Pre-note: Spoilers for The Frozen Throne and settings for World of
Warcraft. If you've not played the former, do so by any legit means possible. It's cool.
*
In the Tauren city of Thunder Bluff, citizens of all shapes and sizes of the Orcish Horde came and went about their business. Even those not of the Horde found the city to be more benevolent than one would initially think. A one Jaina Proudmoore was grateful for that little detail as she moved towards the central neighborhood of tipi and tent.
Moving past a conversing Tauren healer and Troll witchdoctor, she pulled the hood of her cloak lower over her face to keep her face hidden. The last thing she need was to be recognized in a place like this. Ever since that whole ordeal with her father a year ago, relations between the Alliance and the Horde were becoming very precarious.
In addition, some of her own people on Theramore were making their discontent with her a little more than evident. Thankfully, enough of the population still trusted her enough to let her continue to lead them, though she was beginning to feel the strain of command. However, with her fortune, she'd be lucky to find sanctuary in Orgrimmar or Darnassus should the worst happen.
Though it was depressing enough to consider the idea of an escape route from her own people, she had more important matters to attend to.
"Ah. Lady Proudmore. Things be good with you?" a familiar voice asked from a nearby stand.
She turned to see the grinning Panderan, Chen Stormstout, with his wares for sale. Though their association had been temporary, she was grateful to see the boozy bear. Were it not for his help and persuasive use of his fine ales, a civil war could have broken out on Theramore after that whole ordeal with her father.
"As well as they can be, Chen. Though I can safely say that the
Barrens were not meant for me," she said walking to his stand.
The Panderan nodded vigorously, "Just like my father and brother. They're scholars, but my mother and sister could live out there if they wanted. They're Shodopan, you know!"
Jaina scratched her head, wondering what exactly a Shodopan was. She, like most others, had little to no knowledge of the secretive Panderan empire, save for what the unusual Brewmasters disclosed. For all they knew, maybe it didn't exist and it was just a ruse to keep them wary.
Noticing his charismatic smile, she was not surprised when he said,
"You seem a little parched."
She held up a hard to interrupt, "Thank you but no. The last time I tried one of your "Phoenix Dews" I was sick for nearly a week."
The Brewmaster nodded sagely in understanding. "No surprise. Not many can take the full brunt of one of Master Wan Steelgut's Phoenix Dews in one gulp. That's why it's meant to be taken in slowly."
Jaina's shoulders slumped slightly at the reminder. She was so desperate for a drink during the reconstruction; she had downed an entire mug that Chen offered. Within seconds, she blacked out and woke up with a headache the size of Khaz Modan some days later.
Reluctantly, she admitted, "Yes. I shouldn't have drunk it so fast."
The cheerful Panderan smiled again and pulled out a mug filled with a foamy, orange colored, viscous thick fluid. "So then, another round?"
Grimacing, Jaina stepped back and started to walk to her original destination, "Thank you but no. Once a year is more than enough."
Chen smiled openly as she started for Cairne Bloodhoof's tent, "It will be here, waiting for you, Jaina!" His boisterous laugh followed her through the next few blocks as she hid her face in her cloak, praying to the Light that no one would notice.
*
Tauren were huge and therefore frightening to someone as small as Jaina. Somehow, she was able to muster the courage to step into the center of the central ring. As her entrance got the notice of a few Spirit Walkers, she bowed in greeting to Cairne's son, Baine.
The chieftain's son bowed in turn, "You are expected, Lady Proudmoore. The Earth Ring and the Night Elf praetors await you."
She thanked the 'younger' Tauren as she stepped through the flaps of the tent. In the center of the tent sat a large congregation of Tauren, Orcs, Trolls, and Night Elves all in spirited conversation with each other.
Though she was among friends here, she was not naïve enough to believe that all here thought well of her. The fact remained; she was here alone and the only human. Everyone else had more than one of their kind in attendance of the Earth Ring, save for Jaina.
"You're late, Proudmoore." An icy hiss snarled from the shadows.
Turning she frowned at the source of the voice, knowing whom it was. "Since when did time matter to the dead, Sylvannas?"
Jaina was quite vocal of her opposition to the Horde and the Forsaken joining forces, yet knew she had no say in it. Even Thrall and Drek'Thar, her trusted confidants among the Horde's hierarchy, had expressed doubts of the wisdom of the Earth Ring's choice.
The Banshee Queen smirked beneath the hood of her tattered cloak, "It doesn't. Yet, I feel there's some use to it since one of your kind has a tendency to fall at certain intervals."
Jaina was not amused at the statement. "Tell me, Sylvannas, been to Quel'Thalas lately? I've heard it's marvelous in the dead of winter."
The Arch-Mage remained still as the Banshee Queen snarled, cocked an arrow, and aimed it straight between her eyes. Though Jaina had mourned with many of the High Elves for the loss of their homeland, her pity could not extend to the encompass The Forsaken since their races were at extreme odds. In fact, it was more so than the Alliance was with the Horde.
The rest of the Earth Ring looked on in shock as the two women stood each other down. At the head of the tent, Thrall frowned and stood up to break the engagement before things would get worse. Yet, a purple skinned hand grasped his arm softly and a few Elvin words whispered to his ear, requesting another to break it up. Nodding to the Night Elf beside him, Thrall stepped back and allowed her to step forward.
"Give me one good reason in five seconds why I shouldn't skin you alive?" Sylvannas growled, having a hard time deciding which one of Jaina's eyes to shoot out first.
"Because you can't." Jaina whispered before whispering a few words beneath her breath, faster than the Banshee Queen could utter her Silence Mist. The steel bow in the undead elf's hands began to glow from internal heat, becoming far too hot for even Sylvannas to hold as the string snapped and she dropped the bow.
Jaina pulled out her short staff as Sylvannas pulled out a kris dagger, preparing for the worst. However, the hand of Tyrande Whisperwind gently grasped Sylvannas' hand and stood with her back to Jaina.
"If you both are done, we can proceed with the meeting." The Priestess' tone was not harsh, but it was commanding enough to force Sylvanna and Jaina to stand down. The Banshee Queen sent one last glare toward Jaina as she took her seat at the far end of the tent.
Jaina felt all was well until she saw Tyrande turn around and give her a disapproving look. She knew that disappointed look in the Priestess' eyes, like she had let a friend down. She had seen it in her father, teachers, and a few others she did not care to remember. Jaina knew no words needed to be exchanged as she hung her head low and walked quickly to her place beside Malfurion Stormrage.
As the remaining members of the Earth Ring took their seats to prepare for the beginning of the meeting, Malfurion leaned over to Jaina and whispered, "You will not notice it, but you have earned a little more respect today."
Jaina wanted to ask exactly when he meant when Thrall's call to order silenced all discourse.
"I thank you all for coming here," he stood up and walked to the center of the tent. On his right, Drek'Thar, the farseer and Nazgel, head of the wolf rider brigades, sat. On his left: Cairne Bloodhoof, chief of the Tauren; Rexxar, warlord of the Ogre Tribes; and Rohkan, Shadow Hunter and representative of the Island Troll tribes.
Thrall addressed the rest of the tent. "Over two weeks ago, many of us felt a powerful disturbance. And it wasn't just us. The Druids felt it as well."
Jaina, along with everyone else, nodded in agreement. Yet, she had kept to herself the fact she beheld a vision. It was a lucid picture of two nightmares coming together to create something far more horrifying. Worst of all, she recognized what one of those nightmares were. She saw the man that was at one time, Arthas of Lorderon, placing a hideous helmet atop his head. Then, she saw a mixing of two souls, resulting in a shockwave powerful enough to shatter an ice cavern around him. The instant his eyes opened, she awoke screaming in her bed, covered in a sheet of sweat.
As Thrall continued speaking with the Earth Ring, Jaina leaned over and held her head in her hands. She shook her head in disbelief at Arthas becoming the Lich King. Yet, the facts were all laid bare. Even Sylvannas, having a more powerful connection to the Lich King, only verified her vision as true.
"From what my shades have seen, when that wretched Arthas placed that disgusting helmet on his head, he and whatever was left of Ner'Zhul fused and became an entirely new entity. Neither orc, human, or undead." Sylvannas said from her end of the tent.
Beside Jaina, Tyrande interceded, "So, it is safe to assume that this 'creature', having the body of a warrior with the power that created the undead scourge is a dangerous element to us all."
Nodding, Sylvannas continued, "Not only that, his legions of creatures are turning the whole continent into a stronghold. Many of my shades were lost as they began construction."
Jaina then spoke up, "That's not the only problem. I've been noticing some of the Blood Elves infiltrating some of the Alliance ranks in disguise. I'm not sure what they're doing, but I doubt it's for anything good."
Malfurion added; "From what few survivors of Maiev's forces that made it back, we've been able to determine these few points. The Blood Elves consume arcane magics as though they were food. They are addicted to it to the point where they can do little else if they do not have it. Second; they are hunting down demons, killing them, and stripping them of their magical essence to feed themselves."
Rohkan blanched, "You no be joking, mon? They EAT demons?"
Malfurion nodded and continued, "Not just demons, but anything with magical properties. Even spell casters such as you or me."
Stroking his beard, Cairne posed a question, "Are we to expect an invasion from them?"
The Night Elf druid shook his head, "No. Their numbers would never be sufficient enough. Their habitat, along with several other conflicts, has reduced their numbers drastically. They can also be detected because of their unmistakable stench of the arcane."
With a snort, Sylvannas interrupted, "But then again, it's neither their magic nor their appetite that makes them vicious. It's their allies, the Naga."
Tyrande added, "And considering their grudge against anything on land, it would be prudent to be watchful of the oceans and rivers along the east coast of Kalimdor."
With a casual shrug, Sylvannas spoke up, "We could, of course, give the Blood Elves Jaina as an offering of good faith to leave us alone."
Several of Jaina's acquaintances were about to speak up when she continued, "Think about it. Kael's somehow got the rest of his people in line enough to keep most of them in Draenor. And if I recall right, one of the biggest wounds Arthas gave Kael was stealing Jaina from him.
She sent Jaina another smirk, "Give Kael our little magic using trollop and maybe she can sweet talk him into leaving Azeroth alone. In addition, we rid ourselves of a possible liability, since the Lich King has access to Arthas' memories. We kill two birds with one stone."
Jaina's jaw was hanging wide open as the room was stunned into silence. The arch mage could not believe what she had heard. Sylvannas made it sound she was either some commodity to be traded or a promiscuous harlot. All eyes turned toward her and she felt her composure breaking. All her instincts were telling her to get out.
With as much dignity as she could muster, she stood up and with locked eyes with the undead elf, she said quietly, "Yes. I admit to being romantically involved with both Kael and Arthas. But, the end result of both relationships have been haunting me ever since. They weren't the only ones that suffered."
She turned to the Thrall, and said curtly, "Forgive me, Warchief, but I need to take a recess."
She didn't even wait for Thrall to give her leave.
*
When she was clear of the tent and out of the inner ring of the city, she ran as fast as her legs could carry her, hoping to the Light that her tears wouldn't fall out for everyone to see. Why was she crying now? She had dealt with insults before, so why couldn't she withstand the taunting of a banshee?
She didn't know how long she ran, and she didn't care. Climbing up to one of the cliffs just outside the city, she wiped her soaked face with her sleeve and sniffed. She had to be strong for her people, the Alliance, and her friends. Now was not the time for behaving like a child.
Curling up against a boulder, she put her head against her knees and wished to be anywhere else but there. Here she was, twenty-two years old and still acting like she was six. Some leader she turned out to be.
She sighed and looked towards the distance, letting the wind rustle her hair. By all rights, she should have been back by now, but she just couldn't face the rest of the Earth Ring, let alone Thrall and her friends, like this.
The sound of something sniffing startled her awake. She cringed against the boulder at the sight of a large bear sniffing her hair, but soon realized the animal was very familiar.
"Misha?" she said quietly.
The bear licked her hand in reply.
Though a bit queasy, she smiled and stroked her top as though she were a pet dog. For some reason beyond Jaina, Misha loved having her coat stroked, despite being able to hold her own in a fight.
"Thought you'd be here," a low and gruff voice said behind the bear. She sat up to see Rexxar with his hawk on his shoulder approaching with Thrall right behind.
She smiled sadly, "Am I that predictable?"
The half ogre shrugged, "The Warchief and me figured you would do something like this."
Jaina's shoulders slumped, "Of course. It's always the frail little girl that runs first."
Rexxar folded his arms, "So says the woman that volunteered to be on the front lines of Mount Hyjal and risked her life to help the Horde."
Misha nuzzled her nose into Jaina's hair as the Arch-mage smiled weakly, "Thanks, Rexxar, but I'm starting to wonder if I was ever meant to lead at all. I mean, the opportunities for me to stop the fighting between the Horde and the Alliance and fight against the Legion were practically laid out like a straight path. But that's not how life is.
"Then my father came along and then I started to realize that being a leader is more than I can stand. I worked so hard to stop the fighting between the Horde and the Alliance and then he practically ruins it all.
She gestured to Thunder Bluffs, "And now this. If someone can use my past against me that easily, then I will be a liability."
Rexxar was about to say something when Thrall grabbed his shoulder and inclined his head back to the city. Understanding, the half-ogre called Misha back and they strolled back to the town, leaving the arch-mage and the Warchief alone.
As hard as she tried, she couldn't meet Thrall eye to eye. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
To her surprise, no tirade, no angry words, or anything of the sort happened as he walked slowly and sat beside her.
"For what?"
"You know what. I shouldn't have let Sylvannas get to me like that. But she did."
"Politically, it wasn't smart to run, but no one, except for Sylvannas maybe, really blames you. In fact, it was probably better you did. There's no telling how far she would have gone."
"Still, what if she is right? What if the Lich King does try something using Arthas' memories?"
Thrall snorted and looked back to the city, "I doubt it. Knowing who Ner'Zhul and Arthas were, they would move against us if we were a threat to him. That means we're still safe for the time being."
She looked up to see his offered hand. She grasped it and stood up. "I hope you're right. But that still doesn't make me feel any better."
She gave the Warchief another sad smile before starting back for the city. However, his hand landed on her shoulder, preventing her from moving.
"Jaina, may I be so bold as to ask something of you?"
She moved aside. "Sure. You've done a lot for the Alliance since the reconstruction of Theramore."
"There's a Spirit Lodge located on the eastern border of the city. Drek'Thar, Rohkan, and the rest of the shamans often go there whenever they find themselves with problem no one can help them with. I'd like you to meet with Drek'Thar."
Jaina stepped up to match her pace with Thrall. "But Thrall, isn't the Spirit Tent for those that can hear the spirits of nature? I can't. My mage training's far too different than the Shamanic Path."
Thrall didn't seem perturbed to her as he answered, "I know. And it may not help you find the answers that can help you. However, it'll still be better to try and fail than to simply give up. Of course, I'd rather just recommend this and you choose this yourself rather than let your debt to me influence your choice."
They both remained silent during the trek back and it wasn't until they reached the limits of the city before Jaina spoke up softly. "Do you think they'd mind a human woman in their presence?"
A smile slowly spread across the Warchief's face. "I wouldn't worry. They often have more foresight than most."
*
That evening, Jaina proceeded cautiously to the tent Thrall mentioned. Though a few witchdoctors and shamans were surprised at her presence, she wasn't disturbed as she pulled back the flap on the large tent.
Expecting the tent to be full, she was surprised to see only a female Tauren healer conversing with Drek'Thar. The rest of the tent was sparsely decorated with spiritual paintings, bone chimes, and clay runes. Her sense of magic felt a powerful presence within the tent. Approaching the Far Seer, she figured the presence must have been the spirits they often spoke about.
"Master Drek 'Thar?" Jaina asked timidly, hoping that he wouldn't mind her appearance.
The blind shaman thanked the healer before turning to Jaina, "You've come at last."
With a frown, she mumbled, "Thrall told you, didn't he?"
The orc only smiled and started to pet his wolf companion. "No. The spirits around you told me of the turmoil you're feeling. You would have found your way here one way or another."
Jaina allowed herself a wry smile, "The Spirits are that clairvoyant, huh?"
Drek'Thar turned and walked to the back of the tent. "You could say that. Yet, we learn through our companionship with the Spirits how to discern the character of others."
Following him, she sat across the small fire in front of his seat. It still amazed her how he was able to move about despite his loss of sight. Jaina was also slightly envious of the kinship the orc had with the wolf as he padded over by Drek'Thar's side and rested his head in his lap. Considering how closely the orcs worked with animals, it shouldn't have surprised her.
She returned her gaze to the shaman and asked, "So, what do the Spirits say about me?"
The old orc stroked his beard and concentrated as though he was staring straight into her soul. Jaina tried not to fidget on the blanket she sat on, but found it hard to stay still in her present surroundings.
"It's difficult to see exactly what holds you down, Lady Proudmoore. It could be anything. And whatever it is, it's weighing your soul down farther than it should."
Jaina sighed and looked down into the fire. She already had an idea as to what Drek'Thar was referring to. The shame she felt was beginning to make her regret coming in the first place. She was about to ask the orc if there was anything she could do, if there was anything. However, before she could ask, the orc interrupted.
"I cannot help you, save for this bit of advice: You already have the answer you seek within the confines of your mind. And it waits for you."
Drek'Thar and his wolf stood up and left Jaina to ponder his words. When he left the tent, Jaina found herself all alone, her only companion being the crackling fire in front of her. Feeling frustrated with the cryptic answers and complicated dilemma, she brought her knees to her face and mumbled, "Easy for you to say."
She was never given any sort of meditative training while in the Kirin Tor. True, concentration was required for the summoning of the water elemental and more was needed for calling down the blizzard, but to actually go soul searching was not something her Arch-Magi had taught her.
However, she had little to lose. Sitting cross-legged as comfortably as possible, she stared into the fire, hoping to find something within the flame. It would not be easy because she had no idea what she was searching for... if there was anything to search for.
She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, trying to shut out all everything around her. The sound of the fire soon grew quiet. The heat from the flames cooled. The smell of the paint on the symbols lost their distinctiveness. Everything in her perception of reality faded into nothing.
She was not sure how she was able to attain this state of mind, yet thought little of it as she delved into the darker recesses of her subconscious, unaware that Drek'Thar had placed a pot of burning incense in front of her.
"May the Spirits guide her to the answers she seeks," he whispered to no one.
*
Jaina floated through various layers of consciousness. How it was done was beyond her, but continued downward. To her surprise, many of the layers were comprised of memories, going further back the deeper she delved.
Naturally; the pleasant memories shone like visible stars in the night. Adversely, the painful memories were like pitches of midnight that let no light free. Reaching forward with morbid curiosity, she touched the black patch nearest to her.
"The town MUST be purged!"
"Arthas, are you mad?! Surely there's another way to..."
She pulled back as though she had touched a hot stove. Of all the memories she had to access, why that one? Automatically, she was transported to the aftermath of the slaughter. Not all the people had taken the infected grain, yet Arthas killed them regardless.
Then came Medivh.
"This land is lost, young one. The leaders are too blinded by their own contentment to realize the oncoming shadow."
"But why me? Compared to the leaders of the Kirin Tor, I'm just an apprentice. I don't hold enough sway to lead anyone."
"Oh, but you do, young one. The blood of nobility flows through your veins. Not the nobility of puerile kings, greedy politicians, and bloodthirsty warmongers. But the honor of heroes, forged through the refiner's fire. Your mind is still growing, and is still untainted by the petty views of the majority. I assure you, people *will* heed the voice of Jaina Proudmoore."
Before she could ask more, the prophet had transformed into a raven and flew off.
She wanted to tell him how wrong he was. As hard as she tried, she had led her people from one defeat to another.She hoped the settlements for her people in the Kalimdor Plains would be safe. However, they were soon trampled into dust by Thunderlizards, Razormanes, and the Horde. The troops she stationed at the foot of Stonetalon Peak suffered a similar fate. Then the Warsong clan and the Battle of Mount Hyjal had crippled her forces considerably. She was lucky if there were at least half of the number of people she brought with her from Lorderon was still alive.
She was ready to give up the search for the answer when many chains appeared from nowhere and wrapped themselves around her body.
Jaina struggled to free herself from the bonds, but the more she fought, the tighter they grew.
"Jaina... you too?" asked an accusing voice that once belonged to someone she cared about.
"Jaina... why?" a heartbroken voice asked her.
"When will you understand, Jaina? The blackbloods can never be trusted!" Another familiar voice proclaimed.
"You're a fool, Proudmoore. This 'treaty' will give those wretched orcs the chance to kill us. And it'll all be on YOUR HEAD!"
She clasped her hands over her ears to shut out the screams, but they persisted. More chains grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands away from her head to force more of the nightmares on her. With every accusation, plea, and scream that she heard, her eyes began to well up with tears. From the various patches of black, shadows emerged and surrounded her with pointing fingers.
"You'll never get anywhere crying, you baby."
"Hey, look! Jaina's crying again."
"So what else is new? She's always crying."
"Yeah, and she'll probably hide behind her dad, as always."
Jaina grit her teeth and felt a burning hot rage fill her heart. Never once did she slack her hand to help her people. Never did she purposely distance herself from others and still, she was rewarded with insults. Allies, friends she thought she knew, and family were bent on demeaning her. Why couldn't they leave her alone?!
"ENOUGH!!!" Jaina screamed and summoned a flame of such power that the chains holding her melted. The shadows screamed as the flame of her anger consumed them. However, Jaina was not spared from the fire. She collapsed to her knees as it ate at her skin and tore away everything that made her human.
Jaina looked to her hands and screamed as the skin of her hands broke off. A reflection in front of Jaina showed her the result of her transformation. With her hands on her cheeks, she screamed in denial at what she saw. However, the truth was she had changed into a hideous monster. Her appearance was like combination between one of the ghouls and banshees that served the Lich King.
A cold and tempting voice whispered from behind. "Yes, Jaina... give in to me."
She whirled to see the creature that was at one time Prince Arthas of Lorderon. His gloved hand was extended to her, while the other held the hideous sword, Frostmourne.
"Never! I'll never join you!" she screamed.
"Oh, but you will, Jaina. You see..." the Lich King reached forward and clasped a few strands of her long silver colored locks of hair and inhaled its scent through his helmet, "... I am always with you, as are you with me."
Jaina, despite her earlier defiance, found her will weakening.
"I can give you the respite you so desperately want," the Lich King offered, making his voice sound tempting beyond resistance. How wonderful was the thought of not being accused of failure from anyone. How wonderful was the thought of not being able to feel anything again.
She was about to give in when another voice interrupted, "Yes, he can, but you'd be selling yourself for nothing, Jaina."
She turned to see a glowing maul fly through the air and collide with the Lich King. She stumbled backward from the collision, but steadied herself when a massive white wolf landed beside her. Somehow, the wolf seemed familiar, and when she saw its eyes, she knew who this was.
"Thrall?"
The wolf nodded before thunder erupted from in front of them and the Lich King erupted from the darkness. The wolf growled and stepped in front of Jaina protectively.
"Fight all you want, pup. She will be mine!" the Lich King screamed before sending a wave of darkness their way.
Jaina covered her face as the wave of black collided with the wolf and sent both of them over a cliff that appeared from nowhere.
When she came to, she found herself lying atop the injured form of the giant wolf that had saved her.
"Thrall!" she screamed in shock before she tried to look for a wound that she could heal. Yet, she found none as she searched the unmoving form of her rescuer.
"Jaina..." the wolf whispered.
She looked up and slowly walked to its face. Realizing that Thrall, or at least this representation of him, hurt himself to save her made the guilt surge. She wrapped her arms around the wolf's head and embraced it as best she could. Despite all the turmoil of the past, Thrall had always been the stout and trustworthy friend she needed.
It was Thrall that proved to her that there was nobility in the Horde, and as a result, hope for peace between their races.
A shimmering light appeared above them and she looked to see Thrall, the orc, limping from a canyon. Not only that, she remembered him entering the canyon accompanied by the one named Grom. Now, he was alone, just like she was.
On instinct, she ran up to him and held his good arm over her smaller shoulders, giving him a little extra support on their way back to camp.
"That is who Jaina Proudmoore is," the wolf whispered before melding into the darkness in front of her. She wanted the wolf to stay, but it was already too late.
Taking another look back to the memory she just saw, the final words of the wolf sunk in. Despite her melancholy, she was beginning to understand what the wolf had said.
Slowly, the weight on her shoulders started to grow lighter. Or maybe she had gotten a stronger back. Either way, the shame and dark of the past did not seem so pressing even if it was still there.
She turned to see the Lich King emerge from the shadows, evidently pleased that the wolf was no longer there. Yet, she stood up and stood passively, almost awaiting the fatal blow to come.
"You cannot escape me, Jaina. Your destiny was intertwined with mine from the outset."
Jaina replied calmly before advancing, "I think not."
The Lich King stopped in his tracks as Jaina's hand reached forward and held her hand against his breastplate. Somehow, she was able to not only hold him away, but defy him as no other had done before. She fed her power into the Lich King's chest as streams of light began to pour out from his body.
";Farewell, Arthas," she whispered an instant before the Lich King screamed and exploded. She closed her eyes and flew backward as the essence of her foe's power dissipated. All that was left was light. She looked up to see a green skinned hand offer itself to her. With a smile, she reached up and accepted.
*
Blinking, she turned her head to see the sun peering into the Spirit Lodge through a small rip. Pushing herself to a sitting position, she found herself covered with a furry pelt, possibly made of the massive pigs the Razormane's hoarded. She looked around and found no one else in the tent. Maybe it was better that way.
A few minutes later, a visitor appeared at the entrance. "You be awake now, I see," Rohkan said peeking through the flap.
Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she asked, "How long was I out?"
The Shadow Hunter sat a small plate of indigenous fruits in front of her, "'bout tree days, I tink. Everawon, includin da boss mon, got real worried when you didn wake up."
She let herself chuckle for a second before thanking him for the food. "Sorry to make you all worry."
The troll only smiled, "Don worry, be happy!" With that, he scampered off to do Light knows what.
Eating the dried fruits slowly, she went over the many things she saw in her vision. The presence of the Lich King disconcerted her the most. Evidently, he was moving quicker than anyone had anticipated. Or, he was simply trying to enlist her to his cause, which was as frightening as it was appalling.
However, considering she was able to withstand and repulse the Lich King must have meant something. Maybe as great as his power was, he had yet to master it completely. Regardless of what it meant, steps had to be taken to ensure the safety of the Alliance and the Horde.
However, there was something she had to do first.
She got to her feet and from the folds of her cloak, pulled out a dagger. With a slow tug, she undid the bow of her cloak and let it fall to the floor. Walking through the flap of the tent, she walked towards one of the nearby cliffs reaching to the expansive barrens of Kalimdor.
She gathered her hair in one hand and held the blade of the dagger against the locks she had grown for the past year. With one swift stroke, she cut her hair, which had at one time reached the base of her back and now it hang over her shoulders. She turned and headed back with her cut strands in her hand.
She was about to step into the tent when she saw Thrall staring at her from the steps.
"Yes?" she asked simply.
At first, the Warchief gaped at what he saw, but then changed his look to one of scrutiny. "There's something different about you."
She ran her free hand through her shorter hair, "Glad you noticed."
Thrall shook his head. "No, it's your eyes. You've changed, Jaina."
She nodded slightly, elated that her friend noticed.
"Making choices can do that to a person."
"What happened while you were in there?"
"Quite a bit happened, to tell the truth. But I found my answer."
"What was it?"
"I'm not sure how to describe it. What was holding me back were aspects of what I was. I couldn't simply let them go or else I wouldn't be me. On the other hand, if I just to try and let it run its course... I'd probably be a slave to the Lich King or to the fears he represented. So, I did the only thing I could do: I chose to be the me that is here now, rather than the me that kept on clinging to the past just to give herself some semblance of identity."
With a snort, Thrall summarized her answer, "In other words; you let go of the past since it couldn't be changed."
She snickered, "Can you blame me for trying to be profound?"
He walked up to her hand patted her head gently, though it felt like a light blow to the top of her head, "Yes I can and if we weren't friends, I'd hold it against you."
"I know you wouldn't, Thrall. Admit it, you're not as hard edged as you think," Jaina said as she playfully elbowed him in the gut. Before he could protest, she walked into the tent. A minute later, she stepped out, with her cloak draped over her shoulder. She stepped up to Thrall, took his hand, and placed the strands of her hair in his palm. At both ends of the strands were strips of cloth she had torn from her cloak.
"What's this for?" he asked, eyeing her quizzically.
She smiled a bit, "An old tradition of Lorderon where warriors keep a lock of hair from a close friend or loved one as a good luck token. Some have said they fought with the strength of those the lock of hair belonged to."
Thrall remained unconvinced as she started to walk past him. "Exactly how old is this tradition?"
Jaina looked up to the sky for a moment before turning to him again and smiling, "About five minutes old."
Thrall cocked his eyebrow in surprise. He then looked to the lock of hair and to her as she started walking away, "Subtlety's not your strong suit, Jaina."
Her smile remained calm as she shrugged casually, "Maybe so."
*
Later that day, Jaina and Thrall met at the eastern entrance of the city with a parchment in hand. In hopes of smoothing out relations they both proposed a trade agreement between Orgrimmar and Theramore. In addition, they could attempt a possible cultural exchange between key members of both parties.
"With any hope, they'll actually give it a chance," Jaina said carefully placing the message in a pocket of her new cloak, made for a Tauren healer, having traded her old cloak for something more suited to the barrens.
"We can hope so. If the Lich King is moving as fast as you've said, then we'll need to make sure the others know about it," Thrall said, crossing his arms.
"I wouldn't worry about it too much. They're smart enough to realize that it won't be so painful to let the ordeal with my father go if they want to stand a chance against the Scourge."
"Necessity gives cause for odd bed fellows?"
"Something like that," Jaina chuckled as she took out her wand. "I'll be back within the week to give you a report, if not sooner."
"I'd appreciate that."
Now it was Jaina's turn to raise her eyebrow, "Why Thrall, is that an invitation?"
He raised a hand to halt the conversation, "Don't." As hard as he tried, he was slightly flustered with her more carefree manner; yet, a part of him didn't mind it at all.
She began to chuckle quite audibly; so much she lost her concentration for her teleportation spell and had to cover her mouth to stifle the giggles. After a minute, she figured enough was enough, coughed the last fit out and started on the spell.
"I'll be back, don't worry," she said as the spell took effect and she vanished in a flash of blue light.
With a sigh, Thrall was glad this ordeal was over and figured that he had best return to Orgrimmar. However, he stopped with he heard the sinister cackle of Rokhan. The troll in question was hopping everywhere and hanging on things stable enough to support him. Much to Thrall's embarrassment, both the troll and Rexxar had heard the conversation.
"Da boss mon be trixy!" Rokhan cackled to his companion.
Scratching the scruff on his chin, Rexxar turned to his companion, "If I didn't know, better, I'd say the Warchief was doting upon her."
"He be jammin, mon!" the troll continued with his unnaturally large smile, "Da boss mon be de baddest soul in town!"
"Rokhan, Rexxar."
"Warchief?"
"Yea, boss mon?"
"Shut up."
The End
Notes:
Well, this certainly was longer than I thought it would be. And since this is my first warcraft story, I'm scared to death over whether I got the characterizations right.
Also, the whole dream sequence wasn't originally supposed to have either Thrall or the Lich King in it, but I liked how it turned out, so I kept it.
Now, for the logistics, I know the lines drawn in World of Warcraft, but somehow I would figure that despite the opposing sides, I never got an indication that the Horde and the Alliance were fighting each other. Thrall and Jaina must have been having a jerk of a time trying to keep things in order.
And speaking of those two, there was no real romance because I can't write romance. Friendship is something I can write, so I write that.
Oh, and for those of you who are wondering what a Tauren Healer looks
like:
http: // www.sonsofthestorm.com / warcraft_samwise007c.html#gallery
Note: there are spaces in the URL you need to close up if you want to post the link on your browser. It's a hassle I know, but even my text files don't show the link when by all rights they should. *Shrugs*
And yes, the reference to the "Odd Bedfellows" story was intentional. Last time I recall, it was at the Warcraftiii.net forums. Take a read, it's good.
Finally; this story was done after being inspired by the works of C Jae's 'Listen' and Tyraa Rane's 'The Finer Points of Redemption'. I was never one for 'that' aspect of the fandom, but those two convinced me otherwise. Besides, I had a feeling that Arthas/Jaina was doomed from the start. So blam... er, the credit for the inspiration is theirs. :p
Any and all things Warcraft belongs to Blizzard. The Tauren Healer belongs to the artist that drew it and nothing here is mine. So there.
Remember folks, meticulous and long C&C is good!
Warcraft. If you've not played the former, do so by any legit means possible. It's cool.
*
In the Tauren city of Thunder Bluff, citizens of all shapes and sizes of the Orcish Horde came and went about their business. Even those not of the Horde found the city to be more benevolent than one would initially think. A one Jaina Proudmoore was grateful for that little detail as she moved towards the central neighborhood of tipi and tent.
Moving past a conversing Tauren healer and Troll witchdoctor, she pulled the hood of her cloak lower over her face to keep her face hidden. The last thing she need was to be recognized in a place like this. Ever since that whole ordeal with her father a year ago, relations between the Alliance and the Horde were becoming very precarious.
In addition, some of her own people on Theramore were making their discontent with her a little more than evident. Thankfully, enough of the population still trusted her enough to let her continue to lead them, though she was beginning to feel the strain of command. However, with her fortune, she'd be lucky to find sanctuary in Orgrimmar or Darnassus should the worst happen.
Though it was depressing enough to consider the idea of an escape route from her own people, she had more important matters to attend to.
"Ah. Lady Proudmore. Things be good with you?" a familiar voice asked from a nearby stand.
She turned to see the grinning Panderan, Chen Stormstout, with his wares for sale. Though their association had been temporary, she was grateful to see the boozy bear. Were it not for his help and persuasive use of his fine ales, a civil war could have broken out on Theramore after that whole ordeal with her father.
"As well as they can be, Chen. Though I can safely say that the
Barrens were not meant for me," she said walking to his stand.
The Panderan nodded vigorously, "Just like my father and brother. They're scholars, but my mother and sister could live out there if they wanted. They're Shodopan, you know!"
Jaina scratched her head, wondering what exactly a Shodopan was. She, like most others, had little to no knowledge of the secretive Panderan empire, save for what the unusual Brewmasters disclosed. For all they knew, maybe it didn't exist and it was just a ruse to keep them wary.
Noticing his charismatic smile, she was not surprised when he said,
"You seem a little parched."
She held up a hard to interrupt, "Thank you but no. The last time I tried one of your "Phoenix Dews" I was sick for nearly a week."
The Brewmaster nodded sagely in understanding. "No surprise. Not many can take the full brunt of one of Master Wan Steelgut's Phoenix Dews in one gulp. That's why it's meant to be taken in slowly."
Jaina's shoulders slumped slightly at the reminder. She was so desperate for a drink during the reconstruction; she had downed an entire mug that Chen offered. Within seconds, she blacked out and woke up with a headache the size of Khaz Modan some days later.
Reluctantly, she admitted, "Yes. I shouldn't have drunk it so fast."
The cheerful Panderan smiled again and pulled out a mug filled with a foamy, orange colored, viscous thick fluid. "So then, another round?"
Grimacing, Jaina stepped back and started to walk to her original destination, "Thank you but no. Once a year is more than enough."
Chen smiled openly as she started for Cairne Bloodhoof's tent, "It will be here, waiting for you, Jaina!" His boisterous laugh followed her through the next few blocks as she hid her face in her cloak, praying to the Light that no one would notice.
*
Tauren were huge and therefore frightening to someone as small as Jaina. Somehow, she was able to muster the courage to step into the center of the central ring. As her entrance got the notice of a few Spirit Walkers, she bowed in greeting to Cairne's son, Baine.
The chieftain's son bowed in turn, "You are expected, Lady Proudmoore. The Earth Ring and the Night Elf praetors await you."
She thanked the 'younger' Tauren as she stepped through the flaps of the tent. In the center of the tent sat a large congregation of Tauren, Orcs, Trolls, and Night Elves all in spirited conversation with each other.
Though she was among friends here, she was not naïve enough to believe that all here thought well of her. The fact remained; she was here alone and the only human. Everyone else had more than one of their kind in attendance of the Earth Ring, save for Jaina.
"You're late, Proudmoore." An icy hiss snarled from the shadows.
Turning she frowned at the source of the voice, knowing whom it was. "Since when did time matter to the dead, Sylvannas?"
Jaina was quite vocal of her opposition to the Horde and the Forsaken joining forces, yet knew she had no say in it. Even Thrall and Drek'Thar, her trusted confidants among the Horde's hierarchy, had expressed doubts of the wisdom of the Earth Ring's choice.
The Banshee Queen smirked beneath the hood of her tattered cloak, "It doesn't. Yet, I feel there's some use to it since one of your kind has a tendency to fall at certain intervals."
Jaina was not amused at the statement. "Tell me, Sylvannas, been to Quel'Thalas lately? I've heard it's marvelous in the dead of winter."
The Arch-Mage remained still as the Banshee Queen snarled, cocked an arrow, and aimed it straight between her eyes. Though Jaina had mourned with many of the High Elves for the loss of their homeland, her pity could not extend to the encompass The Forsaken since their races were at extreme odds. In fact, it was more so than the Alliance was with the Horde.
The rest of the Earth Ring looked on in shock as the two women stood each other down. At the head of the tent, Thrall frowned and stood up to break the engagement before things would get worse. Yet, a purple skinned hand grasped his arm softly and a few Elvin words whispered to his ear, requesting another to break it up. Nodding to the Night Elf beside him, Thrall stepped back and allowed her to step forward.
"Give me one good reason in five seconds why I shouldn't skin you alive?" Sylvannas growled, having a hard time deciding which one of Jaina's eyes to shoot out first.
"Because you can't." Jaina whispered before whispering a few words beneath her breath, faster than the Banshee Queen could utter her Silence Mist. The steel bow in the undead elf's hands began to glow from internal heat, becoming far too hot for even Sylvannas to hold as the string snapped and she dropped the bow.
Jaina pulled out her short staff as Sylvannas pulled out a kris dagger, preparing for the worst. However, the hand of Tyrande Whisperwind gently grasped Sylvannas' hand and stood with her back to Jaina.
"If you both are done, we can proceed with the meeting." The Priestess' tone was not harsh, but it was commanding enough to force Sylvanna and Jaina to stand down. The Banshee Queen sent one last glare toward Jaina as she took her seat at the far end of the tent.
Jaina felt all was well until she saw Tyrande turn around and give her a disapproving look. She knew that disappointed look in the Priestess' eyes, like she had let a friend down. She had seen it in her father, teachers, and a few others she did not care to remember. Jaina knew no words needed to be exchanged as she hung her head low and walked quickly to her place beside Malfurion Stormrage.
As the remaining members of the Earth Ring took their seats to prepare for the beginning of the meeting, Malfurion leaned over to Jaina and whispered, "You will not notice it, but you have earned a little more respect today."
Jaina wanted to ask exactly when he meant when Thrall's call to order silenced all discourse.
"I thank you all for coming here," he stood up and walked to the center of the tent. On his right, Drek'Thar, the farseer and Nazgel, head of the wolf rider brigades, sat. On his left: Cairne Bloodhoof, chief of the Tauren; Rexxar, warlord of the Ogre Tribes; and Rohkan, Shadow Hunter and representative of the Island Troll tribes.
Thrall addressed the rest of the tent. "Over two weeks ago, many of us felt a powerful disturbance. And it wasn't just us. The Druids felt it as well."
Jaina, along with everyone else, nodded in agreement. Yet, she had kept to herself the fact she beheld a vision. It was a lucid picture of two nightmares coming together to create something far more horrifying. Worst of all, she recognized what one of those nightmares were. She saw the man that was at one time, Arthas of Lorderon, placing a hideous helmet atop his head. Then, she saw a mixing of two souls, resulting in a shockwave powerful enough to shatter an ice cavern around him. The instant his eyes opened, she awoke screaming in her bed, covered in a sheet of sweat.
As Thrall continued speaking with the Earth Ring, Jaina leaned over and held her head in her hands. She shook her head in disbelief at Arthas becoming the Lich King. Yet, the facts were all laid bare. Even Sylvannas, having a more powerful connection to the Lich King, only verified her vision as true.
"From what my shades have seen, when that wretched Arthas placed that disgusting helmet on his head, he and whatever was left of Ner'Zhul fused and became an entirely new entity. Neither orc, human, or undead." Sylvannas said from her end of the tent.
Beside Jaina, Tyrande interceded, "So, it is safe to assume that this 'creature', having the body of a warrior with the power that created the undead scourge is a dangerous element to us all."
Nodding, Sylvannas continued, "Not only that, his legions of creatures are turning the whole continent into a stronghold. Many of my shades were lost as they began construction."
Jaina then spoke up, "That's not the only problem. I've been noticing some of the Blood Elves infiltrating some of the Alliance ranks in disguise. I'm not sure what they're doing, but I doubt it's for anything good."
Malfurion added; "From what few survivors of Maiev's forces that made it back, we've been able to determine these few points. The Blood Elves consume arcane magics as though they were food. They are addicted to it to the point where they can do little else if they do not have it. Second; they are hunting down demons, killing them, and stripping them of their magical essence to feed themselves."
Rohkan blanched, "You no be joking, mon? They EAT demons?"
Malfurion nodded and continued, "Not just demons, but anything with magical properties. Even spell casters such as you or me."
Stroking his beard, Cairne posed a question, "Are we to expect an invasion from them?"
The Night Elf druid shook his head, "No. Their numbers would never be sufficient enough. Their habitat, along with several other conflicts, has reduced their numbers drastically. They can also be detected because of their unmistakable stench of the arcane."
With a snort, Sylvannas interrupted, "But then again, it's neither their magic nor their appetite that makes them vicious. It's their allies, the Naga."
Tyrande added, "And considering their grudge against anything on land, it would be prudent to be watchful of the oceans and rivers along the east coast of Kalimdor."
With a casual shrug, Sylvannas spoke up, "We could, of course, give the Blood Elves Jaina as an offering of good faith to leave us alone."
Several of Jaina's acquaintances were about to speak up when she continued, "Think about it. Kael's somehow got the rest of his people in line enough to keep most of them in Draenor. And if I recall right, one of the biggest wounds Arthas gave Kael was stealing Jaina from him.
She sent Jaina another smirk, "Give Kael our little magic using trollop and maybe she can sweet talk him into leaving Azeroth alone. In addition, we rid ourselves of a possible liability, since the Lich King has access to Arthas' memories. We kill two birds with one stone."
Jaina's jaw was hanging wide open as the room was stunned into silence. The arch mage could not believe what she had heard. Sylvannas made it sound she was either some commodity to be traded or a promiscuous harlot. All eyes turned toward her and she felt her composure breaking. All her instincts were telling her to get out.
With as much dignity as she could muster, she stood up and with locked eyes with the undead elf, she said quietly, "Yes. I admit to being romantically involved with both Kael and Arthas. But, the end result of both relationships have been haunting me ever since. They weren't the only ones that suffered."
She turned to the Thrall, and said curtly, "Forgive me, Warchief, but I need to take a recess."
She didn't even wait for Thrall to give her leave.
*
When she was clear of the tent and out of the inner ring of the city, she ran as fast as her legs could carry her, hoping to the Light that her tears wouldn't fall out for everyone to see. Why was she crying now? She had dealt with insults before, so why couldn't she withstand the taunting of a banshee?
She didn't know how long she ran, and she didn't care. Climbing up to one of the cliffs just outside the city, she wiped her soaked face with her sleeve and sniffed. She had to be strong for her people, the Alliance, and her friends. Now was not the time for behaving like a child.
Curling up against a boulder, she put her head against her knees and wished to be anywhere else but there. Here she was, twenty-two years old and still acting like she was six. Some leader she turned out to be.
She sighed and looked towards the distance, letting the wind rustle her hair. By all rights, she should have been back by now, but she just couldn't face the rest of the Earth Ring, let alone Thrall and her friends, like this.
The sound of something sniffing startled her awake. She cringed against the boulder at the sight of a large bear sniffing her hair, but soon realized the animal was very familiar.
"Misha?" she said quietly.
The bear licked her hand in reply.
Though a bit queasy, she smiled and stroked her top as though she were a pet dog. For some reason beyond Jaina, Misha loved having her coat stroked, despite being able to hold her own in a fight.
"Thought you'd be here," a low and gruff voice said behind the bear. She sat up to see Rexxar with his hawk on his shoulder approaching with Thrall right behind.
She smiled sadly, "Am I that predictable?"
The half ogre shrugged, "The Warchief and me figured you would do something like this."
Jaina's shoulders slumped, "Of course. It's always the frail little girl that runs first."
Rexxar folded his arms, "So says the woman that volunteered to be on the front lines of Mount Hyjal and risked her life to help the Horde."
Misha nuzzled her nose into Jaina's hair as the Arch-mage smiled weakly, "Thanks, Rexxar, but I'm starting to wonder if I was ever meant to lead at all. I mean, the opportunities for me to stop the fighting between the Horde and the Alliance and fight against the Legion were practically laid out like a straight path. But that's not how life is.
"Then my father came along and then I started to realize that being a leader is more than I can stand. I worked so hard to stop the fighting between the Horde and the Alliance and then he practically ruins it all.
She gestured to Thunder Bluffs, "And now this. If someone can use my past against me that easily, then I will be a liability."
Rexxar was about to say something when Thrall grabbed his shoulder and inclined his head back to the city. Understanding, the half-ogre called Misha back and they strolled back to the town, leaving the arch-mage and the Warchief alone.
As hard as she tried, she couldn't meet Thrall eye to eye. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
To her surprise, no tirade, no angry words, or anything of the sort happened as he walked slowly and sat beside her.
"For what?"
"You know what. I shouldn't have let Sylvannas get to me like that. But she did."
"Politically, it wasn't smart to run, but no one, except for Sylvannas maybe, really blames you. In fact, it was probably better you did. There's no telling how far she would have gone."
"Still, what if she is right? What if the Lich King does try something using Arthas' memories?"
Thrall snorted and looked back to the city, "I doubt it. Knowing who Ner'Zhul and Arthas were, they would move against us if we were a threat to him. That means we're still safe for the time being."
She looked up to see his offered hand. She grasped it and stood up. "I hope you're right. But that still doesn't make me feel any better."
She gave the Warchief another sad smile before starting back for the city. However, his hand landed on her shoulder, preventing her from moving.
"Jaina, may I be so bold as to ask something of you?"
She moved aside. "Sure. You've done a lot for the Alliance since the reconstruction of Theramore."
"There's a Spirit Lodge located on the eastern border of the city. Drek'Thar, Rohkan, and the rest of the shamans often go there whenever they find themselves with problem no one can help them with. I'd like you to meet with Drek'Thar."
Jaina stepped up to match her pace with Thrall. "But Thrall, isn't the Spirit Tent for those that can hear the spirits of nature? I can't. My mage training's far too different than the Shamanic Path."
Thrall didn't seem perturbed to her as he answered, "I know. And it may not help you find the answers that can help you. However, it'll still be better to try and fail than to simply give up. Of course, I'd rather just recommend this and you choose this yourself rather than let your debt to me influence your choice."
They both remained silent during the trek back and it wasn't until they reached the limits of the city before Jaina spoke up softly. "Do you think they'd mind a human woman in their presence?"
A smile slowly spread across the Warchief's face. "I wouldn't worry. They often have more foresight than most."
*
That evening, Jaina proceeded cautiously to the tent Thrall mentioned. Though a few witchdoctors and shamans were surprised at her presence, she wasn't disturbed as she pulled back the flap on the large tent.
Expecting the tent to be full, she was surprised to see only a female Tauren healer conversing with Drek'Thar. The rest of the tent was sparsely decorated with spiritual paintings, bone chimes, and clay runes. Her sense of magic felt a powerful presence within the tent. Approaching the Far Seer, she figured the presence must have been the spirits they often spoke about.
"Master Drek 'Thar?" Jaina asked timidly, hoping that he wouldn't mind her appearance.
The blind shaman thanked the healer before turning to Jaina, "You've come at last."
With a frown, she mumbled, "Thrall told you, didn't he?"
The orc only smiled and started to pet his wolf companion. "No. The spirits around you told me of the turmoil you're feeling. You would have found your way here one way or another."
Jaina allowed herself a wry smile, "The Spirits are that clairvoyant, huh?"
Drek'Thar turned and walked to the back of the tent. "You could say that. Yet, we learn through our companionship with the Spirits how to discern the character of others."
Following him, she sat across the small fire in front of his seat. It still amazed her how he was able to move about despite his loss of sight. Jaina was also slightly envious of the kinship the orc had with the wolf as he padded over by Drek'Thar's side and rested his head in his lap. Considering how closely the orcs worked with animals, it shouldn't have surprised her.
She returned her gaze to the shaman and asked, "So, what do the Spirits say about me?"
The old orc stroked his beard and concentrated as though he was staring straight into her soul. Jaina tried not to fidget on the blanket she sat on, but found it hard to stay still in her present surroundings.
"It's difficult to see exactly what holds you down, Lady Proudmoore. It could be anything. And whatever it is, it's weighing your soul down farther than it should."
Jaina sighed and looked down into the fire. She already had an idea as to what Drek'Thar was referring to. The shame she felt was beginning to make her regret coming in the first place. She was about to ask the orc if there was anything she could do, if there was anything. However, before she could ask, the orc interrupted.
"I cannot help you, save for this bit of advice: You already have the answer you seek within the confines of your mind. And it waits for you."
Drek'Thar and his wolf stood up and left Jaina to ponder his words. When he left the tent, Jaina found herself all alone, her only companion being the crackling fire in front of her. Feeling frustrated with the cryptic answers and complicated dilemma, she brought her knees to her face and mumbled, "Easy for you to say."
She was never given any sort of meditative training while in the Kirin Tor. True, concentration was required for the summoning of the water elemental and more was needed for calling down the blizzard, but to actually go soul searching was not something her Arch-Magi had taught her.
However, she had little to lose. Sitting cross-legged as comfortably as possible, she stared into the fire, hoping to find something within the flame. It would not be easy because she had no idea what she was searching for... if there was anything to search for.
She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, trying to shut out all everything around her. The sound of the fire soon grew quiet. The heat from the flames cooled. The smell of the paint on the symbols lost their distinctiveness. Everything in her perception of reality faded into nothing.
She was not sure how she was able to attain this state of mind, yet thought little of it as she delved into the darker recesses of her subconscious, unaware that Drek'Thar had placed a pot of burning incense in front of her.
"May the Spirits guide her to the answers she seeks," he whispered to no one.
*
Jaina floated through various layers of consciousness. How it was done was beyond her, but continued downward. To her surprise, many of the layers were comprised of memories, going further back the deeper she delved.
Naturally; the pleasant memories shone like visible stars in the night. Adversely, the painful memories were like pitches of midnight that let no light free. Reaching forward with morbid curiosity, she touched the black patch nearest to her.
"The town MUST be purged!"
"Arthas, are you mad?! Surely there's another way to..."
She pulled back as though she had touched a hot stove. Of all the memories she had to access, why that one? Automatically, she was transported to the aftermath of the slaughter. Not all the people had taken the infected grain, yet Arthas killed them regardless.
Then came Medivh.
"This land is lost, young one. The leaders are too blinded by their own contentment to realize the oncoming shadow."
"But why me? Compared to the leaders of the Kirin Tor, I'm just an apprentice. I don't hold enough sway to lead anyone."
"Oh, but you do, young one. The blood of nobility flows through your veins. Not the nobility of puerile kings, greedy politicians, and bloodthirsty warmongers. But the honor of heroes, forged through the refiner's fire. Your mind is still growing, and is still untainted by the petty views of the majority. I assure you, people *will* heed the voice of Jaina Proudmoore."
Before she could ask more, the prophet had transformed into a raven and flew off.
She wanted to tell him how wrong he was. As hard as she tried, she had led her people from one defeat to another.She hoped the settlements for her people in the Kalimdor Plains would be safe. However, they were soon trampled into dust by Thunderlizards, Razormanes, and the Horde. The troops she stationed at the foot of Stonetalon Peak suffered a similar fate. Then the Warsong clan and the Battle of Mount Hyjal had crippled her forces considerably. She was lucky if there were at least half of the number of people she brought with her from Lorderon was still alive.
She was ready to give up the search for the answer when many chains appeared from nowhere and wrapped themselves around her body.
Jaina struggled to free herself from the bonds, but the more she fought, the tighter they grew.
"Jaina... you too?" asked an accusing voice that once belonged to someone she cared about.
"Jaina... why?" a heartbroken voice asked her.
"When will you understand, Jaina? The blackbloods can never be trusted!" Another familiar voice proclaimed.
"You're a fool, Proudmoore. This 'treaty' will give those wretched orcs the chance to kill us. And it'll all be on YOUR HEAD!"
She clasped her hands over her ears to shut out the screams, but they persisted. More chains grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands away from her head to force more of the nightmares on her. With every accusation, plea, and scream that she heard, her eyes began to well up with tears. From the various patches of black, shadows emerged and surrounded her with pointing fingers.
"You'll never get anywhere crying, you baby."
"Hey, look! Jaina's crying again."
"So what else is new? She's always crying."
"Yeah, and she'll probably hide behind her dad, as always."
Jaina grit her teeth and felt a burning hot rage fill her heart. Never once did she slack her hand to help her people. Never did she purposely distance herself from others and still, she was rewarded with insults. Allies, friends she thought she knew, and family were bent on demeaning her. Why couldn't they leave her alone?!
"ENOUGH!!!" Jaina screamed and summoned a flame of such power that the chains holding her melted. The shadows screamed as the flame of her anger consumed them. However, Jaina was not spared from the fire. She collapsed to her knees as it ate at her skin and tore away everything that made her human.
Jaina looked to her hands and screamed as the skin of her hands broke off. A reflection in front of Jaina showed her the result of her transformation. With her hands on her cheeks, she screamed in denial at what she saw. However, the truth was she had changed into a hideous monster. Her appearance was like combination between one of the ghouls and banshees that served the Lich King.
A cold and tempting voice whispered from behind. "Yes, Jaina... give in to me."
She whirled to see the creature that was at one time Prince Arthas of Lorderon. His gloved hand was extended to her, while the other held the hideous sword, Frostmourne.
"Never! I'll never join you!" she screamed.
"Oh, but you will, Jaina. You see..." the Lich King reached forward and clasped a few strands of her long silver colored locks of hair and inhaled its scent through his helmet, "... I am always with you, as are you with me."
Jaina, despite her earlier defiance, found her will weakening.
"I can give you the respite you so desperately want," the Lich King offered, making his voice sound tempting beyond resistance. How wonderful was the thought of not being accused of failure from anyone. How wonderful was the thought of not being able to feel anything again.
She was about to give in when another voice interrupted, "Yes, he can, but you'd be selling yourself for nothing, Jaina."
She turned to see a glowing maul fly through the air and collide with the Lich King. She stumbled backward from the collision, but steadied herself when a massive white wolf landed beside her. Somehow, the wolf seemed familiar, and when she saw its eyes, she knew who this was.
"Thrall?"
The wolf nodded before thunder erupted from in front of them and the Lich King erupted from the darkness. The wolf growled and stepped in front of Jaina protectively.
"Fight all you want, pup. She will be mine!" the Lich King screamed before sending a wave of darkness their way.
Jaina covered her face as the wave of black collided with the wolf and sent both of them over a cliff that appeared from nowhere.
When she came to, she found herself lying atop the injured form of the giant wolf that had saved her.
"Thrall!" she screamed in shock before she tried to look for a wound that she could heal. Yet, she found none as she searched the unmoving form of her rescuer.
"Jaina..." the wolf whispered.
She looked up and slowly walked to its face. Realizing that Thrall, or at least this representation of him, hurt himself to save her made the guilt surge. She wrapped her arms around the wolf's head and embraced it as best she could. Despite all the turmoil of the past, Thrall had always been the stout and trustworthy friend she needed.
It was Thrall that proved to her that there was nobility in the Horde, and as a result, hope for peace between their races.
A shimmering light appeared above them and she looked to see Thrall, the orc, limping from a canyon. Not only that, she remembered him entering the canyon accompanied by the one named Grom. Now, he was alone, just like she was.
On instinct, she ran up to him and held his good arm over her smaller shoulders, giving him a little extra support on their way back to camp.
"That is who Jaina Proudmoore is," the wolf whispered before melding into the darkness in front of her. She wanted the wolf to stay, but it was already too late.
Taking another look back to the memory she just saw, the final words of the wolf sunk in. Despite her melancholy, she was beginning to understand what the wolf had said.
Slowly, the weight on her shoulders started to grow lighter. Or maybe she had gotten a stronger back. Either way, the shame and dark of the past did not seem so pressing even if it was still there.
She turned to see the Lich King emerge from the shadows, evidently pleased that the wolf was no longer there. Yet, she stood up and stood passively, almost awaiting the fatal blow to come.
"You cannot escape me, Jaina. Your destiny was intertwined with mine from the outset."
Jaina replied calmly before advancing, "I think not."
The Lich King stopped in his tracks as Jaina's hand reached forward and held her hand against his breastplate. Somehow, she was able to not only hold him away, but defy him as no other had done before. She fed her power into the Lich King's chest as streams of light began to pour out from his body.
";Farewell, Arthas," she whispered an instant before the Lich King screamed and exploded. She closed her eyes and flew backward as the essence of her foe's power dissipated. All that was left was light. She looked up to see a green skinned hand offer itself to her. With a smile, she reached up and accepted.
*
Blinking, she turned her head to see the sun peering into the Spirit Lodge through a small rip. Pushing herself to a sitting position, she found herself covered with a furry pelt, possibly made of the massive pigs the Razormane's hoarded. She looked around and found no one else in the tent. Maybe it was better that way.
A few minutes later, a visitor appeared at the entrance. "You be awake now, I see," Rohkan said peeking through the flap.
Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she asked, "How long was I out?"
The Shadow Hunter sat a small plate of indigenous fruits in front of her, "'bout tree days, I tink. Everawon, includin da boss mon, got real worried when you didn wake up."
She let herself chuckle for a second before thanking him for the food. "Sorry to make you all worry."
The troll only smiled, "Don worry, be happy!" With that, he scampered off to do Light knows what.
Eating the dried fruits slowly, she went over the many things she saw in her vision. The presence of the Lich King disconcerted her the most. Evidently, he was moving quicker than anyone had anticipated. Or, he was simply trying to enlist her to his cause, which was as frightening as it was appalling.
However, considering she was able to withstand and repulse the Lich King must have meant something. Maybe as great as his power was, he had yet to master it completely. Regardless of what it meant, steps had to be taken to ensure the safety of the Alliance and the Horde.
However, there was something she had to do first.
She got to her feet and from the folds of her cloak, pulled out a dagger. With a slow tug, she undid the bow of her cloak and let it fall to the floor. Walking through the flap of the tent, she walked towards one of the nearby cliffs reaching to the expansive barrens of Kalimdor.
She gathered her hair in one hand and held the blade of the dagger against the locks she had grown for the past year. With one swift stroke, she cut her hair, which had at one time reached the base of her back and now it hang over her shoulders. She turned and headed back with her cut strands in her hand.
She was about to step into the tent when she saw Thrall staring at her from the steps.
"Yes?" she asked simply.
At first, the Warchief gaped at what he saw, but then changed his look to one of scrutiny. "There's something different about you."
She ran her free hand through her shorter hair, "Glad you noticed."
Thrall shook his head. "No, it's your eyes. You've changed, Jaina."
She nodded slightly, elated that her friend noticed.
"Making choices can do that to a person."
"What happened while you were in there?"
"Quite a bit happened, to tell the truth. But I found my answer."
"What was it?"
"I'm not sure how to describe it. What was holding me back were aspects of what I was. I couldn't simply let them go or else I wouldn't be me. On the other hand, if I just to try and let it run its course... I'd probably be a slave to the Lich King or to the fears he represented. So, I did the only thing I could do: I chose to be the me that is here now, rather than the me that kept on clinging to the past just to give herself some semblance of identity."
With a snort, Thrall summarized her answer, "In other words; you let go of the past since it couldn't be changed."
She snickered, "Can you blame me for trying to be profound?"
He walked up to her hand patted her head gently, though it felt like a light blow to the top of her head, "Yes I can and if we weren't friends, I'd hold it against you."
"I know you wouldn't, Thrall. Admit it, you're not as hard edged as you think," Jaina said as she playfully elbowed him in the gut. Before he could protest, she walked into the tent. A minute later, she stepped out, with her cloak draped over her shoulder. She stepped up to Thrall, took his hand, and placed the strands of her hair in his palm. At both ends of the strands were strips of cloth she had torn from her cloak.
"What's this for?" he asked, eyeing her quizzically.
She smiled a bit, "An old tradition of Lorderon where warriors keep a lock of hair from a close friend or loved one as a good luck token. Some have said they fought with the strength of those the lock of hair belonged to."
Thrall remained unconvinced as she started to walk past him. "Exactly how old is this tradition?"
Jaina looked up to the sky for a moment before turning to him again and smiling, "About five minutes old."
Thrall cocked his eyebrow in surprise. He then looked to the lock of hair and to her as she started walking away, "Subtlety's not your strong suit, Jaina."
Her smile remained calm as she shrugged casually, "Maybe so."
*
Later that day, Jaina and Thrall met at the eastern entrance of the city with a parchment in hand. In hopes of smoothing out relations they both proposed a trade agreement between Orgrimmar and Theramore. In addition, they could attempt a possible cultural exchange between key members of both parties.
"With any hope, they'll actually give it a chance," Jaina said carefully placing the message in a pocket of her new cloak, made for a Tauren healer, having traded her old cloak for something more suited to the barrens.
"We can hope so. If the Lich King is moving as fast as you've said, then we'll need to make sure the others know about it," Thrall said, crossing his arms.
"I wouldn't worry about it too much. They're smart enough to realize that it won't be so painful to let the ordeal with my father go if they want to stand a chance against the Scourge."
"Necessity gives cause for odd bed fellows?"
"Something like that," Jaina chuckled as she took out her wand. "I'll be back within the week to give you a report, if not sooner."
"I'd appreciate that."
Now it was Jaina's turn to raise her eyebrow, "Why Thrall, is that an invitation?"
He raised a hand to halt the conversation, "Don't." As hard as he tried, he was slightly flustered with her more carefree manner; yet, a part of him didn't mind it at all.
She began to chuckle quite audibly; so much she lost her concentration for her teleportation spell and had to cover her mouth to stifle the giggles. After a minute, she figured enough was enough, coughed the last fit out and started on the spell.
"I'll be back, don't worry," she said as the spell took effect and she vanished in a flash of blue light.
With a sigh, Thrall was glad this ordeal was over and figured that he had best return to Orgrimmar. However, he stopped with he heard the sinister cackle of Rokhan. The troll in question was hopping everywhere and hanging on things stable enough to support him. Much to Thrall's embarrassment, both the troll and Rexxar had heard the conversation.
"Da boss mon be trixy!" Rokhan cackled to his companion.
Scratching the scruff on his chin, Rexxar turned to his companion, "If I didn't know, better, I'd say the Warchief was doting upon her."
"He be jammin, mon!" the troll continued with his unnaturally large smile, "Da boss mon be de baddest soul in town!"
"Rokhan, Rexxar."
"Warchief?"
"Yea, boss mon?"
"Shut up."
The End
Notes:
Well, this certainly was longer than I thought it would be. And since this is my first warcraft story, I'm scared to death over whether I got the characterizations right.
Also, the whole dream sequence wasn't originally supposed to have either Thrall or the Lich King in it, but I liked how it turned out, so I kept it.
Now, for the logistics, I know the lines drawn in World of Warcraft, but somehow I would figure that despite the opposing sides, I never got an indication that the Horde and the Alliance were fighting each other. Thrall and Jaina must have been having a jerk of a time trying to keep things in order.
And speaking of those two, there was no real romance because I can't write romance. Friendship is something I can write, so I write that.
Oh, and for those of you who are wondering what a Tauren Healer looks
like:
http: // www.sonsofthestorm.com / warcraft_samwise007c.html#gallery
Note: there are spaces in the URL you need to close up if you want to post the link on your browser. It's a hassle I know, but even my text files don't show the link when by all rights they should. *Shrugs*
And yes, the reference to the "Odd Bedfellows" story was intentional. Last time I recall, it was at the Warcraftiii.net forums. Take a read, it's good.
Finally; this story was done after being inspired by the works of C Jae's 'Listen' and Tyraa Rane's 'The Finer Points of Redemption'. I was never one for 'that' aspect of the fandom, but those two convinced me otherwise. Besides, I had a feeling that Arthas/Jaina was doomed from the start. So blam... er, the credit for the inspiration is theirs. :p
Any and all things Warcraft belongs to Blizzard. The Tauren Healer belongs to the artist that drew it and nothing here is mine. So there.
Remember folks, meticulous and long C&C is good!