***Then***
Nathanos Marris did not fall in combat, though he did die with his bow in hand.
The plague took him, as it had so many others. He'd tried to respond to the horns, the call for aid, he'd tried to respond to his Lady.
But the darkness claimed him, the voice of the Lich King commanded him, and Nathanos knew little more than a ravenous hunger and flashes of panicked faces and anguished screams and the taste of flesh.
It might have been days, or months, or years. Time lost all meaning in this state. Whoever Nathanos had once been was stripped of meaning as he became one among a horde of many.
And then the Lich King's voice went silent and he wandered lost and hungry, searching for something or someone. There was something out there, something so important to him that even mindless he sought it out. A distant memory, a voice, a feeling of belonging.
He heard it whispering in the dark. A woman speaking his name. The shackles on his mind cracked, and then shattered.
Nathanos saw, truly saw for the first time, as he laid eyes on his savior.
Sylvanas stood there, skin the color of ash, her hair white as snow and her eyes red like rage. She was virtually nude, what armor remained twisted and rent, but she stood proud, anger clinging to her like a second skin.
And she was not alone. On her left was a walking corpse. She'd been fair in life with hair dyed a shade of violet, her clothing in tatters, half a shield with the seal of Lordaeron on it dangling from her arm. There was something faintly broken in her eyes, as if she were in shock.
On Sylvana's right was an elf the color of death, hands clenched into fists. She wore a shredded, blood stained cloak and was missing a boot. Her name floated to his mind and he remembered Kalira. Whatever Sylvanas had become, she'd found her daughter the same.
"There you are," Sylvanas said, reaching her hand out to him. There was the faintest echo to her voice, and it ran over him like a lover's caress. "I've been looking for you."
He reached for her, then hesitated when he saw his hand. One finger was reduced to bone, the flesh rotted or chewed off. He held both his hands up for inspection, then touched his face. The skin there was also rotten, bone exposed along his jaw.
"What are we?" He grasped her hand.
Sylvanas pulled him to her group and he saw masses of people walking towards them. There must have been hundreds. Thousands.
Many walked unsteadily, but with determination; and when Sylvanas answered his question he heard it in his mind and into the depths of his soul.
We are not alone. We are Forsaken.
Nathanos knelt. All around him he heard people following suit, until only Kalira and the Lordaeron soldier remained standing.
Sylvanas looked around her, surprise crossing her features for the briefest of moments. It returned when Kalira slowly took a knee, and a moment later, so did the other.
"We follow and obey, Lady," Nathanos said, voice like gravel as he looked in reverence upon his Queen. "Now and forever."
As one, the Forsaken thundered their glorious assent.
"Arrows in my quiver," Sylvanas whispered, torment in her eyes. "To pierce his heart."
***now***
People often said the worst part of any battle was the waiting. Anduin would be inclined to disagree. He was a healer at heart, a peacemaker. The worst part of any battle was the dead and dying, those injured in body or mind or both.
But the waiting was unpleasant. It was the anxiety and anticipation of not knowing what was going to happen. Or even when.
The only certainty was that something was coming. Naga assaults had been just the start; Faceless and other minions of the Old Gods were sure to follow.
All Anduin could hope for was that the Alliance had been able to rebuild enough from the war with the Horde to be able to push back whatever came for them. And then keep pushing until they'd struck at the source of it all. It almost always became a task for Champions, and with both factions barely recovered, they might be the only choice.
Assuming there was anyone left to issue orders by the end of it.
The last update from Ironforge told him that the Dwarves had dug in, collapsing any known tunnels and sealing off the Deeprun Tram as potential attack vectors. Velen had evacuated most of the Exodar to the Vindicaar, and Mekkatorque had only sent a cryptic message about Gnomeregan being ready for anything. Their allies in Pandaria had reported all quiet and most of Alleria's people were in Stormwind, though she'd left on what she called an important mission.
His armor felt heavy to him as he stepped out of the war room and into the throne room. "Any word from Tyrande?"
"Her last report said that they'd seen no further Naga attacks on Kaldrassil." Genn waved a paper in Anduin's direction. "She intends to keep most of her forces protecting the new World Tree and other Kaldorei strongholds, but has offered a small force of Sentinels and archers to be used at your discretion."
Anduin rubbed his chin, thinking back to the war table. Stromgarde was vulnerable to a sea attack and its status as a cooperative venture made it a target, though scaling the walls and cliffs would prove difficult for Naga. "Have her send the archers to Stromgarde, and the sentinels here."
"What about…" Genn grimaced. "the Horde?"
"Are you suggesting I ask Tyrande to send her people to defend Horde cities?" Anduin tilted his head, looking at Genn like he'd lost his mind.
"It was… her idea." He held the missive out, and Anduin took it.
Scanning over it, Anduin's eyebrows slowly raised as he did so. "In absence of any suggestion on my part, Tyrande will send her sentinels to the defense of Suramar. She considers it a good faith gesture in the interests of mending relations." He shook his head. "Strange times we live in. I thought she hated the Shal'dorei."
"As did I, but as much as I hate to admit it, it would be a good gesture."
"I've already sent someone to Orgrimmar," Anduin mused. He swiftly wrote a response, sealed it with his personal seal and gestured for a page. "Take the portal to Moonshadow and make sure this missive is directly delivered to Tyrande Whisperwind." Maybe when all this was over he should pay a visit to Tyrande's new city. He hadn't seen it yet.
The page nodded and took off at a sprint. She dodged out of the way as she passed a group of people. Anduin felt Genn tense and then he saw why; it was the Sin'dorei warlock from the debriefing after the sea battle. She was accompanied by another Blood Elf warlock whose hair was as dark as Lomea's was light and Anduin stared at the women, wondering if Sylvanas was just messing with him at this point.
One warlock was bad enough. Now he had to deal with two. At least they'd left their demons somewhere else.
There were maybe a half dozen other champions with them, and they stopped in the center of the throne room while the two warlocks approached him. "Welcome to Stormwind."
"Thank you." Lomea inclined her head to him, then gestured with her hand. "This is my fiance, Elyndris. We have been tasked with assisting in the defense of Stormwind."
Anduin kept his surprise carefully locked behind a neutral expression. "A kind and welcome gesture. What forces do you bring to bear?"
"Myself," Lomea answered, waving her hand.
Elyndris cleared her throat, and Lomea added. "And Elyndris, of course."
The silence stretched on a few seconds, and Lomea rolled her eyes. "The other six champions you see before you, and a dozen more troops on board our ship."
"I'll leave their deployment up to you," Anduin suggested. "But please speak with General Slaughter, as he will know where you would be needed most."
"Knowing Stormwind's weak points would be useful," Lomea mused. "For the defense of course."
Genn narrowed his eyes. "Slaughter will assist you. Now go."
"As you wish." Lomea tilted her head, fixing Genn with a sultry smile that only grew wider when he sneered back.
Anduin was preparing to step in between them when the ground rocked beneath his feet. A tendril ripped through the stone floor, impaling a guard and flinging her against the wall with a sickening crunch. Another crashed through the wall behind the throne as a low, unnerving howling sound filled the air, distant and faint.
Fel fire arced across the throne room and rippled across the void tendrils and the rest of the Horde champions launched a counter-attack on the tentacles.
Anduin felt pressure building in his head, as though something dark and terrifying were approaching. The ceiling collapsed, sending boulder sized pieces of masonry down towards him.
More than anything, Jaina wanted to go to Boralus. She wanted to make sure her mother and the place of her birth was safe. Dalaran remained positioned between Ashvale and the Barrens and was likely safe for the time being, less of a target than Orgrimmar or Stormwind. Boralus, however, was positioned closer to Naga territory, and there'd been enough darkness to worry Jaina about the safety of her people.
Taking out the largest fleets that still remained made Zandalar and Kul Tiras good targets of opportunity in any war. For naga, eliminating as much ship tonnage as possible would be a necessity.
She forced herself to be calm; panicking would do no one any good and she had to be at her best should she be needed. At least, as more than a taxi.
"First Arcanist? If you're ready, I can teleport you home."
Thalyssra nodded, eyes skimming over a missive. She folded it and slipped it into her pocket before approaching Jaina. "I am ready, thank you. You didn't need to offer."
"I mostly just need to do something," Jaina admitted.
"Patience, Lady Proudmoore." Thalyssra smiled at her. "There will be action, soon enough."
Jaina watched as the portal whisked her away. Each leader sent to protect their homes, and yet here she was, stuck in Orgrimmar. Logically, she knew Boralus was well defended by some of the finest men and women in the world, but in her heart, she needed to be there. She'd abandoned them too many times already.
But even if Boralus wasn't Alliance territory, she couldn't leave Orgrimmar without Sylvanas's leave. Not for something like this.
"If you would stop wearing a groove into the floor, I would appreciate it."
Stopping, Jaina worried at her lip with her teeth, then wiped her hands on her robe. "So what now, Sylvanas?"
Sylvanas tilted her head, watching Jaina from the throne. "Now? We wait. For an attack. For word from other cities. Or for all of this to be nothing."
"We both know it's not nothing."
"Of course. Though I suspect we'd both prefer to be wrong." Sylvanas stood smoothly, gesturing for Jaina to follow her out of the Hold.
Defenses and barriers had been built throughout the Valley of Strength, and in each neighborhood. Choke points had been created, and Jaina knew that workers were even now building barricades outside the gates. Even with lessons learned when the city had been besieged, there was no guarantee the defenses would stand against what was likely coming.
"I sealed the underground entrances two days ago," Jaina said quietly. "As you asked, there's no way through them now. Not without enough force to destroy the city, which would make an exposed rear entrance irrelevant. I also buffed up the magical wards with a few new tricks, again."
"Very good." Sylvanas came to a stop once they'd made their way to the second level. From here, Jaina could see down into the Drag, where most shops had been boarded up, the people who had not volunteered for the last ditch defense safe in newly designed shelters. Despite being a target, Orgrimmar was still the most heavily fortified city the Horde had, so there was really no where else safe to evacuate to.
Jaina took a breath, squared her shoulders, and looked Sylvanas in the eye. But before she could open her mouth and speak, the Warchief put her finger on her lips.
"I know what it is you're going to say. I know what you're going to ask. And the answer is no."
"Warchief," Jaina hissed. She stepped closer, keeping her voice low, knowing that making a scene would only encourage Sylvanas to be less generous. "Kul Tiras needs me. I've done everything you've asked of me. Let me go to them. I don't know if I could live with myself if...I've only barely managed to convince them that I was never their enemy. If I abandon them now, if something happens and I could have stopped it..."
"What of Stormwind?" Sylvanas asked. "What of Dalaran? Thunder Bluff? Orgrimmar? Zandalar? That sprout of Tyrande's or even Pandaria? What makes Boralus more important than any of those? Answer me without making this personal."
Jaina rubbed at her chest, scowling. "Boralus is of strategic importance."
"So is Zuldazar," Sylvanas pointed out.
"It would be a symbol of-"
"My human consort, abandoning Orgrimmar to the Old Gods in favor of a human city that spent a decade baying for her blood, because kinship ties are more important than her commitment to the Horde?" Sylvanas' voice was caustic. "It would certainly be a symbol of something."
"Sylvanas." Jaina couldn't answer Sylvanas's question. This was personal, and not just because of her mother. It was a principle, something she was too emotional to put into words. It was strategically unsound, politically flawed, a diplomatic nightmare, and she didn't care. She grabbed her arm, squeezing tight. "Let me protect my people."
Sylvanas pried Jaina's fingers off of her arm. "No."
She stared at her, taking a step back as she desperately reached for the only option she had left. "Don't make me do this."
"Don't you dare."
Ignoring the warning in her voice, Jaina knelt in the dust at Sylvanas's feet, head bowed in supplication. She caught Sylvanas' hand, clutching it between her own as she pressed the knuckles to her lips, then her forehead, feeling for all the world like a lost child. Her voice broke. "Sylvanas, I'm begging you to let me go to Kul Tiras. Please."
"On your feet!" Sylvanas grabbed Jaina by the chin, hard enough to hurt, hard enough for her nails to dig into her skin. She lifted her head up, forcing Jaina to stand for fear of losing it, and snarled, "Never grovel! You are better than that."
She let go of Jaina's face with a jerk of her hand, causing Jaina to stumble back. Jaina balled her hands up, breathing heavily and blinking tears from her eyes.
Sylvanas would not explain her reasoning, Jaina understood that now, seeing the answer in her eyes without having to rely on the words that would most certainly come next. The thing that broke Jaina's heart was the fact that she could guess those reasons. On another day, with another subject, Jaina might even agree with them. Boralus was simply not the Warchief's to protect-and Jaina was the strongest weapon Sylvanas could deploy in defense of Orgrimmar. She couldn't afford to make a decision that would weaken those defenses. As leader of the Horde, she didn't have the right.
"Again. The answer is no." Jaina said nothing, and Sylvanas swept her arms out, raising her voice until it boomed. "Citizens of the Horde! Darkness comes for us! But it always has. We have fought it back, time and time again. You are, all of you..." Sylvanas looked at Jaina as she spoke the next. "Arrows in my quiver. Some of you have faced gods. Dragons. Together, we crushed Arthas, beat back the Iron Horde, laid waste to the Burning Legion itself. We fought the Alliance to a bloody standstill."
She held her arms out. "We are Horde and today will be no different!"
Dropping her hands to her sides, Sylvanas called out her orders. "Nathanos. Collect Kalira and two other Dark Rangers. And you." She pointed at a Champion, a Mag'har Shaman with a long scar across her face. "You're with us. Consort, I'll have you open a portal once Nathanos returns."
She turned, looking directly at Jaina. "The Lady of Orgrimmar will oversee the defense of this city. Her orders are my orders, from today until the day the Horde falls."
Jaina stared at her, dumbfounded and emotionally raw. She almost didn't want to understand what Sylvanas was doing, why she had to be the one coordinating Orgrimmar's defenses; yet she did. Sylvanas was under no obligation to do anything but defend Orgrimmar.
But that didn't explain why she was leaving.
Quietly, so that no one else could hear, she asked, "Where are you going? How can you ask me to abandon Kul Tiras when you're going to abandon Orgrimmar?"
"I am not abandoning Orgrimmar, because you are here." Sylvanas stepped close, trailing her fingers across Jaina's left cheek. "And you are not abandoning Kul Tiras."
She leaned in, and Jaina almost couldn't feel the pressure of her lips. "Open a portal, Lady Proudmoore. To Boralus."
Jaina stared at Sylvanas, throat bobbing as she hesitated. Then, before she could think better of it, she unclasped one of the chains around her neck, and fastened it around Sylvanas's.
The anchor hung over Sylvanas's chest, and she touched it. "...You've yet to return my arrow to me."
"Then, once this is all over and we're out of danger, we'll trade," Jaina promised. It was all she could do, for now.