War Crimes
Chapter Three: Undercity, Apothecarium, Library, and Royal Quarter
Summary: Just another horrible Sylvanas/Jaina fic. Sequel to Atrocities.
Disclaimer: Characters, settings, etc. are the property of Blizzard Entertainment.
Pairings: Sylvanas/Jaina
Author's Notes: AU, assuming the Theramore scenario had affected Jaina differently. I don't know either.
Shit's about to get real.
When Jaina woke, she found herself instinctively reaching out as she stretched, expecting another body beside her. It took her a moment to realize why she was reaching; she wasn't especially cold, as the enchanted robe was still keeping her plenty warm. Oh, right, I fell asleep with Sylvanas beside me…I miss that feeling… "Sylvanas?" she managed, the vestiges of sleep slurring her words. She blinked several times and rubbed her eyes, and as her vision cleared, she noticed with a small jolt that there was a letter on the bedside table. Praying it would not be the same sort of dismissal she had received the last time she had read a note from Sylvanas left there. Her nervousness was unfounded:
My darling:
Unless I have been abruptly called away, I am in the Royal Quarter. You may find me there if you wish. You may explore Undercity if you find that interesting, but do be cautious.
-Lady Sylvanas Windrunner
It was when Jaina got up to find her wayward clothes that she noticed something was wrong. As she swung her legs over the side of the bed, she yawned and stretched. It so happened that she opened one eye first while she stretched, keeping one eye closed, and she could see nothing out of the open eye.
At first, she did not panic; she rubbed her eyes vigorously, hoping the effect was temporary. But when she covered one eye and then the other, it was obvious that she could no longer see out of her left eye. When she got up, she was unsteady on her feet, and her hands shook as she dressed herself. While she could see, she wasn't used to having poor depth perception, and she found herself reaching for things and her hand going to the wrong place. As soon as she was dressed, she was tempted to hurry to the Royal Quarter, but she stilled herself with the thought that it might be possible to fix her eye with some healing magic. She rummaged through the table next to Sylvanas' bed; it seemed to be mostly decorative, but in the bottom drawer was a flask of mulled cloudberry cider mixed with healing potion. Jaina managed to get it uncorked and downed it in two swallows. When she waited for it to take effect and her vision did not improve, she bolted to the Royal Quarter where Sylvanas was giving orders and discussing matters of Undercity with other Forsaken. Jaina waited her turn, but when Sylvanas was ready for her, she was trembling so hard she could barely stand.
"Lady Proudmoore." Sylvanas tilted her head inquisitively. "Is something troubling you?"
"I've lost vision in my left eye."
Sylvanas beckoned Jaina to her. "Show me."
Jaina stepped closer and let Sylvanas examine her eye. Jaina had expected only a visual inspection, but Sylvanas removed her armored gloves to carefully take hold of Jaina's chin and turn her head to one side and then the other. "What do you see?" Jaina whispered.
"One of your eyes is much brighter than the other. The left one is the brighter one." Sylvanas tilted her head to one side, her face inscrutable. "Am I to assume you've tried drinking healing potion?"
"I found the cider in your night table. It didn't help."
"I was afraid of that." Sylvanas took her hands away from Jaina's face.
An idea occurred to Jaina that made her feel as if the bottom of her stomach had fallen out "I'm not a healer, but…considering what initially caused this change to my eye, I wonder if…if this is a result of the mana bomb. Considering how it took time to manifest, it might…might be degenerative," Jaina managed, trying to keep her voice level partly because Forsaken had started gathering nearby and staring curiously (as far as she could tell; not all of them had intact faces).
Sylvanas was still as the statue of herself in Brill for a moment. "You were on the other side of a portal. You were safe. And yet…" Sylvanas trailed off, seemingly thinking of the implications of their discussion.
Jaina swallowed hard. "I should get home. I should see a healer…"
"Wait." Sylvanas touched Jaina's arm. "I know you need security right now. I'm certain you want to hurry home, and I know Vereesa will do everything in her power to fix the arcane damage to your eye. But if this is indeed from the mana bomb, Vereesa and your other Alliance friends cannot quickly contact the bomb's manufacturer to see if they know anything about this side effect. I can."
Jaina bit her lip for a moment, thinking. "If you think you can help me, I will stay."
"Very well." Sylvanas turned to the Dreadguards in attendance and began shouting orders in Gutterspeak. She spoke to the banshee beside her as well, who gave her a startled look but floated off hastily through the ceiling. Jaina was about to inquire as to what she had said, but Sylvanas squeezed her arm. "Get to the Apothecarium. There are signs showing the way. Once you get there, get to the back area where the Abominations are assembled. Sharlindra should be there ahead of you and have told the apothecaries you were arriving, but wait and do not let them so much as touch a hair on your head until I get there, especially Apothecary Keever. Don't even let him look at you. Tell them it will be an arrow through their eye sockets if they disobey; they will know that came from me. I will be along as soon as I hear that the goblins have successfully been contacted. Do you understand?"
Jaina took a deep breath. "I would prefer to stay at your side, but I will go."
"You may be disturbed by some of what you see in the Apothecarium. Try to stay calm and wait for me. Explain to the apothecaries what has happened to your arm…and make sure they take notes."
The chamber was now empty but for Sylvanas, as whatever Sylvanas had said had caused the curious spectators to scurry off. "Kiss for good luck?" Jaina whispered.
Sylvanas tilted her head forward and kissed Jaina hard. "Now go. I will be along as soon as I can."
Jaina nodded and hurried out. There was a Dreadguard waiting for her outside the Royal Quarter's main chamber; he was immensely tall for a Forsaken, and she flinched when he reached for her arm.
"Forgive me, Lady." He spoke in slow, simplistic Common and then crossed his arms over his chest, which Jaina took to be some Forsaken gesture of deference or at least respect. "I am Dreadguard Darnell. I have been assigned to escort you to the Apothecarium."
"Oh. Thank you. But…isn't it just down the hall?"
"It is. But with respect, Lady Proudmoore, you are an Alliance leader navigating the Undercity."
"Fair enough." Jaina followed the Dreadguard led her down the corridor, through the Apothecarium, and to a small side chamber next to the alchemist's shop. The stench inside was almost overpowering; an intense, pungent chemical smell with an undertone of rotten meat. Jaina resisted the temptation to hold her nose and looked around.
It was very obviously the room Sylvanas had described, the one where the Abominations were assembled; bloated, pale-skinned body parts hung from meat hooks on the ceiling. Nearly-completed Abominations missing various limbs were strapped to stone tables in the center of the chamber. A small group of Horde humanoids were standing around the tables, including a Tauren and…
The orc overseer lifted his massive axe and shouted something in a language she didn't know; Orcish. She understood a few words of Orcish thanks to Thrall (enough to get the gist of what Sylvanas had said too the other Horde leaders in Orgrimmar all those months ago), and she was briefly confused at hearing the words for "victory" and "what" until she remembered that "what the lok'tar" was an idiomatic expression of extreme disbelief. It was very easy to understand, however, that he was asking about her presence.
Dreadguard Darnell apparently spoke much better Orcish than he did Common. Jaina heard both her name and Sylvanas'. At the mention of Sylvanas' name, the orc lowered his axe, but he glared at Jaina with his lip curled in disgust.
"Do you need me to stay, Lady?"
Jaina eyed the orc, who seemed to be taking out his frustration by snarling at a nearby apothecary. The other occupants of the apothecarium sub-chamber were staring at her with what looked like curiosity, but most of them eyed the towering Dreadguard beside her and returned to their work. Sylvanas had mentioned an Apothecary Keever and that she should stay away from him, so she turned to Dreadguard Darnell and whispered, "Which one is Apothecary Keever?"
Darnell had to stoop more than usual (few Forsaken walked with straight backs) to whisper back to her. "He is not here. He has his own room, that way." He pointed. Jaina turned her attention to the doorway, and now that her attention was off the sudden attention she had garnered, she could hear someone muttering to himself in Gutterspeak as well as sobbing in the background. Shuddering, she turned away and looked around for something to distract her, and was pleasantly surprised to see a bookshelf in one corner. She walked over, and the Dreadguard followed not too far behind her. "May I?" she said to the Forsaken woman closest to the bookshelf.
"Oh, go ahead." The woman gestured at the shelf.
"You speak Common?" Jaina tried not to stare at the symmetrical holes in the woman's face, one large one on each cheek as if they had been made for cosmetic purposes and had not been formed by natural decomposition.
"Yes. Forsaken do; those who spoke Common before death and who haven't forgotten. Some lose the memory of the tongue they spoke in life, you know. Most of our books are in Common, as Gutterspeak isn't very frequently written down except for letters or other messages."
"You don't say." Her natural intellectual curiosity piqued, Jaina selected a book at random; it appeared to be a collection of folk wisdoms about health and wellness, but trying to read the cover made her remember with a jolt that one of her eyes wasn't working.
The Forsaken woman didn't notice her distress and continued. "If my brother and I ever manage to finish setting up Undercity Library, the Gutterspeak section will be small, but reportedly there are a few people writing down stories in Gutterspeak or translating them from Common or Orcish, so we'll try to get as much as possible."
Jaina momentarily forgot her eye. "You're working on a library? In Undercity?"
The woman nodded. "My brother Orvynn and I. Neither of us are particularly adept fighters and both of us were scholars before death, so I started as an apothecary initiate and my brother went into enchanting. But we're starting a collection for the Undercity Library."
Jaina turned her head slightly to the side, wondering if her vision would seem more normal if she only used her working eye. "You also seem to be the only person who isn't shocked that I'm here."
The woman sniffed, or might have sniffed if she could produce more mucus. "Orvynn and I may spend plenty of time traveling in search of new books to add to the collection, but we deal in information. Not to mention my friend Permanganette had run out of Xavren's thorn and was running off to get some more when she saw you come out of the royal quarter. You then asked her to bring you drawing supplies."
"So it isn't as much of an open secret as I'm fearing."
"Gossip is not a common Forsaken pastime, so I doubt it. The appearance of an Alliance leader—one who sleeps in the bed of the Dark Lady—is immensely unusual, but it was obvious that our queen wanted us to keep quiet about it."
"Ah." Searching for something to say, Jaina's mind turned to the courteous scripts that all nobility had to memorize. "I don't believe I caught your name."
"I didn't throw it. Ziadosia Splinterwell at your service, Lady Proudmoore."
Jaina was about to offer a meaningless pleasantry and then ask more about the formation of the Undercity Library when she heard Deathguard Darnell's voice greeting Sylvanas. Jaina whipped around, her conversation with Ziadosia forgotten.
Maybe it was the way Sylvanas carried herself. Maybe it was the contradiction between her state of undeath and her undeniable beauty. But when Jaina laid eyes on Sylvanas, the entire rest of the world fell away. Before she could even think of restraining herself, she had her arms wrapped around Sylvanas' waist, face pressed to her lover's neck.
"My darling." Sylvanas' voice was so quiet no one else could hear it; with barely a pause, she continued, speaking loudly in Gutterspeak first and then translating for Jaina's benefit. "I hope I am wrong in assuming Lady Proudmoore is seeking comfort because she was mistreated?"
Both Dreadguard Darnell and Ziadosia replied in Common. "I watched her carefully" came from the Dreadguard, and "I was telling her about the Undercity Library project" came from Ziadosia.
Realizing how unbecoming it would be for Sylvanas to embrace her in front of so many of her subjects, Jaina let go of her lover. "Where should I go?"
Sylvanas gave orders in Orcish, but it was too quick for Jaina to understand much of it. The apothecaries began clearing off a nearby surface used for experiments, including what Jaina hoped were cleaning solutions. "You may lie down," she said to Jaina in Common, removing her cloak and draping it over the bench. In response to the murmurs that resulted from that gesture, Sylvanas spoke in Orcish—slower this time, presumably for Jaina's sake, seeing as she could only understand rudimentary Orcish, and having it spoken slowly helped—saying something along the lines of "Forgive me if I do not trust the apothecaries' cleanliness standards to be anything like those for living beings."
Jaina climbed into the surface and lay down slowly so she wouldn't strike her head. Sylvanas carefully gathered the cloth beneath her head, trying to provide a cushion; this time she had no response for the ensuing mutters. "Comfortable?" Sylvanas asked softly in Common. It took Jaina a moment to realize what she Sylvanas saying; she used a particularly archaic synonym, and Jaina wondered if that particular word for "comfortable" had found its way into Gutterspeak as a loanword.
"Perhaps I'd feel better if you brought me a flagon of purified spring water."
"Would you want me to taste it first?"
Jaina managed a smile. "My love…"
"I know you're frightened. Will you permit one of the apothecaries to examine your eye?"
Jaina closed her eyes and did not respond. "I am certainly frightened."
"I won't be going anywhere."
"I will permit it."
Sylvanas nodded curtly. She got up and spoke to one of the apothecaries, again in fairly slow Orcish. "Lady Proudmoore has given her consent. Apothecary Zinge, examine her left eye. Tell me exactly what you find, and speak Common so she can understand you."
"Yes, your majesty. My spoken Common is weak, but I will try." The apothecary Sylvanas had spoken to was a woman in the dark robes of the Royal Apothecary Society with a straw-colored hairdo that seemed to completely defy gravity. Her face had rotted into an unnerving grimace and her nose was a gaping hole, but Jaina still felt somewhat relieved that Sylvanas had chosen the female apothecary to examine her. The male apothecary made a noise of protest, but Sylvanas cut him off. "With all due respect, Master Apothecary Faranell, a lower jaw is required to speak Common."
The man Sylvanas had addressed shrugged in accession, but shuffled over to watch the procedure. The female apothecary was holding several delicate-looking metal tools that also seemed mercifully clean; Jaina found herself wondering just how specific Sylvanas had been when it came to the various orders she had recently issued to the RAS.
"A moment." Sylvanas held up a hand in Apothecary Zinge's direction. "Has Lady Proudmoore informed you of what afflicts her eye?"
"No, my queen," replied Zinge.
"Please forgive me," Jaina whispered. "I was distracted."
"By books. Naturally," said Sylvanas lowly in Common. "Master Apothecary Faranell, Apothecary Zinge, you will write down everything she says."
"With respect, Your Majesty," said Ziadosia, "may I offer a suggestion?"
Sylvanas gave a brief nod. "Speak, Ziadosia."
"With mine and my brother's work on the Undercity Library, I have become very quick-handed at writing. I could also provide a translation into Common if Apothecary Zinge is uncomfortable speaking it."
"Very well. Ziadosia, you will take notes. As will you, Apothecary Zinge, since you are to be the one examining Lady Proudmoore, you will also take notes."
Ziadosia snatched up a notebook and writing instrument from her bookshelf; Apothecary Zinge did the same. Master Apothecary Faranell looked rather disgruntled, or as much so as a person with no lower jaw could, but he had not been dismissed, so he only hung back slightly.
"When you are ready, Neph'a," urged Sylvanas in a quiet voice.
Jaina reached for her hand, wrapping her fingers around Sylvanas' forearm, since her armored gloves covered her hand and wrist. "I narrowly survived the destruction of Theramore by a mana bomb. I have lost vision in one of—in my left eye, and a healing potion has done nothing. I am concerned that the mana bomb may have caused arcane damage to my eye…and as the effect was not immediate, I am concerned that it may be degenerative."
Ziadosia scribbled furiously as if trying to take down every word; Zinge looked to be writing bullet points. Zinge put down her notebook and reached for one of the tools.
Apothecary Zinge spoke in Gutterspeak, and Ziadosia translated: "Open your eyes as wide as you can." Jaina obeyed; Zinge pried back the eyelid of her failing eye with a hook. It was cold and uncomfortable, but not painful.
Despite the lack of pain, Jaina found her mind drifting to thoughts of Sylvanas, of holding her, kissing her. That seemed to be where her mind went when she needed to be comforted instead of focusing on the several undead faces peering at her eye. Zinge asked her to look this way, then that. Jaina obeyed, fighting to remain stoic and hoping it wasn't too obvious that she was clutching Sylvanas' arm.
Zinge shook her head and spoke in rapid Gutterspeak. "Zinge says that she can't know without…surgery," Ziadosia translated, "but she thinks the problem is in the part of your eye connected to the…what's the word…brain. And she is sure there is a kind of damage she has not seen before. She believes your suspicions about the mana bomb may be true."
Sylvanas said something in Gutterspeak that sounded like a foul curse.
"My…brain?" Jaina said as carefully as possible, her heart seeming to hammer against her ribs. She swallowed hard and tried to summon enough Orcish to get across what she wanted to say to Zinge. "Apothecary Zinge, please tell me what the…the harm looks like." She couldn't think of the word for "damage", but Zinge understood and rattled off a succinct, clinical description.
"It sounds as if…as if the damage is arcane, from what Zinge tells me," Jaina managed. "Her description is consistent with the remnants of arcane damage to a landscape."
"Have you ever seen arcane damage of this nature in living flesh?" Sylvanas demanded, and Jaina could have sworn she heard an edge of panic to her voice. Jaina couldn't help but wonder if Sylvanas didn't want to believe that the injury truly was from the mana bomb.
"No," Jaina admitted. "I have never had the opportunity to see the effects of a mana bomb on survivors…I don't understand how I could have been affected from the other side of the portal, but perhaps with the use of the Focusing Iris…"
Sylvanas spoke in a low, harsh voice, again in Gutterspeak that sounded like invective. Jaina caught a mention of Garrosh.
"It makes no sense. Could there be any other explanation?" Sylvanas demanded, apparently to Zinge. Jaina couldn't understand the reply exactly, but it sounded like she said "I don't know."
"We will not hear from Thalen Songweaver until at least tomorrow," Sylvanas said, almost to herself.
"Songweaver," Jaina whispered. "The traitor."
"He won't know why I am asking about the mana bomb," said Sylvanas coldly. "He'll likely assume I am plotting to use such weapons instead of…well. Let him wonder. But he was the one who engineered the mana bomb. He may know of the repercussions of empowering it with the Focusing Iris."
A low moan issued forth from Jaina's throat, and she briefly imagined the destruction of Orgrimmar the way she had plotted it. Hellscream had done this to her, and Songweaver, as if the decimation of her home and the murder of her apprentice weren't enough…
"Neph'a. Are you here?"
Her hand had slackened on Sylvanas' forearm. She mentally shook herself and tightened her hand again. "Yes." Jaina sat up and asked Apothecary Zinge if she had concluded her examination in the best Orcish she could manage. Zinge nodded and Jaina stood, feeling strangely weak at the knees.
"As I mentioned, it is unlikely that I will hear from Songweaver until tomorrow at the earliest," said Sylvanas. "Lady Proudmoore…it is up to you whether or not you want to return home immediately, but I would suggest that you remain here until I receive word from Songweaver regarding possible side effects of surviving a mana bombing."
Jaina thought back to earlier when Sylvanas had told her that while Vereesa and Kalec and her other friends would take care of her if she chose to return home, but Sylvanas had access to information about the Horde mana bomb that had destroyed her home and was now destroying her sight.
"I will remain here."
Sylvanas nodded. "Accommodations will be provided for you. Apothecary Zinge, thank you for your expertise. Ziadosia, thank you for taking notes. Store them somewhere safe. Lady Proudmoore…come with me."
Sylvanas escorted Jaina back to her bedchamber in silence. As soon as they were alone, Sylvanas discarded her armored gloves and cradled Jaina's face in her hands.
"Are you afraid for me?" Jaina asked.
Sylvanas snickered bitterly. "Is it so obvious?"
"Only to me." Jaina wrapped her arms around Sylvanas. "Hold me."
Sylvanas did, tightly. "I'm afraid there is nothing more we can do, although…I would be remiss if I did not suggest attempting a form of healing other than a potion."
Jaina nestled her head against the cold, soft skin of Sylvanas' neck. "One moment. Please?"
Sylvanas sifted one hand through Jaina's hair. "One moment," she agreed.
Eventually Jaina felt ready to let go and Sylvanas led her back to the Apothecarium to see Mala Skywatcher and Mahala Cloudsong, two Taurens who trained druids and shamans respectively. Neither of their healing skills were able to affect Jaina's eye. Sylvanas was outwardly impassive, but slammed her fist into a wall the moment she and Jaina had privacy.
"My love…" Jaina reached for Sylvanas' arm, trying to calm her.
"I loathe not knowing," Sylvanas whispered hotly. "This affliction could be permanent. It could be degenerative. And there is no way of knowing…if the intelligence I have received is accurate, even the sin'dorei are not certain of the exact workings of mana bombs. I would have expected better from my former people. They are elves, not little feckless green explosion-happy goblins…"
Under different circumstances, Jaina might have laughed. As it was, she took Sylvanas' hand, searching for words that wouldn't come. "I appreciate your concern," she tried. "Am I to stay with you tonight?"
"If you wish. The inn is not suitable for living beings, but I could arrange something."
Jaina cleared her throat. "I would much prefer to stay with you."
"I would prefer that as well."
Jaina leaned against Sylvanas and was drawn into another embrace. "What am I to do during the day?" she queried.
"I would caution you against wandering the Undercity. The nature of our relationship is not universally known among my people. I have no doubt that you can defend yourself, but I presently have no stomach for dealing with Forsaken who might attack you. But perhaps I could arrange for an escort to bring you to the Undercity Library, where you might assist the Splinterwell siblings in their efforts."
"I'd like that," Jaina murmured. "To witness the birth of a library, and such a unique one…"
"And of course I will arrange for food to be brought to you. Food suitable for a living human."
"Thank you."
Sylvanas herself ended up being the one to escort Jaina to the beginnings of the Undercity Library; she hoped her presence would get the message across that Jaina was to be treated as a guest despite her position as an Alliance leader. The volunteers working on the library all genuflected when Sylvanas entered the room and assured her that Jaina would indeed be treated as a guest. Ziadosia Splinterwell, for her part, said that guests were not exempt from helping with the library setup if they chose to volunteer. Jaina could have sworn that Sylvanas almost smiled at that before departing for the Royal Quarter.
Ziadosia introduced Jaina to her brother Orvynn, who looked even more haggard than most Forsaken. "We need all the help we can get," he said. "I understand you have a passion for knowledge, Lady Proudmoore."
Jaina smiled at that. "I do."
"Do you have a passion for organizing nonfiction books by topic? Because we're having a Twisting Nether of a time with that," said Ziadosia.
Jaina laughed. "You don't mince words, do you?"
"Few Forsaken do," said Ziadosia with a grim smile. "Especially when it comes to matters of our library. There was a raging debate over organization of the nonfiction. Many of us still remember some of the system used by humans, and some of us clung to it and some of us hated it. We ended up compromising by reorganizing the sections using the old system as a template. If you want, you can help us with the organization of the books in Common. Talk to Ezekiel over by what little we have of our stacks."
Jaina did indeed talk to Ezekiel, who was just as relieved as the Splinterwells to have help. Jaina spent a pleasantly exhausting day in the stacks, and Ezekiel was so glad to have someone helping him—other volunteers tended to gravitate toward fiction or jockey for a coveted position as translator of literature into Gutterspeak—he didn't mind that at times, she just perused titles and looked through books on subjects that were unfamiliar to her. All present seemed to understand that she did not have the tirelessness of the Forsaken, who never grew hungry or tired. Around mealtimes, food was indeed delivered to her, and nobody cared as long as she did not eat in the library. (Not that Jaina would ever even think of doing such a thing.)
Jaina was beginning to tire when Dreadguard Darnell lumbered into the library. "Lady Proudmoore, Her Majesty Sylvanas Windrunner wants to see you. I am to escort you when you are ready." The words had a rehearsed quality to them. Jaina remembered that Darnell's Common was weak.
Jaina picked up a collection of folk songs she had set aside; Ezekiel had already said she could borrow it. "I am ready now." She followed Darnell to the Royal Quarter where Sylvanas spent most of her time in Undercity. Sylvanas received her with cool, regal courtesy, opened a portal to her bedchamber, stepped through with Jaina, and then gathered Jaina into her arms.
"I go so long without even the merest contact with another being, and then when you arrive, I want closeness with you." Sylvanas kissed Jaina's forehead. "It is strange."
"Were you fond of physical closeness in life?" Jaina asked.
"Not particularly. Then again, you are special."
"Why did you bring me from the library?"
"If my calculations about the human circadian rhythm are correct, you should be ready to sleep soon. I thought you would want me to say good night."
"Just say good night?"
Sylvanas laughed softly, once. "No. After today, I believed that you might want to interact with someone you cared for, as my sister and Kalec are unavailable to you."
No matter how many times Jaina thought about it, something about Vereesa and Sylvanas being sisters still felt off to her. "I don't…I don't know if I feel like making love tonight."
"Well, you know I have no issue with that."
"I would like a massage, though, if…if you are willing."
"Willing? Certainly. Able? If I recall, I lacked the sufficient tactile sensitivity to do an especially good job of it."
"You did very well," Jaina protested.
"If you insist."
Jaina led Sylvanas to the bed, where she undressed to the waist. Sylvanas trailed kisses up and down her lover's spine before removing her armored gloves and setting about massaging Jaina's shoulders.
"You don't have to be so gentle," Jaina insisted.
"I am trying not to hurt you. I would rather be careful at first than too rough."
"Mmm. If you insist."
Sylvanas pressed harder, trying to trace the natural lines of Jaina's bones and muscles, hoping she was doing it right. Judging from the noises Jaina was making, she seemed to be doing well enough.
"How does that feel?"
"Wonderful."
"Are you saying that just to mollify me?"
"No. It feels very nice. Your hands are very strong."
"As you've mentioned." Sylvanas slid her hands from the base of Jaina's back up to her shoulders.
Jaina turned over and started removing pieces of Sylvanas' armor. "I've changed my mind."
"Are you asking me to make love to you?"
"Yes."
"Oh, well. If you insist." Sylvanas quickly removed her armor and leaned over to kiss Jaina. Jaina wrapped herself, arms and legs, around her lover. "Why the change of mind, my darling?"
"There is an unusual kind of magic in your hands."
Sylvanas raked her teeth over Jaina's bare shoulder. "I assume you don't mean necromantic magic."
"Seeing as I'm alive, no. I only meant to compliment you."
"I see." Sylvanas nipped at Jaina's neck with the bite-kisses that Jaina loved so much. Jaina slid her hands into Sylvanas' hair. "My dearest…I don't mean to spoil the mood, but I have been thinking."
"What is it?"
Sylvanas caressed Jaina's cheek. "I am concerned that your condition may be degenerative. Apothecary Zinge said that your brain was affected."
Jaina closed her eyes. "Considering that it took time to manifest, you may be right."
"I spoke to Apothecary Zinge. She shares the same concern. I wanted to offer you a solution…but only if…" Sylvanas trailed off.
"Yes?" Jaina pressed.
"I am not prepared to…consider the possibility. But I feel we should discuss it."
"The possibility of what?"
Sylvanas was quiet for a long moment. "The possibility that your affliction is terminal."
Jaina shivered. "I think it is degenerative. I had been rubbing my eyes more than usual before I lost vision in my left eye. But your concern is not misplaced. The affliction is in my brain, so…if it is degenerative."
"I do not want you to suffer." Sylvanas' voice was almost fierce. She lay down beside Jaina. "In the worst case scenario, if it is terminal and causes you suffering, then…I would invite you to join the Forsaken."
Jaina was quiet. Sylvanas continued.
"You could train mages. Or continue working in the library. No more political games or pressure, no more temptation to exact revenge on your rivals. You would be safe in the Undercity. You would be able to study all you want."
Jaina turned onto her side and nuzzled close to Sylvanas. "I…I cannot make such a decision until such time as I need to."
Sylvanas held Jaina tightly. "I have seen what lies beyond death. I believe there is no reason to pray. But if I did, I would pray that it does not come to that."
Jaina began to cry. "Be careful, Banshee Queen. Keep talking like that and I'll start believing you're in love with a prominent member of the Alliance."
Sylvanas sighed, a habitual, voluntary movement of the lungs left over from when she was alive. "There doesn't seem to be any point in denying that."
A/N: How long has it been? Shamefully long. Anyway, I have graduated with a master's (the PhD I was going for didn't happen because of…reasons I don't want to go into) and am writing things besides my thesis again.