Note: Finished this next one, fast! So, the first part is new. But when we get down to the letter itself, you'll remember it, oh-so-well. The rest will appear in the next update.
Chapter Five: I swear it isn't yaoi
Sunthraze would never, ever admit to it if you asked him, but he was busy circling articles about Prince Kael'thas in the newspaper on the afternoon that Queen Celestia summoned him.
Sunthraze was a determined soul and prided himself on his sense of humor, his charm, his wit… and after a few days in the keep beneath the Sunpsire, his time imprisoned at the Garrison felt almost like practice. Yes, Sorn had questioned him a few times, but with no real results when Sunthraze was, in fact innocent. But other than that, the answer to being locked up was not to sit around, panicking about it. Instead, one befriended the guards, found cell mates to form alliances with, keep one's mind busy with planning a defense when the trial came up, things like that. At least, that's what Sunthraze had convinced himself of, that there was still something he could do. So, a pencil and a newspaper—and an explanation of what an 'undie' was, turned out not to be such a tall order. At that, several men in adjoining cells had folded up newspapers and pencils, or nubs of chalk, or small pebbles able to make a mark. All of them settled in like he was, doing the same thing. Everyone was quiet, and so eerily polite about sharing newspapers and writing implements, that the prison guards were starting to get uncomfortable.
"Woohoo! Look, Prince Arthas is my undie today! Haha… we're both in it together."
Sunthraze heard Lancefir shout that. A skinny blonde Highborne who was going gray at the temples.
Sunthraze lay his head back against the bars and said, "You're soiled undies, then." Honestly, most of them only started doing it because, at first, it sounded like finding your 'undie' might have been a dirty game of some kind.
The man on the other side was Lance's literal partner-in-crime, who only liked to be called Mars. Both of them had robbed the largest bank in Silvermoon and killed city guards before being rounded up by the Farstriders at the edge of Eversong Woods, near the Plaguelands. A few more miles, and they would have made it. But Ranger-General Sylvanas was involved in their arrest, and she was a very, exceptionally good shot. Sylvanas shot out the back window of the carriage and her arrow went through the skull of the lead Hawkstrider to finally stop them.
"Who's undies are you wearing today, Mars?" Sunthraze asked. If it kept them quiet, then it also stopped them from picking on him.
Mars put down his paper, stood, then started drumming two pencils on the bars he shared with Sunthraze. He got lost in doing that, shut his eyes and pretended he was really performing something.
"Mars…"
Mars stopped. "Eh. Mine is still Thrall, which doesn't seem fair. I mean, back when he was a ferocious gladiator, maybe. But now he's a wanted criminal by the Alliance, and how does that even help me? And even if Thrall does get… kidnapped back across the ocean and captured, they're taking him to Stormwind."
Sunthraze focused on some detail of Kael'thas' graduation speech as magnum cum laude, made notes in the margin of his newspaper.
Lancefir sat up on his bench, "You dope. Darnassus is closer to that side of the world. Thrall will be sent there, if he's ever caught."
"What do you know?"
"I know what a warchief is. That's what Thrall's gonna do next, it's the best way to make him… absconding with all those other Orcs sound legitimate. They're going to form an army, and a base… but they'll call it a city instead. That way, when Lord Proudmoore finally catches up, it'll be us attacking him and his homeland. Oh, poor Orcs, only trying to settle down and live free… see what I mean? And I bet Thrall knows there are Humans, still fans of his, who are going to sympathize. At the least, it'll slow down the political machine, sending more armies over to Kalimdor."
"Orcs don't think like that, it's too smart."
"Thrall will do it." Lancefir poked his temple with the nub of chalk he had. "Strategy. Even an idiot can try and use strategy, even if he only has to outthink other idiots, which, bless him, Lord Proudmoore is… You'll see. They'll get all defensive, those Orcs. Next thing you know, after they get enough allies, they'll call themselves the Orcish Alliance, something like that."
"That's crazy! No, they'll be the Demonic Horde again. That's what they want to be called, those devils."
"Oh, what do you know! You can't form a plan to find your way out of a paper bag, Mars, and I know that because that's why we're in here in the first place—you and your sorry ass-backwards plans, always getting us into trouble."
"I can't think!" Sunthraze shouted. Sunthraze was trying to understand exactly what Prince Kael'thas had majored in, since the article about his graduation listed so many subjects. What would Tempest do? She'd connect up something Kael'thas had studied with something Sunthraze might need… maybe during his trial? What if he ever wrote to Kael'thas, pretended to be interested in that subject… well, it was a dumb idea. Sunthraze couldn't figure out how he and Kael'thas being undies was going to get them at the same place at the same time… well, it was just a way to keep his mind busy, anyway…
When Sunthraze looked up, two guards were staring at him, through the bars. Then, the head prison warden, in red plate armor and cape came and gave orders to get him out. They were in a rush, anxious, and no one seemed happy about it. So, it was something worse than another interrogation session with Advisor Sorn. Something they didn't even take pleasure in.
"Woah. This isn't what it looks like. I'm not… I'm not obsessed with the prince, or anything. I wouldn't do anything to Kael'thas!"
Lancefir said, "He just wants Kael'thas' undies."
"Yeah, reaaaaal bad." Mars wasn't helping either.
"…I'm going to murder both of you."
"The queen wants to see you, Lord Sunthraze Sunthraze."
"Kael'thas' mother—? I didn't… I didn't do anything!"
"What you will do is behave. You'll not do a thing out of place, or we can execute you for a whole list of crimes against the monarchy, on the spot. Got it?"
Sunthraze dragged his feet, he kicked, he resisted.
The Sunspire guards simply raised him up off his feet. They had magically-enhanced muscles anyway, and much better training when it came to avoiding situations where a prisoner might claim they were attacked by guards or abused.
The Farstriders, you see, had warned the Sunspire about the double Sunthraze.
Pyorin heard the guards coming and wondered if he should stand or not. There was a large tome on the table in front of him, as well as a meal, lit candles, and… a pillow or two, in the other chair. The room was a nice meeting room that the royals themselves used. Pyorin hoped everything was acceptable.
The door opened. Pyorin flinched, and couldn't say anything to Sunthraze for a while. Freeze. It was the last thing he had wanted to do.
Sunthraze was as Pyorin remembered him, and somehow more. Somehow, the adversity had made Sunthraze look more dangerous, like a wild animal. Sunthraze's hair was down, and he'd ripped the sleeves off his gray prison shirt. Pyorin felt himself sinking, felt the jealousy wash over him again. How did this annoying punk look better than him, even now? It was easy to see the start of his Trollish tattoos where his shirt opened. Tempest would have been all over him. Pyorin hated being absolutely certain about that.
Pyorin thought of Fennore, about how he said he needed to face this, not shrink back from it. Then, the vision of Fennore squatting down in front of him staring up at his crotch somewhat came to mind and Pyorin made a face.
"I thought… Is the queen coming?" Sunthraze said.
"I work for the queen. I've learned that if I say she wants it, it happens a lot faster."
"No, you work for Britecleff. What's going on?"
When Pyorin stopped being so intimidated—and he let himself accept that's what it really was—he was able to really look Sunthraze in the face. Try to care about what was going on with him, connect with him and really see what he was feeling. Sunthraze was scared. Pyorin then realized the other man's appearance was all a tactic of some kind… a way to fit in and not look like fresh meat down in the keep.
Pyorin nodded to himself, "So, that's what happens when you stop trying to be angry all the time."
"What happens? What are you talking about?"
Pyorin turned his focus to the large book in front of him. He patted the cover.
Sunthraze looked over at the food, "…I didn't expect to see you again. Now, I'm a little worried about why you suddenly wanted to see me again. Heh."
"What are you laughing about?"
"All that jealousy… is this… what you really wanted to do with me? All that time Tempest was acting interested? Were you… you were the one into me, weren't you?"
Pyorin raised his eyebrows.
"Hey, I know it takes all kinds. It's just funny. It's hilarious, actually. Now I'm locked up, I'm all the way across the city… no one is going to see what you do with me. Or my body. Wow. That's all kinds of crazy, Pyorin."
"I…" Pyorin got his confidence back in a deluge of defensive emotions, "I brought you food because you must be hungry, I'm not, and could never, EVER be attracted to you! And this book is for you, too. Here, read it."
Pyorin shoved the book Sunthraze's way. His manacles were unlocked already, so that he could use his hands.
"…Small joke, Ranger Pyro. Don't blow up at me, take it easy. I guess because this whole setup is scaring the hell out of me. Your worst enemies don't usually rock up, get you out of jail for the night and offer you dinner." Sunthraze opened the book.
"Wait. Unless you want to eat first? Maybe you should eat, first."
"Why are you acting like my mother all of a sudden?"
"Eat." Pyorin took the book back, urged Sunthraze to get on with it.
Sunthraze didn't have any utensils, they wouldn't dare give him any. He ate a chunk of venison with his hands.
Pyorin opened the book himself, he began to flip a few pages. He wasn't really reading it. He was just finding it hard to face the other man, "The thing is… I owe you an apology."
Pyorin then waited for Sunthraze to make another joke. Sunthraze didn't.
Pyorin went on, "I'm not… so terrible a person that I can't see what I've done to you. When we were… when we were out in that field, you punching Britecleff. That broke a few rules. So, yeah, that might have meant a trip to the Garrison. But it didn't have to go like that, not really. And none of the others chased after you when you ran. You know, back when we were at Britecleff's office? Technically—and Britecleff had already told us this—you hadn't committed a crime. Britecleff said that, after you went into his office, the way you came out, that was going to be up to you. So it was a hands-off situation for us. But I chased after you. I treated you like a criminal and I called you a spy when, as you ably noted, just now… I don't actually take my orders from Queen Celestia, nor Advisor Sorn. I take them from Britecleff. I arrested you, twice, for… pretty flimsy reasons. For that, I… I am so sorry about all of this, Sunthraze."
Sunthraze licked his fingers, went onto another piece of seasoned meat.
"Well, I don't blame you for however it is that you feel now. An apology doesn't make any of this better. But, I think that there is a way, no—I know there is a way that I can get you out of this. And I want you to know, I am really, really going to take a huge risk here and stick my neck out, however it must sound to you. Yes, it's… dicey, but you'll also have the ability to… well, cut my off my neck, if you want. And maybe I do want you to break me off, I'm really tired of living like this anyway…"
Sunthraze stopped to say, "Wrong choice of words."
"Huh?"
"Don't ask another man to break you off, unless you mean it—"
"Will you stop, you smart mouth! Geez! Where do you even get all this stuff from? You're worse than that pervy priest I met earlier today. He's the one who convinced me to make this nice dinner for you in the first place!"
"That one's just too easy," Sunthraze smiled, went back to eating.
"Anyway… I survive this way, at present… But, before we get to that. Did you know… that Queen Celestia knows your father?"
"Knew him. My father died when I was pretty young."
"Then why, may I ask, did you get cozy sitting down in the keep when the queen is right upstairs, and a personal friend?"
"It's not like that. She… I don't know her, I've never even seen her. I guess, my father and her used to go around… like… to the Sunwell, and take carriage rides and stuff like that. They were just family friends. My dad sold champion Hawkstriders, so knew a lot of other aristocrats."
"Oh, it's so much more than that. King Anasterian bought a Hawkstrider from your father once, didn't he?"
"For someone who isn't interested in me romantically, you sure did pull a stalker thing and read up about my whole life before this candlelit supper. And then you put all this… hot meat on my plate."
Pyorin made a fist on the table, "The day King Anasterian went to the Sunthraze estate and bought that Hawkstrider… well, Anasterian and your father had arranged it years before the animal was grown, but the thing is—on that day. When Kael'thas was just old enough to ride and Anasterian finally came to pick up the young Hawkstrider… that was when Anasterian met Celestia. Celestia is the queen now, because of your father. Roann Sunthraze introduced the two of them. King Anasterian was a man who… swore he would never marry again, and everyone believed him. Anasterian was more focused on building a practical shrine in the Silvermoon library to his late wife, Anthene'alas, commissioning books and more and more paintings be made of her… But Lord Roann Sunthraze was the one who got Anasterian to open up, to spend time with Celestia. And not just that first time, there were other times when Roann nudged Anasterian and Celestia, from both sides. And neither of them, king nor queen, has ever forgotten that favor."
Sunthraze didn't look very interested.
"Not to mention Kael'thas' royal butt sits on that animal from time to time, that started out on your family's land."
"From time to time." Sunthraze shrugged. He finished what was on his plate, and noticed another course within reach. He pulled a piece of strawberry cake closeby.
"Are you even listening to me?"
"I know all of these things already. So far, all you're doing is fangirling over me… how does this help me get out of prison? If Queen Celestia cared so much, wouldn't she have done something by now?"
"She can't. She says she'll have someone look into it, but I know full well that's queen talk for 'yeah, good luck with that.'"
Sunthraze drank a tall glass of water, gulping several times, then wiped his hands clean on a napkin.
"Sunthraze, what you have now, your connections… a lot of people living in Silvermoon City now, would give a limb for. I've worked… for so long." Pyorin shook his head, "I can't believe you're closer to the royal family than I could ever dream, and I'm just some… well… you're about to find out. Are you ready?"
"Hey, is Tempest doing alright?"
Pyorin struck an opened page of the book, with his palm. Then, he surprised himself, "She's feeling guilty about this too. But she doesn't know I'm here. Other than that… she's fine. By the way, Britecleff doesn't know I'm here, either. He's also pretty upset about all of this."
Pyorin flipped to the page he wanted. Then, he surprised Sunthraze by passing his hand over the page. The letters glimmered with purple arcane magic, rose off the page. Then, a white lid appeared. Pyorin opened it.
"I… took this so-called book from Celestia's bedroom. These are copies of all the letters Kael'thas has been sending to the castle, since I came on." Then, Pyorin gave Sunthraze a look, waited.
"I'm in jail, because of what you've been doing all this time. I'm serving your prison sentence."
"And you can't prove it, either. But, if you're smart, you'll read up." Pyorin handed Sunthraze the first few letters. "You'll study Kael'thas, everything about him, and then you'll join me. Because if you can convince Advisor Sorn that you are already an agent of Celestia's, as guilty as he presumes, then Sorn will be afraid to really do anything nasty to you. In fact, I'm sure he will let you go. You see, Sorn is looking for a rogue Farstrider to fry, or some vulnerable peasant with no connections who is working for the Farstriders. He's not looking for someone, of noble birth, who is in very, very good with the Queen herself. Sorn can't touch that."
Sunthraze sat there. He looked lost, even hurt.
"But I'm innocent."
"Not anymore, you're not. From here on out, you work for me. And, ultimately, for Celestia."
Sunthraze looked up at Pyorin, disgusted, "And what is the queen doing with these letters? Why can't she just ask Anasterian what goes on in his son's life?"
"I don't know. I don't ask about that. But they're family anyway, so what does it matter? They have some feud going on… maybe King Anasterian does what I hear a lot of the ladies at court complain about, regarding their husbands—he probably just doesn't like to share his work with his wife. Which is an awkward situation for a woman to be in. Especially at that level of the aristocracy… those women are responsible for so much. I had no idea."
"To go to these lengths, Pyorin, something sinister is obviously going on. What if she wants to hurt Kael'thas?"
"Obviously, I thought all this through already. Do you think I would get involved in something like this if it were really ugly? Celestia doesn't have an heir herself, I don't even think she can have children, and then she's no Sunstrider. I mean… if you go back far enough, every aristocratic family claims they're related to the first, Dath'remar himself. But if everyone can make that same claim, then her hands are tied. Right?"
"I don't want to do this."
"It's either that, or be executed as a spy and traitor."
"When they have no evidence?"
"They'll find some. I know how Sorn is. How they all are. Becoming a bigger fish than Sorn, that's the only way out of this for you, Sunthraze. What I'm offering you is a mercy. And I'll prepare Celestia for the news by telling her I worked through you all this time, because you're out in the middle of nowhere, practically. But Farstriders are always patrolling out where you live, so we might have met that way. I mean, how did I really have the time to copy out all those letters, along with my other duties? I couldn't possibly. So I recruited some extra help, from you, out of her bribe money. She won't be mad, she'll be pleased. She obviously likes you. Or, the idea of you."
"No offense, but I really don't think you're clever enough for this, Pyorin. There are a lot of holes in this that you aren't seeing."
"Alright, I'll choose not to be offended, this time. So, go on. Name one. I've already gone through everything."
"If many of the aristocrats in Quel'thalas have royal blood, then that means there are more claims to the throne, not watered-down, duplicate claims. Everyone has the same chance; they're just looking for an edge and an opportunity to take it. A time and a tool."
Sunthraze let that sink in.
"Pyorin, have you considered that's actually what Celestia is doing? Biding her time to take the throne away from a husband she's rumored to hate? And not because she loves him so much she needs to pretty much stalk him and his son, when she's already married to Anasterian?"
Pyorin stared at the book in front of him. Then, slowly, he put an elbow on the table. He put his head in his hands and swore to himself.
Sunthraze winced at how he was taking it, "It's just a theory."
"But it's a good theory. And, you're right. Everyone's right. I'm such a meathead—an idiot! And she knew that's what I was, because she's been using me this whole time!"
Sunthraze brought his chair closer. "Listen, calm down. You're not stupid. Do you know how sparkling you have to be for the uppercrust to even try you on? I think… for a guy like you, a normal guy, to work his way up among Britecleff's top recuits, and… be entrusted with that paladin thing, and into Celestia's court, to be liked and trusted by her too, and she does, obviously, trust you—"
"She trusts me to do what she orders me to do. What I can't help doing for her."
"There are people who haven't lasted as long as you have, I'm sure. But you're still standing, Pyorin. And it isn't over yet. Far from it."
Pyorin pushed away from the table. His voice broke, "I can't… see a way out of this. What have I done?"
"Relax. Focus."
Unclog.
Pyorin wondered if Fennore's voice was in his head now, to hearken back that. It almost made him laugh. Pyorin took calming breaths.
Sunthraze took his arm, squeezed it, "I am going to help you. Okay?"
"How?"
"In a way that gets me out of this mess, because then you'll owe me."
"You can't have Tempest."
Sunthraze stopped, smiled and shook his head with surprise, "Well, you already have helped me with Tempest if you're that insecure about me taking her off of you. Thanks for the tip. Anyway, let's both… ah, stop thinking about her, particularly, right now. Alright?"
Sunthraze patted Pyorin on the shoulder, then leaned his own elbow on the table, thinking.
"Pyorin, when you copy out these letters… I mean, have you ever got anything wrong, or different? How would Celestia know?"
"Well, I guess it never occurred to me. But it would have to match whatever the newspapers say, right? I mean, she knew I arrested you because she's ontop of the newspapers. That's why she sent me down here. Though, Celestia just wanted me to give you a pillow and a warm meal. I won't tell you what else."
Good. Pyorin had protected himself from another joke about losing his girlfriend to that fool. A joke about handing over a woman for conjugal visits would have been too obvious. Though, now Pyorin was imagining himself getting it on with Tempest in a jail cell for some reason. He sighed, that woman was far too distracting.
"…I see." Sunthraze drummed fingers on the table, "And how often does she get a copy of Kael'thas' letters?"
"I bring the mail from the Garrison—it goes through there first, to be reviewed by a mage for any harmful enchantments, poison, that kind of thing—then after it gets, uh, screened, a Farstrider delivers it. I do that twice a week. Tempest does it only on Thursdays."
Sunthraze itched his cheek. A kind of faint goatee was growing in.
"Yeah, it sucks when you can't shave, doesn't it?"
Sunthraze looked up at Pyorin, chin in palm. "Oh. You're not making fun of me."
"I'd give you a razor but… then we'd both be in the keep."
Sunthraze smiled, then went on, "You can't just stop the letters because Celestia will be suspicious, and you'll surely face consequences. But maybe we can just… remove anything that she might use against Kael'thas? How does that sound? Maybe that's too hard to guess, though. I mean, if Celestia is this clever, she'll latch on to absolutely anything."
"Not to be mean, but I better warn you… Kael'thas doesn't have a perfect life. He's a huge nerd with serious girl problems."
"He is not."
"You said your family didn't know him. You said you didn't care."
"Well, he is my undie. I'm bound to be a little defensive." Sunthraze smirked.
"You know, that undu'diel stuff is totally real, Sunthraze! I mean, I knew it before, but aren't you convinced by now? Think about it, we're helping him right this moment. It won't be long before Kael'thas is helping you."
"Think he'll bust into the Keep in a blaze of glory and melt the prison bars for me?"
Pyorin laughed at the thought. "I… I'm not so confident I can figure it all out on my own. Which things to take out of the letters."
"You're smarter than you think, Pyorin. You're good with strategy. I did not expect to see you again, for one, and second, you tried to blackmail me into doing half your workload or something like it… I was impressed."
"Were you? Seriously?"
"You frightened me. I was like, 'Holy Hawkstriders did I underestimate this guy!' And, honestly… I won't be doing that again."
"Doing what again?"
"Underestimating you, Pyorin. I mean it, thank you. For trying to help in the only way you could. I can see that now. Gods, working for Celestia behind Britecleff's back, and Tempest's, must have been killing you. And then you shared it with a stranger, me, just so you could help. You're a… unique kind of fellow. There's a real gentleman down in there, somewhere."
"Well… I could only really share it with a stranger. The confession was a little selfish."
"And who changed your mind so completely? Something about a perverted priest?"
"His name is Priest Fennore Hollowmare, and though he's… strangely wise, he also gets on your nerves very, very easily. I have a feeling we'll all be shouting that name for a while to come."
Sunthraze reached for one of the letters and began reading it. "The thing is, you're not dumb, not at all."
"But my mind wanders, like… all the time. I am always thinking about stuff that doesn't matter and would never happen."
"Maybe you're just creative."
Like that. Just like that, Sunthraze removed that criticism from Pyorin's psyche forever.
Pyorin sat back in his chair, feeling more than a bit proud of himself.
"Creative people are very good with strategies."
"Are they?"
"Oh, I wish I was so creative. I just get mad. My problem is I have a temper. I kind of need someone to work out the way we're going to handle something, and then point me at the problem so I can attack it. I'm just too impatient sometimes. Anyway, other than that, Pyorin, you're like anyone… but you're not a member of the aristocracy. You don't know how inheritance works, how they think, what kind of stuff they'd need to unseat someone else from power. You almost have to be raised in it to know that. It's the one skill I do have, other than rounding up stray Hawkstriders."
"I guess that makes sense."
"I so wish we could trade places right now, Pyorin. The queen in your pocket, a hot… whatever Tempest is to you, cause she ain't your girlfriend, from what I can tell—"
"I was really feeling like your friend until you said that."
"And I'm going to say something else that'll sound weird, but it's been driving me crazy. How in the hell, are you so fit? What the heck are you doing, eating Orcs for breakfast? I've been trying to bulk up for ages and nothing works."
Pyorin knew he shouldn't smile so much about it. "Well, you know. Everyone's different. You're, on the shorter side, but you're also lean, and strong. Kind of like a well-balanced hunting knife."
"Okay, if that's not a come-on, I don't know what is."
Pyorin leaned in, put an arm around the back of Sunthraze's chair. He looked at him, waggled his eyebrows in a goofy way and got so close to Sunthraze's face that he finally freaked out and asked him to stop.
"Yeah, we're both straight. Or, you're just all talk."
"What the hell was that?!"
"Revenge. Alright, so … let's read through these. But seriously, there's nothing wrong with you, either. Don't… get up in the morning every day and hate what you see in the mirror. Nobody should ever do that. And I do like your tattoo, actually. Where'd you get it?"
Sunthraze looked down at himself, "Thanks. Some days it feels like a dumb decision I made. And one of my friends did it, though here's a tip: he won't help you while I'm in here."
"Don't ever become a Farstrider, Sunthraze. An Amani Troll would eviscerate you immediately, rip your guts right out if he saw that message on your stomach."
"…Crap. Does it… not say what I think it says? My tattoo guy lie to me?"
"Oh… it says what it's supposed to say, alright." Pyorin tutted and shook his head, though, like Sunthraze had asked for a death sentence.
It turned out, Sunthraze had the most recent letter from Kael'thas in his hands. This one was addressed to Advisor Sorn. And a few others were from Lady Jaina Proudmoore and addressed to Advisor Sorn. Through reading Kael'thas' letters, which left out a lot of his shortcomings, and Jaina's, which obviously would omit a great deal of her own slips, Sunthraze was able to help Pyorin piece together recent events more accurately than any Silvermoon newspaper.
In Dalaran, three days ago…
Jaina paused midway across the purple sunstreaked room. Glowing purple stained glass, potted ferns and flowers took up two whole walls. And there was blonde Kael'thas, sitting there half-dressed on the couch. He smoked and stared at her wearing only the bathtowel. It obviously made an impression on him. The woman he wanted, naked, and wearing a red towel with a royal yellow phoenix and his own initials, K.O.S. monogrammed on.
As for Jaina, now was a poor time for her to remember that Prince Arthas and a few of the other students once stole all of Kael'thas' fancy towels, some of his clothes, and stringed them up the large flag pole in front of the Arcanium. All the teachers saw it, even Dean Sweeney. It also resulted in possibly the worst bath Kael'thas had taken in life, when Dean Sweeney came storming back to his old quarters—and no doubt the dean was glad for the chance to do it, too—let himself in and yelled at Kael'thas. Kael'thas got out of the tub to lessen his embarrassment, but then he struggled around the place with shouting Sweeney in tow, dripping wet and naked, looking for anything decent to put on. But there wasn't even a towel left.
Arthas, a Paladin of the Silver Hand, rarely got into any trouble. At least nobody believed Arthas would do such a thing. So smooth, such a great guy. Then, Jaina's heart sank and she didn't want to think of him or those old days anymore.
"Oh… didn't see you there." Jaina found a smile for Kael'thas at least.
"No, no, no, it's not your fault," and Kael'thas cleared his throat, tried to lean back on the couch looking casual, and not on a mission for the most beautiful, smartest woman on campus. You know, cool. Kael'thas raised an arm to lean it over the couch and ran fingers of the other hand back through his long, blonde hair. But then he almost burned it with the cigarette.
"Ouch!"
"Uh…"
"Jaina, I wanted to ask you—"
"Kael'thas, I've gotta say this—"
Both cleared their throats, offered for the other to go first.
"I should go." Jaina spoke over him. "Go first, and explain, I mean. Before I… leave."
"Oh no, stay. There's no reason to go, not yet." Kael'thas had another sly puff of cigarette, smoothed a hand down his thigh, pinched the black silk dressing robe. "We really only just got started."
Jaina tried to speak again. But then Jaina became distracted instead. "Wow. And to believe… I've been teasing you these last four years."
"Three and a half."
"You counted?"
"Well, technically, we didn't have our first class together and actually speak until second semester, freshman year. But I did see you around, before that. I saw you around, a lot. And then you were taking Astral Conjuring so I took Astral Conjuring… I mean, uh… well, it was part of my preliminary study, to lay the groundwork for my um… eventual major."
"Kael'thas, you didn't major in anything."
"I did." Kael'thas got very animated all of a sudden, stood and gestured with the cigarette in-hand. "I did major in something, Jaina. I majored in everything, actually—"
"Right, but you didn't pick anything."
"Of course. Because I'm good at everything! Geez… why is that so hard for Humans to understand? And a Bloodmage, patent pending… that specialization covers all the schools of magic, including warlock spells… it's all on my diploma, Jaina." He sucked his teeth, shook his head, and put out the cigarette in a red glass ash tray. "You act like they didn't let me graduate or something."
"Kael'thas, your diploma and all the stuff you made them put on there was so long, the scroll they gave you weighed your arm down when you took it on stage."
"That wasn't… heavy. Not really."
"I was there, it was graduation. Everyone was there and saw you almost fall to the floor with your giant, crazy Bloodmage diploma."
"Whatever. Dean Sweeney practically threw that diploma at me. That man is out to get me…"
"It weighed about a hundred pounds, he had to!"
"Jaina, I don't wanna talk about this. But I do want to talk about… us."
"Yes, us. A more sane topic of conversation than your Bloodmage major in 'all the magics.' Let's talk about…" then, Jaina lost her courage.
Kael'thas came closer. He squeezed the ringbox in his robe pocket one last time before going for it. "In the end… Arthas wasn't there, was he?"
"They'll just mail him his diploma, I'm sure. He's the Prince of Lordaeron, they'll have to manage it. And his isn't so huge it can't fit in an envelope." Jaina crossed her arms.
Kael'thas took another step nearer to Jaina. Touched her. Her hair, then smoothed down her naked arm, when he sensed she didn't mind. Felt her hip, so warm. His hand over the towel. So close, yet so far away from what he wanted. Kael'thas met her eye, trying to find that heat between them again. Jaina's violet eyes brightened with expectation. Excitement made her blush. Yes, it was still what they both wanted.
She touched Kael'thas back, caressed his shoulder. "Well yours, it goes in a… pretty big package."
Kael'thas couldn't help it, he laughed with her.
"I am being serious, though. You… you're such an amazing lover. I admit, I was surprised last night. I really had no idea." She felt his chest next, tossed her silver hair back. "You felt so good, Kael."
Kael'thas kissed Jaina. He pulled their hips together and put his tongue in her mouth. Jaina went up on her toes, grasped the blonde hair at the back of his neck, moaned. Kael'thas pushed them up against the wall. Jaina bumped her head, but that didn't stop them. They laughed again and kissed more hungrily this time. She raised a leg above his hip.
"Kael…"
Kael'thas tried to yanked her towel down, spread open his robe.
"…Stop."
Kael'thas smoothed a hand up the wall, beside Jaina's head. He mouthed, "You don't want me to stop."
Jaina shut her eyes, trying very hard not to go on. She smoothed the gold hair back on his head. She felt the long tips of his elven ears.
"After four years, why are you suddenly so… you know?" she whispered back.
"I'm a Sunstrider. Hot and awesome runs in the family. You know, all those Elves didn't follow Darth'remar across the ocean for nothing."
She laughed through her nose. "That is such a line."
"You shouldn't have taken so long to see it. But I can understand. I don't blame you."
Jaina furrowed her brow, looked down at him, "No, you don't understand. You're not supposed to be so… wonderful to me, so handsome and… and so cute? You're supposed to be Nerdboy."
"Hey, if that gets you off. I'll snort laughter and put on some glasses while we do it this time—"
"Kael'thas!" Jaina shrieked giggles, pulled up her towel, then calmed herself, "I mean it. No more. You know I'm engaged to Arthas. We weren't supposed to do this." She looked down.
"No, no… don't do that, don't be ashamed. I'm making you laugh. I've been making you smile… for the first time since that jerk disappeared from school."
"But sweetheart, I said it was a mistake when we woke up. Before I took my bath," Jaina frowned. "We just shouldn't be together like this."
"You're stressing yourself out. Who cares if you… are engaged to him, but you're actually far more attracted to me. What's a promise? Those are just words. A lotta ladies like to take a walk on the Elf side…"
Jaina sighed and rolled her eyes at him.
Kael'thas squeezed her tight, "Once you go Elf, you can't put it back on the shelf—"
"Oh my gods! Shut up!" she pushed him off, then sank to her knees with laughter.
"I was saving that one," Kael'thas tied up his robe and had a seat on the floor too, while she fixed her towel. "By the way, you're lovely. I loved… making love with you, Jaina. I am so honestly relieved that we finally did."
"Elf on the shelf…" Jaina shook her head, she was still stuck on that. A few more giggles slipped out.
"…Jaina?"
"Yes, Kael'thas?"
"Did you hear me, just now?"
"Hrm?"
"I said… I just said that I love you." And then Kael'thas got out the green ring box.
"Oh no…" Jaina grasped at her neck, shook her head, "Oh, Kael'thas, sweatheart, don't—"
"I love you, so much. I have wanted to make love to you, since the moment I saw you…"
"You set my hair on fire, the first time you saw me."
Kael'thas pinched fingers together, "Small accident. But this is big, and it is no accident." He flipped open the box and showed her the large red diamond set in gold,"You know, kinda like something else that turned out to be pretty big and wasn't an accident last night."
Jaina ignored Kael'thas' dirty joke this time. "Oh gods… Kael'thas… I've never even… seen one! A red diamond? This sparkles like the ring Arthas gave me, but it is so much bigger," she gasped, "and prettier! This isn't a ruby?"
"No, my lady. It is, indeed, a red diamond. Actually…" he took it from the box, urged Jaina to put it on, to take it. "It was my mother's. I had my father send it."
"The ring of Queen Anthene'alas Sunstrider… The [Heartblood of Anthene] — oh, this is a legendary item, I couldn't possibly take it! I haven't earned it. And, besides, I always thought this was soul-bound?"
"Look, we've both been training at the Arcanium for too long. You don't have to down some… rare spawn epic boss to have a legendary ring. Sometimes, you get epic jewelry because a man loves you. Because he has been doing everything that he can think of, for the last four years, to entice you, to show you… how much he does. Lady Jaina Proudmoore… I just…" Kael'thas searched for better words. "I need you to marry me, very, very badly."
"But, honey, I'm already…"
"Look. I don't know how to say this. Okay, I know exactly how to say this. Arthas is a loser."
"Kael'thas, this is serious."
"I am being serious. Arthas is, in fact, a loser. I have a thereom, and I have proof. Do you want me to go get my spreadsheet of proof?" his voice flew up at the end.
"He'd beat you up, again, Nerdboy, if he heard you saying that to me."
"Then why wasn't he at our graduation? Why didn't he at least write you, to tell you what he was doing instead? That man isn't a rolling stone, he's a rocksliding catastrophe. Are you so sure your wedding is even still on? Come on, darlin'…"
"Stop mocking him." Jaina hunched her shoulders. She couldn't put the beautiful red ring down, though. The very [Heartblood of Anthene]. All that power and beauty in her hands. She kept looking at it.
Kael'thas smoothed his hand down Jaina's hip again. He smiled that it was becoming his favorite place to touch her. Couples always had little things like that.
"Arthas is going through something right now. He asked me not to tell anyone. Kael'thas, he confided in me."
"Two princes want to marry you. One is hotter than sin itself, you found that out last night, and the other one is stupider than sin itself to-"
"Don't pressure me and make me tell you which one you are." Jaina slipped the tip of her finger through the ring. It looked so good… so delicious, she almost felt she wanted to eat it. She was beginning to crave it in a way that no mortal should ever crave jewelry. So wonderfully… strange.
"Fine. You want time to think about it, go right ahead. In fact, wear the ring. You are the woman I truly love, and it's yours by right."
"But your mother's ring? And you barely knew her. Kael'thas, this is very sweet, but it's probably one of only a few things you still have from your mother. I can't take this."
Kael'thas took her hand, moved the ring to the correct finger, and slipped it on. It was so large, it dwarfed the simple band set with precious stones that Arthas had already given Jaina.
Jaina stood up when he did that, raised her eyebrows. "What the—this thing just shocked me."
"No it didn't."
"Kael'thas! What nerdy, crazy, scheming thing did you do now?"
The ring would not come off.