III.
"I grow tired of this— the longer this takes, the easier it will become for their precious champions to rescue those we have taken. Worse, the Jailer's inability to heed my concerns are growing… frustrating. The Boy King will not yield— we are wasting our time."
Sylvanas sat heavily on what could probably constitute as a stone bench, if not for its relatively uneven surface. She did not care though, choosing to ignore how uncomfortable it was so that she could properly deal with her exasperation as she lay on her back, focusing her gaze on the swirling reds and oranges of the sky. Around her, a constant barrage of piercing wails ripped through the air, disrupting the moment's peace that Sylvanas had so desired. Outside of herself and her val'kyr however, the surrounding area outside of Torghast was deserted; it seemed useless to station guards outside of a prison from which its inhabitants had never escaped.
The banshee's expression darkened; the screaming was growing louder, presumably from the captives inside. All except Proudmoore, no doubt, as the mage seemed to be the only one who was able to stay her torment— at least for the time being. Once the Jailer got word of her victory over the chamber, Sylvanas was sure the woman would be moved to another, but considering the Jailer was occupied with other concerns for the time being, and the fact that Sylvanas had instructed the Mawsworn guards not to inform him of the development just yet, it seemed Proudmoore would be allotted an extension to her reprieve. Sylvanas wasn't entirely sure why she had not moved to condemn her— an inability to admit defeat, perhaps. After being a mouthpiece on behalf of the Jailer as she wasted more of their time by focusing on the annoyingly unbreakable Wrynn child, Sylvanas almost had an urge to try again with Proudmoore until she thought better of it, and chose instead to leave the tower altogether.
The Banshee Queen pinched the bridge of her nose as she closed her eyes, trying to block out the noises so that she could have a moment to think. The screaming continued though, an ever-constant in a realm of torment. Sylvanas exhaled an unneeded breath, feeling the darkness of the Maw beginning to pull at her again— beckoning her damned spirit back to where she was unfairly fated to rest. "…I despise this place."
Sylvanas' three remaining val'kyr surrounded her; one at her head, the other two positioned at her sides. Sylvanas slowly opened her eyes, seeing the one on the left look down at her with a rather judgmental expression as her wings beat rhythmically against the howling winds of the Maw. "Dramatics aside, the longer you linger here, the more you are allowing things to eat away at you— you are getting worse, sister; becoming easier to unravel should one only tug at the right thread, and it seems there are many to grab a hold of lately."
Sylvanas' eyes narrowed. She detested being called dramatic; it was an unjustly earned elven stereotype that as a member of the undead, she did not even fit any longer. Sylvanas momentarily struggled to reel back in her banshee form as it threatened to escape her body for the umpteenth goddamn time, before pushing herself into a seated position and forcefully encouraging Brynhildr to make room for her change of position. The val'kyr watched black tendrils lick at her mistress' skin, the corners of her lips turning down into a frown. Brynhildr was no doubt already aware that Sylvanas would not appreciate her comments, but she had always been overprotective to the point of aggressiveness, as she seemed constantly frustrated by Sylvanas' inability to heed her. As such, Brynhildr was quite blunt about her opinions, knowing that Sylvanas needed to hear them whether she liked it or not. Signe was the same way when she was concerned, although took better care with her words, which made her far less frustrating to converse with. And Kyra…
"The more she unravels, the more the pretty mage will grow sympathetic to her," the youngest of the val'kyr chimed in, running her porcelain fingers over the large spikes that protruded from the Banshee Queen's armor as she knelt next to Sylvanas on the rock, allowing her large wings to fold neatly against her back. Sylvanas generally did not enjoy others in her space, but she had gotten used Kyra; truthfully, having the battle maiden so close had become something of a comfort at times. "She is angry— mourning the lives of those who were lost in our wake, but she will not stay that way. For a moment, she listened to you; she looked as though she might actually see you, which will make her easier to sway. She is the power we should be focusing on; not only because she is stronger than the silly child King, but because she would be ours, and not a puppet of the Jailer. So let her tug on your strings if you must, sister; I am sure you would find being 'unraveled' by a woman far more enjoyable than your other options anyhow."
"Kyra," Signe exasperatedly chided as Sylvanas glanced at the val'kyr next to her out of the corner of her eye, a decidedly unamused look passing over her expression at that last comment. Kyra was not wrong though, and to be fair she usually had a good point to make about a great many things, much to the other two's dismay. More often than not, Signe and Brynhildr disapproved when Sylvanas chose to heed Kyra's words over their own, as the youngest val'kyr was arguably the most reckless. However, with great risk bore the chance of even greater reward; a sentiment that both she and Kyra seemed to share.
And Jaina Proudmoore certainly was a risk.
"Kyra, I have asked you before to stop touching her; you overstep," Signe continued to scold as she watched her sister's fingers find the ends of Sylvanas' ashen hair, gently twisting and pulling as she seemed to recreate the metaphorical strings that Brynhildr feared others could now grasp. It brought Sylvanas a strange sort of solace however, knowing another had a hold on her, and the undead elf instinctively closed her eyes as she allowed Kyra to do as she pleased.
Perhaps she really was losing her mind.
"She enjoys it."
"Only because she is lonely," Brynhildr muttered before grasping Kyra's hand and forcefully pulling it away from their mistress. "You make it worse for her. Have some sense."
Sylvanas opened her eyes, trying to ignore the twist in her gut that that word elicited. Lonely. It was the truth, Sylvanas would not deny that; everyone that she had ever held some semblance of affection for had either abandoned her, or she had walked out on. Regardless of it being partly a problem of her own making though, Sylvanas did not need the reality of it thrown so harshly in her face— it made it far harder to ignore. "She is here, in front of you. Stop speaking as though I am not."
Signe's scolding look was brought toward Brynhildr now, who beat her wings harder in response as she hovered just above the dirt, expression impassive, without a hint of apology. Sylvanas expected as much, and chose to look up at Signe. "What are your thoughts on the mage?" she queried, already aware of Kyra and Brynhildr's conflicting opinions. "Or the Boy King, for that matter— every direction I face, I feel as though I'm being met with walls. Deciding which one is actually susceptible to being torn down should at least provide me with a way forward, if nothing else."
Signe hesitated for a long moment, gathering her thoughts. "If you do not succeed in convincing Wrynn that he must join us, then I am concerned that the Jailer will make good on his word that he will be made to serve." Sylvanas' stomach twisted in her gut at those words, the sensation causing her to feel rotted and hollow. She did not allow her unease to show on her face, but it did not matter; her val'kyr had always known her better than any others. They were a part of her now. "I know you do not wish to do that, but I do not have faith that he will yield— if anything, the King will try to break your resolve before you are able to break his."
"That will not happen."
"You asked for my opinion, sister; that is what I am giving you," Signe gently reminded her, and Sylvanas said nothing as she leaned her elbows on her knees and looked out at the howling abyss of the Maw. She had known what the Jailer wanted her to do if Wrynn did not yield, and it reeked of what Arthas had done to her. It was something Sylvanas wished to avoid if she could help it. If she could not though…
The ends would justify the means. They had to, as Sylvanas truly did not know what she would do if they did not.
The sickening feeling in Sylvanas' gut spread through a digestive system that should have been long dead. It was disconcerting, yet not wholly unexpected, and so she took special care to shove that terrible emotion back down into the depths where it could lie forgotten. "And the mage?" she asked Signe, needing to move on from that unpleasant scenario.
"Would be your ally, not his," Kyra reminded her, interjecting with a very strong opinion on which candidate she preferred. She placed a hand on her mistress' knee imploringly, leaning closer so that the tips of one of her long, dark braids tickled the banshee's shoulder. "Her power would—"
"Kill you," Brynhildr interrupted flatly, forcefully slapping Kyra's hand away, who growled as she spread her wings, beating them furiously as she stared at her sister. Brynhildr ignored her tantrum as she revised her previous statement, "Kill one of us, rather. She cannot be unshackled; that kind of power will decimate us."
"I did not ask either of you," Sylvanas reminded them, impatient with their inability to get along. It had become worse since three of their sisters were sacrificed resurrecting her after Godfrey, that devastating loss causing her remaining val'kyr to become more vocal in their pursuit to keep everyone who was left alive. "I am already well-aware of both of your opinions; repeating them is unnecessary."
Sylvanas knew she had offended Kyra when the val'kyr immediately removed herself her from her side, but that was a concern for later. For now, the banshee looked at her oldest guardian, seeking her wisdom on the matter. She could not falter with this; she had come too far, gotten too close, yet if she made the wrong decision, Sylvanas knew it would all come tumbling down.
Truthfully, she should have consulted them earlier, but Sylvanas assumed she knew what she was doing. However, she had apparently made a grave miscalculation, as her last interactions with both Proudmoore and Wrynn had gone less than ideally.
Signe looked at her mistress patiently, her large wings beating rhythmically against the winds of afterlife. "Brynhildr is right; after your last encounter with the mage, I am inclined to agree that she is a threat to us for a… myriad of reasons," she vaguely began, and Brynhildr looked vindicated while Kyra hissed through her teeth, turning her back on the three of them in a show of displeasure. "But that does not mean that with the right persuasion she could not become an asset. She would be easier to sway than the king, as despite never truly acting on it, she has the potential for great darkness inside of her, and that makes her a kindred spirit. However, she seems stubborn, so should you pursue the mage's allegiance, it would be best if you met her halfway. I will leave it to you to decide what that entails."
Sylvanas was silent for a long moment. In the corner of her eye she could see Kyra turn, suddenly interested in this conversation again, while Brynhildr muttered something under her breath and flew off a ways in protest. "Proudmoore is the best option then," Sylvanas gathered, which was something she had believed prior to their poor interaction, which ultimately caused her to lose confidence in her decision.
"I am only reiterating what you have already decided for yourself," Signe told her, knowing that despite Sylvanas' desire for advice, she would not actually heed it should it not align with what she truly wanted, and that was power. Proudmoore's was intoxicating in its potency, and truthfully Sylvanas could not stop thinking about it. She was sure it was that detail in particular that concerned Brynhildr most of all. "The mage is powerful, intelligent, and sympathetic to your plight, despite her moral obligation to condemn you for your actions. Besides, it would be unwise to assume a twisted creation of the Maw will not betray us eventually; having an ally of your own would form the basis of a failsafe should the Jailer betray us— and another target, if sacrificing her becomes pertinent."
Sylvanas wet her bottom lip, considering that. "And if she betrays us?"
The val'kyr's large wings beat loudly against the wind as Signe hovered a few feet in front of her mistress, her large, imposing form suddenly resembling that of a fierce warrior, more than a trusted ear and confidant. "Then I will kill her myself."
Behind her, Kyra smiled.
[x]
Jaina lay on her back in the middle of the blazing chamber, her hands firmly laced over her eyes as she exhaled her frustration with a loud, unintelligible sound. Tiny beads of sweat that littered her forehead moistened her fingertips, reminding Jaina that she could have been free from this sweltering nightmare of a prison should only she have kept her Tides damned temper in check.
She had had the upper hand, at least until she squandered it— despite being imprisoned, despite having to endure relentless torture until she finally learned how to break free, Jaina had the upper hand for a moment, because Sylvanas had wanted her. The banshee did not visit her to gloat, or to continue with the torment that had been laid out for her captive— she had come with a purpose. Sylvanas had made an effort to explain why she was doing what she was doing, and she seemed rather insistent that Jaina not only listen, but understand her side of things, which could mean only one thing: Sylvanas no longer fully trusted her allegiance with the Jailer, and was set on achieving her ends by whatever means necessary, even if it meant aligning with an enemy.
Fear had made Sylvanas desperate. Jaina had met the Banshee Queen many years ago after the incident at the Wrath Gate, and it was safe to say that the woman she had met then was not the one who had recently stood before her. The things Sylvanas had endured after her suicide had changed her; she had always had a bit of an edge, but now she was almost manic with her singular focus. If Jaina was being truthful, she understood it, and she did — despite wishing terribly that she did not — sympathize with her on that. Sylvanas had not deserved that fate the first time she had died; if Garrosh-fucking-Hellscream was allotted the privilege of repentance, then by those standards so should Sylvanas, but frankly Jaina would rather just throw them both in the Maw and be done with it.
It was such a simple solution for what was now a complicated issue, and Jaina despised it because she knew on some level she would actually feel badly now should Sylvanas truly be condemned to this place. It was ridiculous; Sylvanas certainly deserved it after all she had done, but she hadn't deserved it back then and that made the entire declaration of Sylvanas' eternal punishment sit bitterly on the back of the mage's tongue. She wanted to voice it; she wanted to stand up and tell Sylvanas to her face that she deserved every Tide's damned thing that was coming to her. But something about telling a woman who was murdered, enslaved, tortured — and then when she finally broke free and tried to find some semblance of peace, all she was met with was more torture and torment — that she deserved more of the same treatment, felt… horribly, horribly wrong.
And that pissed Jaina off, because Sylvanas had done terrible things that were absolutely deserving of eternal torment. Either way, how she felt about Sylvanas' predicament was irrelevant in the long run— the woman did not need to know the truth of her conflicting feelings on the matter, she only needed to believe that Jaina might understand.
But unfortunately, Jaina had lost her temper and Sylvanas had left, and now the archmage wasn't quite sure what to do. Sylvanas had been her best chance of getting out of this place, and she had squandered it because she could not imagine being unable to express how disgusted she was by Sylvanas' choices, apparently. Jaina closed her eyes, pressing her fingertips against her lids before she slid them inward to pinch the bridge of her nose. She exhaled, allowing the breath to leave her at an agonizingly slow pace as she tried to subdue her frustration with herself.
She could fix this. She could and would get out of here; she just needed to come up with a plan.
Sylvanas was losing her mind— that much was obvious. She was no longer thinking rationally, and that was enough to make her susceptible to manipulation, especially if Jaina told her everything she wanted to hear. To an extent, anyway— going overboard with her agreement of Sylvanas' predicament would obviously clue the banshee in that she wasn't being entirely genuine. Despite Sylvanas' declining mental state, she wasn't stupid.
Would it be horrible to take advantage of a broken and desperate woman who was just trying to find some peace? Yes. However, did that outweigh the justifiable action of her taking advantage of an egotistical, genocidal maniac who treated others as though they were expendable? Absolutely not. Jaina was fairly certain that she would be able to make peace with using and then subsequently betraying Sylvanas in order to get out of there and possibly defeat the Jailer once and for all, and if she did not, then that was guilt that she was prepared to live with.
Some things had to matter more than her own comfort and peace of mind— a lesson Sylvanas had clearly not learned herself. Because Sylvanas was right— what she was condemned to when she died was horrible, cruel, and absolutely unjust. But what she had done since then fell under all those categories as well, and that made her an unsympathetic victim.
Jaina took her hands from her eyes and sat up, staring at the magically-sealed door on the other side of the chamber. She needed to find a way to get Sylvanas back there, but short of just yelling for her and hoping for the best, Jaina's options for contact were fairly limited. The mage puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled a hard breath, getting to her feet.
Screw it.
"Banshee!"
The word echoed through the mostly empty chamber, ricocheting off the walls and reverbing just like the woman in question's unnaturally sounding voice. Jaina kept herself still, waiting to see if she could hear a response; if not from Sylvanas herself, then at least from whatever guards were in the tower.
No answer.
"Sylvanas!" Jaina tried again, figuring that perhaps the woman did not want to answer to the term banshee, which was… fair, possibly. Jaina probably would have ignored the woman out of spite as well if she was being beckoned with 'human', but she didn't particularly enjoy calling Sylvanas by her first name, mostly because she was more than aware of the woman's aversion to voicing hers. It was an obvious attempt at putting a wall between them; Jaina knew the woman was well-aware of what her first name was, and yet her family name was the only thing that ever passed through Sylvanas' lips. Jaina was not going to call the woman "Windrunner" though— although mostly because she refused to treat Sylvanas like she was being treated, as that would make it seem like she wasn't capable of creating her own minor annoyances.
And she most certainly was.
Now that Jaina thought about it, if Sylvanas was so dead set on erecting a wall between them by refusing to address her by her first name, that meant that if Jaina made a point to often use hers in turn, it would make her seem overly familiar, which in turn would probably make Sylvanas very uncomfortable. A slow smirk crossed the mage's face then as she settled on her own minor annoyance to enact, because at this point, Jaina Proudmoore was running on pure spite and the inability to sleep— the inability to do… quite a lot, honestly. Her physical body while in the Maw did not need to do anything that it needed to do while on Azeroth, as she walked a weird line between life and death. Jaina couldn't remember the last time she had slept, eaten, or even relieved herself, and it was… disconcerting, to say the least.
"Sylv— shit!" Jaina gasped, halfway through her third call for the other woman. Unfortunately, that was not who showed up though, as suddenly one of Sylvanas' val'kyr appeared behind her. Jaina had seen the large shadow the creature cast from the light emitting from the flames and she whipped around in surprise, nearly stumbling over her own two feet as she stared up at the massive battle maiden in front of her. Jaina had only seen Sylvanas' val'kyr once on the battle field and from very far away, so she was ill prepared for just how physically huge they were. This one was nearly twice her height and looked like she could break her in half with her bare hands, which was… unnerving— especially because Jaina essentially did not have access to her magic anymore. Well, unless she wanted to fight a val'kyr and a demon, which she decidedly did not.
The imposing creature hovered a foot or two in the air, her large wingspan causing a light draft as she gently beat her wings. She did not say anything, and for the life of her Jaina could not distinguish her expression, although perhaps because nearly half her face was covered by her helmet. Jaina's heart beat heavier in her chest, her skin prickling as her hairs stood on end. "I wish to speak to Sylvanas," Jaina told her as she stood tall, refusing to seem as though she was intimidated, even though she wasn't exactly comfortable being this close to a val'kyr while essentially helpless.
The battle maiden said nothing though, and Jaina had the uneasy feeling that everything from her looks to her demeanor was being harshly judged. Could the val'kyr even talk? Tides, Jaina didn't know. She knew they were sentient at least, as Sylvanas had gotten awfully defensive about the assumption that she had enslaved them, which seemed to indicate they had a will of their own. Still, this one said nothing, and Jaina felt her cheeks flare in irritation, feeling very foolish all of a sudden. "Please?"
The corner of the val'kyr's lips twitched. Ugh, she was messing with her.
Despite knowing that, nothing prepared Jaina for when she finally spoke. The val'kyr's voice was rather loud, which perhaps should have been expected from such a large creature, but it was also deep, and the sound felt as though it was burrowing into Jaina's core as she instinctively took a step backward. "What do you desire of her, mage?"
"A conversation, for starters," Jaina responded a little irritably, as she was not pleased with how this interaction was progressing. The val'kyr had caught her off guard though, and as Jaina wasn't entirely sure what to make of the very large, intimidating creature, it made her rather wary. She knew they were Sylvanas' protectors, and as such did not particularly wish to provoke any of them— at least not this early, and not while she was still trapped in a chamber that affected her use of magic.
The val'kyr did not say anything for a long moment, and Jaina was fairly certain she was being stared at despite the battle maiden's eyes being covered. Either way, the feeling it invoked was not a pleasant one. "Your last conversation yielded only ugliness and blame. Why should we allot you another?"
It made sense for them to stand in front of Sylvanas in this way, but it was also incredibly frustrating, and Jaina did not particularly enjoy having to explain herself to a third party in order to be deemed worthy enough to speak to a Tide's damned war criminal. Still, Jaina knew that she would get no where unless she appealed to the woman's protectors first, and so she responded. "I had an emotional response to an emotional conversation— that is not unheard of, and it not something I will apologize for. However, I have since had time to consider what she told me, and while I do not and will never condone the terrible things she has done, I do understand that her actions were not fueled by malice, but by a terrible fear that had overtaken her." Jaina stared at the val'kyr, wishing she was able to make eye contact so that her words held more meaning as she finished, "As such, I am willing to talk terms with her— because I am not stupid; I know the only reason she would bother explaining herself to me is because she believes my power could be an asset to her. An alliance is something I am willing to consider, so long as it is not a one-sided agreement."
The val'kyr was silent, the only sounds in the chamber the faint beating of her heavy wings and the crackling of the fire. "Very well," she told her, after taking a long moment to consider her words. "You will be allotted a conversation. But tread carefully, Daughter of the Sea; we are always watching, and we are not forgiving."
The val'kyr shrouded herself in invisibility then, disappearing from sight. Jaina bit the inside of her cheek, her gaze flickering over the expanse of the chamber, wondering just how many were 'watching' her. Truthfully, she had no idea how many val'kyr Sylvanas had— only that it was far fewer than when she acquired them. Whether there was two or twelve, however, the uncertainty about the exact number was unnerving— especially because one of them had just threatened her.
Apparently, their last conversation had affected Sylvanas in a way they weren't entirely pleased by, as they were now taking the time to practically screen her before allowing her to speak to her again. If Jaina was able to get under her skin that easily though, then that boded well; as morally despicable as it was to wish to take advantage of a woman that was clearly mentally and emotionally unraveling due to her crippling fear of death, the bigger picture had to be considered. The sacrifice of one for the good of the—
Suddenly, Jaina felt sick.
The mage wasn't entirely sure whether it was because she realized she and Sylvanas might have some aligning views after all, or because her first instinct was to justify it, and she was certain that was how Sylvanas talked herself through doing all of those things for the sake of the 'bigger picture.' Was this how it started? No— there had to be a difference, there had to be a line; it wasn't as though she would be sacrificing anyone innocent, after all. She would, at most, only be sacrificing the woman's sanity as she betrayed Sylvanas immediately following a promise to help free her from that which terrified her to the point of madness. Because that was exactly what she planned to do once she was able to speak to the woman: promise her an allegiance, strike a deal that would be beneficial to both of them in order to win her freedom, and then ultimately stab her in the back as Jaina found a way to free everyone else and restore the very Arbiter that had condemned Sylvanas to eternal torment. Despite its flawed justice system, it was certainly better than what the Jailer had done to the afterlife, and as such the ends had to justify the means— as nauseated as that phrase made her feel now.
It wasn't as though Jaina was going to kill Sylvanas and condemn her to the Maw herself. Technically.
Except Jaina knew perfectly well that even should they manage to turn the tides and defeat the Jailer, that should Sylvanas survive the initial encounter, the leaders of Azeroth would call for her head. Sylvanas Windrunner was not meant to survive in any scenario where they win, and while that should be a justifiable sacrifice after everything that the woman had done, suddenly the thought sat rather heavy in the pit of Jaina's stomach. But she ignored it; she had to— the entire world depended on their victory, and she would not falter.
In the end, how she felt about it did not change what she had to do, and that was how Jaina justified it as she readied herself for a deceit that would be so easy to do, yet so very difficult to stomach.
[x]
Sylvanas' eyes narrowed. "I don't remember asking for an intermediary."
"With respect, I do not remember needing your permission, sister."
Well. Signe was in a mood. From behind her, Brynhildr snorted sardonically, and of course Kyra looked amused, but then again it didn't take much to entertain her. Sylvanas folded her arms across her chest, staring at the massive battle maiden who had just returned to inform her that Proudmoore had requested a meeting.
Sylvanas had planned to pay the mage another visit as soon as she was able, but her prior engagement with the Jailer had to come before that as they discussed the reforging of a weapon that… put her at great unease, truthfully. During their discussion she had felt her tether to Signe weaken, but hadn't thought much of it; sometimes they liked to wander, and Sylvanas could not blame them for that. They were entities in their own right, with their own needs, wants, and desires; it would be unreasonable to expect them to stay by her side constantly, though at least one of them seemed always to be within arm's reach. Their primary purpose was to keep her well-protected, after all.
"You did not hear her calling out for an audience with you; would you have me ignore her next time, despite knowing that you wished to speak with her?" Signe challenged in an even tone. "Because that could be arranged, should you desire my neutrality on the matter that strongly."
"You're being unnecessarily aggressive about this; I thought you condoned my plans for the mage?"
Signe was silent for a long moment and Sylvanas' fingers curled over her bicep as she stared at her, waiting. "I do. But that does not change the fact that this could go badly, should you overestimate her sympathetic nature. While I still believe she is the better option, and while her desire to discuss an accord seemed genuine, this is by no means foolproof— something you will do well to remember. Be wary, sister. Her being a kindred spirit can be both a comfort and a curse, and I fear you will find the latter while searching for the former."
"I am not searching for anything other than an escape from an unjustly earned fate, which you should very well know by now," Sylvanas dismissed in an ugly tone, as she did not like the way Signe had worded that; it made her sound soft, weak— as though she needed something or someone other than herself, and that had never been who she was. Sylvanas pushed her way past Signe, making her way toward her new destination. If Proudmoore wished to talk terms, then she did not wish to squander that opportunity by lingering too long on this unnecessary conversation.
"Do you think we do not know you?" Brynhildr this time, sounding offended on behalf of how Sylvanas had responded to Signe. "Do you think we do not feel what it is that you do?"
"I am dead, sister. I no longer feel anything, so perhaps you are projecting; either way, I am not in the mood for an entourage. Find somewhere else to linger."
"Our place is by your side," Kyra interjected firmly, beating her wings in protest. "I will not leave it, although you are welcome to try to out run me."
Sylvanas' brow set. Sometimes, she didn't even know why she bothered.
Kyra was not only combative, but very rarely left her; even when the others did, she would always be the one who stayed behind. As such, Sylvanas was hardly ever truly alone, and while sometimes that was a comfort, at others it was a great annoyance. Still, despite her irritation, Sylvanas knew it would be foolish to speak with Proudmoore without at least one of them by her side, in case things went… badly.
"You may stay," Sylvanas decided, speaking as though she were granting the battle maiden a great favor while pointedly choosing to ignore Kyra's unamused expression. "You have not irritated me today. Yet."
Brynhildr scoffed and Signe looked very disappointed by the way Sylvanas was acting toward her show of concern. "We are only looking out for you, sister," Signe tried to explain, of course not respecting her desire for space until she had said her piece. Sylvanas exhaled a hard breath through her nose but did not look at her; instead she stared straight ahead as she continued on to her destination, her pace never wavering. "It was not my intention to offend you, only to warn you."
"Then consider your words heeded. Now do me a favor and heed mine; you know I detest having to repeat myself."
Signe looked at her for a long moment, the corners of her lips pulling down into a frown before she silently did as she was asked, and left. Sylvanas felt her tether weaken, and Brynhildr's was not far behind as she followed after her sister. Her one remaining val'kyr chose not to speak as she accompanied Sylvanas to the chamber on the far side of the tower. Truthfully, Kyra did not look particularly happy with Sylvanas' quarrel with her sisters, but as her priority for the time being was protecting her, she kept her thoughts to herself.
For now.
Sylvanas was sure she would hear a slew of colorful things later though. Kyra was amused by petty conflict, so long as they remained together. The moment it escalated to one or more of them leaving, her mood tended to sour quickly. That would be rectified later though; right now, Sylvanas had other things to concern herself with, and as Kyra was the only one of her val'kyr who agreed with her decision without an annoying amount of reservations, Sylvanas was certain that for the time being Kyra would allow her to focus on her goal with little to no interference, and for that she was grateful.
Sylvanas glanced over at her guardian for a moment once she got to the doors and Kyra, understanding what she was being asked with merely a look, faded from view so that she appeared alone. Truthfully, Sylvanas was concerned that Signe's earlier visit had given Proudmoore an insight into her relationship with them, as if Signe had been too protective of her, that would indicate a weakness that Sylvanas was not eager to share.
There was nothing she could do about it now though; should Proudmoore suspect, then the damage had already been done. Still, it was best that Kyra was not visible when she finally opened the large chamber doors, entering the prison that held one of the most powerful mages that Azeroth had ever seen.
Proudmoore turned around as the loud creak of the hinges echoed through the empty space, her long silver braid falling over her left shoulder as her gaze landed on the woman who had entered. As the door behind Sylvanas clattered closed of its own accord, the banshee took in the woman in the center of the room. Proudmoore stood tall and resolute, despite the reddened patches that adorned her cheeks and the sweat that littered her brow. The small hairs that framed her face were damp and curled, the sweltering heat of the chamber beginning to get to her as it made her skin almost shimmer beneath the flickering light of the fire. Sylvanas moistened her bottom lip, her gaze lingering for a moment on a bead of sweat that lay just beneath the woman's nose before she raised her hand, using the new powers she had acquired to extinguish the flames in the chamber. Proudmoore's brow rose.
"You can do magic."
"I can do a lot of things," Sylvanas responded, forcing her gaze to meet Proudmoore's instead of… lingering on other distractions. Sometimes, the enjoyments she had gotten out of life tended to spill over into her undeath, despite their impracticality now.
Sylvanas' gaze briefly dropped to her hand, watching the tips of her fingers twitch before she allowed her gaze to rest once more on the woman in front of her. Truthfully, she would miss these newfound abilities once they were ripped from her, which they most certainly would be should she turn her back on the one who had given them to her. There was nothing quite like being able to send a seismic blast towards your enemy and decimate them almost immediately; something Sylvanas was sure the mage in front of her could relate to, should Proudmoore only allow herself the pleasure.
"You wished to speak with me." Not a question, but a statement. Sylvanas stood mere paces in front of the other woman, her hands clasped behind her back as her crimson eyes bore into deep azure. She watched as Proudmoore raised one of her brows, her gaze momentarily flickering across the expanse of the room.
"You may want to tell your messenger pigeons that they could have been quicker; I've been waiting quite a while."
Sylvanas felt Kyra's offense run hot and loud through their tether and Sylvanas had to immediately raise her hand, signaling for the val'kyr to let it pass for now— the last thing she wanted was an incident; not when she was close to gaining a considerable advantage. Unfortunately, it seemed the mage had chosen her words with careful intent, as that was exactly the kind of reaction she had wished to provoke.
"Ah, so they are here."
A dark expression passed over Sylvanas' face. What a foolish mistake; of course the woman was merely trying to see if they were alone. She would have done the same thing in her position.
"How many?"
"Enough," Sylvanas responded vaguely, as that was the truth: in the end, all she needed was one, but she'd also prefer that Proudmoore believe it to be more. She allowed her line of sight to dip briefly to the anchor necklace that lay gently above the other woman's breasts before finding her eyes again. "Speak then, if you have something to say. I do not have all day."
Proudmoore exhaled a disbelieving breath as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you think I don't know why you came to me before?" she challenged. "Don't play coy with me, Sylvanas— it doesn't suit you. If you wish for my help, then I want to know exactly what you plan to give me in return, because my help does not come cheaply."
The easy use of her given name startled Sylvanas momentarily, invoking a sense of familiarity that they clearly did not have with one another. The elf bristled, one of her ears twitching as she stared at the other woman, who looked entirely too self-satisfied by her reaction, which probably meant that Proudmoore had already gathered that the term of address wouldn't sit easily with her. And yet at the same time, it wasn't entirely unwelcome either— now that she thought about it, it had been a good while since she had even been addressed as 'Lady Sylvanas', as it seemed the term 'Banshee' was a much more apt way to refer to an undead abomination than Lady. Even when she was leader of the Horde, 'Warchief' passed people's lips with a fair bit of disdain, as there were many who begrudgingly recognized her authority, yet did not want to acknowledge her as an actual person with a name.
As such, despite it being a little jarring to hear falling from the mage's lips, Sylvanas decided she could live with it.
Moreover, she could easily turn it around on her, should Proudmoore wish to trade discomforts that badly. Sylvanas allowed her head to gently tilt to one side, her gaze lazily dragging down the other woman's figure. "Oh, I would never assume anything you could give me would come cheaply, Jaina." She said the woman's name as though she wished to caress it with her tongue, and although Proudmoore's— Jaina's reaction was only mild, as the mage seemed to have a decent hold over her surprise, the slight widening of her eyes and involuntary flush of her cheeks was well worth it.
Jaina's eyes narrowed, exhaling a hard breath through her nose. "I'm flattered," she responded in an even tone, and the corners of Sylvanas' lips twitched, unable to fully hide her amusement— especially because she could feel how entertained Kyra suddenly was by this conversation.
Despite the appeal of such an exchange though, Sylvanas knew she had to move on, as they did have other matters to attend to. "You should be. You are powerful; despite our conflicting allegiances, I would not insult you by pretending otherwise." Jaina's hardened expression softened at that acknowledgment, although only minutely, as she still stared at the woman across from her with a fair amount of suspicion. "It would be remiss of me to squander such an opportunity, which was why I chose to come to you despite our obvious moral differences. I know you find my current methods despicable, Lord Admiral, but I am not attached to the journey, only the destination. Should a more… appealing path open up to me, I would consider an alternative. I assume that is something you'd be interested in, as you have called me back here."
Jaina's fingers tightened around her bicep as one of her eyebrows crept higher. "Are you going to share what has suddenly made your current path unappealing, or am I to be made to guess?"
Sylvanas kept eye contact, careful to keep her face expressionless. "Did I say it was unappealing?"
"You implied it, and I have to admit that I'm curious what the line seems to be for a woman who has already crossed so many. Call it a good faith gesture— to lay the groundwork of the trust that we would need for such an alliance."
The banshee's expression soured and she averted her gaze, looking at the space where she knew Kyra resided. The val'kyr's tether strengthened in response, but the comfort it gave was minimal in the absence of the other two. Sylvanas' eyes landed on the mage once more, displeased with this little exercise but realizing that a part of her truly did wish for an alternative. "Taking another's will. Slavery— that is my line, despite it being a tentative one at best. Make no mistake, I will cross it should I have to, but…" Sylvanas could not finish, her words falling away as she allowed that truth to settle in the pit of her stomach. It was heavy, unpleasant.
For the most part, Sylvanas truly did not care how she achieved her ends. But there was something about using a bastardization of the very weapon that had raped her of her will on another that caused Sylvanas great turmoil. The terrible feeling had seeded itself inside of her core, planting roots in her gut before slowly spreading its sickness through her veins, suffocating her arteries until they felt as though they would burst with rot. Sylvanas knew that even should she have been able to breathe, that she would not have been able to, for the corruption inside of her would have taken that from her first. Sylvanas hated it because it made her remember, when all she wanted to do was forget, and the longer she lingered on that thought the more it broke something inside of her that should have been fortified, as she should not be weakened by mortal emotions any longer.
"…Enslavement of who?" Jaina asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Perhaps she feared it would be herself, but it seemed the Jailer had not set his sights on her. Yet. The mage took an imploring step toward her, her voice louder, more insistent. "Sylvanas, what is the Jailer planning to do?"
The invasion of her space felt like a threat though, and Sylvanas immediately took a step back while exhaling a furious hiss, shadowed tendrils bursting from her skin of their own accord as her eyes burned a furious red. "What do you take me as?" Sylvanas snapped, trying to focus on the woman in front of her instead of the rush of sounds and images that had suddenly assaulted her. Sylvanas felt terribly unbalanced but Kyra was behind her, invisible yet still something she was able to ground herself to as she felt the val'kyr's hands on her biceps. "I will not give you information without being granted something in return, and even then…" Sylvanas inhaled, feeling Kyra wrap her tethers around her wrists and up her arms as she affixed herself tighter to her mistress, reminding Sylvanas that although she felt like she was falling, that she was secure so long as she was there. The banshee's vision returned to her, and she exhaled.
Before her, Jaina stood wide-eyed and silent, allowing Sylvanas to find herself back in reality before she spoke. When it seemed the other woman could focus on her though, Jaina quietly told her, "…I believe you." Sylvanas swallowed, infuriated by her sudden vulnerability that was not new by any means, but not something she had expected to happen just then. Her first instinct was to lash out, but the look on Jaina's face gave her pause, as perhaps Kyra had been right; perhaps the more she unraveled, the more sympathetic the mage became, and the easier she was drawn in by her.
"You laid the foundation," Jaina softly confirmed, as the severity of Sylvanas' reaction must have convinced her that she was being genuine, and surprisingly… she was. Sylvanas blinked, her jaw tight as she stared at the woman across from her. It took a while for her to speak, and even when the words came, they were defensive and demanding in order to deflect from what had happened.
"And I'm to construct this tentative trust on my own, am I?"
Jaina swallowed, and Sylvanas could see that the other woman was just as uncomfortable about this as she had been. Good. She kept eye contact with her, waiting for something that would allow her to believe in the other woman's intentions. "What do you want?" Jaina asked, and Sylvanas responded easily with, "Whatever it is that you do not want me to know," because there was something— there had to be. Even if Jaina was supposedly a 'good' person who always did the right thing for the right reasons, a part of Sylvanas felt as though this was all too easy, and she wanted to know why.
Jaina exhaled a disbelieving laugh as she stepped away from her, expression masking in a strange mixture of distress and contempt. She was silent for a long moment, a great emotion suddenly swirling in the mage's eyes as she seemed to debate whether or not the truth was even worth it. Finally though, she spoke, and the words were angry and blameful. "Despite how badly thinking this way sickened me, I had considered you an acceptable sacrifice for the sake of that Tide's damned 'bigger picture' until about two minutes ago." Her eyes blazing, Jaina reiterated in plainer language, "I would have betrayed you, but suddenly that thought is weighing much heavier in my chest in the wake of your obvious trauma, and you cannot begin to understand how much I despise you for that, as this was meant to be an easy choice."
Sylvanas could feel the truth in that from the passion and the anger behind the other woman's words, and despite the harshness of Jaina's statement, the fact that she had admitted it at all gave Sylvanas a strange sense of peace. She knew what the other woman was capable of now, and therefore would keep a careful eye on her actions. "I believe you," Sylvanas told her in return, and Jaina's chest heaved as she stared at her, waiting for her next move.
Kyra's grip on her biceps tightened, a silent confirmation that the val'kyr believed her to be doing the right thing. "If you help me circumvent my fate — by whatever means you deem fit, so long as it yields acceptable results — then I will align with you against the Jailer," Sylvanas bargained, one of her long eyebrows twitching as she gently raised it. "That is what you desire, is it not?"
"I want a lot of things," Jaina responded, her words a little breathless from the emotion she had expelled moments prior. Sylvanas' brow climbed even higher, but the mage met her gaze and nodded. "However, we can discuss the details later. For simplicities sake, yes, I will help you— so long as that favor is returned in kind." Jaina held out her hand, the thrust strong and resolute. "Agreed?"
Sylvanas' gaze lingered for a moment before she reached out in turn, grasping the other woman's soft, warm hand as she felt a light current of arcane dance beneath the surface of Jaina's palm. It was tempting, inviting, and Sylvanas did not want to let go, which is exactly why she knew she had to.
"Agreed."
TBC…