***THREE YEARS AGO***

For nearly an hour Sylvanas stood with her Dark Rangers, watching the dust settle from the departure of her sisters and contemplating why she hadn't slain them as she'd originally planned. A weakness? Sentimentality? Or just not yet the right time?

Realizing she didn't have an answer for herself, she let out a breath that she hadn't needed to take and stepped into the doorway of Windrunner Spire. "Stay here."

Her family home had been ransacked, furniture and belongings flung everywhere. The Scourge had no need for looting; but they had a taste for destruction, and the first level had seen the brunt of it. That didn't matter. Anything that might have once been important would be on other floors.

Ascending the stairs, Sylvanas looked into her mother's room. A chest had been broken open and the dresser had tipped over, but it was otherwise as she remembered it. Anything of value had long ago been split between herself and her sisters, so she moved on.

Alleria's room told a similar story, though Vereesa's had been warded like Sylvanas's, so was more intact. Sylvanas broke the ward and searched around, but found nothing that interested her. When she left the room, she hesitated; then restored the warding.

Her own room was one more level up, and here the scourge had never reached. Adventurers had tried though. Sylvanas could tell by the attempts to break through the wards, and then when that failed an effort to break through the wall.
She stepped past a dwarf skeleton holding a drill, and brought the wards down.

Stepping into her room was like stepping through time. Sylvanas clenched her fists, then slowly relaxed them as she approached a mirror. It hung on the wall near the window, the woman who stared back at her a dark mockery of the person she'd once been.

Growling, Sylvanas ripped the mirror down and threw it against the opposite wall, then punched her hand into the space where the mirror had been.

She pulled out a small box and opened it. Inside was a single ring. Her mother's ring. The ring that had once been meant for Feydori Sundreamer, an (un)lifetime ago. Sylvanas slipped it into her pocket and walked over to an armoire, sliding it open. She rifled through the clothing, remembering each and every article, until she found a dress. Low cut, with slits up the sides save for the waist and shoulders. Something she'd once thought to wear for Fey.

So, like the ring, it was stupid, frivolous, and sentimental.

Slamming the armoire shut, Sylvanas called out, "Kalira."

"Yes, mother?" The daughter of Feydori Sundreamer stepped into the room, boots crunching on the broken mirror. She regarded Sylvanas with both reverence and hate.

Sylvanas stared back at the Dark Ranger. Sentimentality was for fools. "Your mother is dead. Remember that."

"Of course… dark lady." Kalira bowed her head. She'd grown to look so much like Fey in life and still resembled her where it mattered in death.

Sylvanas gestured around her, pointing out the armoires and chest in particular. "See to it these things are stored in Silvermoon with the Sundreamer crest. I trust you to be discreet."

"Still attached to the trappings of the past, mo-my lady?" Kalira opened the armoire, fingering the fabric of a dress that had once been Feydori's. She turned her head, gaze boring into Sylvanas, anger and hatred eclipsing the reverence and love.

"Just do it, daughter," Sylvanas commanded, the weight in her pocket dragging her down to places she'd rather not dwell upon. She left the room before Kalira Sundreamer could respond, ghosts whispering in her ears.

***Now***

The party for the second anniversary was larger than the one for the first. With the wheels of trade finally starting to turn Sylvanas had ordered rationing to be reduced, and kicked off the new policy with a new, yearly celebration. After all, one shouldn't feast when the populace was starving.

Numerous tables had been set up with food laid out for anyone to sample. Bards and performers played at the outskirts, and two large areas had been cleared for dancing. Carnival games lined the area near the inn, and a Tauren woman was engaged in a tug of war with about a dozen children, who were valiantly trying to avoid being pulled into a pit of mud. It was almost cute, if Sylvanas could ever acknowledge that concept.

There was just a single hitch. She noted a steady stream of goblins; the Bilgewater workers had been engaged in strikes for weeks, and it seemed they were attending the party in shifts so as to always have people on the picket lines. Sylvanas had to give Harlene Quixie points for cleverness, nodding once at her when their eyes met.

She'd chosen something less warlike this time. While it would take a truly special occasion to get her back into a dress, Sylvanas wore tight black trousers, with kodohide boots dyed purple. Her tunic was of a sort that buttoned up, white, and she'd left the top four buttons undone. She'd finished it off with her favorite ranger cloak.

The dashing look turned heads, which for once she didn't mind.

Sylvanas took a position where she could monitor the scene. She spied Tyra and Kalira in a corner, standing far too close for her taste. They were swaying. It was almost like they were dancing. The glass Sylvanas was holding cracked under the force of her grip and she set it on a wall, striding towards them to put a stop to whatever that was; but movement and a low murmuring among the crowd made her stop short.

She turned to see Jaina and what little air was usually kept trapped in her lungs expelled in a raspy breath.

Jaina wore the dress that Sylvanas had gifted her nearly two years before; a gift she'd all but forgotten about. It clung to her body like a lover's caress, held in place by a thin belt. It was slit up the right side from hem all the way to just below her shoulder, and the other side was slit from the waist up. The neckline curved low, Jaina's necklace glinting on her throat and pointing towards the space between her breasts.

Worse, her hair was down, falling past her shoulders and swaying across her bare back. Sylvanas had known how much skin would be exposed in that dress-for that reason alone she'd not expected Jaina to ever put it on. It had almost been a challenge.

A challenge that Jaina had not just risen to, but excelled at.

Sylvanas shouldn't have expected any less. Her irritation at whatever flirtation Kalira and Tyra were engaged in faded, replaced by irritation at herself; she found it impossible to look away and the more other people stared at her consort, the greater her irritation grew.

She felt a strange vulnerability as Jaina stared back at her, eyes roaming. Like she'd been exposed, revealing a part of her she'd thought had rotted away long ago.

Only when Jaina started walking towards her did Sylvanas realize she'd been rooted to the spot. The confidence in Jaina's eyes, the sly, teasing smirk on her pouty lips, the way torchlight gleamed on her skin and the breeze blew in her hair made it impossible to turn away.

Jaina Proudmoore had challenged her and she had no choice but to rise to the occasion. Her left hand went to Jaina's hip, skin burning at her palm. The other ran up Jaina's arm to her shoulder.

That teasing smirk turned into a sly smile, and the only thing giving Jaina away was the flush on her cheeks and the fact that Sylvanas could hear the thundering of her human heart. She moved her hand from shoulder to the side of Jaina's neck, thumb rubbing across her throat to feel the rapid pulse fluttering there. Jaina swallowed, which Sylvanas could feel too.

"Shall we dance, consort?" Neither had spoken of Sylvanas's presence when Jaina had nightmares-or what it might mean for them that it had happened more than once in recent weeks.

When had this woman gotten under her skin? It had started that first night and yet Jaina still tormented her, barely realizing she was doing it. Sylvanas latched onto that feeling, that hate, because it was better than the other things she was starting to feel. Fondness. Respect.

Need.

Jaina wet her lips, nodding before she started to move with Sylvanas. Sylvanas was keenly aware of not just the eyes on them, but also every inch of Jaina's body against her own. She could feel the blood pumping through Jaina's veins, an occasional irregular beat every time Sylvanas' thumb dipped down to trace the seam of her thigh. Humans were so interesting that way; their hearts so necessary for life and yet so easily interrupted or overloaded.

"What are you staring at?" Jaina asked, lifting her eyes to Sylvanas's and wincing when Sylvanas dug her nails into her hip.

"Interesting choice of dress."

"You gave it to me," Jaina replied, confidence in her tone and her eyes. "I thought that I should wear it. This is a special enough occasion, isn't it?"

Jaina's hand touched Sylvanas's face, her thumb stroking one of her cheekbones. Sylvanas realized that she was no longer leading the dance; Jaina had taken over that role at some point.

Unable to stand it, Sylvanas spun Jaina around, using her sudden movement to reassert control of the situation.

Jaina inhaled deeply. Voice pointedly sweet, she asked, "What the hell is your problem, Warchief?"

"I lead," Sylvanas replied, eyes locked onto Jaina's lips.

"I thought you deserved a little taste of what it's like to not be in control of something." Jaina moved her hand from Sylvanas's face, tracing it along her earlobe.

If Sylvanas had any doubts left that she could still feel in her state, they evaporated as a shiver ran through her. Her voice hitched. "I am always in control, Jaina."

Jaina's eyebrow raised, and Sylvanas realized that she'd played into Jaina's game. She leaned in, flicking her tongue against Jaina's ear, then pulled away. She ordered Jaina to follow her with her eyes, and the way she trailed her hand up Jaina's bare side before stepping away and walking towards Grommash Hold.

She felt Jaina fall into step on her left, and paused at the entrance. Sylvanas fixed her gaze on Tyra, who'd miraculously put three feet between herself and Kalira. "No one is to bother us for the rest of the night. Understood?"

"Of course, Dark Lady."

Sylvanas ignored the encouraging smile Jaina gave them, walking inside and waiting at the elevator. Up they went, and Jaina started towards the bar until Sylvanas caught her elbow. "No. I want you sober."

"You're acting like I have a problem."

Sylvanas spun Jaina against the wall near the stairs to the sanctuary, pinning her to it with her body.

"Is there a problem, Warchief?" Jaina asked breezily, before tauntingly undoing one of the buttons on Sylvanas's shirt.

"Quiet."

Before Sylvanas could taste Jaina's lips, the mage slipped out from beneath her and started up the stairs. It would be the first time in a long while that she'd entered the Sanctuary, which was telling all by itself.

Sylvanas composed herself, then followed. She paused at the top to take Jaina in as her consort all but glowed in the candlelight.

If she hadn't already come to a decision, that would have made it for Sylvanas then and there. She approached, pressing her chest into Jaina's back and letting her hands stroke bare skin. She was rewarded with a barely restrained moan.

"When was the last time you were touched?" Sylvanas's fingers ran across Jaina's rib cage, and she lifted her other hand to fondle Jaina's hair.

Jaina panted the word. "Kalec."

"Pity. That must have been some time ago." Sometime around Theramore's destruction, Sylvanas assumed, and quickly moved past that before Jaina could dwell on it. "Or have you always been so easy to play like an instrument?"

"What about you?" Jaina asked, tilting her head back against Sylvanas, eyes closed.

Sylvanas stared at her lips, but didn't respond.

"...Nathanos?"

A loud, genuinely amused laugh exploded out of Sylvanas. "While I am quite fond of the man, it's only ever happened in his dreams."

"Don't tell me you're a virgin, Sylvanas."

Amused, Sylvanas replied, "Virginity is a meaningless concept designed to reassure insignificant men of their own relevance. But no." Sylvanas ran her hands achingly slowly down Jaina's sides, letting them settle against her hips before her grip tightened possessively. She purred in Jaina's ear. "I was well acquainted with pleasures of the flesh."

Feydori's face came unbidden to her just then, and she banished the memories to the past.

Jaina's face had heated up, and she shuddered as she again leaned against Sylvanas.

Sylvanas took Jaina's ear into her teeth, then bit lightly where Jaina's neck and shoulder met as she slid her hand around to Jaina's stomach. Jaina rested her hand over Sylvanas's a moment, her grip tightening when Sylvanas, slowly and deliberately, reached up to pull the shoulder of her dress down.

As she felt Sylvanas push the cloth off of her shoulders, Jaina was certain she was going mad.

That was the only explanation for even putting the infernal dress on, let alone wearing it in public. But when she'd studied herself in the mirror, she had decided that she liked the effect. It wasn't even that much more revealing than some robes she'd worn. Just in different areas than she was used to, and it had clearly had an effect on Sylvanas. She'd wanted to make an old fashioned entrance, and she had.

Jaina had felt a seismic shift in the air when Sylvanas had seen her and it felt like she'd barely blinked, her heart pounding and skipping a few beats as Sylvanas's cold fingers touched her skin in that moment. And in this moment, too.

Jaina closed her eyes, fighting back a wispy groan and trying not to enjoy the feel of Sylvanas's hands on her body.

In a vain attempt to ground herself she wondered how the party downstairs was progressing. She'd encouraged her shadows to go on ahead and they'd agreed readily, and she'd hid her smile when Tyra took Kalira's hand.

As important as giving the people a reason to celebrate was, she'd kind of hoped they could, maybe, do something a little more private for their anniversary. Jaina had immediately chided herself at the thought; it wasn't a normal marriage and having a private date with Sylvanas was a laughable thought at best. Though she had to ask herself if allowing Sylvanas to drag her up into the sanctuary qualified.

She barely remembered the dancing, only Sylvanas's irritation at Jaina leading. She tried to focus on that as Sylvanas's lips pressed into her shoulder. Gods, what was she doing? Jaina knew she should stop this, that this was a line she'd sworn never to cross but it felt so good to be touched. To be appreciated.

To her own shock she found herself wishing that she had let Sylvanas kiss her. Suddenly, she craved it, needed it. A tear burned down her cheek as the well of loneliness inside her gaped into a chasm.

She hadn't felt comfortable coming up here in too many weeks to count. It had almost become a second home within Orgrimmar; she tried to let the scent of the candles soothe her, even as the dress crumpled at her feet with a soft swishing sound, leaving her completely exposed to Sylvanas.

Jaina couldn't even use drink as an excuse for what Sylvanas's touch did to her. It had been much too long since Kalec, and too long for the time before that. She missed intimacy, the sound of a lover's laugh in her ear. The way Sylvanas laughed stoked something inside her.

Sylvanas's hands were no longer cold, the contact with Jaina's skin warming them. Jaina closed her eyes as those hands roamed down her arms, across her hips and stomach until one cupped her breast and the other rose up to her throat. Sylvanas squeezed both at once and Jaina hated the sound she made, and the pleased hum that Sylvanas gave in response.

More than that, she hated it when Sylvanas let go, her absence sudden and leaving her wanting, a feeling she tried vainly to resist.

Jaina turned around, her demand dying in her throat as Sylvanas unbuttoned her shirt, taking her time before she shrugged it off. A small, thin scar marked the line between her breasts. She was otherwise unblemished and Jaina felt a small surge of pity. Scars told stories, they were evidence of a life lived, and a physical scar was far better than a mental one. Jaina wouldn't give up most of hers if she had the chance.

It wasn't, technically, the first time Jaina had seen her naked, but this time was different.. Abandoning any pretenses, Jaina allowed herself to openly admire the woman she'd once -still?- hated as Sylvanas's trousers fell down her legs. They were kicked aside, and Sylvanas crooked her finger.

Coming to her in an instant, Jaina leaned in to kiss her, but Sylvanas tangled her fingers in her hair and pulled her head back. Jaina groaned, in protest or pleasure she wasn't entirely sure herself. The tug on her hair grew almost painful as she felt Sylvanas's mouth on her neck. Jaina's fingers tightened convulsively on Sylvanas' shoulders as sharp teeth scraped against her skin.

"Cold?" Sylvanas asked, tongue flicking at Jaina's jugular as she pinched one of Jaina's erect nipples.

"You are an ice cube," Jaina gasped, a little proud of herself for forming a coherent sentence just then.

Sylvanas sank her teeth in and sucked hard enough to bruise. Lightning ran through Jaina and that last little part of her that wanted to fight this fled from her.

She knew her touch burned Sylvanas, and ran her hands across her torso as Sylvanas lifted her head. Trying to recover her breath, Jaina traced the scar on Sylvanas's chest. This was a story she didn't need to ask about. This was Arthas.

If she had tried to stop him at Stratholme, perhaps Sylvanas would never have suffered this fate.

Jaina leaned down, Sylvanas giving her some slack in her hair as she kissed the scar. When she lifted her head, there was something indecipherably sad and lost in Sylvanas's eyes.

But the moment ended quickly. Sylvanas pulled Jaina's head back again as she flicked a sharp nail against her nipple. Pain and pleasure rippled through her and she rolled her hips, needing friction that wasn't there.

"Do you want this?" Sylvanas asked, before making a matching mark on the other side of Jaina's neck.

It hurt, but in a way that left her aching for more. Jaina found herself nodding.

Sylvanas bit harder. "Say it."

In a raspy voice, she heard her own answer. "Yes…"

She was suddenly free, and staggered back a few paces.

Sylvanas lifted Jaina's chin, her own head angling slightly to the side as her eyes burned with defiant hunger and command. "On your knees."