joining the expedition regardless; few were as skilled at managing a convoy as she was.

Jaina tapped her lips as Ihz clambered over a pile of water barrels to join them, trailing a dust-colored shepherd mutt that she idly slung an arm around as she settled on a crate. "Do you think I could commission you to take some machine parts and lumber orders up to Ashenvale, and bring back, say, furs from the hunters there?"

Ihz squinted, eyes darting from Jaina to the direction of the sea and back. She nodded slowly, as if afraid to attract attention by moving too fast. "Aye, Lady. Never too early to prepare for winter. Snowed last year, didn't it mon?"

"Very good! I'll have everything ready for you by tonight. It's just a shame that you'll have to miss the expedition's departure."

Ihz's tusks glinted as she smiled. "Too bad about dat. Breakin' poor Nettle's heart, every Mulgore-bred working dog loves bein' trapped in a closed space in th' middle of the damn ocean. But if da Warchief's consort insists..."

Winking at her, Jaina started down the road. Besides supplies for the expedition, there was a camp on the south side of the road where foodstuffs and weapons delivered by sea had been carefully stacked for delivery into Orgrimmar proper for the city guard. Jaina noted ten guards, and nodded at them as she passed. With fishing grounds becoming harder to find, prices had gone up across the board as demand rose. Dockworkers in particular were overextended, and the Bilgewater Goblins had been hit harder than most.

Considering the obscene luxury that Gallywix lived in compared to those workers, it was no wonder they'd organized; Jaina had seen several pieces of graffiti depicting a line of Goblins in front of a Gallywix turning on a spit.

Hopefully her efforts on behalf of Harlene would have enough of an effect to make change before they literally tried to eat the rich.

Even if Gallywix did deserve it.

A commotion behind her made her turn around in time to see a young orc carefully climbing out of the supply camp, a bag of fruit over his shoulder. He got about three feet before one of the guards caught him by the arm and jerked him off his feet.

Jaina had to marvel at the boy's ability to sneak in, even if he hadn't quite made it out.

He was thin and scrawny, and very real proof of the effect that rationing could have, especially on the poor. But he'd just tried to steal from the city guard while all of Orgrimmar was under strict rationing, and Jaina had a horrifying realization of what could happen to him.

The punishment for this kind of theft was twenty-five lashes.

The guard was holding the boy by the back of the shirt, looking somewhat uncomfortable and conflicted as Jaina approached. He glanced at her, then at the boy, almost pleading at her with his eyes.

In no way would Jaina allow this boy to be whipped. She started to order the guard to let him go when a cold chill ran down her spine.

"Whatever you are about to say, don't." Sylvanas appeared next to her, eyes focused on the boy. She turned her gaze to the guard. "Explain yourself."

"This boy was in the supply camp. He was trying to steal a bag of apples."

Sylvanas raised her eyebrow. "Are you telling me this boy made it past ten guards? How close did he come to escaping?"

The guard hesitated before he answered. "He made it past the perimeter by three or four feet. Nothing was lost."

Jaina looked at Sylvanas, feeling a growing sense of unease. She couldn't possibly be considering actually punishing the child, could she? Twenty-five lashes from an oxwhip-grown Tauren had died from less.

"Take the thief to the Valley of Strength and set up a whipping post. Stealing food from the guard cannot go unanswered." Sylvanas turned, cloak fluttering behind her.

"Warchief," Jaina said, rushing to catch up with her. She barely restrained herself from grabbing her arm and kept her face as impassive as possible. "He's just a child."

"Are you questioning my orders in public?"

"No, of course not. I just-"

"Then be silent."

Jaina closed her mouth before she said something she regretted. She looked down at her hands; they were shaking, and it was becoming difficult to breathe.

Once inside the city, Sylvanas called out. "Would this boy's mother step forward?"

A tall orc stepped out of the gathering crowd and Jaina's eyes widened as she recognized the blacksmith that she'd ogled more often than not. She swallowed a choking sound.

"Your son has been caught stealing from the Horde. The punishment for this crime is lashing."

Sylvanas's eyes moved to Jaina; a blood red that rooted her to the spot. Memories rose like bile in her throat, overwhelming her shock.

Jaina's strained to give strength to her voice. "Consider mercy, Warchief."

The Valley was ominously silent. Sylvanas clasped her hands behind her back. "My consort has a soft heart; an affliction I do not share."

You've just crossed a terrible threshold, Arthas.

Jaina?

I'm sorry, Arthas. I can't watch you do this.

"Warchief," Jaina repeated, voice shaking.

"Appropriate justice must be administered, my dear."

There was something in Sylvanas's voice that Jaina couldn't quite catch as oppressive coldness ran through her veins.

You have always been naive, my daughter.

You don't understand!

I understand more than you suspect, my dear. Perhaps in time, you will too.

Once more Jaina pled for mercy unheeded. Not again. Not again.

Just as she was about to offer herself in the boy's place, Sylvanas spoke. "Five lashes may teach the mothers of Orgrimmar to control their spawn."

Wordlessly and with her chin high, the blacksmith peeled off her shirt and took her place at the command board.

Jaina looked at Sylvanas in confusion, still feeling that wave of panic and the voices of the past in her ear. She couldn't process what was happening; nothing made sense to her right now.

"As for the child. A six year old boy infiltrated a military camp staffed by elite guards, stole supplies, and nearly escaped undetected. Guard Captain, rogue trainees and their immediate families are entitled to an extra one-fourth ration, correct?"

The guard still holding the boy nodded, barely containing his relief. "Yes, Warchief."

The mother looked back at them, pride on her face, and Sylvanas nodded once at her, then again at the guard.

He put the boy down, murmured something to him, then unhooked his whip as he approached the blacksmith.

No sound followed save five cracks of the whip. Neither the mother nor her son cried out, and Jaina refused to look away.

Sylvanas allowed Jaina to offer to get the blacksmith a healer, knowing the outcome. As expected, the offer was refused. The orc would wear those scars like badges of honor; they were a small price to pay for her son.

Jaina left the Valley, returning to their quarters. Sylvanas lingered a few minutes longer, issuing some additional orders about the training of the boy, before she followed her consort home.

Jaina was braced against the counter, staring down at a glass half filled with amber liquid in front of her. She turned to look up at Sylvanas, confusion and pale terror on her face.

Sylvanas ran her hand along Jaina's cheek. "I never had any intention of having a child flayed alive. I may be a monster, but even I have standards. Besides. Whipping a six-year-old to death would accomplish nothing but riots in the streets."

It wasn't just the boy that was distressing Jaina; not with her clammy skin and the cold sweat on her brow, not with the violent trembling in her hands, there was something more there. But the mage was silent on the matter and Sylvanas weighed the benefits of pushing it versus letting Jaina come to speak on her own.

"You showed mercy," Jaina said, finally.

"Do not sound so surprised." Stepping away, Sylvanas took a swig from Jaina's bottle before placing it back on the kitchen counter.

"Forgive me, since typically no one listens when I suggest it."

The bitterness in Jaina's voice was familiar to Sylvanas, like something she usually only acknowledged deep within herself. "You were about to say something when I gave the order for the mother. What was it?"

Jaina stared at her a long, hard moment, then leaned back against the counter. "I would have accepted the boy's punishment in his place."

Anger flared through Sylvanas, mixed with respect and even a little pride. "Jaina Proudmoore, daughter of the sea, submitting to the lash for an orc child."

Lifting her chin, Jaina held Sylvanas's gaze. "Yes."

"You realize that by virtue of being my consort I'm the only one of high enough rank to wield that whip."

"The thought had occurred to me, yes."

"I can't tell," Sylvanas said. "If it would have been a brilliant tactical decision on your part, or a fatal error for all of us."

Jaina's face flashed through a variety of emotions before she sighed and acknowledged, "I also realized that taking the lash for the boy could have ignited the people of the city to support me. Your hand on the whip might have turned them against you. To be honest, I considered it a worthwhile risk."

Irritated by the response, Sylvanas left the kitchen, the infernal cat trailing after her. She'd expected Jaina to have acted entirely out of selflessness without thinking of the consequences, but she should have known the mage would have been aware of them and not cared. Somehow, that was worse than being unaware.

She nudged the kitten away as she took her cloak back off the hook. "For the record, Jaina, I am glad you did not speak up fast enough."

Jaina peered out of the kitchen door curiously.

Sylvanas closed the door, muttering, "You've enough scars as it is."

Pained had lived a harsh life, always at the forefront of any battle. It had left her body scarred. Sometimes, on those rare nights when Pained warmed her bed, Jaina would trace those scars with her fingers or her mouth. Each told a story, and Jaina would never be able to hear each one. And that was okay.

"What are you looking at?" She propped herself up on an elbow, mirroring the Kaldorei's position.

"What happened to you, my lady?" Pained's eyes narrowed, her face twisting into disgust.

The look tore at Jaina's heart. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"I died and you're breaking bread with my murderers, laughing with them in the streets. Didn't I mean anything to you?"

Part of Pained's face shattered into fine purple shards when Jaina touched her, prompting Jaina to scream and scramble back, falling out of the bed.

She stood, no longer in bed in her tower, but standing in the ruins of Theramore. Ghosts surrounded her. Some pointed, others jeered. Murderer, they called her. Traitor.

Kinndy stepped out from between General Marcus Johnson and Janene. The gnome prodigy stared up at Jaina, fear in her eyes. Jaina swallowed, memories of her apprentice flooding her mind. She hadn't asked for one, had been reluctant at first, but had come to enjoy mentoring the young woman. She reached for her and Kinndy blew away on the wind, forever out of reach.

"Is this why I sacrificed myself for you? So you could serve the Horde?"

Rhonin's voice made Jaina choke back a sob. She turned to the Archmage, to Vereesa's husband. "I'm keeping the peace, Rhonin."

He shook his head at her. "Keep telling yourself that. I'm sure it will comfort you while you warm Windrunner's bed."

Jaina blinked away tears, finding herself standing on the Broken Shore. No, no, not this too. She stared at the broken shell of a man who had been King Varian Wrynn. "I'm so sorry. I should have been there. I could have gotten you all out."

"Where were you, Jaina?"

"Legion forces had…" Jaina trailed off. What did it matter? She should have let the combined Alliance and Horde forces deal with that other beach. It would have been a simple matter for her to portal Varian and everyone else to safety.

"You left us. When we needed you the most, you left us." He advanced on her, pointing a ghostly image of Shalamayne at her. "I died to cover our retreat, and then you just left."

Jaina drew herself up. This, this was too far. In a thundering voice she shouted, "There were a hundred fronts all across Azeroth! I slayed thousands of demons to keep Alliance lands safe while Horde and Alliance bickered and the Champions fought back the Legion's main force! Villages and cities burned and I protected them, Varian! I didn't seek glory or praise, I just did what I had to do."

Just like she had when she'd placed her hand on Sylvanas's arm and agreed to be her wife.

Varian faded and Jaina stared into her father's face. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand; after everything else she'd just witnessed, he was almost anti-climactic. "Get on with it, father."

The familiar refrain of her nightmares and guilt spilled from his mouth. How she was Thrall's whore, how she disgraced her family, her country and her entire race. It hurt, as it always did, but the ache was duller than it used to be. She'd put much of this behind her. The other wounds were fresher and lacked the salve of making amends with her mother and her people. Her subconscious should have ended with those if it truly wished to torment her.

Daelin Proudmoore could no longer haunt her. She smiled as he faded from view and said to no one in particular, "Besides, you're behind the times. Shouldn't it be Sylvanas's whore now?"

Jaina's eyes snapped open. Sweat coated her skin, soaking her nightdress thoroughly, her skin burning and her eyes raw and blood shot.

Hands stroked through her hair and she was pulled in against skin so cold that she gasped in shock.

Sylvanas said nothing, merely stretching out beside her like a silent, elf-sized ice pack. Jaina let herself be pulled in, the chill soothing her pounding heart only for her body to feel warm for entirely different reasons.

Wordlessly, Sylvanas trailed her fingers down Jaina's cheek, across her neck, down to her throat then over to her bare shoulder and back again.

Gradually, Jaina started to calm and relax, until she felt comfortable enough to throw her arm around Sylvanas's waist and draw her hips in until they were flush with Jaina's. She felt Sylvanas go rigid for just a moment before resuming stroking her hair.

Burying her face into the crook of Sylvanas's neck, Jaina noted that Sylvanas had warmed up to match her body heat, and slipped into a dreamless sleep.