The land claimed by the orcs, Thrall had named Durotar, in honor of his father, and the great city they were building was called Orgrimmar for the mighty Warchief, Orgrim Doomhammer, who had freed the orcs from their captivity. Gylledra stood on the wall over the main city gate, gazing out across the red, craggy desert that was now home to the Horde. Despite its dry barrenness and the dangerous things that lived in the caves and caverns, it was beautiful in a way, it was the symbol of the orcs' freedom, crowned with their capital at the north.

To her knowledge, a city of this magnitude had never been built so quickly. It was made possible by aid from the tauren and the Darkspear trolls. They had sworn their allegiance to the Horde and were very important in its inception. The major construction was mostly complete, the larger facilities inside the walls were also up already, most of what was left to do was home-building, erecting shops and blacksmiths and armorers. All the merchants and artisans amongst the Horde could finally set down their axes and again take up the professions they had chosen.

It was time to get back to work on her own dwelling, and Gylledra headed for the stairs that led back down off the battlements. With the help of a master mason called Thokal, she had designed the home she would share with Varok. He had been very patient with her insistence on certain elements that were decidedly non-orc, though she often saw him roll his eyes as he muttered about the frivolity of elven aesthetics. He was an abrasive, opinionated older orc, perhaps similar in age to Varok, and most found him difficult to get along with. Gylledra liked him immensely, much to his chagrin.

"I'm not your damned doorman, Lady Saurfang!" Thokal barked, slamming open the door to the library where she was currently building shelves. His bald head shone, and short white beard sticking out in all directions. She didn't need to see his face to know the annoyance in his dark eyes.

"Then why are you in here telling me someone is at the door?" She asked levelly, looking up at him when she finished tapping a peg into place with her mallet. It was Thokal who first called her Lady Saurfang, which she ignored and continued to ignore each time he did it. Knowing that it irritated her seemed to delight the old mason. He grumbled something rude and Gylledra gave a snort. "Please show in my guest, Thokal."

"He can show himself in!" He roared, stomping back down the hallway to the room he was working on. A couple moments later, a different orc stepped into view, framed by the doorway.

"Lady Saurfang?" Eitrigg asked wryly, clearly trying to decide if it was a joke or not.

"Thokal thinks it's hilarious." She brushed off her hands and got to her feet. "What can I do for you?"

"Here is a list of those I believe may be interested in your…pursuits." He held out a folded piece of paper which Gylledra took, unfolded, and scanned the names. "Pava has the list as well and said she would find out if any are viable candidates and perhaps add her own nominations."

"Excellent, thank you. I do know some of these names." She folded and stuffed the list into her pocket. "You certainly made quick work of that."

"I was nearby…looks like the house is coming along nicely, another few days and it should be finished, yes?" The old orc looked around the room, nodding his approval. He was a Blackrock orc, like Varok.

"Just in time for the celebration." She grinned.

"What sort of intelligence are you hoping to gather, anyway?" Eitrigg asked.

"Primarily, my concern is demonic activity. It will be useful, I feel as well, to have some knowledge of what's going on in the world." She explained.

"Mmph." He grunted. "Clarifies the need for individuals capable of being discreet." Eitrigg wasn't the smiley sort.

"Why ask me and not Saurfang? He's as familiar with everyone as I am."

"Do you shit where you eat?" She replied with a smirk.

"Understood." He made what might have been a snort of amusement before departing once again.

Knowing that the death of Archimonde would assuredly not be the last Azeroth saw of the Burning Legion, Gylledra intended to create what she hoped would be the beginning of a network essentially. She'd discussed the idea at length with Thrall, who agreed that such information would prove invaluable should another invasion happen in a shorter period of time than it took for Sargeras to muster up a second. So far, her little organization was comprised of Nasorya, Pava, and herself. Ideally, she wanted members from all the differing peoples of Azeroth, but she kept that bit to herself for the time being; getting Night Elves on board for that would be next to impossible considering the ongoing hostilities between Ashenvale and Durotar.

Gylledra wasn't the only one busy assembling a force of specifically skilled members of the Horde. Varok had been training his Kor'kron guard practically day and night. They were the elite of the elite and would serve to protect and support the Warchief. There was no time to relax as Orgrimmar rose up around them, building a nation was hard labor.

There was a dark cloud unseen by most that hung heavily over the new city. The hundreds of orcs who remained of those who had sacked the Draenei city of Shattrath and decimated the city of Stormwind under the influence of demon blood were deeply shaken and disturbed by their own actions, just as Varok was. Gylledra could see them, it was in their eyes, and she wondered how everyone else failed to notice.

Varok sought out and spoke with any he could and it was draining but helpful for his own plight at the same time. She could always see it on his face when he had been talking to someone about it. She never asked him who or what they talked about, though part of her did wonder. Sometimes the two of them spoke together of their own experiences. For them it had only been decades, for her it had been millennia, so she'd had much more time to come to terms with it. Despite his best efforts, many still were lost…too many.

A massive gathering, only days away, had been planned in the city to celebrate their victory over the invasion, their freedom, the city itself, and the addition of the tauren and the Darkspear trolls to the Horde. Life went on regardless of those who were suffering in silence.

The celebration would kick off with an evening gathering with music and drink and food, followed by three days of festival. Gylledra found herself more excited for it than she'd expected and was looking forward to seeing everyone at their best. Though also it meant spending time recreationally, yet another foreign concept to her. Free time had never been a thing.

Since the battle on Mount Hyjal, Gylledra had also made a number of connections with various individuals amongst Jaina Proudmore's forces. One such connection was a dwarven tool-maker called Rook Coldrock who was now in the new settlement Jaina was building called Theramore, but they communicated back and forth.

There was little that paralleled dwarven craftsmanship when it came to brewing and building so Gylledra had written to Rook to place a special order of chisels and other stone-working tools, including some design ideas that incorporated Horde markings. Rook delivered, going above and beyond, providing some of the most beautiful tools Gylledra had ever seen. With them was a note from Rook herself, which commented on her amusement at having received so many orders for so many different things from Orgrimmar.

Thokal was nearly finished working on the house, he was finishing the intricate tiling in the bath chamber when Gylledra found him. He grunted his greeting without looking up.

"I think I might actually miss your grumbling around here when you're done." She told him. He responded with another grunt. "Your work is the best, Thokal. Here, this is for your trouble."

"You've already supplied payment…" He protested, but she set the cloth roll of dwarven tools beside him and he looked down at it but didn't move. Gylledra left, but stood just outside the door listening to the quiet rustle as he untied and unfurled the parcel. The sharp inhale as he saw what was inside was enough for her and grinning to herself, she walked away.

Her library had shelves and furniture and in time would be full of books, she was certain. The wolf-skin rug was crooked and she adjusted it, then admired the completed room. It still felt empty and not quite like she lived there, but it was a space she would call her own.

"I, ah…it's all done." Thokal said, stepping into the library. He took a look at what she'd done with the room before turning to her. She noticed the roll of tools tucked safely beneath one arm and the slight awkwardness he exuded.

"Took you long enough." She scoffed and folded her arms, but smiled. He looked relieved that she wasn't expecting any discussion of her gift.

"Perhaps if you didn't have so many frilly demands it would have gotten done more quickly." He scowled, and gave a harrumph, but it was apparent enough that he was pleased.

"Well, rest assured that I will be bothering you again should I require more work done." There were plenty of other projects she'd have liked to monopolize him for, but there were others who undoubtedly required his services.

"Mmph." He nodded. "Give my regards to Lord Saurfang, Gylledra." With that, he left her there in surprised silence. He'd never used her name before.

Nasorya, in an effort to find her place amongst the Horde, had begun sampling different hobbies and artisan work. This week, she had become fervently obsessed with cooking and Gylledra found her in the bakery that had recently gone into operation. It was run by a good-natured, amply built Orc called Kosha. Nasorya was up to her elbows in flour as Kosha laughed quietly.

"Keeping busy, I see." Gylledra greeted.

"I finally managed biscuits with perfectly flaky crust, they crisped PERFECTLY. Look at them. Look at the biscuits!" Nasorya pointed toward the far corner and Gylledra turned, startled to find a bothered-looking tauren hunched on a stool much too small for him, holding a tray of what did indeed look like perfect biscuits.

"Baine?" She almost laughed, noting that he was surrounded by various other biscuit attempts, some looking rather burnt. He grunted and set his jaw, shoving the tray at her and she took them.

"She's getting better." Kosha snorted, hiking up her apron practically under her armpits. "Lucky for him." Her thick forearms were as muscled as any warrior and indeed Gylledra could attest that she wielded an axe just as aptly.

"Why are you doing this to yourself you daft mammoth?" Gylledra shook her head at him and he refused to meet her eyes. She took a bite of a biscuit though and despite its visual perfection it tasted a bit like clay. "Oh…" Her face likely said enough gauging by the sudden frown on Nasorya's face.

"I said look at the biscuits, not eat them! One thing at a time!" She snapped then came around to the prep table snatching a lumpy sack off the counter. "Here, take these with you if you're headed to the Hold."

"What?" Gylledra took the sack, giving it a dubious look, trading it for the tray.

"Don't worry, I made those." Kosha assured her. She pulled a cloth off a large bowl and dumped a giant slab of fluffy dough onto the floured counter. "And these."

"You want me to bring snacks…to the Warchief?" Gylledra asked.

"Why not?" Nasorya blinked, looking at her as though she was insane.

"Um…alright…well, enjoy your…progress." She turned and before leaving, stuck what remained of her terrible biscuit to one of Baine's horns and she was out the door before she could see whatever scathing glare he gave her.

Baine and Nasorya insisted with such zeal that they couldn't stand each other that finally there was a new topic in the gossip grapevine that had nothing to do with Varok and Gylledra. A dragon and a tauren in denial were far more intriguing than an elf and an orc who were openly living together without secrets or shame; she thought perhaps it had something to do with the hooves and horns. Nasorya flat out refused to discuss the tauren despite the fact they were frequently spotted together. It was amusing and delightful for Gylledra to see her friend hurled outside the safe parameters she had kept inside of for so long.

In a few short months, the orcs had built what would have taken other civilizations years. She could have never imagined her life to change as it had in so short a time. Across the Valley of Honor, Gylledra spotted Varok as he leaned on his axe in the midst of conversation with two other orcs. He looked relaxed, despite being armed and armored to the teeth, as was the natural state for most orcs. He hadn't noticed her, or if he had, he made no indication; she didn't often get to observe him covertly.

She continued toward Grommash Hold at a leisurely pace, admiring him like a twitterpated adolescent. It was still very new to her, the intimate involvement they'd entered into, and she was very easily distracted by him, unfortunately. Varok's eyes moved to her suddenly and an excited jolt coursed through her. He winked and Gylledra's face felt very hot, but she smiled at him, moving at a more determined pace up the stone roadway to the Hold. They'd been sharing quarters since Hyjal and it had been a very interesting adventure. Not every moment had been ideal, but nobody could be amiable all the time.

The Hold had an unusual quietness; it was a new structure that didn't have constant inhabitants yet and so the sounds of people outside, muffled by the walls seemed to emphasize the stillness of the inside. The smell of fresh cut lumber and new mortar filled her and she felt unexpectedly hopeful and happy. Thrall was likely somewhere in the building since he was meeting shortly with his advisors, but she took a moment to take in the silence.

"What are you doing here, little elf?" Varok's voice rumbled behind her, and he snaked an arm around her middle. He was getting better at sneaking up on her. "Don't you know how dangerous orcs are?" She was pressed against him and as he leaned down, she could feel his hot breath close to her ear and she let out a shuddering exhale.

"Don't orcs know how dangerous I am?" She replied and reached up behind her, fingers sliding up his jaw and back into his hair. "Fraternizing on duty, High Overlord?"

"I do as I like." He growled.

"How about doing what you like right there on the throne?" Gylledra grinned, hearing his sharp inhale of shock.

"You're despicable." He chuckled, his hand sliding down her belly, a particular target in mind.

"It's your fault." She breathed. "You've filled my head with all kinds of things."

"That's not all I'll fill." Varok's long fingers reached their destination and she closed her eyes. "Warchief." He said suddenly, releasing her and her face flamed as Thrall and two of the Kor'kron entered the main chamber through a back passage.

"Saurfang. Gylledra." He greeted, taking a letter from a third guard who seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. Gylledra frowned; that guard would have been an ideal candidate for her purposes. She couldn't steal one of the Kor'kron, though, that was the point of them, they wouldn't be swayed from their duty. If anyone could instill the sheer brutality of ardent loyalty into them, it would be Varok. She cleared her throat, doing what she could to shoo out of mind what was just happening.

"These are for you." Gylledra held out the sack of biscuits toward Thrall who, focusing on the missive he was reading, reached for it. "Biscuits from Nas." He pulled his hand back, looking at the sack like it was full of poisonous snakes. "Don't worry, Kosha made them."

"In that case, I accept." He took the sack and set it down. "A few days ago, it was cookies that tasted like tar and before that it was muffins I'm almost certain were made with river mud."

"She could have picked a much worse hobby. Like taxidermy."

"Hence why I have encouraged her to keep working at it. Kosha is just happy to have free help, I think." He gave a small snort. "If she graduates to entrees I will worry."

Pava, carrying a small case beneath one arm, found Gylledra as she was headed out of the Hold. She had no interest in their meetings and was grateful for not being made to sit through them.

"I was able to talk to the individuals on Eitrigg's list." She started. "May I speak freely?"

Gylledra frowned. "Yes, of course, in fact I insist you always speak freely, Pava."

"I am wondering why you chose to go through Eitrigg for recommendations and not Lord Saurfang." The orc explained, voicing the same thing Eitrigg had.

"Reasonable question, but Varok has the Kor'kron to worry about and I think it is prudent to keep a certain degree of separation between things that are…work, and things that are not."

"Makes sense." Pava nodded. "Well, I've got four individuals who would like to hear what you have to say; I told them to meet at my house this evening at sundown, by then everyone will have finished with their tasks for the day."

"Good work. If you see Nas, let her know. I imagine she's still at the bakery making beautiful but inedible food."

The orcs waiting for Gylledra at Pava's residence were comprised of one female and three males: Orma Gorefall, Karnak Bromgo, Grul Tuskmaw, and Reggie. Reggie was the more elusive, mysterious one of the lot; he was a rogue and Gylledra wasn't sure that his name was actually Reggie, but no one knew him otherwise.

"Thank you all for coming." She greeted, looking from face to face. Orma had a hard expression and it was Gylledra's understanding that she had lost much in the battle against the Legion. Karnak and Grul were soldiers, both of them built like titanic landmasses, and Reggie was somewhat slight of build for an orc. "To allay any concerns, I assure you, Thrall is well aware of my goals." Three of the four seemed to relax somewhat, except Reggie, whose face remained impassive. "You all know as well as I do that while great, our victory at Mt. Hyjal will not be the last we see of the Legion, Sargeras will not stop until Azeroth is destroyed…or until Azeroth destroys him." She began to explain. "In my lifetime I have amassed a great deal of knowledge on combating demons. This world has pushed them back twice now, which no other world to my knowledge has done even once. They will be back and this world needs to be prepared."

"What do you propose?" Reggie asked, his expression having shifted from impassive to mildly intrigued.

"The Legion will not be beaten by one faction or another, and we all can see plainly enough that this tentative peace will not last, no matter how much anyone hopes it will. There will be war again between the Horde and the Alliance, I can't imagine the rest of the humans of Lordaeron and Stormwind feel the same way as Jaina Proudmore does. I have no delusions of actual lasting peace between the two sides, certainly not for the foreseeable future. What I am seeking is to form a group that spans all people, who all agree that it is of the utmost importance to keep track of demonic activity, to prepare, and to watch for the signs that another invasion is imminent…and to watch for evidence of any group aligning with the Legion. I have made contact with various individuals in Theramore who share these ideals." She paused for a moment. "I do not ask for loyalty to me over Thrall, only dedication to the preservation of this world against demonic threat. While the leaders are immersed in their political squabbles, there needs to be people who are looking at the forest through the trees."

Gylledra hadn't demanded responses immediately, she told them to take what time they needed to think about what she had said. Saying yes meant a willingness to bend the rules, it meant agreeing not to betray fellow members of the opposite faction, and it meant grueling training to learn the most efficient ways to permanently kill demons. It wasn't very surprising, though, when Reggie emerged from the shadows as she made her way home. Her unique relationship with the shadows had betrayed his presence when it was unlikely any other might have detected him.

"Reggie." She greeted.

"I take issue with one thing." He told her without preamble. "In an organization such as yours, loyalty is of the utmost importance. If you play second to our leaders, how can you wield us as you desire?"

"People are not simply tools or weapons to be wielded, and I will not ask anyone to go against their honor and loyalty to their Warchief, or king, or whatever." She folded her arms, regarding him curiously. "What honor would I have if I so easily dismissed that of others?"

"Many may disagree with me, but honor is not black and white." Reggie leaned against the side of the house. "To do what you wish to do, your people need to swear their loyalty to you. What I do agree with you on is that it is a choice of free will, but also you will need to be quieter about recruiting. No more Eitrigg, no more Thrall in the loop."

"How will that make me trustworthy to Thrall?"

"You told him what you want, that is enough, I think. No one else needs to know. You're asking us to be spies…some of us already are…" He smirked. "Your cause is worthy of loyalty…the world as a whole in importance far outweighs political alignment. I have seen what you are capable of, I was on your ship. You nearly died for us, and you risked your life for the world itself on that mountain. That is enough for me."

"You believe I should ask people to swear their allegiance to me?" She felt a little skeptical.

"I think you should let those who are already loyal to you find others who will be too." The smirk snaked back across his face again. "Trust works both ways."

"I see what you mean." Gylledra nodded. "So, you're here to swear yourself to my organization?" He stood up straight, his fist over his heart.

"I, Droh Axesong, so solemnly swear my allegiance and service to you, Gylledra Alenos, submitting myself to your will to fight for the preservation of Azeroth, and to stand against any and all who seek its destruction whether they are enemy or kin." Trust works both ways, he had said, and he'd proven it, giving her his actual name. "I swear it by my honor, on pain of death."

"Thank you, Reggie. I accept your service." She replied. He gave a nod and disappeared back into the darkness without another word. Gylledra watched after him for a long moment, mulling over the points he'd made. They were all very valid, she needed trust rather than just declarations that she would not ask those in her service to act against their honor. Trust was earned through actions.

Pava had somehow roped Gylledra into assisting with the celebration planning, mostly organization and some security. Unless the Night Elves were planning a surprise attack on the city, which was unlikely as they were still reeling from their losses during the defeat of Archimonde, there was little threatening Orgrimmar, which made it an ideal time to celebrate.

Finalizing events and organizing who was going to be baking or selling or cooking what ate up a number of days, in addition to arranging for celebratory décor as well. Mingling with more of the people, though, served multiple purposes. In particular, Gylledra was able to meet and talk with more individuals and make note of who she might like to speak to again about her own project.

"I'm already exhausted and it isn't even mid-day." Gylledra complained to Pava. It was the last day before the event was to start. "And then I will have to try to have some kind of dinner prepared…I do not care for this domestic bullshit."

"Make Saurfang do it." Pava couldn't even keep a straight face through the sentence.

"Are you picturing him with an apron over his armor?"

"I am now!" She was outright laughing. "Well, in his vows, did he promise to serve you? That's a common one, swearing service to one's mate."

"Vows?" Gylledra frowned.

"Yes, during your ceremony…" The mirth seemed to trickle out of Pava. "When the two of you were…bound together as mates?"

"There wasn't one…" A strange feeling sank into Gylledra's belly. "I thought orcs had no formal marriage traditions."

"Oh…I…" Regret crept up Pava's face as Gylledra's mind began to race.

Varok was not far off, but he was out of earshot. The Kor'kron were being given orders for the upcoming festivities, where they would be, what they would do. He had never said anything to her about any sort of ceremony and ignorance had been bliss, because now she wanted to know why. Was it because she was not an orc? Would he have told her if she was? Would it be accepted? Was she deemed somehow unworthy still by the orcs? Or worse, did Varok simply not want to permanently tie himself to her? Though perhaps because he'd had a mate before who had died, he simply did not wish to officially have another.

He looked over, as though he knew she was watching, and he started to smile until he saw her face. She could not hide her thoughts and feelings from him, everything showed whether she wanted it to or not. She felt…badly. Disappointment, confusion…questions pouring forth that she would never ask him. She quickly looked away from him, not wanting him to see, not wanting him to ask her what was wrong…because he would. He cared…he loved her and would not want to see her upset, especially if it was because of him. It was just too soon, they were together, yes…but it had only been months since they'd met.

"I'm sorry, Gylledra." Pava interrupted the destructive cycle whirling its way through her and she shook her head.

"Don't be, it is nothing. Come, we have a long list of things that are yet to be accomplished." Gylledra took a deep breath and she pushed it all down. There was work to be done.

.

That look on Gylledra's face hung with Saurfang as the day pressed on. She had never looked at him that way before, as though utterly disappointed in him somehow. The glimpses he caught of her throughout the rest of the day, she didn't look at him, and though she was smiling as she worked and spoke with various people, it was strained, and he could see it even if no one else did.

When night had fallen, he found their house empty still, which wasn't unusual, she had been out quite late the last few nights. A small parcel had arrived for him, inside was a gift he had commissioned for Gylledra. He intended to leave it as a small surprise she would find when she woke to get ready in the morning, but had nothing to write the note on.

Hoping to slip in and out before she returned, he went into her office, lighting one of the lamps. This was her space, but he didn't know where else to get what he needed. There was something about the way clutter gathered in the places that were hers, it wasn't a mess so much as a scattering of things that made him think of her. He was sure that he could identify Gylledra's clutter anywhere. There were papers and books on the large wooden desk. The books had various bits of paper and other things in the pages to mark places. Off to one side were a number of empty cups that had yet to be cleared. Scraps of paper of every size littered the desktop with nonsensical notes, doodles, and scribbles. When he opened one of the top drawers, he found the spout from a liquor barrel tossed in with various writing implements, smooth stones, string and other bits.

Saurfang picked up the spout, wondering what it was doing in a desk drawer of all places until he realized it was the one from the ship all those months ago when they had crossed the sea to Kalimdor. He smiled at the memory…the first time he'd felt her lips on his, and held her in his arms. It was a sentimental object and while he didn't particularly care much for things, something as ordinary as a barrel spout could hold immense meaning.

Carefully, he set it back in place and grabbed a pen and one of the bottles of ink also in the drawer before closing it. He opened another and found what he was looking for, a stack of blank paper, so he took a couple pieces, sliding the drawer shut once more. As he turned to leave the desk, a sheet of paper moved off of what looked like an open journal. She was still such a mystery to him in so many ways, he wanted to know more. Something inside him vehemently protested as he gently slid the sheet of paper farther aside, revealing more text of her entry. Against his better judgement, he leaned forward a little and looked, curiosity getting the best of him.

…as things seem to be coming along nicely. There is still so much to do yet, but I am getting more organized, whatever Nas may think. I've received back several correspondences from Theramore, and I feel it will be a good place to start to form stronger connections with humans, dwarves, and gnomes. I am fortunate to have recruited individuals who share my belief, that see despite enmity and past wrongs done on all parties that we must work together to build something so much greater than ourselves, that this organization will span all factions, all people and together we will be certain to…

"Varok?" Her voice startled him, and he looked up where he found Gylledra standing in the doorway, watching him. He was caught…he had not meant to go through her things, but nevertheless, he had, and she found him in the midst of it. Words failed him. "What are you doing?" She asked and he saw the shadows of that disappointment in her eyes from earlier. She looked tired but now her brow furrowed as her eyes found what he had been reading. "Those are my private things…"

"I came to find paper and ink…" There was no response he could make that would not sound like an excuse. And certainly, there was nothing he could say that would alleviate whatever else there was that was bothering her in addition to this new offense.

"And you found it." She gestured to what he was holding. "Then you thought you would read whatever you found lying around?"

"No…"

"Do you not trust me?"

"Gylledra…"

"I would prefer that if you have questions and curiosities, that you simply come to me and ask me. I have no secrets." She looked more hurt and disappointed than she had before, and it was like a knife to his gut. "Even if you wished to read my journal, where I write down my most private thoughts, I would show it to you, if you truly needed to know."

"I do not wish…"

"Please put the lights out when you're finished. Good night." She turned and left the office, leaving him there standing over her belongings and he felt very small. He'd never felt the need to pry into her thoughts, she'd never given him reason to. It was a foolish, destructive thing he did, and he let out a long sigh before putting out the lamp and leaving the room.