A/N:
hello yes this is me running roughshod over established canon
but blizzard keep shooting themselves in the foot, moreso now that warcraft 3: refunded is out
so i'm not in a forgiving mood and will forever lambast the shits for their stupidity
anyways i present to you soft lesbians: the fanfic which i wrote for the sole purpose of writing about sylvanas and jaina being soft
everyone's probably wildly ooc but at this point i'm too tired to care and just want this story idea to stop bothering me
Sylvanas hesitates on the threshold of the room, her stomach twisting with a jumble of emotions she doesn't exactly want to acknowledge.
She hates - absolutely loathes, in fact - how indecisive the sight of a grievously-wounded Jaina Proudmoore makes her. One of the most powerful mages to ever walk the face of Azeroth, yet she looks so small, frail and vulnerable in the bed. She slumbers deeply, exhausted by the battle that almost took her life, not even a day ago.
Again, those unwelcome emotions stir inside her - a part of her urges to go inside, to sit by the woman's side until she wakes, while the other part commands that Sylvanas returns to her quarters and duties, and put the thought of everything else out of her mind.
I've been compromised, Sylvanas dimly realises - yet she knows she's just as much at fault as Jaina is. For one reason or another, neither of them had stopped their unorthodox relationship from becoming something more. Even the destruction of Theramore hadn't been enough to drive them apart - in fact, Jaina had come to her for comfort in the tenuous days that followed.
Jaina twists in the bed, mumbling something incoherent, drawing Sylvanas from the reverie. There's an undeniable tone of distress in the mage's voice, which is what pushes the Warchief to hurry to her side.
"I'm here, dalah'surfal," she mutters softly, gently taking her lover's hand in her own. "I'm here."
It happens too fast for Sylvanas to do anything - one moment, Jaina is a blazing beacon of arcane amidst all the chaos, throwing spear after spear of ice into the thick of the battle, each one unerringly finding its mark. The next moment, the mage is hurtling through the air. Streams of red arc in her wake as Jaina tumbles across the muddy battlefield. She does not rise back up.
The sight makes Sylvanas freeze, dread pooling in her gut. Her hesitation almost dooms her - she dodges an attacking demon's manic swing by the narrowest of margins, though it pays for such carelessness with its life not even five seconds later. Not wasting any more time, she hurries over to Jaina's unmoving form, hissing through her teeth in shock at the sight.
Blood, so much blood, all but pouring from deep gashes across the younger woman's body. Sylvanas practically stumbles over herself to check for a pulse. The leaden knot in her stomach loosens, just a little, when she finds that her lover's heart still beats. But it's faint and thready, and Jaina will surely bleed out without immediate help.
Aid comes in the shape of one Anduin Wrynn, and Sylvanas almost finds it in herself to be amused by this turn of events. The young king is relentless as he cuts down any demon in his path, and for a moment Sylvanas can see the resemblance to his father. Upon seeing the Banshee Queen kneeling in the mud at Jaina's side, however, the similarity quickly vanishes - the shock and dismay are unmistakable on his face. Anduin wastes no time rushing to them, a force of veteran Alliance warriors following to secure the area.
"Help her," Sylvanas growls, unwilling to trust herself to not shout. Anduin nods without hesitation as he sets Shalamayne aside, his hands already glowing with Light as he begins to mend Jaina's wounds.
There is nothing else Sylvanas can do for Jaina, yet she finds it difficult to pull herself away from the mage's side. Still, the battle is not yet over - these demons may be mere dregs, pitiful remnants of the Burning Legion, but they're no less dangerous.
There's nothing that she can do to help Jaina, that much is true. But she can do something about all the demons left on the field that are practically begging for an arrow between the eyes. Her eyes burning with a hateful fire, Sylvanas throws herself back in the fray.
The turmoil within her does not ease as Sylvanas sits at Jaina's side - it only gets worse, as words and thoughts alike battle towards her lips. The thought of losing Jaina, once a mere annoyance at the back of her mind, now threatens to unmake her. Again and again, she brushes her thumb across the mage's knuckles.
"You're not allowed to do this, Proudmoore." She suddenly blurts out, unable to stay silent any longer. "You're not allowed to get under my skin and then get yourself killed. I forbid it." Almost reverently, Sylvanas raises the hand in her grip and presses her lips against it. "You've promised many things to me; don't be surprised that I choose to be selfish about this."
Though it grates against her instincts, Sylvanas feels the ache in her chest ease after venting, even if it does not go away entirely. She reaches down, carefully tucking a rogue strand of hair behind Jaina's ear - she feels a swell of affection for the woman as Jaina ever so slightly leans into her touch, the furrow in her brow evening out.
"Brave little creature," Sylvanas murmurs softly, tracing the line of Jaina's brow with her thumb. "You deserve better than this cruel world. It takes and takes and takes from you, yet you continue to soldier on. Where do you draw such strength from, I wonder? How do you go through so much suffering and refuse to be broken by it?"
Jaina merely gives a small hum, leaning into the caress again. Once more, Sylvanas feels affection bloom inside her apparently-not-as-dead-as-she-thought heart.
"I don't think you even realise the effect you have on me," Sylvanas continues, her thumb ghosting across Jaina's lips. "How is it that you make me care so much? That the mere thought of you in distress is enough to fill me with dread? That a single smile from you can improve my day and then some? How, Jaina?"
Rhetorical questions, all - Sylvanas already knows the answer. Three simple words, yet she's incapable of mustering enough bravery to utter them to Jaina, even while she's asleep. To her, it feels like a point of no return, beyond which their relationship would be forever changed. The thought terrifies and excites her in equal measure. Ironic, that the fearless Warchief of the Horde would find herself tongue-tied so. She wonders if Jaina is ever bothered by similar thoughts.
It's then that she becomes suddenly aware they're no longer alone. Biting back a snarl, she stands to her full height, rounding on the intruder-
Shit.
She's greeted by the sight of Anduin Wrynn and Genn Greymane frozen mid-stride, jaws equally slack as they stare at her as if she's grown an extra head.
"Not a word from either of you," Sylvanas recovers first, and growls threateningly. "I'll not lose any sleep over spreading the two of you across a wall if you disrupt her rest."
Greymane is, as always, deaf to words of wisdom. "'Disrupt her rest?'" The belligerent Worgen parrots her words mockingly. "And just what are you doing here, Banshee? Trying to smother her while she sleeps, no doubt!"
Sylvanas hisses angrily, fangs bared and ears flattened against her head - the absolute audacity of this mutt!
"Genn, that's enough." Unexpectedly, Anduin moves first, clamping a firm hand on the Worgen's shoulder. The Worgen snarls, trying to shake it off, but Anduin's grip is rock-solid. The young king takes the opportunity to place himself between Genn and Sylvanas - his gaze briefly darts to his aunt before locking back onto the Warchief. "How long have you been-"
"In a relationship with her?" Sylvanas supplies curtly, continuing when Anduin nods tersely. He's sharp, she'll give him that. "More than a few years. Well before Garrosh decided to destroy Theramore, in fact. And that's all I'm willing to divulge, unless Jaina decides otherwise."
"That's fair." Again, Anduin surprises her, though she suspects he's being diplomatic solely for Jaina's sake. Then, he squares his shoulders, his gaze sharpening. "The things you said to her - do you mean them? Or is this just another one of your games? Because there will be hell to pay if you're toying with her."
Bile rises in the back of her throat, countless examples of Alliance hypocrisy ready to be thrown back in the Boy-King's face. It takes no small effort to smother her rage, but Sylvanas does it because she's unwilling to upset Jaina.
"I meant every word of it, cub," she growls, low and tremulous, eyes glowing like coals. Even with the situation as tense as it is right now, the admission still feels like a weight that's been lifted off her chest. The sensation is decidedly alien to her. "It surprises even me, to consider how much I've changed myself for her."
"Preposterous!" Genn snarls in disbelief, glaring at the Warchief over his king's shoulder. "The hell can a walking corpse offer-ghlkhklklklhhl-" The sharp crack of magic cuts the Worgen's tirade short, his snout suddenly encased in ice. Making another inarticulate sound of surprise, he stumbles back, doing his best to pry the icy muzzle from his face.
"You want to know why, Genn?" Jaina's voice is laden with a quiet threat as she pushes herself up on her elbows - with the slightest of gestures, she dissolves the ice around Genn's face. "She's never judged me for what I tried to do to Orgrimmar, for the hate I felt towards the Horde. She's never belittled me. Not once."
"Garrosh hurt her greatly when he destroyed Theramore. Her friends, her people, all of her hard work - gone." Sylvanas adds quietly, her eyes briefly flitting over to Jaina. "When someone hurts you, you want to hurt them back. It is only natural." The undead elf gathers an imperious air about her, glaring in turn at both Anduin and Genn. "And her supposed friends and allies scorned her for it."
She still recalls the satisfying crunch of Kalec's nose under her fist, his inelegant blubbering as she'd thrown him out from Jaina's room. The self-righteous bastard had kept well clear of Jaina since then, which was really much too gentle of a punishment for driving her to tears with sanctimonious drivel.
"And when I wanted vengeance, Sylvanas did not try to dissuade me from it." Jaina's voice is ice-cold as she settles against the pillows behind her - her hand seeks out Sylvanas', who obliges readily, sitting down at her lover's side.
"Garrosh's poisoning, before the trial - that was you two?" Anduin looks genuinely upset at this information, his gaze darting between the pair of wholly-unrepentant women.
"I merely supplied the poison, little lion." Sylvanas smirks crookedly. "I would never dream of robbing anyone of their chance at revenge. And please, spare us your self-righteous posturing. You may claim otherwise, but I have it on good authority that many people were relieved when guards went to retrieve Garrosh from his cell, only to find him dead."
"He died slowly, choking on blood and clawing at his throat. But he died knowing it was me who put an end to him." Jaina's voice remains wintry as she glares defiantly at the two men in the room. "I know it won't bring Theramore back. I know it won't bring Kinndy, Pained, or Rhonin back. But Garrosh will never hurt anyone ever again. And that's something I can live with."
"Thrall was horrified when he heard what happened to Garrosh. Isn't he your friend, too?" Anduin once more tries to reason with Jaina, but his aunt remains unmoved.
"He is just as much at fault for the things Garrosh did, if not more. At the end of the day, he's the one who put him in charge. Garrosh may have been but a stone, but Thrall is the hand that cast it without care or regard." Jaina's countenance may as well be carved from stone as she speaks - to Anduin, who's always looked up to his surrogate aunt, it's an unsettling sight. Her ire is not easily roused, but when she's angry, she's like a stormy sea - merciless and unforgiving.
"Did he not push little Hellscream into the position against his wishes?" Sylvanas wonders aloud, rubbing her thumb across the back of Jaina's hand soothingly, so as to comfort her. "And did Garrosh not argue that he did not feel ready for it, only for Thrall to ignore his doubts? A stone in his hand, indeed." The Warchief sneers bitterly. "He was untested, unproven, and in no way qualified to lead the Horde. But Thrall cared more about running off to play in the dirt with his precious elements, and we all pay the price for it now. No longer does the title command the respect and loyalty of my people as it did before. Not after Garrosh so eagerly took a sledgehammer to the foundations upon which the Horde is built. My advisors remain constantly wary of me, as if waiting for me to leap out of my skin to reveal myself as Garrosh in disguise! The absolute idiocy of it all is enough to drive me up the wall, and I find my patience tested almost daily!"
"Temper, temper." Jaina murmurs soothingly, nuzzling against the undead elf's forearm, so Sylvanas makes the effort to unclench her free hand and quell her anger. Belore, so many things she's done as of late have been mainly for Jaina's benefit. Compromised does not even begin to describe her feelings towards the mage. And yet, she doesn't entirely mind it.
"Forgive me, dalah'surfal. I didn't mean to upset you." Sylvanas croons softly, and warmth blooms in her chest at the tender expression on Jaina's face.
"It's fine. I know how you can make it up to me." The younger woman insistently tugs on the sleeve of the Warchief's tunic. Sylvanas goes willingly, well aware what Jaina's thinking of.
Maybe that damn mutt will finally get a big enough shock that he drops dead of a heart attack. Now there's a thought.
Sylvanas never tires of kissing Jaina - she cherishes each kiss, relishing how delicately her lover leans into it, how she lets out the slightest of moans. Sylvanas wants more - she's greedy, she's always been greedy - but that'd have to wait until Jaina has fully recovered from her injuries.
"I'm glad to see you well, Jaina." She smiles as they part, pleased to see her adorable mage blush. "Truly, I am." She smugly glances over to Anduin and Genn, and feels laughter bubble up in the back of her throat - both men look like the rug has been well and truly pulled out from under their feet. Genn has a particularly gobsmacked look on his face - it's clear he's struggling mightily to process this turn of events.
"What the hell have you done, Banshee?!" He recovers quickly, though. Props to him. "What wicked spell have you ensorcelled her with?"
Sylvanas makes a point of thinking about it, with much thoughtful humming and chin scratching involved. "It's a simple spell, but quite unbreakable. It's called 'compassion', though I'm certain you struggle with the concept of it, dog. The Alliance ever scorned me and the Forsaken for something we had no control over. Jaina did not."
"They're people, just like anyone else. They're not guilty of what Arthas did to them." Jaina adds seriously. "And yes, I'm well aware that they've done questionable things since then. But what's the point in trying to make friends when everyone else already has condemned you to guilt? The Alliance already sees them as monsters and abominations, so why bother trying to convince them otherwise?"
"Heed her words - she has more wisdom in her than the rest of the Alliance put together."
"Hush, you," Jaina lightly swats at the Warchief. "Must you goad them at every opportunity?"
"My apologies, dalah'surfal." Sylvanas looks very much unapologetic, smarmy grin and all. Jaina simply rolls her eyes in response, well-accustomed to the elf's snark at this point. "It really wouldn't have taken much effort on the Alliance's part, you know. To hear out the messengers I sent, instead of killing them where they stood. To consider the misfortunes of my people before making a decision."
"But that's not what happened." All fight seems to leave Anduin, his shoulders slumping. Sylvanas has him, and he knows it. "I'm man enough to admit that, at the very least."
"That alone makes you leagues better than the cretins that came before you. But it matters not - the past cannot be changed. What matters is the choices you will have to make now." Sylvanas stands, arms clasped together behind her back. Jaina makes a distressed noise, and Sylvanas is almost overcome with the desire to comfort her. "Jaina is dear to me, and I to her, that much you can see clearly. How will you use this information against us, I wonder? Blackmail us into obedience, or seek to split us apart entirely?"
"Even better." Anduin's elated tone takes everyone aback. "I'll see that the two of you get married right proper! Hell, I'll gladly officiate the wedding myself!"
The silence that follows in the wake of his words is deafening.
"There must be something wrong with my hearing, because there is no way that you just said that." Sylvanas intones dryly, but she cannot ignore the faint spark of hope in her chest, or the hopeful look Jaina gives her.
"Anduin, just what do you mean by that?" Genn's just as confused, if not more. His confusion is probably the only thing keeping his temperament in check, honestly.
"No, this can work! Just give me a moment to think." Anduin paces from side to side, face screwed up in concentration. A tense minute passes before he speaks again. "Political marriages are often used to secure alliances, but never on this scale. And sure, we could just attempt to sign a peace treaty instead, but it would only be as good at keeping peace as the word of the people who sign it. But a marriage between Sylvanas Windrunner, the ultimate authority of the Horde, and Jaina Proudmoore, one of the most powerful mages in all of Azeroth, would hold. Of course, there'll be people who scrutinise such a union, thinking it a sham forced upon you both. But there are many people on both sides who want peace, and once they see that you're getting along, they'll gladly follow suit. And the detractors won't be able to attack you with ammunition they don't have; again, you'll have no issues with tolerating each other's presence. I know that a single marriage won't be enough to end the enmity between the Horde and the Alliance. But I also know we cannot make peace if we're unwilling to talk to our enemies. This would be a very important first step, a strong foundation upon which we can build a better future for all of Azeroth."
Sylvanas hums thoughtfully, tilting her head slightly. Though Anduin's plan is very much that of an idealist, it seems sound of reasoning. Though that's most likely because of Jaina's influence on her.
The thought of calling Jaina her wife, however, is absolutely tempting. Going to sleep together, waking in the mornings together, enjoying each other's company without the need for secrecy - these thoughts threaten to absolutely floor her.
Belore preserve me, I'm in love with this woman.
Her mind made up, Sylvanas kneels down at Jaina's bedside, ignoring Genn's choked sound of disbelief. An incredibly rare sight, to ever see the Banshee Queen kneel for someone. She reaches for one of her pouches and fishes out a small object, one that she's been holding onto for years - her mother's ring.
"Jaina Proudmoore, will you marry me?" Sylvanas asks, holding the ring out towards her. Jaina gasps softly, arms half-raised towards her face before her shocked expression changes to that of pure, unadulterated joy.
"Yes. Of course I will, you silly elf." Jaina breathes, reaching out and pulling Sylvanas close, capturing her lips in a sweet, tender kiss that makes Sylvanas want to melt into a puddle.
"This ring has ever been a bitter reminder of my failure to defend Quel'Thalas, of what Arthas did to me. Yet the sentimental fool in me could never cast it away." Sylvanas murmurs softly as she pulls away, carefully slipping the ring onto Jaina's finger. "But as of today, it'll be a sign of new beginnings. A proof of my everlasting love for you." Belore, she was starting to wax poetic. But Jaina didn't seem to mind it in the least, her eyes showing nothing but love and affection for her wife-to-be. "I never thought I'd ever fall for anyone again, dalah'surfal, but you've proved me wrong. And I'm so very glad to have been mistaken about that."
"Arthas hurt you a lot, love. It's only natural that you didn't want to be hurt again, that you would build such tall walls around yourself." Jaina croons lovingly, inspecting the beautiful ring adorning her hand. As with everything of quel'dorei make, it's a magnificent work of art, the glinting jewels and metal of it seemingly untouched by age. She finds that she cannot imagine herself without it in the future.
"Little imp, using my own words against me." Sylvanas grins crookedly, pinching Jaina's cheek, but there's no concealing the fondness in her voice.
There was a time when the mere mention of the Lich King would've been enough to drive her into a berserker's rage. But Jaina had soothed her anger and pain, had shown how to move beyond the reach of those painful memories. She still had bad days, but they were few and far between, all thanks to Jaina. Once, she had worried she wasn't doing enough for her lover, moreso considering how freely Jaina had given her affection to her. After all, relationships are built on trust, and trust is a two-way street; one cannot take without giving something in return. But Jaina had laughed and kissed her, and said that she was doing fine. And that bit of confidence had been something she'd been sorely missing for years.
"So, I'll take that as a yes, then?" Anduin pipes up, hands clasped together. His grin only grows when he sees the two women nod. "Excellent! There's a thousand and one things to do before we announce it, but that can wait until Jaina's fully healed. Genn, we'll need- Genn?" His smile drops when he turns to address the Worgen.
"So far, I've seen the Banshee being lovey-dovey with Jaina. Then I saw them confess undying love for each other." Genn's tone is decidedly nonplussed, arms crossed across his chest. "I wager that when I wake up in the morning, I'll also be seeing rivers flowing upwards while all clouds turn into screaming cottage cheese." He takes a deep sigh before continuing. "And I'm guessing you'll also want me to keep quiet about this. Which I will, before any of you ask. Just… don't expect me to jump in joy, Anduin. Because I'm very much not happy about this." With that, Genn turned and marched out of the room.
"That was… unexpectedly diplomatic, coming from a man who struggles to grasp the concept of an indoor voice." Sylvanas notes drily.
"Talking to Genn can sometimes be trying, I know. Oftentimes, it's an exercise in frustration." Anduin admits sheepishly. "But even he'll accept the truth, moreso when it's right before his eyes. At the end of the day, neither of us wants to keep warring with the Horde until we have to start calling up farmers to fill the ranks of our armies."
"Things would be well beyond salvaging if either side had to resort to drafting peasantry. But you make a fair point, I suppose." Sylvanas concedes, her eyes back on Jaina, who's looking very cozy in her bed.
"In any case, I'll see you both tomorrow." Anduin quickly and quietly slips out, closing the door behind him.
"Don't leave." Jaina mumbles tiredly just as Sylvanas intends to do so. "I sleep better when you're with me."
"Do you wish for someone else to walk in on us, then?" Sylvanas cocks an eyebrow, but makes no further effort to leave. Jaina merely raises a hand, sparks of magic springing free from her fingertips.
"There. Room's warded. Even Archimonde won't break through." Jaina murmurs, shuffling to the side of the bed. "Now get in."
Sylvanas grins amusedly, but doesn't say anything before shucking off her boots and laying down at Jaina's side. Almost immediately, the mage snuggles right up to her, cooing happily. Sylvanas, long since accustomed with how physically affectionate Jaina is, carefully pulls her future wife closer.
Her wife. Belore, the idea absolutely fills her with giddiness.
"Something on your mind?" Jaina hums softly, a tender look in her eyes.
"Just thinking about how much I love you." Sylvanas smiles warmly at her beloved, letting out a soft chuckle as her words cause Jaina to blush.
"Say that again." The blushing mage mumbles, and Sylvanas pushes herself up on her elbow, cradling Jaina's cheek with her free hand - again, words fail to describe the soft feeling she experiences at the sight of Jaina leaning into her touch. Sometimes, she has trouble believing that anyone would trust her so readily.
"I love you, Jaina Proudmoore." Without waiting for an answer, Sylvanas leans down and lovingly kisses her. Jaina wriggles for a moment and hums happily, her arm coming up to cup Sylvanas' cheek.
"I love you too." Jaina breathes as they part, ever so slightly out of breath. A soft mauve flush is creeping across her lover's face as she looks down on her with such tenderness, and it almost makes Jaina's heart melt.
"Proudmoore. Proudmoore," Sylvanas purrs, a coy smile tugging at her lips. "I love how it sounds. Practically rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?"
"Mmn." Jaina mumbles, blushing fiercely. Sylvanas grins wider, but decides to drop it in favour of cuddling with her - Jaina is always so warm, like a furnace. She's come to cherish that warmth ever since the first night they'd tentatively spent together.
There will be many more days like this, she realizes.
It is a hopeful thought, the likes of which she hasn't had in a while.
Sylvanas finds that she likes it very much.