Author's Note:
Updates for this have been increased from once every two weeks to once a week until such time I get terrible anxiety and have to give myself more time between chapters again, lol. Enjoy it while it lasts.
IV.
Jaina wished that she had been lying.
A part of her was eager to convince herself that she still was— that the truth she allotted Sylvanas was merely a way to gain her trust by revealing something ugly, as perhaps now Sylvanas would not expect the very same betrayal the mage had already admitted to. Unfortunately, no matter how much Jaina tried to convince herself, the fact of the matter was that she was unfortunately starting to view Sylvanas Windrunner as a person, and not like the black and white villain she had needed to paint her as in order to see her betrayal to fruition.
Her gray was made of slate and platinum and nickel, a myriad of shades that made it difficult to judge Sylvanas' true color, as suddenly Jaina realized that she had always been made up of more than one. She was still despicable; the things Sylvanas had done continued to sit heavily within her as Jaina still could not stomach them, but terrible things were done to her in return, and after bearing witness to the mark they had left on a woman that she hated pitying, Jaina knew she could not consider Sylvanas' victims without also acknowledging that she had been one of Arthas' first.
And truthfully, she hated it.
What was she going to do now, if she couldn't go through with her original plan? It wasn't as though Jaina was averse to assisting Sylvanas in return for information and help in defeating the Jailer. But unfortunately, even if Sylvanas turned on the Jailer, Jaina knew many would not care. It wouldn't be enough, and the banshee would be condemned to die the second they returned to Azeroth.
Perhaps, should Jaina manage to help Sylvanas secure a better afterlife for herself than the Maw, it wouldn't be as bad, but of course Jaina's morality was being absolutely bothersome as even that did not sit entirely well with her now. Then again, this was all very raw. Just because Jaina's knee jerk reaction was to feel terribly and to question everything — no doubt largely in part due to the guilt that still ate at her where Arthas was concerned, and the torment he had instilled in his victims, in Sylvanas — that didn't mean that after she carefully weighed it out, that it would feel as heavy when it was all said and done. Besides, this truce was tentative at best; Sylvanas could absolutely still turn around and betray her. If this interaction had proved anything, it was that Sylvanas cared little for loyalty, and was only interested in seeing her goals reached.
So. One step at a time. For now, they had a very flimsy accord that needed to be fortified with specifics, and hopefully Sylvanas would not find it more pertinent to stab her in the back, even if Jaina was still wrestling with the idea herself.
Tides, how was this ever going to work?
"I assume you have a list," Sylvanas drawled, and for a second Jaina did not know what she was referring to as she stared blankly, having been so caught up in her own thoughts. "Of what it is you want, Proud—ah, Jaina." A slow smirk curled the edges of the banshee's lips after she had corrected herself, and Jaina decided she really did not like the way Sylvanas said her given name. The gentle reverb of the woman's voice felt as though it was dancing across her skin, leaving her flushed a light rose despite the faintly raised skin that allowed her hairs to stand on end as though she was experiencing a chill.
Except the last thing it made Jaina was cold.
The mage exhaled a frustrated breath, realizing her own tactic had backfired on her quite catastrophically. Sylvanas seemed to know it too, which was truthfully the worst part, as the banshee's smirk continued to widen as she watched the reaction. Jaina bit the inside of her cheek, a look of annoyance crossing her expression. "Perhaps we shouldn't be overly familiar," she suggested tersely, even though that felt like failure. Still, Jaina's strange and sudden attraction to the woman's voice that she frankly thought was ridiculous until Sylvanas used it to say her Tide's damned name was distracting, pointless, and irritating, and she really did not have time for the introspection that it caused.
"Were you not the one who called me by my given name first?" Sylvanas lightly challenged, her fangs flashing momentarily as she gently pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek. "I thought it only polite to return the gesture."
"I reevaluated."
Jaina felt like she was grinding her teeth as she stared at the woman across from her, who said nothing in response yet allowed her amusement to show openly. This was wholly bothersome, but Jaina would not admit that out loud, and so she let it go and resolved to address whatever unresolved sexual issues were causing that unfortunate reaction. "Fine, if you wish to put on a farce, far be it from me to stop you— we have more important matters to discuss than terms of address anyway, because you are right, I do have a list."
Sylvanas' long brow twitched. "Your freedom among them, I'm sure."
"Oh, it's at the very top," Jaina responded, but Sylvanas held up her hand to halt her words for a moment, already looking like she was going to argue, which meant these discussions were going to go swimmingly. Jaina placed her hands on her hips, a hard breath being exhaled through her nose. "You cannot seriously be suggesting I stay in this Tide's be damned chamber."
"Your absence would be noted and cause questions— I cannot release you until we move to strike, and that is nonnegotiable," Sylvanas told her without an ounce of apology in her tone, causing Jaina's expression to set. While she understood the concern, the way Sylvanas said it was infuriating, as it sounded as though she was dictating. "The same goes for your little friends— especially the Boy King, as he is of special interest to the Jailer."
Off Jaina's surprised look, Sylvanas' raised a pointed brow. "See? I may not be able to offer you the comfort of a change of scenery, but I can give you something. Since you seem to have forgotten, I was not only the leader of the Forsaken, but of the Horde— Leaders know how to negotiate, Lord Admiral, so I'd appreciate it if you allowed me to before jumping to conclusions."
Jaina's gaze searched hers, watching carefully for any sign of dishonesty or deceit. "What does the Jailer want with Anduin?"
"How do you propose we deal with the Arbiter?" Sylvanas directly countered, and Jaina pursed her lips before nodding shortly, understanding what Sylvanas' point was. Information for a plan— and yet still, it was not entirely even, so the mage tacked on an amendment.
"As you are still keeping me in this blasted chamber, you are going to answer first," Jaina decided, folding her arms over her chest as she stared at the woman across from her, who's brow only rose higher at the demand in the mage's voice. She looked as though she wasn't sure whether to be impressed or irritated, and Jaina could relate— Sylvanas was also both impressive, yet terribly irritating. "Not just about what the Jailer wants with the King, but about what you know of his plans. And then, as I am a woman of my word, and I will certainly talk through options with you afterward. I put that on the Tides, and on my honor."
Sylvanas gently moistened her lips, and Jaina's gaze briefly lingered on the movement of her tongue before she dragged her line of sight back to the woman's eyes. "The Jailer is forging a weapon— another mourneblade," Sylvanas revealed, causing Jaina's stomach to drop as she took note of the expression on the other woman's face. Frostmourne had robbed Sylvanas of everything; her life, her autonomy, her will to carry on— no wonder her view towards the Jailer and his plans had changed.
Did he truly not know how Sylvanas would react to such a thing? Or did he simply not care? Perhaps the Jailer thought her desperate enough to stay by his side until the end, and simply enjoyed torturing her along the way. Because it was torture— the trauma response Sylvanas had had earlier was indication enough of that. Jaina had thought it was merely the forceful taking of another's will that caused Sylvanas to look that way, but to know now that that control would have been brought about by a blade similar to the one that had stolen everything from her made Jaina's heart ache.
"I'm sorry."
Sylvanas looked affronted by her apology and she noticeably recoiled, her expression a mixture of disgust and disbelief. Truthfully, Jaina knew the sentiment would not be well-received, but the words came tethered to her feelings on the matter— neither of which she could control. She immediately waved it off though, knowing that neither of them wanted to address that awkward reaction head on. "Continue," Jaina encouraged as she avoided eye contact, and Sylvanas glared at her for another lingering moment as though she did not trust the mage not to pity her again. Yet because addressing it would give it validity, the banshee ultimately chose to let it pass her by without comment.
"He has been having me visit the Boy King in order to convince him that to align with us is in his best interest—"
Jaina snorted. "I'm sure that has been going well." She knew Anduin, and there was no way that he would ever consider such an allegiance; he followed the Light through and through, and the Light did not reside in the depths of the Maw, or within Sylvanas Windrunner, for that matter.
"About as well as you would expect, yes," Sylvanas admitted. Her gaze fell somewhere to her right, as though she were looking at someone instead of just staring into the distance; one of her val'kyr, no doubt. Jaina watched her take an unneeded breath, looking resigned. "I no longer believe Wrynn was meant to yield, however; the Light is too strong within him— something I believe the Jailer is well aware of. As such, I'm starting to think this entire charade was just a distraction, or perhaps merely the creation of a… justification. For me." Jaina's brow knit, despite the heaviness in the pit of her stomach already assuming what it was that Sylvanas was implying. She hoped she was wrong though, but of course she was not as Sylvanas revealed in a strained tone, the words almost struggling to free themselves from the back of her throat, "I have seen it. I have felt it call out while it was being forged in the fires of the Maw. The mourneblade… is meant for me to wield, and with it, your King would be made to serve."
Jaina felt her chest hollow as that revelation robbed her of breath. "He wanted to make you feel as though you had no other choice," Jaina deduced softly, the twisting of her gut causing a sharp pain to run through her abdomen. "He wanted to show you that that would be the only way Anduin would submit." Sylvanas said nothing, as it seemed a great turmoil stirred once again behind her darkened eyes, and she gently inclined them in silent acknowledgment.
Jaina did not know what was worse, that the Jailer had been practically grooming Sylvanas to wield the twin of the weapon that had taken everything from her, or that Sylvanas had actually considered doing it until another opportunity presented itself with Jaina. The mage understood Sylvanas' desperation to rewrite her fate, but going that far to do it…
Sylvanas was prepared to torture herself as she not only relived her trauma, but became that very thing for another who would end up just like her, and Jaina could not understand the level of fear she must have in order to justify that. What had happened to her when she was in the Maw? Sylvanas had said that she hadn't been condemned to Torghast, but something that seemed deeper, darker, and far, far more terrifying, if that was a line she was willing to cross in order to save herself.
Still, something was not adding up. "But why?" Jaina asked, stressing the word because she did not understand why Anduin was of such interest to the Jailer— he may be the King of the Alliance, but the politics of Azeroth should have no bearing on the afterlife. "Why is Anduin so important? Or…" Jaina trailed off for a moment, staring at Sylvanas as some of the pieces began to fit together in front of her, "is it you?"
"Me?"
The way Sylvanas questioned that, it sounded as though she never even considered the possibility. But if the mourneblade was forged for her, then it stood to reason that she was an important part of whatever the Jailer's plans were. It seemed Sylvanas did not share the same thought though as she dismissed the idea with a hasty wave of her hand. "No. The goal was the Priest King— he was chosen by the Light, and whether he knows it yet or not, his connection with it is directly linked to the Arbiter. The Jailer wishes to corrupt that to fuel his power, as it seems he and the Arbiter are connected; mirror images of one another, for lack of a better term. At least, that is what I've gathered— primarily from Denathrius, as he is…" The exasperation on the banshee's face was evident, "annoyingly talkative."
"And the only way to do that would be to make you the new Lich Queen?" Jaina challenged, which was met with a sharp hiss as Sylvanas stepped away from her, fury and offense etching in the lines of her expression as shadows leaked from her pores.
"I would never—" she spat, her chest heaving and eyes wild. Sylvanas pulled herself to height and stood tall, rigid, as she took a moment to calm herself before she spoke again. The shadows receded, but the remnants still licked at monochrome skin before dissipating completely. "There is a difference, Lord Admiral, between holding a mourneblade and letting it consume you. One soul is—"
"What, a justifiable sacrifice for you?!" Jaina exclaimed, her chest weighing heavy beneath her ribcage as she looked at Sylvanas like she could not believe the woman could possibly think like that. But she did. Of course she did.
"…Yes," Sylvanas responded truthfully, despite the resignation in her deep voice. "I have already made it perfectly clear that it was my last choice, but it was still a choice I would have taken, should it have been my only option. However, Lich Queen holds permanence, and as such would directly conflict with the accord I made with the Jailer to be free of the shackles that bound me. It was never a consideration."
Jaina scoffed and shook her head, disbelieving. "Your desperation has blinded you. You are lichborne, Sylvanas; do you really think the mourneblade would be unable to control you? If anything, it would make you more susceptible—"
"Enough!" Sylvanas barked, unable to face the reality of the situation. Jaina's words fell away, her chest heaving in furious disbelief at being ordered to be silent. "None of this matters— with you by my side, I no longer have to touch that damned sword, so let us be done with this conversation. I would rather not waste my breath."
"Said the dead woman," Jaina responded flatly. Sylvanas' jaw set, her brow quirking in response, yet she chose not to comment.
They each took a moment then, knowing they needed to calm down before they moved forward, as being argumentative would not be a productive use of their time. Jaina stepped away, her jaw strained as she looked up at the ceiling and released a slow breath, trying to gather her thoughts so that Sylvanas might be more receptive to them. She understood why the woman could not stomach something like that being a possibility, but that did not mean that it wasn't; and if it was, then that opened up even more questions as to why controlling both Sylvanas and Anduin was so important to the Jailer.
Finally, Jaina stopped, her brow furrowing as she turned around to face her tentative ally. "You said the Jailer and the Arbiter are connected somehow?" Sylvanas, who had looked like she had been grinding her teeth in her attempt to prevent her temper from flaring up again, gave Jaina an impatient nod. "And should Anduin's Light be corrupted, it would feed the Jailer's Darkness, thus empowering him and weakening the Arbiter even further?" Sylvanas just stared at her as though this line of questioning was pointless, as she had already stated all that— at least to a degree. But Jaina wanted to make sure before she concluded, "So it should stand to reason then, that if they are mirror images of one another, that there is another, or multiple others, out there who are connected to the Jailer through Darkness in the same way that Anduin is connected to the Arbiter though the Light."
Jaina looked at her pointedly, hoping Sylvanas would follow her train of thought. And she did, of course, but the woman certainly was not receptive to it.
"How foul you must think I am, to assume such a thing," Sylvanas drawled dryly, attempting to sound rather flippant about it. Despite that, Jaina could see the irritation flicker from behind her crimson eyes, and the mage exhaled a small sigh. She hadn't meant to offend her, even though, frankly, she deserved to get offended. Perhaps if Sylvanas didn't wish to be linked to something so foul, then she should stop committing similar atrocities. After all, it was the woman's actions that made her ugly, not…
Ugh.
Not anything else that Jaina noticed, unfortunately; but the mage did have quite the bad habit on focusing on the wrong things at times.
"I meant because you are undead; you were reborn out of the Darkness— not just once, but many times," Jaina explained, as that would make sense as to why the Jailer was interested in her. Jaina found it hard to believe that if those who were Lightborne had that strong of a connection to the Arbiter, that the same would not be true in reverse for those born from the Darkness— and although she hated to admit it, Jaina knew that Sylvanas was stronger than most in that regard, which made her an ideal choice. "Although if that offends you, perhaps it's time to reevaluate your life choices."
Sylvanas shot her a sarcastic smile which Jaina returned, only wider because fuck her, honestly. How dare she act as though she had any right to feel offended by such a thing, after everything she had done? Tides, this alliance was so terrible shaky— Jaina felt as though she were getting whiplash as she went from sympathizing with Sylvanas one moment to condemning her the next, and truthfully she wasn't entirely sure how this was going to work. Still, her desire to get the hell out of there encouraged Jaina to move on with the conversation.
"I'm just trying to make sense of this," Jaina told the other woman, careful to keep her tone neutral this time so that she did not antagonize her. "I think you underestimate your importance to his bigger picture, and I fear your tunnel vision has given you blind spots. Do you even know what the Jailer is doing? Truly," Jaina pressed, wanting Sylvanas to be honest about her knowledge. "Or did he just promise you freedom from the Arbiter's judgment, and you forgot to care about the rest along the way?"
Because the more Jaina spoke with her, the more she realized that Sylvanas either knew very little about the complexities of the Jailer's aims, or was not keen on sharing. Truthfully though, as much as she still did not trust Sylvanas, Jaina had a feeling it was the former— in the end, all Sylvanas cared about was freeing herself from her terrible fate, and in wake of that, everything else faded into the background, forgotten or ignored.
[x]
Sylvanas decided she was not fond of the way Jaina spoke to her, albeit mostly because the woman had a tendency to assume things that were closer to the truth than Sylvanas cared to admit. Did she know what the Jailer was doing? For the most part, yes. However, the journey interested her very little in comparison to the destination, so no, she had not pressed for details, nor did the Jailer freely offer them. All Sylvanas knew was that he was trying to acquire enough power to eradicate the Arbiter completely, as her lying dormant was not enough to free him from the prison his fellow Eternal Ones had condemned him to for… whatever it was that he had done to them.
Sylvanas had half listened to a rant. Once.
To be perfectly honest though, Sylvanas had stopped caring for anyone other than herself. Even her own people had abandoned her when the Alliance had spoon-fed them pretty sounding sentiments that Sylvanas knew, she knew were nothing but lies because the living did not, and would never accept the dead— her own sisters' reactions to her were proof enough of that. Furthermore, it had enraged Sylvanas to learn that so long as the Forsaken were Lightborne, like Calia Menethil, then the Alliance would accept their existence. Sylvanas' people were condemned, cast out, and slaughtered just for having the audacity to exist, and yet the sister of the man who had taken everything from them was accepted into the Alliance with open arms after she herself had become Forsaken, merely because she had been infused with Holy Light?
It was a grievous insult, but what was worse was when Sylvanas tried to warn her people that the Alliance were not all that they seemed and to not trust the intentions of the Gathering, they did not listen to her. They tried to run from her, into the arms of those who would no doubt forcefully try to infuse them with Light now that they knew they could as only then would they be a 'respectable' race. Sylvanas cutting the traitors down had been a favor to them, but once again she was looked at as though she were the monster for trying to save them from something that would have desecrated their very being just so that they would be 'accepted' by their living loved ones, and Sylvanas was tired of it.
The Forsaken had been her family. She had liberated them, protected them, led them to a better life that she had worked tirelessly to grant them, and in the end, all Sylvanas was thanked with was mistrust and abandonment.
Frankly, Sylvanas no longer trusted anyone but herself and her val'kyr, and only because they were soul-bonded to her— no matter what happened, they could not betray her. Even her closest ally and champion no longer had her trust, although less because of something Nathanos did, and more because Sylvanas was paranoid about what he could do. He was not subtle about his feelings for her, and the more they deepened, the more Sylvanas' concern grew about how he would react should he find out that those feelings were not returned. He was a good and loyal soldier, but loving her made him dangerous, and that was no longer something Sylvanas was willing to risk.
In the end, it was just easier to abandon Nathanos before he could become yet another bitter disappointment like all the others.
"Perhaps you've chosen to live your life as a doormat, but I will not give a care for those who do not give one for me," Sylvanas defended, looking down her nose at the woman in front of her. "So no, I did not 'forget' to care; I simply chose not to. There is a difference."
Jaina exhaled a disbelieving scoff, looking at Sylvanas like she could not fathom that this was how her rationale worked, but Sylvanas refused to feel ashamed or apologetic of her disregard for others; it had been born of a myriad of terrible experiences.
"So you don't know shit, is what you're telling me," Jaina responded rather aggressively, apparently offended by the other woman's sentiment while choosing to interpret Sylvanas' words as an affirmative that she did not know the details of the Jailer's plans. Which was correct, technically, but she certainly did not have to word it so barbarically; Sylvanas was already well-aware of her displeasure by the look on the woman's face.
"I know the eradication of the Arbiter would allow the Jailer to remake the realms of Death into a fair and just system," Sylvanas defended strongly, as she was not going to allow the other woman to paint her as naïve. Perhaps she did not focus on the details, but they were so gods damned insignificant in the long run anyhow. "He would create an afterlife that actually takes into account free will, and not just—"
"How are you so sure it hadn't before though?" Jaina exclaimed furiously, apparently getting fed up with her inability to see what brush strokes made up the portrait that was being painted. "I understand you're convinced you were dealt a terrible hand, but it doesn't— Tides, it doesn't even make sense. Even if the Arbiter did take into account the atrocities others were capable of instead of merely their actions, I find it hard to believe that Garrosh was able to scrape by without at least the same level of punishment you were condemned to, if not worse! I'm concerned your fear of death has blinded you so badly that you seem to no longer be able to see what's in front of your face as what's in the distance is all that matters to you now, and truthfully it makes me wonder if giving you that fear was yet another thing that was orchestrated so that you could be easily controlled! What if your 'fate' is a lie, what if—?"
Sylvanas' body tightened in rage, her fingers digging into her palm so hard that sticky ichor embedded itself beneath her nails. "Do not speak of things you have no understanding of. I know what I was subjected to, I know—!"
"Do you?" Jaina countered, stepping much too close into the other woman's space. "Do you though, really? I'm not saying you didn't experience pain or suffering— I'm not trying to diminish what you went through, but… Tides, the Jailer forged a mourneblade for you, Sylvanas! Open your damned eyes— there is something more going on here, and your inability to see it is frustrating me beyond words!"
"And yet, surprisingly enough, you seem to be able to voice an annoying amount of them," Sylvanas deadpanned, able to keep her voice level despite the grave insult the woman dealt her by practically accusing her of being ignorant. From her right, Kyra smirked cruelly at her comment, and tightened the tether that bound them in a show of solidarity.
At least someone was on her side.
"What did the Arbiter say to you then, when you stood in front of her to be Judged?" Jaina pressed, not letting up as her words dug a little deeper into Sylvanas' chest, feeling as though she were poking and prodding into places Sylvanas had never brought herself to sort through, as she would never willingly allow herself to relive that kind of trauma. What did she say? Sylvanas did not remember. Could the Arbiter even speak? All Sylvanas could remember of her death was terrible pain, fear, and the soul-crushing certainty that she would never escape her terrible punishment until suddenly, a single thread of light broke through the darkness and they came to her. Her nine val'kyr, impossibly beautiful, enshrouded a broken, sobbing woman in a single halo of light before taking her away, and Sylvanas had never dared to look back.
"I do not remember," Sylvanas admitted, but before she could go on to condescendingly explain to the woman in front of her that with trauma usually came memory blocks in order to survive it, Jaina was already pressing forward.
"So then why do you assume you were? Who told you that you were judged not on your actions, but by your capabilities? Or was that something you just told yourself in order to make sense of it all?" the mage continued, the questions feeling almost invasive as they came quicker than Sylvanas could block or dismiss them, each one feeling as though they were colliding with the center of her chest. "How do you know it was the Arbiter that even condemned you to that place if you do not remember her? What if he got to you first; what if the Jailer fed you lies in order to keep you compliant, because there was something about you that was dangerous to him? Anduin's Light, your Darkness— perhaps the mourneblade is just a way to control both of you, and you've been fighting to circumvent a fate that was given to you by the one person who promised to free you from it—!"
"I know what happened to me!" Sylvanas furiously exclaimed, but suddenly she felt a little unsure of herself and that made her angry, as she refused to believe that she had been deceived. However, the gaps in her memory and the holes in the story that was fed to her by her previous partner was now giving Sylvanas pause. It was too much— it was far, far too much, because if Jaina was right, then that meant everything she had done since her death mattered and had counted against her, which meant that Sylvanas no doubt condemned herself to the very fate she had been terrified of, and she couldn't— she could not handle that thought.
The banshee took a large step back, her eyes wild and chest heavy. "You know not what you speak of, human," she hissed, feeling crushed by the weight of the other woman's words. It was why Sylvanas furiously erected a wall between them, keeping Jaina firmly on the other side as she dismissed her words and her thoughts. "And I care very little for your opinion on it. In the end, none of this matters, as it does not change what we have to do. I tire of your theories— formulate a plan; tell me how you wish to defeat the Jailer and I will see it done, so long as my freedom precedes it. Until then, I am not interested in hearing your voice."
Jaina looked grievously offended by her words, but Sylvanas did not care. She was finished with this conversation. "When you have decided upon a course of action, call out to me— my val'kyr will hear you," she instructed before she delved into a cloud of shadows and tendrils while she left, knowing she had to allow herself to fall apart in that moment so that Jaina did not realize that it was her words that had unraveled the last of what flimsily held the Banshee Queen together.
TBC…