Chapter 47: Recall and Reconciliation
Chapter 47: Recall and Reconciliation

The dead walk the streets! Clutch your ears and abandon all hope of decency, ye whose gates they enter.

The Forsaken finally come to visit Theramore. Nothing is awkward in any sort of way, of course…

Author's Note
I came to think of a detail of Jaina's spells that I have not mentioned previously I think. Shielding spells are not part of the archmage's skills in Warcraft III. However, the experienced bookworms also have more than twice the hit points of their armoured infantry so obviously SOME sort of arcane protection is in place!



"Rangers, attend!"

Ranger Lieutenant Kalira was honestly looking much tamer when you barged into her sessions of council meetings with her ranger captain and queen, than when she scrutinized the small but proper formation of her dark rangers. Runar unconsciously straightened himself and tried to look over his boots with one eye.

"Your personal guard ranger squadron, Right Hand of the Queen, Master…" Kalira frowned. "…actually, I have to apologise for never asking about your last name."

"Just Runar will be just fine." Runar hurriedly assured her.

"Rune-ear." Lenara half whispered. "Your Handiness."

"Run-er. A fast one." Nara mused absently.

"The rangers I command rank among the greatest fighters ever to come out of Quel'thalas. They are also incorrigible delinquents and bickering mongrels all. I will expect a representative of the king of Khaz Modan to set an example for them and conduct himself accordingly."

"Of course. Always."

"We will set out south towards Ambermill and Dalaran shortly. The territory we pass through should be considered…contested ground, and I will hold command of this expedition as well as our outposts and armies operating alongside Lordamere Lake. In short, so long as you follow the Dark Lady's orders you follow my orders."

"Don't worry." Nara mumbled from behind. "Last time we had a living squad member he made it through with all limbs attached."

"And…we'll try to be a little friendlier this time…" Lenara promised.

"Don't get captured by the enemy though, then Kalira will break your bones when you return." Cyndia mumbled from the corner of her mouth.

"That is correct." Kalira confirmed, strict and curt as anyone could ever be. "Should you have any ideas of getting yourself wounded or missing on my watch you would do well to strike them from your mind, Emissary Runar. And the same goes for you, Ranger Recruit Ratatosk."

Kalira sent the squirrel on Runar's shoulder a stern look.

"Now I believe we all have preparations to make. Squadron dismissed."

"Are you that?" Runar asked Velonara. "Incorrigible delinquents and bickering mongrels?"

"Woof."



***​



The Lordaeron snow was dancing in the air. Cyndia stood with her squadron by their boat and waited for their newest member to be ready to embark. Or their two newest members, Cyndia corrected herself dutifully. Ratatosk was not to be forgotten! Velonara had packed an entire sack of nuts and an inordinate amount of blankets for the squirrel. Taken together with their regular gear and tent canvas, lanterns for warmth and even a small stack of firewood the living might make a living onboard. Or whatever…

Their old boat was considerably improved. The hull was reinforced, the planks tarred, and they even had a mast! Fancy that. A boat with a mast, truly a wonder to behold.

Something that was an actual wonder, or quirk if you preferred, was the pair of sturdy beams underneath with curious metal runners furthest out along with the one underneath the rudder. Their boat was nothing less than an ice boat.

It was Jaina's idea, of course. Trust these crazy Kul Tirans to come up with a way to keep sailing even in the middle of winter.

Cyndia could learn to like this...winter thing. It was quiet and the sorry landscape was beautiful when the snow lit up the night. Serene, in its own way.

If the whole construction worked and the winds were with them they could sail along the western shore of Lordamere Lake and inspect all the Forsaken positions along the way, much freer than if Jaina had portaled them directly to Ambermill or some other fortified spot. The Naras had bet heavily against the Mirrahs that their squadron would break Amoras' cross-lake record from the summer.

In the worst case, if the ice would not hold them the boat was still a boat after all.

Apparently the dwarves had been sailing before (they only got stranger the more you got to know them) and were almost as crazy about trying out this new method of transportation. They had quibbled and nitpicked about the supplies for this expedition and Runar and Ratatosk particularly, and were now threatening each other with gruesome vengeance if the other one would allow himself to get so much as a scratch.

"They are just like you, Noble Commander." Cyndia said lightly to Kalira. "Runar will fit right in."

Kalira tried to glare at her, but she had lost her sting nowadays.

Finally the dwarves parted ways and Velonara cried promises to Halvdan that they promised to look after his friend. Amora's squadron returned similar oaths when they waved to them from the shore.

Runar hoisted the sail and adjusted the angle, or 'tacking' or something that the crab peoples called it. The wind buffeted the canvas and then it filled, and they begun to move. And more than move.

"Yihooo! Hold on to your tail, Ratatosk!" Velonara squealed from the bow where she had claimed the position as lookout.

Cyndia leaned back contently. Velonara was happy again. And Anya was happy to go to Theramore.

Cyndia would really like to see that place too. Some time. She was not too keen on cities after all.

But first she really had to go take a look at how Dalaran was doing. Would there be enough forage now with the deep snow? Were their stableboys warm?

"Can we raise more sail, Captain?"

Hoist. Hoist more sail, damn it.



***


Jaina watched with equal parts excitement and apprehension as the column of Forsaken neared the gates of Theramore. She was standing with a detachment of city guards by the side of the road to welcome their guests, and to demonstrate to everyone who was looking that they were indeed guests and nothing else.

One full ranger company, eight squadrons along with company staff, together with twice as many civilian Forsaken. Mostly civilian, anyway. One or two guardsmen and common soldiers would be found in the crowd here and there but not in their professional capacity. Still they could prove good to have to impress Theramore's city guard, where the majority would find dark rangers harder to relate to. And Baron Frostfel would be…hard to miss. They would all be making their way through Theramore's modest blocks of houses to the city square where Jaina would formally welcome everyone. After that she assumed that most would want to promptly return to their encampment outside.

The Forsaken lodgings had been a tricky problem to solve, and in truth they had not solved it so much as come to a decision that they were reasonably certain was the best they would be able to come up with.

Forsaken did not require shelter in the same way as the living did, just as they had no need for food or air in the same way. But treating them as some sort of tools that could be left on their own until the next day was of course not an option either. Some manner of comforts and basic dignity had to be offered as well as displayed if the undead people would ever be seen as people and not just undead.

Compounding, but also simplifying, the issue was the fact that Theramore was crowded as it was. Even with the rapid growth during the last year the city was far from completed and a not insignificant part of its inhabitants lived in temporary housing that Jaina hoped could be replaced as soon as possible. The good thing was that since the city was full anyway, there would not have to be any debating of whether undead could be allowed to live next-door to the citizens inside the walls. There was simply no room at the moment, be the visitors living or dead.

So the Forsaken would encamp on their own outside the city walls. The segregated position and the squalid state of a lot of the things they possessed would not be impressive, but Sylvanas and Areiel would ensure that the encampment would at least be kept in meticulous order. Even if it might give off an air of an occupational force it was better than just looking like a band of tramps and beggars.

"If the question is raised, anyone is free to blame me and Areiel and our militaristic habits." Sylvanas had offered with a small hint of ironic humour. "Though in truth it may be beneficial that our respective peoples can get used to each other from a distance at first. I can honestly not say what sort of reactions we should expect. "

"No, seeing you for the first time can be a bit...overwhelming." Jaina cleared her throat. She had meant the Forsaken in general, of course. She was at least almost quite sure that she had.

"Not everyone can be counted on being so generous and adaptive when encountering us for the first time as their Lady." It was as if Sylvanas wanted to smile, but at the last moment remembered herself and that she was not entitled to be amusing or relaxed in Jaina's presence. A tense sort of awkwardness still hung over them both like a wet blanket when they were on their own.

Like it usually did when two people had argued badly and were afraid to do so again.

"I have picked only rangers for protection because they are the only ones I know well enough to trust personally. Or I believe I know them well enough in any case." Sylvanas had always been frank but this was a different tinge of earnestness, that sounded almost as an anxiousness to be believed. "These are most of the gentler ranger squadrons, apart from Amora's and Kalira's. They are the most likely to be able to supervise things without appearing too grim about it or losing their composure. And they have volunteered like all the others."

"I have no objections. I trust you've made an excellent assessment of whom to bring."

"You do?"

"Of course. You're the Dark Lady." Jaina tried to smile reassuringly but she feared it turned out mostly nervous. "It's a good thing there aren't more of you right now anyway, because the city square will be packed tight enough."

"My people are used to confined spaces for the most part. And my rangers tend to be close to one another whether they need to or not."

"So I have noticed." Now Jaina managed to smile for real. Sylvanas mirrored that. A little bit. Where was her usual confident self? Her real self? "I intend to appoint Pained as supervisor and liaison of our new auxiliary contingent. I got the impression that she could be someone the rangers will respect."

"The obvious choice." Sylvanas agreed. "Just remind her not to expect obedience to come with respect. Something tells me that she and Areiel will have a lot to talk about sooner rather than later."

So here Jaina now was, trying to project confidence with her stomach filled with giant moths. They were actually doing this. Sylvanas, the Forsaken Banshee Queen, coming to visit and stay in her city for an extended time. Hopefully, so long as no new disaster appeared to interrupt it all. They would check in with the Undercity each day through Jaina's portals.

The Banshee Queen cared nothing for false pretences. She walked, at the head of her column of rangers heading the ranks of Forsaken, and commanded respect by the undeniable confidence she displayed and the assuredness of her posture. Just as the first time Jaina had seen her sitting on the throne in the Lordaeron Keep, she was struck by how unnecessary and silly a crown would look on her. A meaningless trinket, a toy out of place when put next to the real thing. The baron rode just behind her, the only one mounted. He looked imposing as always in full armour, no doubt painstakingly polished for the occasion, but Jaina fully expected him to bend down to listen at the first command of his queen.

Thank the Tides that Baron Frostfel looked so unlike Arthas, too. The more of his boasting manners that shone through the better it would be. Anything to distinguish this death knight from the spiteful and sneering prince.

Jaina straightened herself and stepped forward. Sylvanas held up a hand to stop her column and bowed with graceful flourish that Jaina tried to match.

"Lady Proudmoore."

"Lady Windrunner. Welcome to Theramore, all of you."

"We were in the neighbourhood." Sylvanas said flippantly.

Jaina flashed a grimace in her direction and tried to look annoyed but it only managed to elicit a wry quirk of the Dark Lady's mouth in return.

We were in the neighbourhood.

This was serious, for Tides' sake. Honestly.

Jaina turned to walk next to Sylvanas looking as dignified as possible. She briefly wondered if she should offer the Dark Lady her arm but discarded the idea. It would be very proper and ladylike, but Sylvanas wasn't really the kind of lady you escorted through gates. Not when she was wearing her ranger armour anyway.

It looked well polished too, by the way.

"Lieutenant Hornblower. Your men look formidable in their armour too." Sylvanas said just then.

Jaina had to force herself not to make another face as the lieutenant and his detachment stiffened and looked like they did not quite know how to look. Jaina fully understood the feeling.

It was only a short way to the city square and if anyone had cared for such things, the avenue leading directly from the gates was flanked by the most completed houses. It was of necessity as much as anything else that they had prioritized this part so that the major lane of transporting goods inside would not be clogged by construction materials. Though Jaina found herself being a little proud of how tidy this part of her small city looked.

The street was not deserted, but there were few people outside and all kept their distance. Warily. Theramorian city guards were posted at every corner, which could be viewed as a gesture of respect - an honour guard – but their presence inevitably underlined the seriousness of the situation. There was no way around that.

Jaina's mood fell when she saw the closed shutters and locked doors, and what she imagined was dark glances from the sides.

What if she was wrong, and just now making the greatest mistake she ever could? No, that was a nightmare come to haunt her and nothing more, just as the same nightmares haunted Sylvanas. That was like…like a fear of your lover choosing someone else over you despite every proof of the contrary, or fearing that your little brother would fall off a cliff when playing. You just feared it because it would be so terrible, not because you had reason to think it likely. That was that.

The city square became just as crowded as Jaina had expected. Even more, when living Theramorians bunched up on one side and the Forsaken naturally filled the space on the other. Jaina led the way to the entrance of the city hall, where the three steps to the doors offered a little elevation for herself and the Forsaken leadership.

Jaina swallowed. Yes.

She had addressed a Forsaken crowd once before. And Theramore's citizens on many occasions.

"Ci –" Her voice faltered and she had to clear her throat. "Citizens of Theramore and Lordaeron. I am honoured to welcome the Forsaken to our city this day. I hope you will enjoy your stay…"

No, what was she thinking, she was not a tavernkeep!

"…and I am sure we can be of help to one another."

Tides, that sounded so paltry. Were they going to be useful, again?

"I…I know this is difficult. I did not… personally set a very good example when I first met the Forsaken. But we shouldn't be divided. It is not by choice that we are. None of us asked for what happened and the blame lies with the Lich King and the Scourge…"

Her eyes fell on Sylvanas. Tense, probably clenching her jaws thinking of Jaina's words. Relentless and determined despite anything the Lich King would throw in her path.

"We are stronger together. We need to stand together."

Was it still the crowd she was addressing?

She had better be, if she hoped to convince anyone. It did not really look like she was doing a grand job so far.

"It has been my privilege to live and fight alongside the Forsaken queen Sylvanas Windrunner –" Jaina half turned to indicate Sylvanas "– and her dark rangers. They have saved my life several times. And Sylvanas' personal ranger squadron, which became my squadron, kept me fed and took care of me when I was wounded and ill. They…they are really the nicest you could ask for…"

Jaina guessed that her voice had softened so that everybody would notice by now.

"They're all here. Except Kitthix, who is Lyana's pet spider. Lyana is the nurse of the group. And tailor. But don't get sick because then she will feed you fish soup…"

Tides, now Jaina was rambling.

But Sylvanas was coming to her rescue.

"Lady Proudmoore has returned every effort in kind. It is thanks to her that I still have a city and a people to govern. I could not wish for a better ally." Sylvanas stepped forward and took over the scene as she let her gaze sweep over the crowd. "What was done to us was something no one should deserve. Our lives, our will and our honour was stolen by the Lich King's will. We are monsters and no pretending otherwise will change that. Not a day goes by when it does not haunt us."

It reminded Jaina very much of the speech before the Kirin Tor Council, only Sylvanas was much more dispassionate now. Or just simply calmer, because she did in no way appear indifferent. Solemn, maybe that was the better term.

"We do not ask for the understanding or acceptance of anyone. Only to be seen as what we are instead of what the Scourge made us into." She almost dared anyone to shout that those two things were the same. "There are about a hundred and fifty of us with me, those who volunteered to come in search of lost family and for other reasons. To that purpose we will see to it to compile lists of names of those that are with me, since there are few of us who look like our old selves."

Sylvanas waved Areiel forward.

"There are forty-six rangers with me, who will assist Theramore's guard in patrolling the surrounding lands and whatever other capacity is needed. Ranger Captain Areiel will hold command of the company and coordinate efforts with Lady Pained."

Lady Pained. Jaina had to admit it sounded a bit more impressive than 'Miss Pained' as the dark rangers had taken to calling her.

"The rest of us are artisans, craftsmen, farmers and farmhands. We are those who did not make it out alive. And we are ready to lend help to an ally who require it." Sylvanas let that sink in and then called the baron forward. "Baron Frostfel, commander of my deathguard, has also volunteered his services as instructor of heavy infantry and cavalry."

"Zat is right. We must ztand as one and be prepared for ze day we drive ze Scourge from our world." Baron Frostfel stated resolutely, straight as a (heavily armoured) post with his helmet under his arm. "I would be honoured to draw my blade next to ze defenders of Lady Proudmoore's fair city and…and…"

Like Sylvanas, the Baron had let his gaze sweep across his audience. Unlike Sylvanas', his had stopped, to linger on one of the Theramorian guards on one side who now seemed halfway about to retreat out of sight.

"Rodrick?"

He took the stairs in one step and before anyone thought of uttering a word he was ploughing through the gathered Forsaken who hurriedly bunched up to get out of the way.

"Rodrick…is zat…"

Jaina hurried after the Baron. She had never heard him speak like that. Awestruck. Elated. Afraid. Afraid to be mistaken.

"Rodrick…"

The city guard had bowed his head so deeply that Jaina was sure the Baron was right. But why he would seek to hide his face in this manner she could not divine. Finally he relented, or resigned, and painfully slowly looked up in the manner of someone expecting a hail storm to break out. Or perhaps if someone had dented Ranger Lieutenant Kalira's favourite sword.

"My Lord Baron, Sir…"

No more did he manage before Baron Frostfel had caught him in a crushing bear hug that Jaina was absolutely sure made the Alliance footman plates groan and buckle.

"Rodrick, my boy…"

Oh.

Jaina wanted to be able to teleport the rest of the city away, or summon a small wall of ice that could somehow be made to fit inside the overcrowded square. Even just standing here felt way too intrusive.

"…you got out…you got out… Baron Frostfel mumbled while he released Rodrick enough to look him over, but the guardsman only tried to avert his eyes even more when hearing that.

"I ran." He said it tonelessly. He confessed it, Jaina realised.

"Then…then I held ze gates for something!" the Baron burst out, sounding like he was on the verge of tears.

Had he been alive, Jaina was sure she should have offered him a handkerchief or something like it. Now she just lingered in the periphery in a slightly awkward position, until Baron Frostfel turned around when the rest of the world had finally caught up with him.

"Zis is Rodrick, my squire. From...before. And, look...look at you! Sergeant, in ze Lady Proudmoore's guard?" the Baron looked him over more like a proud father than a knight.

"They - we, uh, were short on men with formal training."

"Zat iz ze way. Pass what you have learned unto others, and raise zeir spirits higher by your example, zat it how a knight should conduct himself... I mean, not Raise raise zem, in zat way of course! Zat is, uh..."

Jaina couldn't help it, she had to clamp down with both hands to not break out in giggles. The underlying circumstances were terrible and tragic, the references sometimes morbid, but all these Forsaken intentional or accidental puns and misspeaks would in the end leave you capitulating before the sheer grim absurdity of it all. Jaina blamed her own nervousness on some part too.

Necromantic puns as well as the good Baron's accent were also two excellent ways to annoy certain Dark Ladies, thinking of nothing in particular. Jaina swallowed the rest of her lack of propriety and needlessly smoothened out her robes. It was high time to steer this introduction back on it's proper course -

"...beast!" A high-pitched voice resounded from - of course - the other end of the city square and Jaina found all thoughts of orderly continuation shelved in favour of once more squeezing through the rows of Forsaken spectators with Sylvanas right behind her.

"Fiend!"

Jaina sighed and briefly closed her eyes. She had a very distinct idea of who that voice belonged to.

On the other end was a small space left by the throng of spectators and in it a particularly withered Forsaken in front of an elderly, but rather formidable, lady with a prodigious hat and a cup of tea wielded in one hand and a stool in the other. A pair of thick, gold-rimmed glasses sat steadily on her sharp nose.

"That would be old Missis Gertrude unless I am very mistaken..." Jaina whispered hurriedly to Sylvanas while trying to get to the front of the crowd. "She can be a bit...batty. She rather chewed me out one time when I gave her those glasses."

"I do not know about 'Gert' but I would definitely agree on 'Rude'." Sylvanas whispered back as she smoothly followed half a graceful step behind Jaina.

The Dark Lady was not wrong, Jaina thought as they came within sight, and well within earshot, of the two interlocutors. She was just about to intervene when Sylvanas stopped her with a held out arm.

"Wait and watch." she whispered into Jaina's ear when Jaina looked questioningly at her.

"Honeycake!"

"Villain!"

"Darling!"

"Monster!"

"Gertrude!"

Jaina's staff almost dropped, and her jaw definitely did, as the old lady stopped in the middle of a wild swing and leaned forward to peer through her imposing spectacles.

"Alfred?"

"Sweetheart!"

"You've been dead for fifteen years." All ferocity had vanished, and it was fifteen hard years that now weighed heavily on Gertrude's creaking voice.

"And frankly, my darling, I don't give a damn."

Sylvanas leaned closer to Jaina as they both watched Alfred offer his wife his arm and both of them walk away, uncaring of High Ladies and Lich Kings alike.

"Perhaps we should consider simply letting the rest of this gathering run its own course?"



***​



It was afternoon. The sky was grey and cloudy over the mismatched but orderly tents and growing sheds and shacks for storage or workshops that were springing up on this exposed spot outside Theramore's walls.

Jaina and a small delegation of sorts of Theramore, mainly Pained and Lieutenant Hornblower and some of the city councillors, were visiting the Forsaken camp as a show of respect as well as to sneak a look at something that they or Sylvanas thought they would need to change.

It was a strange experience, but then most things concerning the undead were either strange or varying degrees of terrible, so strange was quite endurable in Jaina's opinion.

The encampment in itself was as proper as it could be. Situated on an open, if not even, field of sand and stubby grass close to the shoreline it did not take up any valuable patch of land which was a good start. The ground was easy to dig and smoothen if necessary, though the tents and other structures were placed to follow the lay of the land from what Jaina could see. A symbolic fence of poles and rocks marked a path around and through it, straight and square as any geometer's drawing.

As for its inhabitants, there was less evenness there. They were Forsaken of all backgrounds and in any and all states of withering. Jaina had found herself sticking to that term, because it was both less repulsive and more accurate than saying something like rotting, and she did not actually know if the process was ongoing or they simply were as they had been Raised. Yes, another opening for a hopeless undead pun.

Even if Jaina had cautioned herself countless times against expecting too much or too quick developments, she had not been able to help being hopeful after the meetings between Baron Frostfel and Rodrick and Alfred and Gertrude. But that had been that. No other visible reunions and nothing else of note had happened, and when it came down to it there had simply not been very many living Theramorians attending the city square. So after a short and awkward time the event had been over and the Forsaken had returned to put their place in order and Jaina had conferred with her own council until now.

The looser, heart-stopping chaotic and in every way preferable atmosphere of their Kalimdorian games was gone. Sylvanas was serious again, and Jaina could tell that she was concerned too. She found herself longing to have the Dark Lady to herself and just talk, in peace and quiet, while their respective peoples wrestled with the idea of seeing one another. Just that. There would be more than enough statecraft tomorrow for anyone anyway.

Jaina made a point of speaking to as many as she could make time for and inquire if they had what they needed (or a workable proportion of it…) and if there was something they thought she should be particularly aware of (which was several things). When she dared, she inserted an off-handed question about what they thought of the coming days and interacting with the living.

Few of the Forsaken dared to be optimistic, which Jaina had been prepared for and thought was perfectly understandable, to say the least. She had not been prepared for how many of the answers would ascribe importance to her own actions in that regard.

"How come?" Sylvanas asked back when Jaina tried to put words on her impression. "One thing you will have noted is that my people are to a great extent longing for something to believe in again. In some, perhaps in a greater part of those who wanted to come with me here, it can take the form of fierce and unexpected loyalty and devotion. Should you ever be considered to betray that trust however, you may rest assured that it will not be easily forgotten or forgiven. You have risen to become someone to place trust in, Lady Proudmoore, to rally behind in a world that has turned against us."

Jaina did not know what to say. Particularly since those waters were full of reefs.

"The wiser among the Forsaken know what you have done and can do for us as a ranger mage. Now they brave meeting a city full of their living kin, an ordeal that could in the best of outcomes still offer grievous torment for anyone around us. Rest assured that they will brave it reminding themselves that it is your city, where you rule as archmage in your own right and where you will ensure that they are treated fairly."

"And those who are less wise?" Jaina was sure she knew in which direction this conversation would go, and she was equally sure that the best thing she could do was to let it.

"They have allowed their fears and delusions to cloud their judgement and failed to see what was right before them. They are a disgrace." Sylvanas did not meet her gaze when she declaimed it with harsh finality. "Your squire, or sergeant was it? Rodrick. I believe you should have words with him."

Jaina wanted to sigh, almost, but it looked like Sylvanas could be right. The squire, right now Jaina also thought of him as such, looked deeply unhappy, dismayed even, as he joined the rest of the Theramorian delegation about to return to the city. It had been tacitly agreed upon that the Forsaken would enter the city for real the next day, to give themselves and the citizens a night to come to terms with their first impressions. For now Jaina would do the most good following Banshee Queen suggestion.

"Sergeant Rodrick?" She tried to wrap her mind around what to say, really.

"…yes? Apologies. Yes, My Lady?" Rodrick came to attention like someone who had been deep in thought and only just now returned to the present.

"How are…no, belay that. I just wanted to ask how you feel after meeting the Forsaken. It must have been…" What, exactly? Hard? Overwhelming? "…actually, I should know better than to make assumptions so let me just say that I found my first encounter with them very unsettling. And, am I correct in guessing that something troubles you?"

Rodrick looked like he braced himself, gathering his wits and focus about him to perform a task for which you put personal feelings away.

"I am not demanding any report in official capacity and I don't mean to pry. Not at all. Just, if you want, we could compare experiences on the way back to the city gate?"

Not that it was a very long way there. But Rodrick fell in beside her and kept pace. It took some time still before he said something.

"I met some of my…old fellow squires. Four of us, to be precise. They are deathguards now, with the Baron." Rodrick spoke slowly, like you do when you search for words and they are hard to find. Jaina knew the feeling perfectly well. "You know that he was glad to see me, that I…got out. Survived."

Jaina nodded to encourage him.

"The others weren't. And they have all the right not to be."

"Surely they do not literally wish you had died with them?" If that was the case Jaina would have to take it up with Sylvanas as a concern for security.

"Can't say. How do you…how can you tell after over two years? And them being…" Rodrick shook his head and looked emptily at the ground they walked on. "The Baron said that he regretted most of all that he did not order everyone to run that day. But…he still didn't. And I still did."

"If…if it had been me I at least hope that the thought of someone making it out, for whatever reason, would bring me some measure of comfort rather than ire. But I can't know for sure of course."

Jaina wanted to say something more. Something more meaningful perhaps.

"Sylva – ehm, Lady Windrunner, described to me how there used to be a schism, between those Forsaken who wanted nothing to do with the living and those who wanted to reach out. I can't imagine the ones who came here doing so only to tell us living ones to get stuffed."

The words just glanced off the former squire.

"Nothing changes the facts. They were right. I was a coward. A craven, weak-hearted fool."

"I abandoned my city, my home that I loved more than any other place on Azeroth. I left my Master to die alone at the hands of the Scourge to buy us time to embark and sail out. If I had not, then we would all have lost."

Rodrick said nothing.

"If you are a coward or a fool, then you are in good company at least, Sergeant Rodrick." Jaina said quietly.

They were coming up on the city gates. It was almost twilight.

We are all afraid. And the fear made us all fools.

Jaina excused herself and dropped back to where Sylvanas and her rangers were walking with them.

"Lady Windrunner? When everything is settled for the evening, if you have the time, I would like to talk to you. With your ranger squadron."

"Areiel is taking care of all things in the encampment. I am available whenever you have need of me, Lady Proudmoore."

"Then please come with me. To my tower."



***​



"I hope it isn't too cramped. It's not anything like a keep or anything like it…" Jaina kept rambling nervously.

Jaina's tower had three floors. A single large, high ceiling room made up the first, a kitchen and bathroom and Pained's room the second, which had a balcony as well, and the topmost floor housed Jaina's study and bedroom and a library and laboratory.

That is, that was the supposed floor plan. In practice the lower floor they were now meeting in was mostly taken up by crates and not very furnished in any sort of way, far from the large library it was intended to be. Jaina's study was also her bedroom, and her intended bedroom was stuffed with…stuff.

And yes, Jaina planned to have two libraries in her tower. One for her guests, or possibly students like she had sometimes dreamed of, and one for herself. Wouldn't anyone want to have that if they could?

"We all used to fit nicely into a single tent." Clea gently reminded her.

The dark rangers refused to be dissuaded and explored her home eagerly, apart from Pained's room which they let be with uncharacteristic respectfulness.

"There's most space downstairs, maybe we could sit down there? There are some blankets to hang over the crates, so you can sit on them…"

For the love of mana, was this all she had to offer her friends when she finally, finally could welcome them to her home?

"That will be great, we do that." Lyana said before Jaina could have second thoughts.

The rangers spread out across a half circle of crates that formed an improvised couch around a table in the middle. Kitala stretched out with her head In Clea's lap and her feet across Lyana, and overall did the humble conveniences an honour Jaina was sure they did not live up to. Anya sat down beside Lyana and Sylvanas furthest out on the opposite end to Jaina, and just like Jaina she did it with such care you would think her crates contained goblin land mines.

"I don't know how to begin –" Jaina begun.

No. She knew better than that. She was not going to pretend that she had to make excuses before her own ranger squadron. She was only going to be as honest as she could.

"I want to…I want to make it right between us. I know we can not go back to how it used to be but I still would like nothing better. I want…I want to be your ranger again."

"You are our ranger. You always were." Anya's voice was smooth as the sort of scarf that was too soft and too treasured to be worn.

"Jaina, we are…we are not angry with you. We were angry with Sylvanas when you left, but I am starting to think there could be more to this that we don't know?" Clea made it almost a question, directed at both Sylvanas and Jaina.

"I deeply regret ever calling your right to wear your cloak into question like I did when I yelled at you, but I know that is not foremost what you are referring to." Sylvanas said slowly and very seriously, and like she knew exactly what was on Jaina's mind. "I want to mend as much as I ever could but as…as I have said I do not have much confidence in my ability to do so. Perhaps the best thing to start with would be to show Clea and Kitala and Lyana the letter I wrote you, a paltry apology though it may be."

"Can I do that? It was not paltry. Don't you ever say that. I have it in my drawer, just a minute!"

It did not take a minute. It took less than a count of ten for Jaina to disappear and reappear in another flash. Teleporting up instead of using the stairs was the utmost of magical complacencies and tantamount to heresy, or so both Master Antonidas and Archmage Modera had instilled in Jaina and every other Kirin Tor apprentice.

But sometimes there were extraordinary and extenuating circumstances.

She could not help looking probably a little softer at the treasured piece of paper she handed over to Clea, Kitala and Lyana to read.

Read it they did, together and with such interest that Jaina half imagined their ears had perked up like on a trio of curious cats.

She could tell when they had reached the end because Lyana grabbed Anya's hand and Clea and Kitala sighed in unison.

"You should have come to us, Dark Lady." Kitala said, not unkindly. "Instead of waiting and worrying all on your own."

"I should." Sylvanas looked too unhappy to fully note her tone. It was peculiar, how easy Jaina found it now to note, or feel, the Dark Lady's mood even if she could objectively say that Sylvanas did not let much show except when she was teasing or extremely agitated.

"Lady Proudmoore wrote to me first. I think that you should see those letters too in order to know the whole field. If she permits it?" Sylvanas asked Jaina.

"Yes, I want to. But…you have them? I mean here?"

In answer Sylvanas took out a small protective case from somewhere beneath her armour. She opened it carefully.

"You carried them with you all time?" Jaina could apparently not stop herself from noting obvious things this evening.

"Of course. I will be gone from the Undercity for some time."

That was also an obvious thing, and the letters were not of the kind that anyone would feel really comfortable to have lying around.

And the letters were also valuable things that Sylvanas had not wanted to leave at home. Valued things.

This time it was four dark rangers who sat close together going through Jaina's at the time unanswered correspondence…and infuriated monologue.

"The Dark Lady is in trouble…" Kitala begun and then her face fell. "Oh, no…"

"Jaina called it." Clea observed while they digested the last part of Jaina's first letter.

Anya wrapped herself into herself next to Lyana and looked absolutely miserable. The other three were reading about Jaina being hurt but to Anya…Anya was feeling it.

And that was heartbreaking.

"Sylvanas. How could we do so wrong?"



***​



"…how could we do so wrong?"

Sylvanas.

Was it the first time Jaina had called her by her name only? It probably was.

She had never attached much importance to her titles, not on a personal plane. They were tools that had their uses and they were amalgamations of an uncountable number of duties and expectations. Even that of Dark Lady, that Anya so insisted could and should be shaped into something that was not by necessity a burden.

Anya. Invaluable, precious Anya. The first and last thing we did wrong was to listen too little to you.

And perhaps you are right about my station as well, the way only you see it. Perhaps being the Dark Lady could one day be a thing of pleasure more than duty.

Yet right now I think I would like to just be Sylvanas
.

"Dread."

Jaina was looking at her with big eyes. So intense and so calm all at once.

Sylvanas should have looked into them instead of at the downcast head of her devastated mage in her tent, or the revolting cuffs she had just thrown at her, or at anything else. Would she then have been able to come up with something so hideous as poisoning her own ranger mage?

"Did you know that your rangers gave the same answer?"

"No, but I am not surprised. Fear is everywhere for us…and it excuses nothing." Sylvanas could hear the tone of her own voice shift from sympathetic to contemptuous as her mind turned from her rangers to herself.

"It doesn't?" Jaina…pleaded.

It does not. Why do you speak as if you are begging me for – no! You blame yourself just as I do. That is not your place to do here and now!

Why did I have to say that?


"It excuses nothing that I have done, is what I meant to say." Sylvanas corrected herself through slightly clenched teeth.

"Oh, different standards? Those that should apply to banshees and living humans?" Jaina had not been impressed.

I made that argument when you had broken your mirror. It is mine to make, little mage! And I should just be quiet.

"I am only making everything worse. You should not be listening to me, Lady Proudmoore."

In her eye's left corner Anya was shaking her head in disapproval. Jaina did not, but she still somehow managed to mirror the sentiment.

"Forgive me, Dark Lady, but I will reserve the right to find that piece of advice faulty and ignore it. On the contrary I would like to ask you another thing." It was not hesitation that made Jaina draw up, she was making a deliberate pause to ensure she had Sylvanas' full attention. "I would like you to tell me all the things you wanted to say to me that night when I returned with your necklace. If…if you can recall…"

"Verbatim."

"For real?"

"No other thing has been on my mind the way that conversation has since you left."

"Then I want to hear it, all of it, the way it should have been."

Jaina's voice had fallen now. She was humbly asking Sylvanas to share something deeply personal and close and she knew it. And of course she had every right to hear it.

You all should. You deserve to know.

"You entered my room like you had just appeared out of one of your portals. You were just there." Sylvanas begun. "And I thought that, how could you ask to speak to me like nothing had happened? Where in all places had you been? Speaking was the least you would do, my unthinking, careless, foolhardy, insane mage!"

Even now, just recalling the words recalled the moment they had been spoken in. It was how memories worked.

Careful
.

Careful, careful, careful.


Jaina was blushing. Of all things. She was looking down at her own lap and made the tiniest nod.

"I asked what it was you had there. The necklace was familiar to me. I asked you to hand it over, harshly so."

"I explained that we had visited your home, didn't I?" Jaina asked and Sylvanas nodded.

"I knew the jewellery. I know there is a small dent in the third link. I know the light is cast differently when the sun shines on the stone from the right and from the left. I know how it feels against every inch of my throat. I had left it in a box for years and had not thought of ever seeing it again. And now you had it here right before my eyes and I thought that it could not be. Not after all this time, when I thought it was lost forever."

"Not any more." Jaina interjected very shyly. Was she also following a memory as vivid as Sylvanas'? Or was she just recognising those fragments she had heard Sylvanas give voice to?

"Your eyes twinkled. Now, of all things. And I wondered if you thought this some sort of game. If you had any idea what you caused by disappearing without a single trace, let alone telling anyone what you were going to do and where? I was inches from screaming at you for it! Had you the slightest idea of what was going on in the Undercity in the meantime, or what could have happened? What if we had been attacked? Had you completely forgotten how we are at war and how many people that had come to depend on your presence? And you sat before me like nothing has happened and I wondered if you thought this would amuse me?!"

"We wanted to give you a gift. Something important, which was why we visited your old home. It wasn't supposed to take so long but then we encountered a lot of banshees there."

"Banshees. Scourge banshees, presumably? You rush headlong into the deepest of the blighted parts of Quel'thalas where if not the Scourge would get you then an elven patrol could have, and they do not stop to ask questions any more I can tell you! Were you trying to get yourselves killed?! How can you even think of something like this?! Is it not enough that I have hurt you so deeply already but must you and Anya court your true deaths in this manner on top of everything? For a gilded trinket! What do I care for relics of the past when put against your life?!"

Sylvanas could practically see Jaina sitting before her in her room in the Undercity. Determination that was giving way to worry, and the growing realisation that she could have done something way worse than she had accounted for.

"Do you think I long for a time before I was the queen of the Forsaken? That I long for it so much that I would not be bothered sending mine to their deaths to retrieve mementos on a whim? Is that what you think of me?"

"We just thought it would be something you would like to have. That it would mean something, and hopefully mean a lot."

"How could you ever think that anyone could care more for a piece of metal than for you? How can you risk yourself for dead gold that is nothing more than dirt next to that in your locks? What gems can compare to those two that look upon me? Have I done this to you? Did I drive you to this reckless thing? It is not the gifts of those closest to me that hold meaning, it is they themselves. Like you."

"Like…me?"

"Like you. My little mage. I would take it all back if I could. I would rather have it that I was taken unawares when someone proved false for real than to have hurt you like I did over falseness imagined. Damn any traitorous prisoners! Damn any malcontents I could not care less about! Damn the entire, rotten, Undercity! It means nothing to me."

She would not Wail.

But neither would she hold anything back.

And it was…good not to.

"And Alleria Windrunner is a long dead memory! She is nothing in comparison for she is gone, and you are not! And Alleria would personally GUT me if she saw me putting her memory ahead of my ranger sisters who were still with me! She would be ashamed to call herself Windrunner if she saw me do that!"

Jaina's face did not fall this time. But Belore damn her if it wasn't close.

"I asked how you could say that." Jaina intoned. "I was so shocked, and hurt, and insulted. And I said that if that was all there was to it I should not take up more of the Dark Lady's valuable time, and that I hoped it was acceptable that I now remove myself from her distinguished presence."

"By then I hardly could tell what I had said or not but I knew it had been something terribly wrong. I could not even keep up a civil conversation and whatever I attempted seemed to me doomed to fail before it could even begin. I just wanted you away from me, before you would be hurt even more by the poison that I am. I did not even trust myself to say that in a way you would not misunderstand."

"'You may now remove yourself from my presence, Ranger Mage', you only said." Jaina finished.

Sylvanas nodded. She felt drained. Like she and Jaina had argued for real, or rather she had yelled at Jaina for real, which was exactly what she had done in a sense.

All rangers sat still as statues looking at them. Anya with wide, distraught eyes.

"Thank you. For telling me." Jaina said in the smallest voice.

Jaina, have I hurt you more by obliging you in this? You wanted me to lay everything out – was I too harsh? I was so caught up, so vivid, everything… And I…I wanted to tell you all of this too. I want to be honest with you and nothing else. But neither do I want to cause you pain.

Please don't be hurt. Please don't.

Jaina was taking a deep breath. Just a little bit shaky.

"I so wish you would have said all of this the first time. I would ask why you did not but you have already explained that in your letter. And I am angry about it, so angry about what…happened, that you could not just have said everything you were thinking, but I understand it. I understand it so very well now."

"I ran after you. When my thoughts had stopped spinning enough for it to dawn on me what I had done. I think it did not take much time. But you were already gone."

"I just wanted to go home." Jaina whispered the words. "I did not even think of saying goodbye."

"No wonder –"

"No. It was no wonder I didn't, however much I regret that, because I was out of my mind. I was overwhelmed, crushed, broken –

"There is no way I can ever put in words how much you deserved better from me –"

"I was out of my mind." Jaina quieted her. "And I truly believe that so were you."

Yes. Maybe you should rather say too deep in my mind actually, but you are of course right in every way, Jaina.

And you are being too damned kind.

"Dark Lady?" It was Kitala's voice, which Sylvanas had to take an extra moment to remind herself of. There were more people in the room than her and Jaina. "If you and Jaina are going to argue about who is most to blame, would you like us to keep score?"

Lyana had drawn Anya closer to her and Kitala had sat up in Clea's arms where she looked with sincere, innocent eyes at Sylvanas. Sylvans knew that she was sincere. Kitala always was when it really counted.

But what did you –

How could you possibly answer –

Jaina was laughing. She was laughing and crying and probably being a tad furious mixed with everything when she bent down huffing and sobbing and trying to get a hold of herself.

"Kitala, you…"

"We missed keeping score a lot in the games so I thought we had best not forget it now too." Kitala continued like it was the most sensible and everyday thing.

"And make sure you don't forget to apologise to Jaina for making her a library either. "Clea added. "Oh, my bad, you only repaired the old one so it doesn't really count, does it?"

Jaina looked up at Clea and then at Sylvanas with a newly kindled trace of curiosity.

"Was that what you had been doing? And then you found I was gone…?"

The confirming silence was awkward.

Discomfiting.

"After you had left us, there was another case of Forsaken betraying their kind to Scarlet henchmen that we discovered. Witnesses that offered conclusive testimonies."

Not even her rangers knew about it. Both because she had managed to maintain rigorous secrecy and because they had not…been on speaking terms.

"I let them go. Towards the Tirisfal Glades like the others. Armed, to defend against roaming ghouls."

Sylvanas quieted and mentally berated herself. Where was she going with this, then? Was she expecting a pat on the head from Jaina now? An acceptance of the proof that she was being a good little banshee these days, or what?

No, silence. Jaina cares about it. That is all that holds significance.

"Thank you, Sylvanas." Jaina said without a trace of irony. "Regardless of what your reasons were, and they are your own business, it makes me very happy to know."

She called me Sylvanas again. I will always be your Dark Lady if that is what you need me to be, Jaina, but I think I like that.



***​



"…what your reasons were, and they are your own business, it makes me very happy to know."

Anya was not fooled the slightest. Sylvanas' reasons were sitting right before her and had the kindest blue eyes that you only wanted to look deeper in, but you couldn't because this was the most important conversation that could be imagined, and it could not be allowed to get out of hand.

But Anya had no idea how to be of any help in it.

Had she been much help to anybody lately?

When Jaina proposed the expedition to Windrunner Spire she had just accepted, and look where that got them. Anya was just as guilty when it came to leaving the city without a word. More, even, for as Jaina's squadron lieutenant she ought to know better!

Even if Jaina had the habit of making the impossible seem possible and turning difficulties to trifles.

"There is one thing I want to say. I have been thinking more and more about it." Her squadron's mage was saying.

"Wait, isn't it bedtime now?" Lyana blurted out and everyone stopped talking or listening and looked at her. "Sorry, I did not mean to tease, I mean for everyone. I'm not used to the night and day here yet."

Jaina was giving her a long look.

"Yes, it is probably bedtime for us young living things."

"I don't want you to have to strain yourself sitting on crates. Can't we continue to talk in your bedroom? Then you can sit on the bed and we can be on the floor."

"On the floor? What kind of hostess would that make me?" Jaina protested but then she had to stifle a yawn and admit defeat. "I guess you're right. But at least bring the blankets so you can have something softer to sit on. See you upstairs!"

Then Jaina was gone in another teleport flash.

Anya and her squadron looked at each other. Sometimes Jaina was very…Jaina.

Soon after, a hastily washed Jaina met with them upstairs in her tiny bedroom. Now it was fortunate that only one of them needed to breathe because otherwise it would quickly have gotten stuffy. Jaina leaned against a pillow in the corner of her bed and Sylvanas sat on the only chair by her desk. The rest of them huddled by Jaina's feet and the floor by all of her chests.

"Right." Jaina said slowly. "This is… Sylvanas, when I did what I did before we went to Dalaran…when I let all the prisoners go. I know that I put you and other people in danger and that has to be the worst thing of all. But…I also want to say that I am sorry for denying you the choice, to choose for yourself, whether to be a good or evil queen. Apologises for the oversimplification –"

"No, at the moment that was the crossroads you saw me standing at, was it not?"

"And I refused you the right to decide which way to walk. I forced a tremendously important choice upon you and in the process betrayed your trust. I denied you a will of your own. Just like –"

"No, seriously, you can not compare –"

"Yes!" Anya did not know of anyone who could debate with equal spirit from her bedside as Jaina. "I was just like them, one more to deny Sylvanas Windrunner her free will –"

Sylvanas cut her off calmly but firmly.

"No. Lady Proudmoore, no. I understand your reasoning but the things are simply not comparable. Having your mind shackled and your own will crushed by another…another entity is something entirely different. And regarding a queen's right to choose –" She shook her head slightly. "There are many valid concerns that merit consideration in governing but a queen's right to…moral self-determination is not one of them. Not when other people's lives are at stake. ...or undeaths…"

"I am still so sorry. I went behind your back."

"I know that. You were devastated. And I bitterly wish I could have let it stay with being furious and shouting at you."

"One more day." Anya found herself whispering, or whimpering. "We would have needed one more day."

Anya would have needed one more day and one more night to talk Sylvanas out of that horrid scheme. If only she could have done that.

Jaina looked like she could be thinking about the same thing.

"If I had…come to you and asked you to spare the Forsaken traitors, or if I had done nothing and let you make the choice on your own…what would it have been? I swear I will trust your word on it, no matter what."

"I can honestly not say." Sylvanas answered after a long and tense pause. "I would like to say with certainty that I would have made the gentler, and as it turned out wiser, choice but unfortunately I can not."

Jaina nodded, dejected.

"Yes. You can not say because you were not allowed to make the choice. Someone else made it for you." she mumbled, and Anya was not sure if she was speaking to herself or to Sylvanas.

The Dark Lady offered Jaina a long look but did not contradict her.

This wasn't fair! Because…because if you imagined a different Sylvanas without a Jaina who did what Jaina did, why not also imagine a Sylvanas who did not have to have Scarlets for neighbours in the first place? Or a Sylvanas who did not have to die at all?!

They had almost, maybe, survived this undeserved, horrible, stupid fucking turncoat mess! Were they going to sit here and accuse themselves of cheating?!

"No." Anya said. "You would not have killed those prisoners because you didn't."

"Because Jaina…"

"Because YOU brought her here! I mean there! To us. It was you who took a – the most – kind-hearted mage into our ranks, it was you who choose to trust her, it was you who made her our ranger mage. You brought Jaina's actions on yourself for good or bad when you choose to trust her to be your mage, Dark Lady. And also, it was you who sought Jaina's council when any Lordaeronian Forsaken could have told you how their former kings would have ruled. Why, if you were not in any way looking for Jaina's way out of having to be like them?"

Sylvanas apparently did not know what to say.

Jaina apparently did not know either.

Just as well, because now they were just coming up with new ways of being stupid with each other!

"You would not have made a vile decision alone because you would not have been alone, because you would have had your rangers with you. Because that is what you do. You have us! It is only when we try to do everything on our own that we fail." she added glumly.

"Anya, I do not deserve you…"

"Tough luck, because you're in my squadron, Ranger Windrunner." Anya said and imagined she probably managed to be dismissive and harsh and petulant all at once. "Which is also your fault by the way, so you brought everything down upon yourself."

"I am with my squad leader. I wouldn't dare otherwise." Jaina shyly agreed with the warmest look towards Anya.

"Nor would we." Kitala said. She did not bother trying to hide her smile.

"Well, good then!" Anya had never been very good at looking threatening to her own rangers but now she would have liked to be better at it.

"Anya. I ruined so much already. I don't want to ever do so again. How?" Sylvanas asked her with absolute deference.

"To start with you should be angry with Jaina. And me. For running off. Not Wail, and not turn yourself inside-out trying to stop yourself from Wailing. Just allow yourself to be angry about it like any sensible person would."

"I for one would prefer an honest Wail over…over what is far worse. I can take being Wailed at after all." Jaina blinked up a shield around herself and her pillow to underline her point.

"Yes, you can. You have put up with so much from us."

"Not from you. From…Lordaeron, and all…" To Anya it was as if Jaina was still sad, but in a softer way. "I needed a break, I needed to come home. We just should all have talked properly about it first."

"You need that too, Dark Lady." Clea looked seriously at Sylvanas. "All of us do. If not time off, then time that is less grim and less fraught with danger at every turn. As silly as it may sound we dead need to remind each other that we need our rest too."

"Certain commanders should practice more what they preach in such matters." Kitala noted to no one in particular, and especially not half of the room's occupants.

"For…for what it's worth you are more than welcome to stay here with me as much as you like. All night. Every night. I have…missed you so much..."

Lyana tenderly pried Jaina from her seated position to lie down under her blankets as four other stealthy shadows vacated the bed and blew out the lights.

"So have we."



Author's Note
Velonara: The author seems to be referencing bridal movies at a scandalous rate.
Kitala: Obviously most unseemly and inappropriate in a romance story of, hehe, so called "leading ladies".
Clea: Pff…misleading or stumbling, more like.
 
Chapter 48: Gold and Greed
Chapter 48: Gold and Greed

The guests of Theramore's archmage make themselves at home and draw up plans to make their host more at home in her home. Sylvanas and Pained have a flippant and light-hearted talk while Jaina is the personification of collected and even-tempered rulers conducting themselves with the utmost seriousness.

Meanwhile in Lordaeron, Ranger Champion Blacksilver is learning about his new colleagues. Or family. He is not quite sure.

Author's Note:
With everything Runar and Halvdan have been through during their travels, who can blame them for packing thoroughly? Is there anything you do not need to be prepared for in the field Azerothian diplomacy?



Halvdan was a little tense, there was no question about it.

Ranger Champion?

And assigned to Alina's squadron no less. Practically like staying with her family.

He had better not make a fool of himself. And keep his ears open now that Ranger Lieutenant Amora Eagleye was going over the fundamentals while at the same time inquiring for a cloak that could be adjusted for the right size and two or three other things.

"The ranger squadron is made up of three pairs. It allows it tactical flexibility and to divide watches comfortably during a six hour night's rest, which may no longer be the issue it once was… In any case; while one pair engages the enemy, another pair can flank them and a third can be held in reserve."

"That sounds, hm, really well thought out. But I guess you have been doing this for a while…"

Blast it, that didn't come out well. Where was Runar when you needed him the most? Apart from sailing on the ice with his own band of pointy-eared teasers.

Amora looked amused however.

"You could say that. Our ranger corps is built from the ranger squadron. The tents, those we used to have, are larger ones for six or seven people and smaller for two. A pair of rangers can easily carry a small tent canvas as part of their packs and string it up with rope practically anywhere. Eight squadrons make up a company together with its captain and her ranging partner, who is often the second-in-command and shares in the running of the company."

"Like Ranger Captain Areiel? Though she seems to do a lot more of things."

"Spot on, Ranger Champion." Halvdan grimaced uneasily when she used that title, he had still not really got used to it or what it may entail. "We are not what we used to be and to tell the truth we do not quite know how to be in many ways. Chain of command not exempted."

"Are there more ranks than ranger lieutenant and captain?"

"No. Nor are the terms fully interchangeable with their Common counterparts. Think of ranger captain as simply meaning the commander of a company, and lieutenant as the captain's subordinate, and you will come closer to their meaning in Thalassian. Remember also that these are the official ranks but inside the ranger squadron and the company there are many unofficial or – how do you say it – 'semi-official' positions. Each squadron has one or two members acting as quartermasters and keeping track of things, and will want someone above the average at field medicine. Cooking with sparse ingredients is a dearly coveted skill as well, or it was for us."

Just then Halvdan's stomach growled, no matter how hard he tried flexing his gut muscles to keep it quiet.

"Though I think some of us still got the hang of it." Amora added amiably. "Now then! I hope you have…packed lightly? Oh, dear…"

Halvdan sort of shrugged. He had honestly tried his best to not bring too many things.

Amora signed to him to remove the backpack and started to go through it.

"I really don't know what I'm supposed to do with the armour otherwise. Marching all day in full plate is too tiresome, it will wear you out completely by the time you need to use it."

"Right… And warm clothes and blankets as well – wintry kingdoms are seriously impractical however pretty they may look – which we can of course not dispense with. Let's see…shield on the back over the quiver, good. The helmet well at hand by the belt, of course. Mira! Marrah! You take the chest and back plates. Alina packs the arm guards and I take the leg ones."

"We can be squires, sure! Alina will make an excellent one too! Me and Marrah can arm our knight and she can disarm him." Mira said.

"She does that better than anyone." Marrah informed.

Where were the snow drifts of sufficient depth to crawl into when you needed it the most? Halvdan imagined he looked like he had just finished the aforementioned day's march in full armour.

Alina did not redden like he did but when he happened to look at her she appeared equally embarrassed despite that.

"Alina is staying with me." Amora smiled knowingly. "Someone has to keep an eye on you… But we are still under-strength with an odd number of rangers, which is not ideal even if dividing watches is not the issue it used to be."

Halvdan cleared his throat.

"I have a suggestion, maybe…" he said somewhat hesitantly.

"Who might that be?"

"What a sneaky ranger champion, has he already recruited secret comrades-in-arms?"

Amora silenced the Mirrahs with a gesture.

"Well, I hit him with a snowball and we made up insults about each other –" Halvdan begun explaining before he was promptly and loudly interrupted.

"YES! YES! Please-please-please Amora you must! Spellbreakers all around!"

Amora at first appeared not to follow, but then she caught on and frowned as she thought it over.

"I think Ire is lonely. Please ask him, Amora?" Alina joined in her sisters' insistent request. "And what if we encounter more of those hideous destroyers?"

With a small but affectionate sigh Amora relented.

"You girls always liked teasing him. Or was it that he was the only one patient enough to put up with you all day? Alright, then, I will make the request and hear what he thinks of it."

She turned to Halvdan and tilted her head a little.

"You hit him with a snowball, you say?"



***​



Jaina dreamed of a sunny forest clearing. She was resting by the roots of old oaks on grass and mossy ground that was friendly enough to be both soft and at the same time dry. All around her was light that shone down through the branches and danced before her. There were birds singing all around. Some sort of thrushes, she thought. They had long pointy ears and red eyes and sang her name…

"Jaina… Jaina… Jaina…"

Something touched the edge of her ear. Was it a caterpillar? A falling leaf? Jaina blinked and opened her eyes dizzily. The forest had transformed into her own bedroom and the sunlight had dimmed into the low morning light reflected into her window.

"Good morning, Jaina." Clea the Caterpillar hummed from behind her. She was lying in Jaina's bed, mashed between Jaina's back and the wall and stroking her hair.

"…mmm…g'morning…" Jaina blinked some more and stretched herself. "Have I made you flat? …sorry…"

"I was just going to pull your blankets back up but then I got stuck here. And when I tried to turn myself to wall paint you only followed and bunched up against me again. But I don't mind. You're so nice and warm."

Jana yawned. She was still not quite awake, but awake enough to think that what Clea said sounded silly. What was the point of sleeping in the same bed if you were going to keep away…

Clea had slept in her bed? No, not slept as such, more like snuggled because Clea was Clea and loved to hug you. But she was here, they were all here! Jaina had almost all her friends safely in Theramore and they had talked all night yesterday, and now they would find their way back to what they should be and nothing would be allowed to get in their way!

Brimming with mischief, Jaina pressed herself back as hard as she could.

"Pff-huff!" Clea gasped. "You're lucky I don't need to breathe… Help! I'm being turned into a tapestry here." she pleaded to her squadmates who were peeking in through the door.

"Pressed into service." Kitala observed.

Jaina sat up in her bed and let Clea escape.

"I dreamt I was in a forest I think. And sleeping in the dream too. I guess you must be really tired to dream that. You were all birds I think…" She yawned. "You sang really pretty… You can talk?!"

Clea and Kitala looked at one another.

"Yes, I am no bird?"

"No, but – loud! You're not whispering anymore!" Jaina burst out.

The three rangers in sight made space for Lyana and Sylvanas to come into the room too.

"You're right." Lyana was turning towards the thoughtful Clea. "You could barely be heard a few months ago."

"I hadn't really thought about it."

"Maybe one or two other things happened lately that stole all our attention. I'm just saying..."

"I had noticed." Sylvanas said. "But I can not put a definite date to where that change occurred. Perhaps we have all gradually gotten used to crediting our supreme hearing when we found it easier to discern your speech?"

"This is huge!" Jaina looked expectantly at them all. Didn't they get it? "Don't you realise? You can change! You are not bound to be the way you were when you were Raised!"

"Quiet, Jaina!" Kitala admonished her. "If word of this gets to Areiel she will take it as an excuse to have us exercising from dusk to dawn every night!"

Then she seemed to remember that if not the ranger captain then the Dark Lady was standing just next to her.

"And you are sworn to secrecy too, Dark Lady. Anya's orders."

"By all means." Sylvanas dryly agreed. "I shall be happy to withhold this crucial and hope-inspiring piece of information from our brothers and sisters who have no reason whatsoever to wish for something like this being true."

"Don't be like that…"

"Actually Lady Proudmoore and I once discussed this question, of whether undead can grow and learn. I have no doubt that we will revisit the issue and the implications this discovery poses, but it will have to be at a later time."

"First we are going to tidy up your room." Anya determined.

"My room?" Jaina looked around, or tried to. With five visitors present there was not much else in sight in her small study. "What's wrong with my room?"

Sylvanas raised an eyebrow and Anya looked pointedly at the side opposite Jaina's desk. All – well, most – of Jaina's chests were almost neatly stacked on top of each other.

"Lady Proudmoore, I am well aware of how dedicated you are to your work but I was under the impression that a study's intended function is to facilitate reading and writing, and not to act as its occupant's sole living space. I also find myself forced to amend certain previous judgements of mine regarding the Undercity's claustrophobic conditions as I did clearly not fully appreciate what I had."

Jaina blushed something terribly.

"How can you even find your things in here?" Anya questioned almost pityingly.

"It's easy." Jaina defended herself. "You just have to learn the system. Small clothes and smallclothes are in the small chest there, large robes are in the large chest, summer robes are in the one behind, or they are supposed to be but I haven't had time to stow them away, and winter robes are…they are kind of on top but that is just temporary…"

"Until summer?"

"Yes – no! And then there are some books, or, a lot, and I think there is a case of alchemical ingredients in the long oaken sea chest because there was honestly no other good place to put them –"

"Than in your current bedroom where they are left unsupervised and potentially degrading or worse, and I very much hope they are not of the flammable kind."

"Of course not, what sort of archmage do you take me for?"

"One that thought so little of herself that she would offer her home up as storage for other people's things without reflecting, and continue to do so until it became second nature to her." Sylvanas said solemnly, and Jaina stopped in the middle of retorting.

"That obvious?" she asked, deflated.

"Perhaps this is the time where you could say that it takes one to know one." Sylvanas said very quietly. "Though however that may be, it is very obvious to someone who has the blessing of knowing you, Lady Proudmoore."

"My tower was finished last winter. We had so little space and so many things to keep safe from the wet and weather, and then… I never cared much after the spring. And Pained's not to blame, she had her hands full just keeping me alive."

"We know." Anya said and tip-toed forward to sit down on Jaina's bedside. "You weren't eating. But now we are all here so we will fix it now instead. Alright?"

Jaina nodded obediently.

"Good. Now; Clea, Kitala and Sylvanas take the bedroom, I will start here and Lyana to the kitchen to make breakfast for Jaina and Pained. What does she eat and drink?"

"Not so much fish as I do…and she drinks Kaldorei herbal tea. We just restocked it. I'll show you."

"You mean we will actually find the tea in the kitchen? Fancy that." Lyana said matter-of-factly.

Jaina stuck her tongue out at her.



***​



Pained was, for all her diligence around the clock, not one for early mornings or in fact for any mornings. She had hinted about it being a night elf thing and Jaina assumed that since her people thrived under the moon they would prefer to reclaim that lost sleep early in the day. Her bodyguard was now calmly sipping tea together with Jaina and dutifully finishing Lyana's breakfast, which was thankfully not fish soup or anything similarly vile.

"Did you sleep well, Pained?" Jaina asked her. She was still just a little bit worried about her bodyguard having stood sentinel over her bed and not mentioned it. "I hope the rangers did not make a noise or anything."

"No." Pained was about to pick up yet another freshly baked bun but thought better of it. "In fact our new guests were outstandingly quiet."

"At least during the night." Jaina commented. Distinct sounds from above told of furniture being moved and many things being inspected. Jaina wondered slightly uneasily if all personal belongings would be equally safe from elven curiosity. She had her doubts.

"Your guests certainly sound like they are making themselves at home." Pained cast a wry look at the ceiling. "That speaks highly of your abilities as hostess if nothing else."

"Are you alright with that? I mean, I did invite them over rather sudden and I realise I maybe ought to have consulted you first…"

"This is your tower, My Lady." Pained almost interrupted her. "My place is to guard you whoever you keep for company and if you strive to promote good relations with the Forsaken it makes every sense for you to let them into your home."

"But how do you feel about them? I think you did excellent during the archery games and they really seem to like you but you haven't had nearly the time I've had to get used to dark rangers… They can take some time getting used to."

Now Pained took some time before she answered.

"I did not interfere when you talked last night. I was sure you needed it and I have to trust those you accept as friends to not do anything unthinkably stupid. However little I enjoy that notion." Jaina was sure that both bodyguards and parents sulked in a certain way over that sort of issue. "But your dark rangers have had the opportunity to harm you countless times already and further suspicions of their intentions in that regard is folly. On the contrary they made you eat again when I hardly could, and many times despaired over how you wasted away."

Jaina opened her mouth to retort but did not get further.

"It was that bad, My Lady. It broke my heart to see and had I known you more and better at that time I would have made you choke down soup until you relented, but I dared not force the issue lest you would send me away if I overstepped. The dark rangers' unlikely intervention saved my lady for me and for that alone I will always treasure them, and certainly some of them appear charming enough. Some others I do not yet know what to think of." The night elf put her finished cup of tea down. "I know it is not for nothing that you needed to sit down and talk yesterday and…for what it's worth I hope you found your path."

"It's worth a great lot. Found our path?" Jaina wondered.

"Oh, Kaldorei expression. As in finding your way back to each other, and a way forward together. The opposite of being lost."

"Oh. I think we did. Or a bit of it. I so much want us to have done that but I'm almost afraid to say it out loud."

"It is futile to ask someone not to be, though at least I think you have less reason to be anxious." Pained eyed her very kindly. "And do I now assume correctly that you want nothing more than seeing our pale friends happy again, even if it comes at the price of them nosing through all of your personal and private chests?"

"Mmm…"

"Well, I have had a most thoughtfully made breakfast and been able to finish my tea at a civilised pace. Shall we go up and have a look at what they are up to?"

The scraping of furniture – honestly more of the thuds of furniture lifted and carried – and scurrying steps back and forth sounding from above had in truth been conservative and not nearly done justice to the dark rangers' exertions. They were halfway through Jaina's bedroom – her proper one – and seemed to be taking inventory of all things in their path. Since the place was so cluttered they had to progressively move things in their path and move over them so that the enterprise was most accurately likened to a sort of excavation.

Hm.

Archmage Modera and Master Antonidas had of course never used that metaphor to describe the state of Jaina's room in Dalaran.

Almost never.

Sylvanas' ears were sticking up from behind a hill of crates while Clea and Kitala laboured with a particularly densely stacked pile of chests, well on their way to reach one of the room's corners.

"Your room is something of a small barracks, Lady Proudmoore." The Dark Lady said from out of sight and pointed with her hand above the top of the wooden ridge at a great pile of coarse clothing having been gathered as they progressed.

"Those? They, ah – what are they…" Jaina scrounged up her forehead.

"They would appear to be coats for the city guard." Pained was only a little, little bit dry.

"Oh, yes, right. We were short on wardrobes in the actual barracks and by that time most of the guard was deployed further inland so we had to store it somewhere…"

"And they know it? Now when it is your windy and rainy season of the year, if I have understood it correctly?" Sylvanas asked. She was also only a little bit dry.

"Uhm, there may be a distinct possibility that such a piece of knowledge has fallen out of memory, yes…" Jaina admitted and grimaced. Now she felt bad for real. Having a less than completely organised bedroom waiting to be dealt with was one thing, but someone having to keep watch during a stormy night with insufficient clothing because of her was not tolerable.

"Then the city guard will have a pleasant surprise today." Pained decided. "I believe Lady Windrunner and I will be able to handle that without difficulty."

She proceeded to climb across the immediate debris and gather up the bundle of coats in her arms before Jaina could think of anything to say.

Sylvanas slid back into sight from behind the wall of crates.

"Unless you have need of me at the moment –"

"Excellent idea, Ranger Windrunner." Anya cut her off from the corridor outside. "Then Pained can give you a tour of the city at the same time. We'll meet back here for lunch."

None of them would argue with Anya. Not over anything short of mortal danger, and maybe not even that.

Though Jaina could still not help herself from being a little bit concerned. Pained commanded enormous respect from the Theramorian guard and she had every faith in her bodyguard handling all interaction smoothly, but the night elf had also made it very evident how she wanted an opportunity to have a word alone with Sylvanas.

"Please play nice." She tried to sound more flippant than she felt.

"Not to worry. I am sure we can find a way to question the responsible quartermaster about why two dozen coats have been collecting dust with no one missing them, without being too stern." Pained smirked.

Between the scrutinizing glares of her bodyguard and the Dark Lady, Jaina pitied that quartermaster. Not that it had exactly been her primary concern.

Her mind was rather soon turned to other more acute matters. It would appear that its cluttered state had not stopped her guests from drawing up grand and ambitious strategic plans for her bedroom after their first reconnaissance.

"We are going to find a carpenter – the best one, and we will ask Master Oddricht if you refuse to tell us because you think it is too much effort or some other really stupid nonsense." Anya threatened. "And then we are going to order a new bed and proper wardrobes all along the walls. They are going to be filled with drawers and boxes and hideouts for all of your things and shelves for all of the chests. And the bed is going to be really big also. The size for a queen. Or no, the size for an archmage, because that is even bigger. And it's going to have a really big canopy over it too."

"But… Hold up… Why do I need to have such a large bed?" the bewildered Jaina almost stammered.

"Because when you sleep you want to move around and grasp for things all over the bed unless someone is near you. So either the bed must be large enough so you don't fall over the edge or large enough to accommodate someone else lying next to you so you don't wander off. In either case, it needs to be large. And a canopy will be just like your own tent so you can have peace and quiet even if your guests are up and about during the night. We'll make it really, really cosy."

Well…trust those guests to insist on making camp in Jaina's bedroom on this side of the sea as well.

One could almost be led to believe that the dark rangers were accustomed to installing their guests in tents set up inside their rooms or something.

She could not argue with their logic, at least not when she was too busy blushing and melting inside over seeing Anya looking so hopeful again.

Jaina would sleep on barnacles and sea urchins if it got that job done.

"Well, I suppose we could head down to –"

"Great! Off we go!" Kitala skipped ahead with Jaina's hand in tow and Lyana dragged her along by the other.



***​



Sylvanas had thought the Undercity was expanding at a high pace.

Theramore was growing everywhere.

There seemed to be a new stretch of road being worked on or a building with ladders or wooden platforms along partly finished walls wherever you looked. Nothing especially elegant but all the more impressing when this had been bare rock just a couple of years ago. Humans worked fast.

Though there were not just humans of course. Elves and dwarves were a noticeable part of the population as well. Sylvanas pulled her cloak tighter around herself and hid her face behind her half of the guardsmen's cloaks and coats. She had no wish to be recognized right now by her former kin.

Former kin.

Jaina considered her an elf still. One with a specific…condition, or how she would phrase it if asked about her standpoint. Though just as likely Jaina would reject the notion completely that she would have to answer to anyone for treating Forsaken as the human and elven persons that they used to be. And woe to anyone pressing that issue, now when no shackles hampered the archmage.

The garrison's, or guard's, quarters were practical and unassuming by most standards. They looked like they had been finished rather early in the founding of the city.

Sylvanas was inclined to let Pained do the talking but a barely perceptible glance signalled that the night elf wanted otherwise, so Sylvanas put on her most businesslike face and demeanour as she strode up to the officer on watch by the entrance and unceremoniously put the eleven coats and cloaks she carried down on his desk.

"Good morning, Sergeant. Please inform the quartermaster it concerns that we are delivering twenty-three Theramorian cloaks and tabards from their temporary and from now on discontinued storage in Lady Jaina's tower."

Pained promptly followed and almost buried the baffled young man with the remaining twelve.

"Tw-twenty-three?" he asked, as if the number itself would be the most astonishing detail.

"Indeed. I am sure you will be able to see to it that they are distributed to where they are most needed without further delay. We shall not keep you from your duties any longer. Carry on."

Before anyone had said a further word Sylvanas turned on her heels and marched out of the building.

Pained followed in close tow. She did not say anything, but Sylvanas could see her only partly repressed smirk.

How odd. She had actually interacted with a living stranger without anything calamitous happening or anyone else diplomatically paving the way. She had not even scared him too much.

They walked for a short distance until Pained indicated another way than where they had come from. It led along less finished backstreets towards the inner shoreline, the one on the west side where the bay shifted to the Dustswallow Marsh. Here Pained was slowing down tellingly.

"It takes no great feat of perception to discern that you seek a word alone with me." Sylvanas noted.

"It does not. Would you be amenable?"

"Lead the way."

The sun already caused the waters to glimmer. It was a clear day yet despite the allegedly unstable wintry weathers. It almost disturbed her eyes to look at, a notion that irritated her until she reminded herself that even as living glittery waters could be hard on the eyes if you looked at them too long.

"The shore has always offered the finest views in my opinion, however accustomed I am to the sight of the forest." Pained observed before turning her attention more fully to Sylvanas. "Should I address you as Lady Windrunner like the others do?"

"In all matters regarding Lady Proudmoore I wish to have no title to hide behind before you or anyone else she holds close. Since that is what I am sure you wish to discuss."

"Yes it is…Sylvanas."

There was some pause while they only strolled slowly along the rocks with the ever-present coats of algae and seaweed and Pained decided on how to begin. Perhaps oddly, the fact that she did made Sylvanas more at ease. If Pained placed enough importance in what she wanted to say that it made her think twice about how to word it, it made two of them if nothing else.

"Jaina is my ward and my lady. And she is also something much more to me." The night elf told solemnly. "When I begun guarding her it was because Priestess Tyrande had ordered me to. Now, I would not cease doing so even if I was ordered by the same."

"I know." Sylvanas said, quiet and dampened.

"Do you?" Pained was not confronting, but deep in thought. She spoke more slowly than Sylvanas had heard her do any other time. "When her father had died she wasted away. All fire, all spirit was seeping out of her like water running through my fingers. She cared for neither food, nor sleep, nor comfort. Do you know how I wished and prayed for anything at all to happen that would break her out of that grieving sickness?"

"She had nightmares when she came aboard my ship." Sylvanas had not told that to anyone, not even Anya. "I sat next to her throughout the night, when she was lying in my hammock. I noticed how malnourished she was the next day. I did not like seeing it, even if we were presumed to be on opposing sides."

"You thought Jaina your enemy?"

"I thought Theramore hostile and Lady Proudmoore extremely dangerous. But not of herself as our foe. She has never been."

Pained let out a long breath, that was only almost a sigh.

"When she was gone I was worrying out of my mind and cursing myself for failing her. Then she wrote to me – not that it was an altogether reassuring note – and I told myself that whatever she had gotten herself into there was a chance it might do her the good I could not provide."

Ruthlessness towards oneself in the face of shortcomings, that was evidently something that also made two of them.

"And it did. When I saw Jaina stumbling back out of the air with the colour back on her cheeks and well fed and vibrant and alive again, it was everything I had hoped for. And at the same time she was crying rivers and cursing over you and could not get you out of her mind."

They were passing the western side of the city's docks now. Heavy timber resting on rock pilings and saturated with the smell of tar and fish.

"I do not know what to make of you, Sylvanas. Are you good or bad for my Lady Jaina?"

"Is this where you should make some sort of armed threat for good measure?"

"Would it work?"

Pained furrowed her brows and looked around. Her gaze settled on a thick pole jutting out of the woodwork, one of countless that held the whole brim of quays in place. In a blink – less than a blink – she had whipped her heavy blade out of its scabbard on her back and slashed through the air.

Sylvanas had heard the thud of metal impacting with wood well enough. The pole remained aggravatingly unchanged however as Pained sheathed her unnerving idea of a side arm.

Sylvanas remained perfectly still, just like the wood did even as the night elf glared daggers at it.

Finally Pained drew in air and blew with a mighty huff so that her cheeks puffed up. The topmost fingerbreadth of the pole clattered to the ground, sliced neat and flat like a Silvermoon marble floor.

"I did not put off answering her letters out of anything but concern for her. I thought it would be better that way."

"So you consider – or considered – yourself a bad influence in spite of caring for her? May I ask what changed your mind?"

"A conspiracy. Including but not exempting close and senior ranger commanders working in conjunction with foreign powers."

"I think I will consider that particular piece of plotting a fortunate thing." Pained took a moment to admire the wide ocean around them. "It is Jaina's choice to divulge as much or as little as she wants about such things that you met to discuss last night, things which I am of course aware are neither trifling nor fully settled. Against all that however I weigh how happy and relieved she evidently is after having had that very same conversation and how I no longer need to fear her fading away. Do you understand my position?"

"Pained. I have every confidence in Lady Proudmoore's ability to safeguard my people while they stay in Theramoore and my rangers are ably led by Areiel in my absence. You have also been...most generous and patient with them yourself, for which I am very grateful. It would not be thought out of place if I as the queen had to return to Lordaeron prematurely. Should…should I do that?"

"Is that what Jaina wants?"

"No."

"Is it what you want?"

"No." Sylvanas found herself having to force out the simple word. Not because it was false or hard to determine what she wanted but because she wanted too much, far too much, to stay with Jaina as much and as close as she possibly could. Yet what if she was wrong, and selfish, in indulging in that? Pained's words had reawakened that never truly sleeping creature of fear.

"Then the matter is already settled, is it not? Sylvanas, Jaina wants you here. You know that even if whatever it is that lies between you appears to cloud your mind in that regard. And if I knew in greater detail what that was, it is very possible that you and I would be having an entirely different kind of conversation. But until then Jaina needs the Banshee Queen that brought life back into her."

"But what if I do wrong? What if I err…again?"

"Do not hurt her. That is all I ask of you."

"There is nothing I want less."



***​



Later in the same day Sylvanas leaned back in her high chair, looking across the largest room of the city hall's upper floor.

Theramore's city council was much like the Forsaken's in a way. Important professions and economical interests were clearly represented to some degree – not exempting the ones of mages and priests when the city was like a daughter to Dalaran – along with a probably deliberate collection of the residing races. A council was a delicately balanced mixture, prone to boiling over if you were not careful with which ingredients to add.

Of course, this was Sylvanas' own view. She was well aware of the fact that it may be rather skewed. Contrary to the Undercity, where the civic administration had grown only out of the necessity to unburden her own war councils, Theramore and her ruler placed a whole other kind of importance into theirs. This was where the city was actually ruled and things were decided.

With Jaina at the head, as eager as ever to make a good impression and to make the best decisions she could for her Forsaken guests. Sylvanas would do what she could to return that favour, which for the moment amounted to summarizing the immediate moves of her own contingent.

"The greater part of my dark rangers are deploying around the city as we speak to assist in scouting and patrolling under the initial supervision of the Theramorian ranging units. In return the freed up city guards can bolster the watch inside the walls. Ranger Captain Areiel is handling that part from our side and I have every expectation that it will be the less complicated one."

"Thank you, Lady Windrunner." Jaina said pleasantly. "I assure everyone that whatever brigand or spy attempting to sneak past that line of defense will deserve our pity. How many rangers are the greater part?"

"Six squadrons, thirty-six. Two at a time will be rotated in and out of Theramore itself, at least now in the beginning. My own being one of them."

At that – which she was of course already aware of – Jaina smiled warmly.

"We went shopping this morning. Maybe that counts as the first official trade between our peoples?"

"You would have pioneered that when buying the pair of slippers in the Undercity I think, Lady Proudmoore."

"But you paid for them – and surely that was a gift, and all your hinting of a loan just idle chit-chat?" Jaina bantered.

"My treasurers and financial advisers are sure to look into the accumulated interest in due time, Lady Proudmoore." Sylvanas quipped back.

Am I allowed? Do you want me to joke with you like this, like we used to do so much before all turned bad? I swear I would want that as much as I said last night but even so I still can not help being afraid I will have misread you, or doubt whether I deserve the privilege it is to speak so freely with you.

Sylvanas was absolutely sure that she had not uttered a word of the thoughts going through her mind. She was equally sure that somehow, some way, Jaina had still caught most of them.

"Then I will await that no doubt ominous note with great…mmm…interest." Jaina was biting her lip shyly and managed to look mischievous at the same time. She reminded Sylvanas most of all of how she had acted when they had actually procured the mentioned slippers.

I want…you back. My little mage. I want you back so much. I just do not know how.

A discreet cough brought both their attention to the present situation.

"Ahem, right…next item!" Jaina blushed.

"Ah, but I think you and the Lady Windrunner have already sprinted ahead and delved into just that." Master Oddricht observed. Sylvanas found herself appreciating the familiar faces of him as well as Gromwell at the council table.

"The gist of it…" The gnome carpentry master continued. "…is just this. How do we Theramorians and our new neighbours get along in as smooth a way as possible?"

Sylvanas' first thought was that smoothness had not been the defining characteristics of her own actions during the last weeks, but with some effort she promptly put that thought away. She was on duty. She was here to help Jaina rule her city and nothing else mattered.

"I offered our help in whatever capacities would be most needed when we arrived. That offer stands and I honestly believe it is of importance that my people can contribute something concrete to the city."

"But that is not your only purpose." Jaina was quick to interject. "You have also come to search for friends or family that may have survived, and for safety, and for lots of other personal reasons. You are not to be our tools or our servants."

"The purveyor insists on offering and the commissioner on paying…" Master Oddricht spoke out loud.

"That's new if it ain't anything else…" Gromwell agreed.

"So, should our first question then be to decide how to exchange goods and services in a mutually satisfactory way then?" Jaina asked but in truth more like summed it up. "I hate to be this…crass but perhaps it is best to start with something very practical."

"How do you do it in your own city?" Sylvanas was asked. "What, ah, would your people be accustomed to?"

She held back an impulse to point out that like they ought to know, the people of Lordaeron also knew how to count coins after all. It was not obvious. Last time anyone present but Jaina had met their former kin of Lordaeron they had been raving ghouls.

"To appreciate the differences between the Undercity and Theramore you first need to keep in mind that we are a nation that has been beleaguered almost from the first moment. Our existence is shaped by it and so are our ways of governing. You would probably find my rule akin to that of a military outpost."

"That's right – she is terribly strict." Jaina stage whispered to the rest of the assembly. "No mana buns except on Sundays."

"Unless I am very much mistaken your enchantment lesson with my mages and the storming of the city happened neither seven nor fourteen days apart. At least one of those occasions would have been on another day of the week." Sylvanas calmly pointed out.

"Are you sure?" Jaina looked genuinely bemused. "Have you actually kept count?"

"I have been known to be terribly strict, after all." Sylvanas kept a perfectly straight face. "These conditions are of course not ideal for mercantile enterprises and our interest in such pursuits is solely of practical nature. We have been short of almost every commodity but lacked any market through which to acquire it."

"But you have a market of your own! It's fascinating, it's all underground and you can come across almost everything."

"I was getting to that, yes." Sylvanas resumed patiently. "What I am trying to underline is that while we do trade and barter with one another there are no major sums involved. All construction and excavating in the city are public works ordered or ratified by me. It is essentially forced labour."

She squirmed inwardly under the big-eyed, sad, compelling and slightly disapproving look Jaina gave her, and corrected herself accordingly.

"Ordered labour. I am not compelling anyone to take part who refuses. Not that it has been a recurring problem so far."

That was apparently enough to make her mage happy again.

"So ye stick together in a pinch and throw yer lots in to help the community when it's needed. Sounds like a fine example to set to me." Gromwell said.

"Perhaps, yet it is not the Theramorian way of doing things, is it?"

"Very right." It was one of the merchant councillors, Gheed, who quickly cut in. "In Theramore all is purchased right and proper – although the pricing can be discussed…"

Master Carpenter Oddricht cleared his throat audibly.

"…and surely the money of your royal coffers is equally good, Lady Windrunner. A spare weapon, some gold…a small gem…is all I need in exchange for all the equipment your people will need for whatever works you may contribute in or whatever quest you might undertake. Now, now, now, don't be shy! All our items are guaranteed for, ahem, life, and come with a two day warranty."

"You have my gratitude, Master Gheed. I will take that into consideration when deliberating how to put the Lordaeron treasury to use." Sylvanas dryly thanked him for the unabashed sales pitch.

"Sylv…Lady Windrunner I mean…" Jaina corrected herself. "Are you rich?"

She sounded a little intrigued.

"I…suppose we are." Sylvanas shrugged. "The treasury appears largely intact since before the war. The Scourge and the Legion were here to kill us, not rob us, and had little use for the gold. Neither have we when we can not put it to use. It is not a very workable metal apart from being easy to mould and not corroding."

She remembered something and smiled back at Jaina. At least a lopsided half smile.

"King Terenas' claims of having run out of the funds needed to finish the Banshee's Wail looks to have been mere pretext."

"Appalling." Jaina shook her head at the sacrilege but tilted it like she did when considering something that interested her. "But that is different now, isn't it? I mean the situation has changed, and perhaps you can in fact buy something useful now for that gold. Or…"

"Bad idea, ore takes up too much space. Better to invest in raw iron." Gromwell muttered.

"…or you could invest it with the help of Theramore to start trade! Timber trade, between Lordaeron and Kalimdor!"

Jaina bubbled over with enthusiasm like a boiling pot.

"Later, it will have to be in any case…"

"Right… Sorry. Back to the Forsaken staying in Theramore."

How I would want this idea of your to become reality one day. Just to see your eyes twinkle like that.

After lengthy discussion they settled on a solution that was both liberal and formalistic. The Forsaken would adapt to Theramorian pricing and currency – the latter being fairly easy as coin was valued by their metal and weight rather than who had minted them – and be free to earn their living pretty much like any other citizens.

Earn their living…what a way to put it.

Given that, the state of Theramore with the obvious backing and support of Lordaeron would purchase the services it needed the most and thereby set a poignant example for any private business thinking of doing the same. Sylvanas almost privately considered it all a sham – since it was obvious that work needed doing and a competent work force was ready and able to be deployed – but simply letting loose free labour into a more or less functional economy would upset the system and create a whole new mess.

She was not cut out for civic administration and she did not pretend to be.

Jaina was, though, or so Sylvanas at least would firmly maintain. Her mage was equally sharp when it came to understanding military matters but her heart and her instincts lay in the scholarly and constructive pursuits. She was a good ruler, and it did not matter that she had too many ideas sometimes because she knew to be concerned with results. She also knew to delegate tasks and to ask for help and admit when she needed to.

Her Forsaken were right when they put their trust in Jaina Proudmoore.

There would be hard times ahead, when the two sides of former Lordaeronians would meet in earnest. Jaina may be too gentle to fully foresee the magnitude of potential dissent, or Sylvanas was the one being too pessimistic. Regardless, Sylvanas would do whatever she could to dampen whatever tensions that arose.

They would see to it that both sides worked together in truth, with foremen and living workers as liaisons of sorts. Those who did not wish to ply their trade next to Forsaken would be free to choose but would also have to actively take it up by themselves.

It was a relief that the rangers were so much easier to put to work. The initial supervision by their Theramorian officers was largely for show. Once they had ran their presumed guides ragged they could roam freely.

"Poor guides…" Jaina said and tried to hide the way her mouth twitched at the corners.

"Indeed."

"Speaking of which, Baron Frostfel will be meeting up some appraising guard recruits later today. I think I should be there to oversee it in the beginning." Jaina was biting on her lip again. Had she always done it or was it a habit she had picked up lately? It was somehow reminiscent of when Anya's fangs showed. "To zee to it zat all iz in order."
 
Pained is certainly taking this well. I would imagine it's pretty awkward for a devoted bodyguard to have the people who kidnapped her VIP wandering around, but after all, I guess she did have a fair while to come to terms with it after Jaina came back but before the rangers showed up.

Thanks for the chapter!
 
Pained is certainly taking this well. I would imagine it's pretty awkward for a devoted bodyguard to have the people who kidnapped her VIP wandering around, but after all, I guess she did have a fair while to come to terms with it after Jaina came back but before the rangers showed up.
Thanks for the chapter!
Precisely! She is both inclined to be very, very wary and immensely grateful for their help with Jaina. She has probably had time to get used to Jaina's impetuous antics as well. Luckily Pained appears to be in the slightly more level-headed minority of Azertoh's inhabitants.
 
Chapter 49: Unwelcome and Unwanted
Chapter 49: Unwelcome and Unwanted

Jaina's good mood continues to shine like a bright flame for the Forsaken in Theramore but will even such radiant luminescence be enough?



The Theramorian training grounds were nowhere near as elaborate as the Forsaken ones. The only thing they had in great supply was sand – which was fortunate enough in Jaina's opinion. People tended to forget or ignore the benefits of a friendly pile of cushioning grains when other people did their best to relocate you to the very same.

Now they were here – meaning herself and the Baron and a number of unfortunate city guards including his old squire Rodrick, together with a hesitant number of spectators that shifted between keeping their distance and acting like they were only really passing by and had just happened to stop for a quick look.

Thank goodness the Baron looked so comparatively intact. He was certainly old old, but not withered old like the ancients of Alfred's kind. That did not stop the Baron in the slightest from wearing his age well and shamelessly baiting the half as young guards to challenge him.

"Humour an old knight with both feet in ze grave, good Sir. Surely a bout with such a frail and creaking elder baron will not more zan mildly inconvenience you." he implored blithely to the cluster of presumed opponents.

Rodrick, who stood next to Jaina in the forefront of ze audience – the audience of course, huffed.

"Like we never heard that old tune before…" he snorted and was not buying into his old teacher's tricks the slightest.

The participants were not wearing armour except for light padding and wielded practice swords made of tightly strung stems of a kind of reed-like huge grass that grew in abundance in the nearby marshes. They would not break bones but were sure to hurt more than enough if you got hit. Baron Frostfel made his look rather tiny when he awaited his opponent with it deceptively lowered.

Once the gruff Theramorian footman, who had both sword and shield properly raised, had come within range the Baron whipped his weapon up and swatted his opponent on the knee in the process.

"Politeness is a virtue among friends, but do not return ze favour if your foe appears to let his guard down." he offered as a friendly reminder.

It did not do much to dispel the dourness and dark glare he got from his sparring partner. The 'partner' bit of it being currently questionable. Jaina knew that she could let events play out as they willed but she felt much too exuberant not to want nudge them a little in the right direction. This was her day and she wouldn't let anyone's grumpiness put a damper on it.

So she nudged. Rodrick, more specifically.

"Maybe this calls for someone a little more welcoming from our side to set an example." Jaina whispered to him.

Rodrick did not flinch as such but Jaina could see him tensing up momentarily, before he sighed inaudibly in acceptance.

"You know that he is proud of you, even if you aren't." Jaina tried to put all the sincerity she could into that insistent whisper that maybe was blunt, but she knew by heart that sometimes what you needed to hear was allowed to be just that.

Rodrick slowly climbed under the ropes fencing the practice field and went to retrieve a set of gear for himself. Baron Frostfel beamed – not many undead could truly do that – and looked just as proud as Jaina had insisted.

"Let me guess, you will have something to say about the way I hold the shield again, Baron Sir?" Rodrick said a little resigned but also with the hint of some good-natured reminiscence hidden behind.

"First let us talk about your posture, my boy. No slouching, but no tensing up either."

"It is always one or the other. I swear I'm starting to think he's just making this up." Rodrick said it half to himself and half to the audience, which his unenthusiastic precursor had now joined.

"Ha! Do not discount ze little things, my boy. A noble posture is always worth maintaining no matter ze occasion. Why, who can tell whenever one of ze fair girls of Theramore have you in her sights? Zey are sly, and you may find yourself weighed and measured when you least expect!" the Baron advised as he circled his former – but not former enough – squire, who kept pace while looking very much like Jaina felt much too often in certain other Forsaken company.

"Baron, please! Weren't we supposed to be sparring?"

"A, forgive an old man his forgetfulness." Baron Frostfel backhanded Rodrick very hard, who caught the hit on the shield with practiced ease. "Perhaps a recurring case of premature death-ness. You were yet unmarried, was zat zo?"

"Death-ness?! There must be some sort of line that one crossed, Sir" Rodrick parried three succeeding swings with sharp thwacks while Jaina had to struggle to maintain her neutral expression.

Tides, no wonder the Baron and Ranger Captain Areiel got along so well. There seemed to be some worryingly similar traits that old teachers everywhere shared, Jaina thought while thinking of Archmage Modera.

Rodrick, for all initial reluctance he may have displayed, took the lesson in stride. He defended himself well even as the Baron cheerfully pounded his shield almost to splinters and drove his pupil from one edge of the sands to the other while keeping up a steady stream of merciless pointers interlaced with unrelenting interrogation.

"Shield up, Rodrick, I have told you zat a hundred times! Ze shield will not spring to our defense, we must wield it just as much as ze sword! How is ze country upland of here, are you able to keep horses about?"

"Yes, scarcely few. Grazing is sparse and the gnats coming up from the marshes are hard on the animals." Rodrick countered with a quick slash at the Baron's sword arm.

"It pleases me to hear. Take good care of zem, and don't forget to keep up with riding practice – shield up, my boy! And by ze way, ze sight of a man showing how he cares for his horse can move ze heart of many a young lady."

"For goodness' sake, Baron Sir! Can we talk about something else?"

His flustered squire charged forward in desperate attempt to keep both their attention centred on the here and now and nothing other.

He had a point though, Jaina thought as her mind turned to Kalira's squadron and Westley. She wondered if she should find a convenient opportunity to let slip that not as young but equally fair ladies reputedly had their soft spots for dashing knights too. It would only be equal and fair, wouldn't it?

"A knight must not allow himself to be distracted by ze underhanded taunts of his opponent. And should you have ze opportunity, a leisurely ride in ze countryside is as classic a move as zey come."

Rodrick groaned.

Jaina knew the situation around them was more than serious, she knew that the shared past of Baron Frostfel and Rodrick was a hard and heavy thing to handle. And still she could not for the love of mana stop herself from breaking into a wide smile at the two of them bickering and out of pity for Rodrick's plight.

Finally both lowered their practice swords and the Baron patted him on the shoulder with some last-minute reminder squeezed in. Then one spectator hesitantly took up clapping, another followed, and the day was won when the next Theramorian guard took up position, this one far more sporting than the first but understandably wary.

There followed then a series of sound thrashings of the pride of her city state, Jaina conceded. The grizzled death knight harried every opponent with deluges of wrecking hits high and low only matched by the downpour of aggravatingly on-the-point reminders whenever one missed or omitted something noteworthy.

Just like the Dark Lady would do when she chased you around the Forsaken arena. Although Sylvanas did not plague her victims with obviously blatant falsehoods about how old and feeble she was. Not that Sylvanas failed to be every time as distracting, in her own particular way.

Jaina had survived the predatory Dark Lady, the lecturing Irizadan and the outrageous Areiel before. Maybe she should give it a go? After all, the name of the game was friendly sparring and if she asked Rodrick to set an example…fair was only fair.

No more had she begun to raise her hand the next time Baron Frostfel asked for another Theramorian fencer when her city guards and a good deal of the passers-by that mysteriously found time to linger ever longer ushered her forward with glee.

"Ehm, could I begin at page level, my good Baron?" Jaina pleaded after she had braided her hair and donned a moderately ill-fitting gambeson.

"But of course! One zing at a time and you shall have the pages for a whole book, Lady Proudmoore." Baron Frostfel turned the metaphors upside-down.

Alright. Sword and board. Block and dodge. Just like Irizadan and Areiel did all the time. Jaina could do this –

BANG.

All of her shook from the impact or so it felt like. Mana-based shielding was so much more cushioning as a matter of fact.

Shouldn't they, like, be conservative and try not to go through the city's supply of practice shields at too quick a rate?

"Keep your guard up, Lady Proudmoore! Ze shield is a valuable tool but zere is no point in blocking for ze sake of it. Now parry or dodge. Eyes up!"

Sensible people relocated to another spot when a lot of vicious strikes started to rain down on them from above. Preferably with a teleport spell.

The principle was more or less the same as when tumbling about with Sylvanas – uhm, training, which was the more correct and appropriate wording. She had to try and anticipate where the next strike would fall and find a way to disrupt it. You did that in an endless variation of counter-striking or angling your blade or shield to direct the force of the blow away; that she knew. It was just that executing that sort of move when you were jumping around with your heartbeat somewhere in your throat and all your limbs either too stiff or too shaky was quite another thing.

The day was fresh with pleasantly cool temperatures for Theramore and a healthy breeze, but nothing that would stop Jaina from sweating like it was high summer in no time. She had not landed a single hit on her own but she could not say that she had really expected to either.

From the bright side of things – huff! – it was good that they had knights of high standards to lead their charges – huff! – wasn't it? This was a – huff! – good learning experience!

For her at least, should she ever find herself without means of casting spells.

Hm!

What about Baron Frostfel? What if he one day encountered, say, some particularly troublesome warlock or lich, with all its mana at the ready?

Jaina could not in good conscience let him go back to guard Lordaeron completely unprepared. What would Kalira say if he ended up frozen into a statue?

Except for asking which way the responsible party went and suggest that he warmed himself up again by hacking the left regiment of minions apart while she took the right, of course.

"Theramore! Shall I begin?!" Jaina yelled at the crowd.

There was just a spell of stunned silence, before she was met by a roar of affirmation.

And then Jaina disappeared in a flash…

…and reappeared instantly behind the Baron's back.

"Shield up, Baron Frostfel! I will not wield itzelf!" Jaina shouted and swatted him hard across his backside with her practice sword. Then she was off again in a blink and landed on the opposite end of the practice ring.

"By Ze Fair Lady, zere is a storm brewing! Of rain or snow or worse!" Baron Frostfel exclaimed like a wizened old fisherman who could tell the shifts of the weather from his aching leg.

He laughed merrily with the audience while wasting no time adjusting to the new rules of the game. Now he did his best to rush Jaina while changing direction erratically to throw her aim off.

Jaina would take him up on the storms. She couldn't hurl a real ice storm at him of course but there were a lot of smaller, better and funnier methods that were much more precise.

Forsaken still used their eyes to see with.

A gust of whirling snow blew up from nowhere and blinded the Baron while Jaina leapt out of the way. He countered by a wide whirling pattern of swings to catch her even with his sight impeded. Jaina immediately froze the nearby ground into a slippery ice floor and stopped the wind blowing, so that the Barom tumbled forward against the force of the gale that was no longer there.

"Remember our posture, when those charming ladies are watching!" Jaina advised cheekily. How she wished that Kalira's squadron could have been here now. "Now beware. Nilas' Nose-Freeze!"

Jaina pointed with her wooden sword and a heap of snow shot out and landed on the face of Baron Frostfel. Jaina was admittedly not sure Nilas Arcanister had ever thought of devising such a spell and even less sure that he would approve of naming it in such a way.

"Tirisfal Toe-Cracker!" That meant a barrage of sparks under the feet.

"Magic Missile!"

"Zat is in all honesty not very descriptive, Lady Proudmoore!"

"Summon Greater Land Shark!"

Jaina's illusions for the Loras children had been well and good for that audience but now she needed something grander. And the land shark that rose out of the ground amid writhing flames – because why not? – measured up to the challenge.

"Tyr's Beard! Begone! You are not –" the Baron exclaimed and leapt out of the way with a spin, but he had nothing for it, for the land shark turned in midair and swelled even more out of proportion so that when it landed it could swallow the peerless knight whole.

He was nowhere to be seen, until a wooden sword made trying waves through the belly of the frighteningly surreal shark.

"Hello? It is a tad dark inside here…" the Baron commented from inside Jaina's illusion. She snapped her fingers theatrically and it turned into bubbles that popped into nothing in the air.

She met the slightly dizzy eyes of Baron Frostfel, if the glowing Forsaken eyes could be called that. The next moment they both broke out laughing and the crowd followed and applauded the entertainment.

"I will look forward to zat posting as commander of northern Lordaeron. It will surely be much calmer zan zis wild city of sea monsters." the Baron told the audience and garnered some easy points.

Jaina decided that she had had her day's fill of fencing practice now and set a good example. Or…

There was a slight possibility that the world was not quite yet ready for land sharks in the training grounds.

When Jaina climbed back under the roped fence she came right upon Sylvanas, accompanied by Lyana, Clea and Kitala who all wore wide grins. Sylvanas managed to keep her face expressionless but Jaina could still recognise that she had to struggle to do so.

"Why, Dark Lady, what a delightful surprize! What do you zink about today's practise, did you catch zight of zat astounding intervention from ze fish kingdom?" Jaina burst out, still caught up in the Eastern Lordaeron accent.

Which she maybe, maybe wanted to be still caught up in because she maybe, maybe could tease the Dark Lady something terrible by overdoing it.

Sylvanas initially almost paled in horror but then she looked so sternly at Jaina that Jaina nearly shivered, and it was as if they were back in the Undercity and she acted the Dark Lady's disobedient pet again.



***​



The dark rangers had set up a small camp around Jaina's tower.

It was a tangle of lines in all directions but at the same time very tidy and well ordered. They had to make use of every hold from the nearby trees to one of the lower windows. Inside were piled all of Jaina's chests and crates and all other things that had occupied her bedroom so they would be out of the way of Theramore's carpenter guild but still sheltered from the weather.

Anya had great fun when they presented Jaina with the surprise. Her soon-to-be-useable bedroom looked really large now that it was empty. They would be able to fit two rows of wardrobes on opposite sides of the new bed and have proper light coming in from the big windows that looked out south-west over most of Theramore and its bay. When the mist rose you could not see the marshlands and hills that lay beyond them and it was like the city lived inside its own little world.

When Jaina had fallen asleep Anya had climbed quietly over all the stuff and found a nook to sit in where she could look out of that window. Theramore looked so peaceful when the lights were lit everywhere. She had sat there and just looked for hours until it was her time to watch Jaina.

Now there were not a lot of nooks when their tents were so packed, but in some places you could sit, and the weather was clear so there was no danger in opening the chests to have a peek inside. Jaina allowed them to because Jaina was kind and lovely. Anya however had the feeling that she enjoyed having the opportunity to go through her own things more thoroughly than probably…ever. Or at least not since she had sailed from Dalaran in desperate hurry to get her fleet out of the Scourge's way.

It really was as if Jaina had never had time to make her own tower her home for real. She had barely unpacked her things since she moved in to sleep and work and occasionally eat in it. Perhaps that was the problem. You needed to do some little things that were just because you felt like doing them, to make it your very own den. Like reading something for fun and not for staying up to date with the umpteenth important report from the city council.

Because Jaina had those kinds of books too.

They were buried deep, deep at the bottom of one of her chests that looked like they had stood untouched for years. Anya loved them from the start. She had no idea about the content but the sight of the volumes made Jaina blush and shift between looking fond and self-conscious and that meant they were dear to her and also a little embarrassing.

The very best of books.

Clea and Kitala immediately dove into the treasure trove. Especially a series of very worn and used volumes filled with pictures of Kul Tiran mariners who could never remember to button their wind-catching shirts. It could very well be the overlaying plot, Anya thought. The quest of the missing buttons.

She thought one of the female mariners looked especially handsome. Except for the tricorne hat she looked just like Jaina did in her ranger clothing. Though Jaina seldom walked around with her shirt open like that and the mariner girl had not wrapped her chest like Jaina had taken to doing. It looked to Anya like she'd maybe like to do that if she was ever going to skip rope.

She wasn't staring.

Not…too much.

"Anya?"

Anya almost shot into the air. She had really let herself become distracted – dark ranger lieutenants shouldn't exactly do that – and now Jaina was looking kindly at her and she did not know a thing to say and wondered if Jaina had caught her staring at not-quite-but-almost-Jaina on her adventure novels.

"Secret message to Lazy Larva Lieutenant Eversong!" Jaina whispered loudly. "We are being watched."

She looked deviously around them and Anya followed her gaze to the nearest side-street.

Half a dozen small heads quickly withdrew back into hiding.

No!

No-no-no-no-no!

Curse and damn and all darkness take Anya for her stupidity! But what had she expected? They were in a city and cities had children. It was just plain luck they had not come close to any of them in the morning when they went to the see the carpenters.

She should run inside…or something. But what was she going to tell Jaina? Maybe…maybe if the rest of them were with her it wouldn't be so dangerous even if Sylvanas wasn't there. Jaina could…Jaina could cast something, if it was needed. So long as Anya stayed close to her, and could warn her in time.

But what if Jaina was hurt?

Anya edged away, she tried to edge away out of the picture like a very quiet shadow that no one would notice was gone. Of course Jaina noticed something immediately and took hold of her hand.

She couldn't walk out on Jaina. She just couldn't.

Lyana, Clea and Kitala had no time to dwell on the reluctance that must be written plainly all over her right now. They were digging into another of the long sea chests, one of those with Jaina's spare mage robes.

Kitala whistled appreciatively as she held up one white-gold-violet and official-looking such.

"Look what we have been missing out on all this time!"

"Next time you could let the mages you are stealing off with pack first. Just a tip." Jaina ribbed back.

"Where would be the fun in that? Dibs!"

Without further ado or any thought of, say, asking for permission, Kitala pulled the flowing garment over her head and begun wriggling into place into it. But she did so very carefully so as to not tear at any seam.

Lyana went over the rest of the content with great professional as well as personal interest. Anya was sure she was giving each piece of clothing a quick look for spider patterns which were regrettably lacking. Clea was too broad to dare to try one of the mage robes but she found a fur-trimmed very wintry cloak that would have been stifling for any warm-blooded creature to wear in this part of the world. Forsaken were not hindered by such trivialities from wrapping it around themselves and catching Jaina with one end.

"Ugh, too warm!" Jaina protested. "These are the winter robes, if anyone had failed to notice."

Lyana held up a matching thick wool robe and started to put it on. Anya was sure she would look very soft and huggable in it.

Kitala had gotten the magical gala dress in place and swaggered around in a way Anya was very sure the Kirin Tor did not when they had their meetings.

"Snowball Swarm!" Kitala chanted and pointed at Jaina. "Greater Tickling Curse!"

"Frog Form." Jaina countered and pointed back, and Kitala sat down and croaked very finely.

"Mana Bun Hex! Jaina is a mana bun – eat her, Anya, before she counters the spell!"

Jaina snorted with laughter when she spun around and looked over Anya the way she did when she was thinking of something. Then she took out another chest. It also held clothes but not so thick ones, they would be the summer robes Anya guessed. Jaina bent over and rummaged through the contents somewhere near the bottom.

She rose again holding a mostly white and violet robe. Mostly, because it was a little bit discoloured here and there and had suspicious scorch marks and a few tears that had been sewed back together. Whatever the piece had been through, it had had a most colourful career.

"My old apprentice robe." Jaina said affectionately and held it out to Anya. "Try it on!"

Wait, what?

Anya couldn't wear that, right? That robe was obviously something Jaina had kept for the sake of remembrance and what if Anya damaged it or –

Or nothing, because Jaina grinned while she half dressed Anya up like a doll and she could never take that away and just had to do her best to be her most careful.

Jaina's robe were just a tiny bit too large for her so it was very comfortable and easy to slip into. And it had been washed so many times that it was incredibly soft and gentle against her skin. Anya couldn't help stroking her cheek against a bit of the collar and one of the cuffs. Jaina's apprentice robes was as much a warm caress that it deserved to be named an honorary scarf.

"You make the cutest apprentice." Jaina mumbled.

"I would like to be able to do magic. Just a little bit."

"What would you do?"

"Warm my hands." Anya whispered glumly.

"Oh." Jaina stroked along her cheek and looked at her more kindly than ever if that was possible. "Anya, you could not be sweeter if Kitala had turned into a mana bun. Remember that cool hands are healing hands to me whenever I have a headache or a fever, which you know I am sensitive to. I would not trade yours for anything."

Anya believed her.

And she wasn't afraid anymore. Not when Jaina was there.

Jaina found a loose summer outfit for Clea to snuggle into and Lyana could take the wintry cloak to match her hideously warm robe. She looked very elegant like that.

"So! Now I have a magic ranger for every season and occasion!" Jaina concluded and admired her new chaotic fellow mages. "Tell you what; when I get my library in order – more in order – we will institute the Dark Ranger Bookshelf and you can choose whatever you would possibly like to have there."

"Only the most meticulously scrutinized and reviewed editions will make onto that illustrious display." Kitala agreed while skimming through the guilty literary pleasures of Jaina's youth, no doubt in search of the steamiest scenes to read out loud or worse.

"There are more watching us now." Clea observed.

She was right. Anya dared to throw a glance sideways. Their dress-up party had caused a small commotion of now barely hidden Theramorian boys and girls of every present race or size, who watched them mess with their ruling archmage with wide-eyed fascination.

Kitala went so far as to wave, followed by trailing mysterious patterns in the air that mages like Jaina presumably did before the most devastatingly explosive fire spells.

"Yes, please come." Jaina said half to herself. "See for yourselves how it is. The Forsaken are not our enemies."

"Maybe that actually is the answer." Clea mused.

"Which?" Kitala asked.

"Win the kids over. The adults will follow in their wake or be left behind one day."

"You dark rangers are certainly childish enough for it to be a perfect match." Jaina said cheekily.

"Then what about mages who won't eat their fish soup?" Lyana countered.



***​



Almost a week had passed since their arrival.

Baron Frostfel had returned to the Undercity through one of Jaina's portals and they had received the all clear from the city's garrison. All was quiet in Lordaeron so far as they could tell. Anya and her squadron were out to do their time on manoeuvres with the other rangers and Theramore's patrols.

Sylvanas was worried about her.

Anya, you must come home. As in coming home after their tour of duty was finished. She had actually said it like that to Anya, as if they had a real, actual home. All of you must. There will be no arrows saved for a sister! You are coming home with empty quivers and dented blades and you are leaving no one out there!

The entire squadron had straightened reflexively at the attempt to hide her fretting under a commanding veneer but Clea had seen right through her.

Don't worry. We have her back.

Sylvanas had probably sounded worse than Areiel or even Amora at their worst. But she couldn't help it.

It had been an eternity since she had been worried in this way about Anya. Sure, the death and destruction of all of them was always a non-existent heartbeat away, but this was something else. This was the way Ranger Lieutenant Sylvanas had chilled inside at the thought of what might happen to her newest and most precious raven-haired ranger girl if she so much as turned her eyes away, cringing and mortified by the thought of anyone else or, Belore forbid, Anya herself finding out.

Because absolutely nothing at all was allowed to happen until – or after – she had been allowed to speak to Anya properly the way she ought to have already done days ago.

Not that Sylvanas had been overly afforded spare time, quite the opposite. It was not without reason she had to remain in the city – Theramore being the city this time – and for every figurative fire she put out two new flared up in its place.

Sylvanas would truly have it no other way because she knew that she was where she needed to be. Her administrative skills could be put to question but she knew how to lead and she knew what it was like being Forsaken. And so far her people's trust in herself and in Jaina and in their own sheer stubbornness in the face of insurmountable hardships had sufficed, but it was by barer margins every day and it was something she now had to speak seriously to Jaina about.

The two of them were kept busy from dawn to dusk and dusk to dawn with every possible and impossible issue that arose from moving a contingent of undead into a fledgling city of the living and more to the point into its daily life. They were still tense and overly careful and nervous with each other like they were walking on glass. Or was it eggshells humans called it? Confusing as hell but probably much better for your feet to step on than broken glass…

Jaina made her lair in the city hall this week since her tower was occupied by a crew of busy carpenters well until evening, and also to pay homage to the hall's workplaces and present herself as more accessible when someone had something to take up with her.

Which someone indeed had. Sylvanas had to wait in line for quite some time outside Jaina's door. Velonara and similarly cheeky people would probably claim that it was a healthily humbling experience for queens and generals to stand in line and wait from time to time.

"…I will see what I can do." Sylvanas heard Jaina promise with stressed resignation as the door opened. She slid back into the shadows of another doorway and let a pair of dock workers with tar-stained clothes pass her by without noticing.

Jaina had not bothered or not thought of closing the door so Sylvanas slid quietly inside her temporary office. It had already become nearly as cluttered as her home.

"Hard meeting?"

Jaina yelped and twitched so that half a dozen papers and two quills fell to the floor.

"Sylvanas. Thank goodness, I almost thought it was more dockers coming to badger me about…for the love of mana I don't even understand what it really is about –" Jaina rambled while she reached down and half climbed out of her chair to retrieve the missing leaflets. Sylvanas knelt to help pick up two of them.

"I'm sorry, I'm a mess – or in a mess I should rightfully say – how have you been doing? This is ridiculous, here I am inviting you to my city wishing for you to have some nice, quiet time in peace and I leave you saddled with…" Jaina slumped back in her chair with a telling gesture at the mass of important correspondence in front of her.

"Hmm, yes… It is not like we decided to attempt any new ambitious diplomatic endeavours to pass the time in Theramore while we were at it." Sylvanas made a show of nodding sagely. It made Jaina smile. She looked like she was starting to relax.

"Really, how have you been? Are things as chaotic on your end too?"

"Without knowing the whole field I would still be inclined to answer yes, they most likely are, but in different manner. I came to talk to you about that, if you have the time? It will probably have us sitting here until evening."

"Yes! Yes, please, Sylvanas, I would really like nothing more. Take as much of my time as you possibly need. And sit down for mana's sake, if I have to look up at you all the time I'm going to both strain my neck and feel like I have done something gravely wrong that my ranger commander has come to reprimand me for. I hope I haven't. Have I?"

"No, I do not think you have, Lady Proudmoore. I am not sure I have either, in this unprecedented situation." Sylvanas said slowly took her seat opposite Jaina at the desk. "Would you prefer the easy things served first?"

"I fear that I will be wanting to have a couple of those in reserve to balance the difficult ones I sense looming on the horizon. No, do as you prefer. I am all ears in either case."

All adorable little mouse ears in either case but that was not a thought for here and now and not something Sylvanas should be thinking.

"Starting with what is working well it is just that. The work itself that my people has begun to undertake has presented no particular difficulty or hardship. It appears we have come more prepared with protective clothing than my sailors had to make do with. Captain Bonecarver and his crew appreciated their new gloves by the way."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Do you have something to eat? It is well past midday and since I am likely to keep you occupied for some time…"

"You as well…" Jaina pretended to give Sylvanas a long glare. "Yes, as a matter of fact I am well supplied thanks to an unholy conspiracy of Pained and dark rangers."

The mage held up a basket covered with a cloth which presumably contained something edible. A peculiar way to pack your provisions in Sylvanas' opinion but it was pleasant-looking.

"I am pleased to see that. May I recommend a heartening snack to take the edge off the dock workers' complaints while I relay some of the harder challenges we face?"

Jaina dutifully set the table with some bread and dried fruit and dug in – she was hungry – while Sylvanas described the situation she faced among the Forsaken.

"As I said the work itself presents no great difficulty except for the same issues the living have, such as shortage of tools and materials. The hard part for our artisans and builders are the relations with their colleagues."

"I mnknow, right?!" Jaina intoned between two bites of dried apples that she forced down so she could elaborate. "I've been seeing representatives of every single profession in the entire city! What the heck is it that they all want?!"

"They want assurances that they will not be rendered superfluous by an influx of free undead labour. They want to confirm and safeguard the power and influence of their guilds. And a significant number want to be able to do their work without having to lay eyes on anyone undead, much less speak to one." Sylvanas said, calm but firm. "You know this."

"Tides damn it…" Jaina just about sulked, but she did not contradict Sylvanas.

"We expected such opinions to be the main obstacle. That does not mean that being proven right is a pleasant experience."

"It's not the points they raise that are wrong. On the contrary, I will say that several – even most – are valid concerns and we have had them up for discussion more than once too. It's just…damn it…"

"You would have wanted those concerns to come together with a more generous disposition towards the Forsaken as a people." Sylvanas filled in.

"I would settle for a shred of common decency! I wouldn't count on anyone welcoming the Forsaken with open arms but…but to give people a fair chance."

"Those that hold up common decency as a standard to adhere to tend to find such decency anything but common." Sylvanas' tone let know that she was not disparaging.

"Elegant." Jaina rubbed her forehead and sighed. She was clearly frustrated with what they discussed. "I apologise, Sylvanas. That did not come out the way I wanted."

"Think nothing of it. I share your dissatisfaction with the way former Lordaeronians are treated by the same. But you and I should also be careful about how much we read into what we have heard so far. These petitioners and concerned voices may represent the general view or they may be a very vocal minority."

"We can have a certain capacity for imagining the worst…" Jaina mumbled. "Should we try to look at it objectively, compare notes?"

"We should."

They did just that, in detail and trade after trade. An hour went by before Sylvanas and Jaina had concluded several things.

The first was that their information was incomplete. They would need to sound out the Theramorian councillors and a number of other people Jaina trusted to give a level-headed and sincere account and hear their views on how the Forsaken labourers were regarded.

The second was that the issue was serious and vital enough to warrant permanent supervision. In hindsight there was no reason why they should appoint Pained to smoothen the integration of dark rangers into Theramore's guard and not do a similar thing for the civilian professions. The traditions and structures of guilds and similar organisations were already in place on both sides and ready to be used.

The third was to flip the board – Jaina's curious way to put it – on the sceptics and invite these representatives and worried citizens to join a new jointly formed governing body with the express objective of providing oversight on and easing all Theramorian-Forsaken matters. Since they had showed such notable spirit and engagement by bringing their concerns to Jaina.

Yes, Jaina was being exceedingly cheeky about the third measure. Sylvanas would probably not put it past her to begin their first meeting with asking the living and undead delegates to mingle until they had learned each other's names, relatives and favourite colours.

Relatives. Yes.

That brought them to another tender spot.

It was no secret that the search for living friends and family was the most important reason for many of the Forsaken who had joined Sylvanas in journeying to Theramore. That great work was still in its infancy compared to the mercantile matters.

It was also going distinctively worse.

No, it was not just that but almost everything except the strictly professional that was going distinctively worse. Perhaps she had been unwise in laying it out like it was even separate issues that could be summed up one after the other, for everything was connected. But Sylvanas functioned that way. She needed to group, sort and categorize things for her mind to make sense of the world. She had been praised as orderly and thorough many times in her life but in truth it was just how she worked.

Anya was her complete opposite. Anya's heart and mind was open to everything around her. She possessed remarkable skill and patience as a scout because she could watch all surroundings like it was the first time she saw them, and she succeeded as a squad leader by remaining attentive to the slightest shifts in her companions' mood and demeanour.

Jaina was somewhere in-between, or if it was more right to say that she had a bit of both Sylvanas and Anya in her way of thinking.

Jaina had the intellectual capacity to make deductions and conjectures on levels Sylvanas could only barely trace. Jaina also had a heart great enough that no matter how easily she would follow the underlying logic of what Sylvanas was about to elaborate on, it was likely to make her weep.

"Lady Proudmoore. There are some things I need to tell you about…about the Forsaken in Theramore. You will not enjoy hearing it."

Jaina swallowed. She was meeting Sylvanas' eyes with unhidden apprehension.

"You know of course that a significant part of the Forsaken who accompanied me here did so above all else out of hope of finding someone of their still living kin. And that is in turn just one facet of the myriad of ways in which we can dream of once more, somehow, belonging to the world of the living." Sylvanas begun to explain. She dearly wanted Jaina to understand, not just assimilate the facts, but understand what lay behind and beneath.

"I know that. You described to me how there are some of your people who feel that way and others who…who want the opposite."

"Yes. This schism – this fundamental and often conflicting difference in philosophy and outlook and view of what it means to be Forsaken – divides our people more than anything else. Only dire necessity keeps us all together as a nation. You have seen firsthand how volatile situations this can spark."

Jaina nodded very solemnly.

"When I sailed for Theramore it was a last ditch effort, a desperate gamble. We had been turned down by any other potential ally within reach. My people had come to blows with each other in their bitterness over the previous rejections. I believe we were on the verge of disintegrating as a nation during that time."

"I am…so glad you came." Jaina almost whispered.

My little mage. I am too. If only so that I could rock you back to sleep and force a few nice fishes down your throat. How frail you looked when you first came aboard.

"What I am trying to approach in a convoluted way is that that for many of those that are here with me, Theramore is the last chance. There have been immense expectations and hopes placed on this event of which many have not been met."

"Please go on." Her mage listened with rapt attention. "I have to admit that I probably don't fully understand how all these things connect, and I will not pretend to."

"I think you understand us far better than you give yourself credit for, Lady Proudmoore." Sylvanas said thoughtfully. "We are not nearly done with the investigative endeavour of listing present Forsaken and comparing names against Theramore's citizens, and of course such an undertaking – enterprise, I was going to say – is complicated by most Lordaeronians not using family names, or using names that are too generic to be of help. Fords and Lanes only get us so far."

"Standing in stark contrast to that plethora of elven names which do not refer to the sun or the forest."

Sylvanas flashed her a grin.

"Exquisite riposte. What is happening right now instead is that people are searching on their own as best they can for those they can. And the city is not overly large."

"It is…not going well?" Jaina's expression showed that she could tell where this was leading.

"I do not know for sure. This is a highly personal and private matter to most people and what I see could be only the worst cases. One girl cried for her parents outside a closed door. None would open. Those sort of things."

"No! I didn't know that! It's horrible, Tides, I –" A bout of coughing drowned out whatever else she had been about to say. Sylvanas continued while Jaina drank some water and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

"I always send company and have them preferably notify a city guard if they can to smoothen these attempts. But it is what it is. Most of my time has been taken up with the search for relatives and handling the aftermath."

"Poor thing…"

"A third wants to go back to Lordaeron. They think it was a mistake coming here."

Jaina looked devastated.

"I expected that something like this could happen. I have not allowed them to and I have appealed to their sense of obligation to honour our promise to work for Theramore, for now. We need time to let all of this sink in and let everyone come to terms with the situation."

"You are right, of course you are right, but…I just wish all could be gentler…"

"You would fix and heal us and be a balm for our sorrows if you could, Lady Proudmoore. I know that."

"Right now I fear that my invitation was a stupid thing altogether."

"No. We are not beaten yet, you and I. Nor is everything going badly and you are leading us fine by example. Your squire turned guard sergeant, Rodrick? I have talked at length with the deathguards that were his former companions. I have not demanded anything of anyone but from what I can tell they are coming to terms with him being alive while they are not."

"That's…that's good at least."

"I saw myself forced to remind them how my ranger mage was a rather special case to get used to and obviously it will be harder for others."

"Will it?"

"Of course it will." Sylvanas could not see how that could even be a question. "You were altogether helpful and charming from the start, disarmingly so."

Jaina waved that flattery away but she looked a little bit happier and that was what counted.

"As a matter of fact I could use some of those abilities tonight. There is a boy, well, young man who asked me to accompany him stealthily. He believes he has a lead on an old flame that he attempted to escape from Stratholme with and wants to see if it is her. Would My Lady like to accompany me on a quiet nightly stroll while I chaperone this touching reunion?"

"I need to have my ears looked at. For a moment there I thought you said quiet, nightly stroll."

"Well, if it comes to Wailing you need only raise your arcane shields and teleport the other party to safety. You know the drill."



***​



Dark rangers were keeping watch over the road in the night. They waved and showed a quick 'all clear' in their sign language when Sylvanas and Jaina passed by and Sylvanas confirmed it in the same manner. Both of them stayed a discreet twenty steps behind their ward, wrapped in shadows and an invisibility spell.

Jaina knew the place they were going to – Jaina knew most things that there were to know about Theramore – and it was very helpful to have her along in addition to comforting. Sylvanas was not untouched by the grief she had dealt with these last days…they had been both trying and disturbing.

Jaina's company made her both stronger and more vulnerable to such things. She found herself thinking of her scar more than in a long time. Without the bulwark that her all-consuming vengefulness used to provide.

"It is the fourth house from the left ahead." Jaina whispered from her side and pulled Sylvanas back to the present.

"Thank you. Then we can stay here by the cover of this wall. It looks like it is going to rain."

"This is a real fine night for a walk, isn't it? But I'm glad you suggested it, I need to remember to go out more when I'm working."

"I think Areiel could offer some ideas for wholesome morning exercises to clear the head in preparation for a long day."

"Don't even think about it. Shush! Someone's opening the door."

Jaina was right. They were too far away for even Sylvanas to be able to catch anything of the conversation above the rising wind and rain. Though the shrill scream reached them.

"That does it…"

"Hold on. Let's see if they can work through it."

"So she lives there. And…not alone."

"Indeed not."

They abided silently and watched the altercation, or shocked conversation, from afar. The rain in the air was turning it damp and misty.

"Would you consider it eavesdropping to move close enough to hear what is being said?"

"Kind of. But if the idea of us being here is to be able to intervene if something goes wrong there is something to be said for actually knowing what's going on."

"My point exactly. And maybe conversations in the middle of the street ought not to count as fully confidential."

"Speaking of which, what if someone overhears us talking? Or more precisely you talking to yourself." Jaina stage whispered out of nowhere.

"Naturally they will put it down to the innate and widely known eccentricity of us ghostly queens."

"Ah, that eccentricity. Then it is well that the good people of Theramore are so used to the same from the crazy witch that rules them, albeit she collects dark rangers instead of cats."

Sylvanas likely fit the described picture when she turned to the side and put a finger on her lips to sign to the proverbial thin air – in truth damp and thick – to be quiet so they could listen from the shadows to three voices, two living and one Forsaken.

"…waited for you!"

"Then that was stupid and nearly made it all for nothing. Good thing you caught some sense and got out of there."

"I couldn't just leave you!"

"I knew that. That's why I heaved that rock in the skull of that ghoul. You couldn't run with those petticoats snagging your legs."

"What happened to you then?"

"I led the bastard into the left alley, only it leads to the yard of a smithy and is a dead end. Which she didn't know because she's from the east end of Stratholme. I was going to climb the roof but as it turned out it was a bit too high and those ghouls could leap. The rest..."

"What…what now?"

"You two go on and make something worthwhile out of this. I keep at it being immortal, or rot and fall apart one day, knowing I spited those fuckers of one more soul at least."

"You should have a statue, brother."

"Take care of her. 'S all I care about."

"Does it hurt? …that?"

"Not in the way you think."

Sylvanas knew that was the end of the conversation even before he had turned and started to walk away towards the city gates. When he passed she took a step forward and revealed herself, and they exchanged nods before he disappeared in the mist toward the waiting dark rangers.

She found the need to correct herself.

He was definitely not a boy.

"All things considered they are doing better than most." Sylvanas observed when she followed her mage home, lowly so that only Jaina would hear. "If this is the fabled human teenage drama I would be inclined to take it over much else I could mention."

Jaina huffed as if she was trying hard to suppress a giggle.

"Though I had better consult those more knowledgeable first, before rendering judgement of things outside my area of expertise."

"I, ehm, I wasn't very good at that, I think. Mostly bookworm. Just the…talked about engagement."

"Would that not have been drama enough?"

"Yes, it was, but apart from – after that – I wasn't very outgoing and such, like a lot of other magical students in Dalaran. I was no Jaina Prowlmoore."

"Elves grow at a different rate than humans, but I think I understand how you mean. In all honesty you have had your hands full through several years but it is never too late to pick up the slack as they say. Just an…elven perspective."

Jaina stood unfazed before calamitous powers but could be made to blush and squirm by the simplest words. She was adorable when she did and utterly lovely to tease, but Sylvanas knew she should not bother her too much. This was after all a sensitive subject at heart.

"I'm…I'm not much apart from my magic and my position." Jaina confessed. "And I think I am afraid – that is, I would be afraid – to cause a great inequality through my superior position as Theramore's leader. I don't know how I should think as a ruler…I try to be kind and not make too much of a point about it but I also don't want to forget what I am and take for granted that people can relax in my presence and such…"

Sylvanas understood, oh how she understood so very, very much.

"Adhering too much to such concerns can lead down a path of loneliness I can not recommend anyone of walking…though I share the fears you have given voice to of abusing ones position, Lady Proudmoore. But you do succeed in being kind and you need neither your position nor your magic to be a wonderful person that anyone would be lucky to have. And don't you dare think otherwise, little mage."

"No, Dark Lady." Jaina said shyly.
 
Chapter 50: Brightness and Bookshelves
Chapter 50: Brightness and Bookshelves

Anya comes home to present their archmage with her new bedroom and find that she has a happy surprise waiting for herself and all of them waiting. Meanwhile the prejudice and disdain directed at the Forsaken mounts and Jaina gets an idea. And last but not least the Dark Ranger Bookshelf is finally instituted!



"What happened?"

Jaina leaned forward on the bench to match the position of Dark Ranger Vilerion next to her. He looked just as…just as down as his posture.

Where was Sylvanas when Jaina needed her the most? They had been reviewing the latest news and planning for two hours straight and just when the Dark Lady had gone to see to some things on her own this happened, whatever it was.

And why did Jaina need Sylvanas all of a sudden to keep order in her own city? She was the archmage of Theramore, wasn't she?

Tides, how reliant she had become on Sylvanas'…mere presence.

"Nothing special. He handled it." Vilerion nodded towards a guard lieutenant, Hornblower to be more precise, who was still in a tense conversation with a dozen citizens on the other side of the town square.

"I don't like to think that my city guard has to intervene over nothing special, Ranger Vilerion. And something happened or you wouldn't look like this. Please? Ranger sister please?"

Maybe his mouth quirked just a tiny, tiny bit up.

"Do we call you Lady Jaina when we're in your city? I'm not…so used to human ways. As evident."

"You don't have to call me Lady Jaina at all, but I don't want to use your nickname just now because you're really not that."

"I get you. It was Rishk's doing once long ago. All blame lies with him and his bad taste in names."

"Hey? Ranger Brother?"

Vilerion relented with a sigh.

"An elven girl tripped and scraped her knee. She had gotten one of those thistle-like flowers in her hair, burdocks I think they're called in Common? The kids throw them at each other I think to make them stick. I wanted to help her up and see if I could help her with that, she was hurting from trying to get the thing out and it only snagged more in her hair when she tried."

Jaina knew the kind of plant quite well. And the less noble sport of throwing it at others too.

"Areiel has told us to get ourselves some bandage kits again – used to be regimented to carry in the right pocket, maybe Anya and the rest have mentioned that – now that we have living allies who could use them. So we did that and I reckoned she could've used mine for her knee if she wanted."

Jaina nodded in approval but she had bad feelings about the premise in combination with the hostile crowd across the square.

"But you can guess the rest. To them I might as well have been a ghoul about to tear her throat out."

Jaina sighed, and could guess.

"I didn't touch her. I mean, not apart from helping her get back on her feet."

"Lady Jaina?" Jaina looked up to see Lieutenant Hornblower standing in front of them. "May I have a word with Ranger…Vilarion, was it?"

"Vilerion. And you are Lieutenant Hornblower, who was at the games."

"Vilerion." Hornblower confirmed with a nod and sat down on his other side with no undue haste. "I need to confess to the bad show of manners of overhearing your statement made to Lady Jaina which I did not wish to interrupt. May I leap straight at the most unpleasant question and ask if you were in any way assaulted by anyone?"

"No. You likely averted it coming to blows, Lieutenant. Just words, as it happened."

"Not very kind words. Or fair."

"No."

"Well. With no one being harmed and no property damaged this matter is out of the city guard's concern. As a citizen of Theramore…I could be prouder of our conduct."

Vilerion only shrugged.

Jaina searched for something good to say. This wasn't the kind of city she had founded. This wasn't what she wanted Theramore to be!

She hadn't arrived in time to witness the encounter or hear insults most apparently thrown but she hardly had to. She would need to ask Hornblower about his view of the whole incident later as he appeared to have caught the most of it.

Hornblower though, despite his assessment that it was no longer a city guard matter, remained and if anything leaned back where he sat.

"I have a daughter. She is old enough to run around and get thistles in her hair and bruises on her knees. I am forever indebted to Lady Jaina for bringing her and her mother away from Lordaeron in time."

Jaina reflexively wanted to squirm and downplay that but got a firm hold of herself and those familiar tendencies. How by the Tides would that sound, if she was trivialising the saving of Hornblower's and so many others' families?

A certain Dark Lady would have one or two things to say about that, for one.

"I am worrying myself sick over her, day and night." Hornblower continued with a detached sort of honesty and self-reflection. "And if I knew that I could count on the everyday Theramorian to offer her a hand when she fell rather than pass her by without a second look, I would sleep a hell lot better I think."

Vilerion shrugged rather half-heartedly. The three of them remained silent and Jaina had the distinct feeling that there was more to be said.

"'Where do you have your wife?'" Jaina blinked, had she heard him right? "That's the most usual one I reckon."

"Lieutenant… What are you…"

"'Where is her mother? Get away from her!'" Hornblower imitated an outraged stranger. "And a discomfiting variety of similar things too easily hurled whenever I would have the gall to accompany my own child on my own. As a guard officer on duty I carry the weight of my sword, my station and my coat. As a mere father off duty…I do not matter as much."

"But…no… Yes, you do! Who says –"

"You saved all of us, Lady Jaina. All that you could out of Lordaeron, and you got the good and the bad bits of it here. And the Forsaken, like you have told us, they got the good and the bad bits that remained there."

"'Suppose that sums it up." Vilerion shrugged again. "I'll go look for Rishk I think. See you around, Ranger Sis'. Lieutenant."

He rose and Hornblower followed him and they exchanged a nod. Just as quickly the empty spot beside Jaina transformed into the Dark Lady like she had materialized from the air.

"Promote him." Sylvanas said casually.

"Why are people so…Tides-damned stupid…" Jaina asked quietly out to no one and everyone.

"I am not the right person to make judgement of that. But by noon today you shall find yourself with staunch allies at your side against the world's limitless lack of sense, Lady Proudmoore."

"Is –"

"Anya is coming home."



***​



Just like with grander cities and rural towns everywhere else, Theramore's main gate was a place of frequent activity during most of the day. A city was only a dead shell without the surrounding land and sea it lived of and food, fuel and building materials flowed in while the resulting refuse flowed out a the trickling stream of wagons, carts and wheelbarrows for whose benefit the traffic had been divided into two orderly lanes in opposite directions.

Despite the disappointments they had experienced Jaina thought it all looked encouraging this day.

There were Forsaken here and there and sure, you could make them out easily, but the heavier clothing that everyone wore at this time of the year certainly helped them blend in. And Jaina wanted to believe that people would be too busy to have time to care overly much about who was pushing the cart in front of them.

Just now though she was uncharacteristically distracted by looking over the nearest traffic and scouting out the road as it bent around scattered copses of trees across the Theramorian peninsula.

"On the left. By the dunes." Sylvanas tipped her off from the corner of her mouth and Jaina turned to follow her lead.

The main road followed closer to the inland shore than the ocean shore and between them and the water was the stretch of sand dunes with rough grass and low shrubberies of wild roses in which the Forsaken camp was nestled some distance away. Just as Jaina turned her head she could glimpse the movement of something dark here and there that disappeared behind the sandy cover.

"Turn your eyes and not your head so they do not spot you." Sylvanas advised.

"Are you always playing hide and seek?"

"Completely unlike this ranger mage who is an undisputed master of arcane concealment and logistics, yes."

"Never heard of her. I'm sure you must be imagining things, Dark Lady." Jaina stated primly, and then waved and shouted at their obnoxiously shy rangers. "Hey! We know you are there, come out and say hello already!"

Apparently their homesickness outweighed their dedication to stealth practices, for almost out of the ground appeared nearly a dozen undead elves, pale and marble-like in the high sun where the cloaks did not obscure them.

And first of all ran a lithe and dark-haired wind given elven form, whose feet did not truly appear to touch the ground where she treaded. When it showed no sign of wanting to stop Jaina spread her arms wide, and Anya leapt into them so that she staggered and almost sat down on the sand, or almost would have, had not Sylvanas been there to catch her if need be.

"Welcome home." Jaina mumbled into the ear of the tightly clinging dark ranger wrapped around her neck and waist.

Anya released her and slid down onto her feet again, eyes wide and bright red even in the sunlight. Then she turned to pull Sylvanas tight to her.

At first Sylvanas froze, rigid like a statue. Then… Jaina could best describe it as if some trapping, stiffening force left her and Sylvanas had breathed out in an invisible sight of relief that left her almost slumping bent slightly over Anya. If there ever was a time to say that another person was melting, it was what Sylvanas did right now. Stiffening veins of frost thawing inside her and releasing…something considerably softer to very carefully return the embrace.

With a sinking feeling inside her Jaina tried to recall if she had actually seen Sylvanas and Anya close to one another a single time since their reunion?

Sylvanas held Anya like she was made of glass, which Jaina would do herself every odd day of the week, but also with an insecurity, a hesitance that Jaina had never seen between them before. Like they were feeling their way through unfamiliar and strange waters and hampered by fear of in any way overstepping.

How…how wrong that looked when Jaina had once seen them kiss uninhibited, she thought as they released one another.

"Have you been good?" Anya asked with a demanding look at both of them.

"Yes." Jaina and Sylvanas answered in unison, and glanced at each other when they realised it.

"Has she been good?"

"Yes." both of them nodded fervently again.

"You have kept the city under surveillance, have you not?" Sylvanas asked.

"Of course." Anya admitted without hesitation. "Otherwise neither I nor Areiel would have dared to leave the two of you alone. But I think the Theramorian rangers have had it and will let dark rangers scout at our own leisure now. We don't need to keep so many of us in the field anymore now when we have mapped and familiarised ourselves with the land around Theramore."

"That is lovely to hear." Jaina beamed while Sylvanas went to greet the rest of the rangers and trade some words about how they found the countryside to be. "I think I am going to need all of you in Theramore to be honest."

"People are still not wanting to be friends?" The way Anya looked both disappointed and unsurprised made it almost painful to have to confirm it.

"Not many. Or in truth we don't know very well but I really wish it was going better. I feel like I am trying to forcefully shove the Forsaken down the throat of my city that does not want to swallow."

"Your city thinks we are fish soup."

Anya said it so innocently, and so naturally like it was now the most established and uncontroversial fact ever that fish soup equalled distaste, and Jaina coughed and snorted from trying to hold back a bout of laughter.

"It doesn't look better, I'm afraid. But some of us think you are hot chocolate and candied cherries through and through."

"Areiel will be coming a little later, she is stopping by the encampment. I ran ahead with two squadrons." Anya confessed just a little guilty. "I missed you very much."

The only proper response to that was another hug.

Sylvanas brought the rest of the squadron up and Jaina leapt into hugging all of them welcome home. Her tower had felt awfully quiet of late.

But now that would be amended, as Jaina proudly announced.

"It's finished! My bedroom! Or, it's supposed to be finished but I have put off inspecting it because I wanted all of you to be there with me when I inspect it with Master Oddricht."

She led the way in stride with her ranger squadron following in tow towards her tower. Jaina only briefly associated their troupe with the mental image of a mallard mother and her ducklings finding. When they were nearing the city square Anya however pulled at her sleeve.

"Could we linger for a little while?"

"Why?"

"I want to buy a silly hat."

"A silly hat? What in the world for?"

"I am thinking that if I wear a hat that makes people laugh I wouldn't look so frightening and then maybe people would like us more. And a hat is easy to throw away in a pinch if you need to."

Jaina looked slightly helplessly at Sylvanas, who only eyed Anya fondly.

"You should not have to. I just want to say that clearly. Not for anyone else's sake. But the tailors on Tar Street make hats that I think are not particularly frightening."

"Why do you set up a tailor shop on a tarry street?" Lyana wondered.

"In the beginning we used to route harbour materials like tar through there. Later we changed it so that those things are mostly carted along the dockside road, but the name stuck."

"It had already been tarnished." Kitala sagely remarked and Jaina could swear she heard Sylvanas suppressing a groan.

"We have company." Clea noted when they turned down the Tar Street.

Anya threw a quick glance behind and flinched. Jaina could see they had once again attracted the attention of several children who tried to hide it.

"They will not approach." Sylvanas was reassuring under her breath. "They are curious and thrilled to watch but nothing more yet."

Anya nodded, slowly and uneasily, but made her way inside the tailor's emporium. She bravely stepped up to the counter where the hat-maker adjusted her glasses and the tailor stopped mid-step with shearers raised at the sight of a full dark ranger squadron.

"Good day. I would like to buy a hat. One that isn't scary."

Jaina clutched her mouth and attempted to study the work put on display in the meantime, just to emphasize the normalcy of asking for non-scaring hats. It was, honestly, a rather considerate request, was it not?

The business savvy of the proprietors outweighed their bafflement, and any obvious undead antipathy, and Anya decided on a truly ridiculous thing with thick bands to tie under your chin and a black velvet rose to decorate one side. The dark ranger made their day when she promptly selected a second one to go with it.

"Why did you buy two hats?" Lyana asked on the way home to Jaina's tower.

"I can wear one under the other, and if someone else needs a hat I can lend one, for if you lend your only hat people always fuss about it even if it's no trouble at all."

"That is true." Lyana agreed. "Spiders are much smarter."

"You look like a chambermaid, Anya." Clea said with obvious amusement. "The sweetest possible one."

"What's that? Is it like a nursemaid?"

"For human noblewomen." Kitala nodded. "The richer they are, the more helpless they become. It says so in Jaina's books. So they need their chambermaids to get dressed, bathed and tucked into bed and so on. And to gossip with, so the reader learns of all their embarrassments."

"Who knows, maybe Lady Proudmoore ought to have one?" Clea thought out loud while Jaina tried to mime a definitive 'NO' at her. "So that she isn't falling behind on her noble ladyshipness. I mean, what would people say?"

"Would be terrible." Kitala agreed at once. "What would people say?"

"Perhaps that I know how to get dressed and tie my shoes on my own?" Jaina pretended to be testy.

"So if I were to be Jaina's chambermaid I could decide that she was only allowed to eat wholesome food and go to bed at proper hours instead of working all evening?" Anya's fangs peeked out over her lower lip when she considered the thought.

"U-unfair…" Jaina looked for a non-existent escape route. "Help, Dark Lady."

"What?" Sylvanas said innocently. "You could not possibly expect me to countermand my own squadron commander. How would that look?"



***​



"…and we needed to angle and scallop that topmost panel to compensate a little but now they should be fine. Straight as a mage's staff…uh, I think…"

Master Carpenter Oddricht proudly showed Pained and the full ranger squadron, including two heads of state, the results of many days worth of doubtlessly painstaking labour. Sylvanas never considered herself a knower of fine carpentry but she would unreservedly say that Jaina's bedroom looked quite pleasant now. It did not have high-vaulted elven elegance but it had a human homeliness about it. It was the right sort of place to put your human archmage to bed in.

On either side of the bed the walls were lined with wardrobes. But while the doors were of a uniform pattern they were not of uniform size and some were tall and some were short, so that there appeared to be a closet at hand for every purpose. Sylvanas found something very…very Anya-like about it all. She would bet her last arrow on who it was that had thought it out.

As it turned out some were actual wardrobes and some hid drawers or shelves – soon to become bookshelves to house bedside reading material of insatiable little mages – and some were not yet purposed.

And right in the middle, flanked by a small table and with the headboard against the now fully visible large south-westerly windows, stood the bed.

The bed posts were sturdy as bollards. It could probably house the entire squadron.

If they squeezed in together.

Which they would.

Anya appeared to even have had extra large sheets sewn. It was hard to tell with certainty from outside. The only thing that was missing was the alluded canopy. Sylvanas noted a stout metal hook at the centre of the ceiling which she assumed was for hanging that, but the two other ones between the bed and the northern line of wardrobes she found harder to identify the purpose behind.

Until Anya explained in detail.

"These are for a hammock. If Jaina has trouble sleeping we can hang a hammock there since we know she sleeps well in those."

Jaina ignited into furious blushing coupled with an irrepressible smile, but that paled in comparison to Master Oddricht when Anya hugged him in gratitude for his efforts and in doing so lifted him off the floor. Sylvanas formed a picture of a great strawberry passed between her rangers but kept that observation to herself.

He looked a tiny bit woozy when he excused himself after expressing his delight in the customers' clear satisfaction.

"Now we are moving in!" Anya announced with mischievous satisfaction worth its weight in royal gold and started to hand out tasks. Sylvanas' and Pained's was to gather Jaina's books and place them in proper order under her guidance, while Anya and Lyana did the same with their mage's clothes.

Jaina was not allowed to participate because Anya had relegated her to try out the bed and lent her Clea and Kitala for that immeasurably important assignment. As customary it was Clea who sat leaning against the corner formed by the headboard and its taffrail-like supports, and Jaina half sat in her lap and half reclined against her so that she hardly tested the comfort of her new bed but more so the familiar one of her ranger sister. Clea hugged her from behind like a child her favourite stuffed animal and nuzzled into her neck with matching joy.

"Clea the Clingy…" Jaina said and failed miserably to convince anyone of her sincerity, while Kitala was the only one to actually test the piece of furniture where she stretched out with Jaina's leg as her pillow.

"…and my kitty." Jaina hummed and failed equally to keep her fingers away from Kitala's ear, or she would have failed if she had actually tried to. "Maybe I should start calling you that?"

She was stroking lightly along the edge, even the serrated, cut top that few were allowed to touch, without hesitation. Sylvanas briefly remembered that she was neglecting her book-carrying duties but Pained could surely carry for two for a little while.

Because wasn't this sight all she could dream of? Her rangers, safe. Her mage, happy and content.

"…the fabulous adventures of Kitty Starshadow…" Jaina kept musing, thinking up book titles. "Or Kitty and the Mystery of the Lost Necklace…"

She had not meant anything by it. Sylvanas knew that. Still she could not keep her own mouth shut.

"To be followed by Kitty and the Screaming Old Crow…" she muttered and promptly went to get to work with fetching some better books in which the ghosts hopefully treated kind girls better when they came to return long lost heirlooms.

"What would you say is recommendable bedside reading, Sylvanas?" Pained asked bent over one of the chests and piling up books in one arm.

"How would you mean?"

"You know her sleeping habits at least as well as I do. What books would actually contribute to My Lady getting her desired rest each night?"

"I can hear you out there, you know." Jaina called from the bedroom.

"Boring Lady Proudmoore is in all honesty easier said than done. Perhaps some form of distinguished treatise on the proper conduct of noble human ladies would serve. Otherwise I have been led to believe that the inter-academic reviews and antitheses of certain Kirin Tor members can wear on the attention."

"Alert me if you should see one…"

Sylvanas was, with books as well as handwriting, not particularly talented but very thorough. She placed and sorted the books according to the apparent subject and alphabetically so that they would be reasonably easy to find. Jaina however would have none of that, and instructed her in the very precise, complex and impenetrable system that determined where a bedroom book should be placed. There were truly a remarkable number of underlying considerations to keep in mind and you clearly had to be a Kirin Tor mage of high standing to think them up.

"Now, I have an important question for all of you." Jaina announced after craning her head to observe Sylvanas dutifully following her scholarly order to the, hm, letter. "Where do you want the Dark Ranger Bookshelf? Here in the bedroom or in the library?"

It was a hard question, no doubt about it. A spirited debate engaged all the rangers while they kept unpacking Jaina's items and both her mage and Pained appeared to follow it with bewilderment. Sylvanas stayed out of the discussion, she would not wish to risk spoiling anyone's fun with practical considerations.

Eventually the bedroom alternative won, chiefly on account of maintaining the secrecy and privacy of the esteemed collection and the greater propriety of keeping such in the bedroom. It spoke, hm, volumes of their predicted taste in literature. And Belore, she really had to stop herself lest she turn into Areiel some day.

Lyana and Anya were keeping busy with sorting Jaina's clothes – they did not have to obey any obscure archmagely regime – and injecting a steady stream of commentary that kept a healthy blush on her mage's cheeks. Sylvanas knew that for Lyana's part it was likely unintentional. Lyana was practical to a fault and there was no better opportunity than one such as this to make note of garments that needed mending or altering in any way and which the squadron's quartermaster would insist on seeing to.

Pained did what she could to ease Jaina's mortifications and courteously found something in the study to occupy her attention when Anya and Lyana got to sorting Jaina's underclothes. But she did look like she had a hard time maintaining her straight face.

In a sense it was very upside-down because nothing would exactly be news to Pained, who had packed that sack of spare clothes that Jaina had sneakily teleported onto the Banshee's Wail at some point. But when had logic ever held a high position in similar matters?

"Oooh." Lyana hummed appreciatively and held up something of a blue, shiny fabric.

It was a nightgown, but not very like the one Jaina had worn when Sylvanas first brought her aboard the ship. It was a short nightgown.

"Oh, ah, uhm, that…" Jaina made a good impression of a fireball about to ignite. "I never really got to use that one – I never really used it I mean! It's…it's just a silly thing I bought once…"

"But why? It's really nice." Lyana said and stroked along the silky texture.

"But it's made to…well, charm…and I never got around to do that very much. It was when I just studied all day, and was no Jaina Prowlmoore..."

"Like you would even need it for that." Lyana said like she was just stating a fact. "But please try it on and see how it fits, so I know if I need to have it looked at. I can handle leather and linen on my own but this is a little out of my league."

Jaina looked like she would rather prefer to retreat under a pillow but Lyana's sense and reason was without a crack in it. Her mage crawled out of the bed and out of Clea's arms and started pulling her robe over her head –

"LOOK!"

"What is it?!" Jaina startled and strained to look over her own shoulder as if there was some monstrous bloodthirsty insect crawling over her. In doing so she inadvertently spun around on the spot as if she was chasing her own tail, before Kitala stopped her and spun her back so the rest of them could see.

Sylvanas blinked.

"Your scars…" she breathed out in wonder.

"What about them? Have they gotten worse?!"

"No, they are…almost gone."

Two loud steps had brought a startled night elf back into the room too.

"Malfurion Stormrage, you magnificent lice-ridden old furbolg…" Pained shook her head in fond amazement.

"I thought he was just joking! Blow on the wound?! Blow on the wound?! I'm going to blow him into a treetop and let him hang there by his own antlers!" Jaina sniffed, distraught and shocked and not daring to believe what she was hearing. "Are they…really…almost gone?"

She just about whispered the last syllables. Sylvanas wanted to hold her frightened mage, she ached to be the old her who could have swept her cloak around Jaina and reassure as easily and instinctively as she had done when those scars were fresh wounds. Without having to hesitate and second-guess every word and every action lest they shatter the fragile, precious peacefulness between them.

Anya was the only one who showed sense. In a blink she had run out of the room, in two she was back with a bundle of dwarven wool clutched tightly. She unwrapped it deftly and held up the familiar leaf-shaped mirror it guarded so that Jaina could see what her back now truly looked like beneath the wraps that she had gotten used to.

Jaina looked, and looked, and looked with misty eyes, while Anya helped her pull the linen down where it was needed. Her scars were really, truly, almost gone.

The horrible mistake that was Hearthglen was not undone. It would never be. But it was mitigated. And Sylvanas prayed for whatever power that could make her mage whole in this way to have just a little bit more of a spark left in it, and that Jaina was not fully healed right now, but healing.

Belore give that Jaina would never have such a scar as the one blighting Sylvanas' own chest and mind, the Scar before all other scars. Belore give that Jaina would recover, body and soul.

Her own Scar had been growing in her mind lately. It was not unexpected of course, what with all the daily reminders of how undead stood out against the living. She had not told Jaina about her thoughts because Jaina would only find a way to blame herself for it and Sylvanas would never find that acceptable.

She bore her Scar like she had born all those that came before it, with patience and unyielding endurance and determination to learn from it and do better the next time. She allowed herself nothing less for she was the Banshee Queen and the Dark Lady and she had an example to set.

So she told herself.

Yet there were those times when the walls of her determination buckled, the shield of her vengefulness splintered and the armour of sheer necessity cracked, and bared the naked wish of only Sylvanas Windrunner that she would not bear such a Scar.

That she would be alive.

And those times frightened her.

Anything to save her mage from something like that.

And whatever the Forsaken foreign policy would ever be towards the night elves, their Banshee Queen knew one thing.

Malfurion Stormrage must live.



***​



Of the two taverns in Theramore greater than the rest, The Tusked Herring was Jaina's secret favourite, and more ordered and inclined towards warm meals and perhaps a tad more conservative drinking. Of course with the good taste of specialising heavily in fish dishes and not requiring them to be soup.

The tavern sported an absolutely hilarious sign – the dark rangers had immediately dubbed it the height of human cultural expression – that was literally a great herring with a very orcish head and two prominent tusks. The rumours that it was intended to be a – reasonably apt – caricature of Warchief Thrall himself were unconfirmed.

The Thieving – or possibly Screeching – Gull was larger, rowdier and more popular. It was the premier place to go for anyone invested in the businesses of the docks, be it anything from fishing to shipping. It was here things happened in the mercantile world and while the most privileged or snobbish of entrepreneurs may prefer to meet at each others' burgeoning residences – comparatively humble though they may yet be in Theramore – that was an irrefutable fact that served to maintain an equality of sorts. The most spotless merchant and the most tar-stained sailor would each head to the Gull after a long day.

Today it sported a new decoration. A stylized star or sun, coarsely cut from wood and painted white, hung next to the open door.

Jaina had been in the middle of a spontaneous lecture of shipbuilding, shipping and shipping companies in general while taking a daily walk around her city together with her ranger squadron, both to have a personal look at how things were running and to show off how Forsaken rangers were not so frightening after all.

"Have you seen this before?" she asked her accompanying ranger squadron and the five shaken heads she received in answer prompted her to step inside for a closer look.

The Gull had rudimentary partitions closer to the walls that gave a sense of structure to the arrangement of tables and chairs and benches. The middle of the floor was the most open and a strategically presented lane led new patrons right up to hear the tavernkeep's suggestions of what to drown the day's troubles with.

But today, this time, something was off. It took Jaina a moment to realise what she was taking note of, it was silence. And the Gull was many things but it was not silent.

"Hello?" Jaina asked awkwardly as she approached the tavernkeep. She had found herself between two rows where spread out patrons eyed her silently, closer to the walls than she had expected.

"This is a bright establishment. Lady Jaina." He said it dispassionately, like someone with an unpleasant conversation ahead of him that just had to be done with.

"I beg your pardon?" Bright was among the last adjective Jaina would use about the place today. She almost wondered if it was all a very elaborate joke.

"It means we don't serve their kind." He threw a quick glance over Jaina's shoulder.

"Forsaken don't have to drink so I think we will manage." She made her voice as cold as the chill she felt inside.

"My Lady. Respectfully. Do you want me to spell it out?"

"As a matter of fact I think I do. What the hell is this?"

He appeared to sigh, like he had expected nothing less from her, and brace himself.

"My Lady, we all admire your many acts of bravery and what you have done for this city. We do not regret following you across the sea. But we did so because we wanted to get away, you see. We marched for you, we fought for you and we bled for you. Now we want our reward, to be able to settle down and rest. To be free of all…that."

"What's stopping you? Except for the stunningly merry and bright frolicking I see all around me."

He conceded the point with a slight nod, but not enough to smile.

"We came here wanting to find some closure, putting our dead and our past to rest. We don't like to have it shoved in our face every time we step outside. Besides, people are worried."

Their conversation had attracted attention from the start. Some still seated, some having risen and edged closer for every sentence, now working up the nerve to join the debate. It would have stung had Jaina not been too upset to care right now. She did not want anyone afraid of approaching her.

"With every respect…not saying it's down to you in person, M'Lady –

"If it isn't me then it's clearly someone else." Jaina cut him off. "Enlighten me. What is it that this someone intends?"

"This…this folk-keeping of yours, this counting and keeping books of who lives where an' all… People reckon, they do, that it's nay only for these dead ones to nose about their relatives. No, it's a flaming cover-up, that's what it is, and the real aim is to squeeze us common folk of even more of our hard earned pennies."

"So inviting the Forsaken to Theramore is an elaborate cover to divert attention away from a taxation census?" Jaina was too perplexed to even be upset. "I regret to say that I am being credited with a shrewdness I have yet to live up to, but can only strive to improve towards."

Mild irony could sometimes disarm Dalaran schoolmasters and Lordaeron royalty alike but here and now it fell short.

"Well it ain't just that." Another patron joined the discussion from a table further away, to the assenting murmurs and nods of his neighbours.

"It's all those workers too." a third guest chimed in. She pointed at Sylvanas with an expression that told of pent up ire waiting to be let out. "Don't eat. Don't sleep. Don't have to do anything, do they? They can just work, and work, and work. And if we raise any squall about it, what'll happen to us who do? It'll be the door for anyone complaining about the slightest thing now, when there're a hundred willing hands at the ready to replace you!"

"That is not the point and has never been!" Jaina knew she had anticipated sentiments like this, but she had to curse herself for naïve for being taken aback by the depths of suspicion, and of plain loathing for the Forsaken, that vitriol that simmered beneath the words.

"They could let us all have the boot and just get dead workers now when you let them through the gates, mark my words…"

They, they, they! Always the mysterious, intangible they!

"If free labour was what I most desired I could make mud golems!" Jaina snapped. "Who is saying this?! Who is threatening to replace living workers with some…undead slave labour?!"

They were all looking at her.

"It's the writing on the wall nowadays. What, with dead guards and all now, even! It's an insult, that's what it is! I ain't taking orders from some dead thing in my own city!"

"It's the wrong way of things."

"They're accompanied by living guards all the time." Jaina tried.

"Yeah? To protect them, not us. I don't want no Light-accursed Scourge leering down on me."

"Fine! Just let us try that line of thought then! Forget that we need help and skilled hands just about everywhere in this half-finished city and forget the families who have to cough themselves through the windy months because of it! We decline any Forsaken aid with anything whatsoever. What would you have them do, then?"

She was met with dull stares all around.

"They Forsaken are people. Our people. They're coming here invited, they follow our laws, our customs, they're not here to take over for Tides' bloody sake!"

Her passion found only deaf ears turned.

"Lady Proudmoore." Sylvanas drawled from behind. "I find the air here somewhat stale."

"What would you have them do?!"

In the periphery of her vision Jaina caught something flying through the air.



***​



"…What would you have them do?!"

Sylvanas caught the hurled tankard in one hand without fazing. To be fair she even had to reach out since it was poorly aimed. The piece was fortunately empty but she made a point of looking inside it so all could see.

"Apparently someone paid enough attention to the fact that we are no great drinkers, I see." she observed sarcastically while Jaina's expression betrayed her mage's growing outrage, that Sylvanas knew she had to put a damper on. "Strong drink has the habit of getting the better of the steadiest of hands, has it not? All sorts of things just happen to slip most embarrassingly."

Sylvanas fixed a certain sour-looking patron with her glare as she calmly put the tankard down on the nearest table.

"My good tavernkeep. It would appear some of your patrons have imbibed more than they can hold for today." she finished acidly and met Jaina's look with a small but determined shake that signalled she would not let her mage make it a bigger affair.

Just then Jaina's question was answered from somewhere in another direction.

"The dead should stay dead."

Jaina turned on the spot without another word with Sylvanas quietly following. She was fuming when they stepped back out in daylight.

"Damned if you bloody do, damned if you bloody don't!" Then she let out what was just a plain, simple cry of frustration. "I apologise for my expression. You are not the Cult of the Damned or anything else of the Scourge and I would never imply that you were."

"I am well aware of that, Lady Proudmoore." Sylvanas assured her calmly. "I pride myself on being able to say that I know you that well."

"Come look." Clea waved at them from a little bit ahead. She was standing by a street corner with Kitala and both looked thoughtfully at the wall by a smaller alley.

Sylvanas and Jaina found themselves admiring the questionable expressions of human obscure streetside artistry in many half legible messages in various state of erasure. The scraped letters Clea pointed at were newer though, and forcefully made.

D S D.

"What is this supposed to mean?" Jaina wondered with obvious disapproval of the way the darker corners of her city were taken care of.

"We don't know for sure but we've heard people talk about other – well, living people – shouting something like this at Forsaken workers. Maybe at other times too –"

"Dead Stays Dead." Sylvanas butted in, recalling similar testimonies. "It stands for that or something very similar – of course along the lines of the dead should stay dead like the gentleman inside put it."

"I am going to –"

"No." Sylvanas cut Jaina off firmly. "You will do no such thing as picking fights with your own people over us, Lady Proudmoore. If you start putting yourself in danger on my account I will go home however much it would crush me. I will not let you get hurt on my account. Again."

Sylvanas whispered the last word. It came out strangled, and hoarse.

For a moment Jaina glared daggers but that gave way to utter distress.

"It isn't right. No one should be allowed to treat you like this."

"Consider how long Theramore has to go to even approach the likes of the Scarlet Crusaders we are used to. Insults will not harm us."

In all fairness it sounded rather paltry.

"I am not contenting myself with my city outdoing the Scarlet Crusade!" Jaina's anger was much deeper seated than Sylvanas had reckoned and now it flared up again. "No. This is what we are doing, on my authority and your gold: Winter's Veil is nearing and we still celebrate the event in Theramore even without any winter to speak of. I am going to host the festival of all festivals in this little town, in the city hall. And it is going to be a masquerade ball, so that no one can tell who is living and who is dead! One hundred invites – belay that, anyone with a mask, with a costume, is welcome and we will hoist tents if need be! And I will order one hundred masks crafted from Theramore and Lordaeron personally!"

Lady Jaina Proudmoore of Theramore. You could taste the mana coalescing in the air around her on your very tongue.

Drunkards in dilapidated rat holes knew not what danger they courted.

"And those narrow-minded fools can sit alone in their bright establishments and fucking rot!"



Author's Note
"They took ouuur juuubs!"
"Hey! Undead! We dun' take kindly to yurrr kind here…"
"Hey! Archmage! We dun' take kindly to yurrr kind here…"
"Hey! Barkeep! We dun' take kindly to yurrr kind here…"

*South Park references all.
 
thanks for the update!
glad to see this continue here.
they really should get a bigger bed.
 
And in another universe, a Jagermonster nods approvingly.
Thanks for the update, good to see more of this!
Velonara: You should get a green forest hat too, Anya.
Anya: Are you really sure?
Velonara: Dead sure. A narrow green hat with a feather, that will make everyone laugh and none will take us as a credible threat. Woof-woof!
thanks for the update!
glad to see this continue here.
they really should get a bigger bed.
Master Carpenter Oddricht:
"rubs his hands"
Music to my ears! I agree wholeheartedly, one can't let these restless dead sleep all on their own, can one?
 
Chapter 51: Visitors and Vereesa
Chapter 51: Visitors and Vereesa

There is much to prepare for the grand evening! Guest must be gathered, masks must be masked and travellers be teleported. Brilliance Auras must Bubble and Snowballs have Effect. And, upending the world's foundations and making up be down and left be right…

Enter Wise-Councillor-To-Be Velonara!



Harsh, stiff winds threw snow around the corners of Ambermill and blanketed the still and quiet Scourge ziggurats still standing. The Forsaken had stripped parts of the architecture for stone and other materials used for more utilitarian structures. The gentle slopes of the enemy's pyramidal towers were not altogether beneficial for their defence.

In the upper floor of one of the more intact buildings of the actual town Runar pulled his blankets tighter around himself and Ratatosk who snuggled up in his hand, and scratched by Velonara had little care for the arcanely administration being discussed.

The issue for their discussion was magical logistics. A highly extraordinary thing that recent developments was about to make ordinary.

But doing so would take trust. The Kirin Tor and the Forsaken would entrust each other with their lives and un-lives and neither would do so lightly or easily. After lengthy persuasion, arguing and flattery spiced with just the right pinch of doubt if the fabled wizards were really all they were cracked up to be, Kalira had a list of mages that would be able to stand in for their absent ranger mage to facilitate travel and communications between the Forsaken outposts. Those were now fewer and each of them more strongly fortified and consolidated, if still exposed on their own. So they dearly needed every and all help that let patrols and supporting regiments reach them in time.

Jaina could vouch for the competence of the greater part of the Kirin Tor's senior members but not for the trustworthiness of any save Archmages Rhonin and Modera. And no one else could either, and that was the very familiar dilemma that once again crept up to rear its ugly head.

Velonara was frustrated to say the least.

"This is pointless. We can't accredit someone we have never served with, hardly even spoken to! I don't know what Sylvanas expects us to come up with."

"Maybe she just wants to know your view, or first impression, and nothing more?" Runar suggested. "And if the queen's provincial command have no objections it is good enough for the queen too?"

"The problem is that she's grasping at straws. Sylvanas. If Jaina can not vouch for her former colleagues then who could possibly do that? We should put them all to work immediately and let them prove their sincerity instead of searching for assurances that won't be there."

"I suppose you're right. I don't know her like you do."

"It's always like this! We can't trust anybody for good damned fucking reasons and we end up turning everyone away by sheer fear that they will turn their back on us! And now we're about to do the same again! Sorry for shouting, Ratatosk."

"You are being too hard on yourselves, Vel'."

"I'm not being hard enough. We're sabotaging ourselves. It's painful."

"You do not count on others easily. But you have taken chances, and continued to do so. You let me and Halvdan have your help and we came back. And you somehow managed to make Jaina Proudmoore want to come back to you even after stealing off with her like she was an odd sock. Those gambles have paid off."

"You don't count…" Vel' mumbled, unexpectedly shy. "You're all…insane. All three of you. And Westley too. And I was absolute dirt towards him even when he had got us Cyndia back. I'm every bit the same. Damn."

"My point stands and yours loses. The Forsaken have not lost hope or courage and it has ultimately paid off and you will not do so now either. One-zero to Runar."

Velonara tried to wave that away but soon she was grinning back instead. A little bit.

"Sylvanas needs to trust people. For real, and not just as a last resort and when she is out of every other option." she said. "Like that is news to anyone…"

"The Banshee Queen has some trust issues, yes." Runar amiably agreed. "But you're referring to something deeper than that easily stated fact."

"It's like… You can't have blind faith. Especially not us. But you can't lead and expect to be disappointed at every turn either. You have to rely on others to do their part at least most of the time, even if you prepare for the worst. Does that make sense?"

"Absolutely. Kings and queens can not do everything by themselves. But what about Kalira? And Baron Frostfel? Surely Sylvanas trusts them a lot, like all you rangers?"

"Because she knows us. And she knows the territory - we're all military. That's not good enough. She's a queen now and she can't keep being only the Ranger-General." Velonara sat up straighter like she did when she had something unusually serious on her mind. "Sylvanas sees the Undercity council as an outlet, a place where the disgruntled can gather and be appeased, but not like a proper asset. She hasn't got the patience for it, or interest. Or time, to be fair, but it is still a blind spot for her."

Runar nodded slowly, keeping quiet and listening with great interest.

"The thing is, this makes Sylvanas ineffective. We all love our grumpy Dark Lady but she is out of touch with a significant part of our people. The ordinary, daily concerns. And that makes her misjudge their reactions and let herself hampered by exaggerated fears of rioting, and that in turn makes her listen too much to our sleazy chancellor, just because she lacks faith in herself. I – we – don't know exactly what happened between her and Jaina, but it was in some way connected to Varimathras and he despises our ranger mage. Sylvanas is letting that moth-eaten old bat wield so much more influence than he should because she doesn't trust her own ability to govern outside military matters."

"That is deep. Very interesting."

"Really?" Velonara didn't sound like she completely believed him.

"Sure. Why wouldn't it be? In my humble opinion you should sit in a council. And really, wouldn't that be a very good idea in general, having a dark ranger in the Undercity's council? You've mentioned the lack of connection you feel with most of the other Forsaken, maybe it would do everyone good to see you represented there?"

"Get out of here. Me, in a city council? Incorrigible delinquents and bickering mongrels, remember? That's what I am."

"Not to Cyndia and the rest of your squad. Not in a hundred years – or whatever time frame is needed to convey the point to elves." Runar rolled his eyes.

"Other people just see a jester. Or…they get tired of me being one, maybe…"

"What eccentrics. Does not people all across the realm make grand promises about the feast of the ages and serve stale turnips for starter, main course and dessert? And the fake gargoyle propped up in my room and reading my drafts of international treaties is presumably standard fare. Just as the considerately assigned snow ghouls that one morning presented themselves to me with raised claws right outside my door. I am sure they were there for security reasons. Every bit as sure as I am of the stunningly fashionable qualities of the floppy rabbit ears one morning decorating my helmet."

"Those we –"

Velonara did not get any further before the door banged open and startled Ratatosk from his rest as Cyndia peeked inside.

"Come on down, Rhonin and Vereesa are here. Kalira wants to see us all."

Kalira had her headquarters in a former tavern. It was of sturdy construction and had therefore weathered the last years' disasters better than most structures, so it was a sound choice from purely practical viewpoints. None of that had stopped the dark rangers from routinely ordering beverages from their commander and pretending to be drunken buffoons. Kalira had pointedly countered by calling into question exactly how that would differ from their normal behaviour.

This day her establishment was graced by two actual guests, huddling by the hearth before a rapidly lit fire that struggled to expel the winter's chill. Though the steam still rising from the stone floor and other odd places here and there told of guests in the habit of cheating with fire magic.

"Hello Runar!" Rhonin waved from a bench where he balanced a cup in his hand with a wife in his lap. "Still surviving this menagerie of crazed beasts?"

Velonara hissed and bared her fangs adorably at him while Kalira cleared her throat. The ranger lieutenant had – ever practical – used the bar counter the tavern was furnished with as her desk. While undoubtedly useful for keeping documents sorted, it contributed slightly to the impression of her as the tavernkeep.

"One Forsch-shaken tea!" Lenara slurred in a heartfelt imitation of how the drunken human patrons of the establishment would presumably have sounded. "The good schtuff ya,know…"

"Boiled water, that is the best." Nara seconded her.

Kalira cleared her throat again.

"Thank you for gracing our allies and guests with this stunning display of military professionalism and discipline. Now take your seats and listen." she commanded.

Runar and Velonara sat down next to Rhonin and Vereesa and had a mug each of at least warming drink. Ratatatosk meanwhile stayed true to habit and scurried off to climb the bar counter and woo Kalira as if she was an actual barmaid in possession of nuts and discounts. Kalira cast an evaluating glance at the large squirrel eyes but braved that trial as fearlessly as she braved anything else, and continued her briefing with one finger absently scratching Ratatosk's belly.

"The situation is currently calm and I intend to take up the opportunity for quick travel facilitated by this fine and useful young man…" She winked at Vereesa in Rhonin's arms. "…to confer with the commander of the capital city. Since any Scourge would be utter fools to interfere, I will be able to allow my personal squadron some leave in the meantime to attend a social event of decisive importance."

Runar was almost completely sure those elven ears perked up visibly, and the impatience was palpable when Kalira saw fit to drag the explanation out. She went on to do that not by words, but by reaching down and displaying…masks.

"So, I have two housecats – a definite tie – and then there is a pony…"

"That one is you!" Velonara told her big ranger sister.

"I don't know, it seems more like you need to be reined in." Cyndia quipped.

"See what I'm being saddled with?" Vel' asked Rhonin and Vereesa.

"Next–" Kalira firmly interrupted them "there is…"



***​



"Shoot, damn you!" Alina shouted at her ranger sisters while nocking another arrow with experienced precision fuelled by acute need. "Wipe that blight off the map!"

"Be at ease, dearest sister!" Marrah cried with murderous glee while still obeying her command. "Our champion needs to have some opportunity to learn the trade. And we can't let Irizadan get rusty!"

"And I'd like to see the ghoul able to get past that wall!" Mira encouraged her.

Alina would admit that they had a point.

Halvdan and Ire were like a tree rooted to the ground, side by side forming an unyielding shell of plates and shields high and low. Where the elven tower shield narrowed from below the grip and down, dwarven round covered the gap. The unwieldy bastard of spear and sword whirled unhindered above Halvdan's head just like in their stupid jokes. In the same spirit, her dwarf would make short work of any ghoul coming for Ire's iron shod toes and cut them down to size…and Amora would just laugh at it all.

Alina would too – after they were back home. Now they needed to put their quivers' worth of arrows into those wretched monsters swarming around the hazy blur of blades and smooth metal, with great clanking when claws scratched in vain against enchanted shields. Alina knew the strength of those. Marrah had taken her sword and hacked the hardest she could, and made an ugly dent in the middle of Halvdan's. But no more than that. Amora still told her off for it though. Halvdan was experienced enough to wait behind it for the right time to strike, and Ire swept the sides around them clear in wide blood-filled swathes of perfected art of long dead masters that only he could tell the names of.

So Alina would admit that they had a point. Afterwards.

"Recover!" Amora gave the command to advance and tend to wounded comrades. "Mirrahs! I want each arrow retrieved and back in the quiver it belongs to."

They held today. Another pack of feral ghouls – they thought them to be in any case, for they showed no sign of coordination, but could just as well have been left for distraction by the Scourge – they had been immediately attacked by and forced to destroy. A bit too much to swallow for the patrols of gatherers and enterprising scavengers of the Undercity, even if some were getting better at defending themselves.

The lofty term of 'quests' had stuck since Areiel introduced it, and you could witness a burgeoning trade in herbs and reclaimed metal and similar vital resources. Alina thought it a strange sight to see the crowds of ill-equipped and barely proficient volunteers form up by the notice boards and loudly debate what groups to form into and what parts of the countryside to raid. Their peculiar jargon and homemade terms in both Common and Gutterspeak added to the oddity.

In her opinion it looked like they needed to be more mindful of their cooperation, and not let some members of the party run ahead this way and others that. The rangers and deathguards that patrolled the surrounding lands were told not to make a big affair of it, but they meticulously hunted for larger or tougher packs of enemies and left the easier targets for the new prospective champions of the Forsaken. It was still somewhat difficult to imagine mighty heroes rising from those very…irregular…bands.

The reckless boys – front line, stationary, melee fighting, what more needed saying? – had gotten off with dented armour and a scratch on Ire's ear that he stubbornly insisted did not count since the ghoul claw had already been severed before impacting.

Alina personally made sure their Ranger Champion had not let his thick skull be hammered into harder than it already was. She pried loose the heavy helmet and was met with his dark mess of hair drenched in sweat and his reddened face almost literally steaming in the cold weather.

"Pfeeew…" Halvdan panted, and looked around uneasily as the rush of blood was leaving him and left room for the grimness of their surroundings to sink in. Alina hoped she could feel something akin to the same revulsion herself, but she was not sure. She disliked what they had to do, she detested the inherent failure in having to kill other undead when they rightly should be marching side by side against the Lich King. Yet she had seen too much, done too much, and perhaps she had been turned into too alien a creature to rightly share in decent feelings anymore.

"Dirty work." Their Ranger Champion swallowed. "To think that each of them was once…"

He lowered his head in a silent farewell to whoever their foes had been before plague or necromantic magic had turned them this way. Alina took the opportunity to put the helmet back, as carefully as she could and wanted to convey some sentiment of comfort along with it.

"By word or by weapon, so long as they are freed from an existence as slaves we can only hope it is what they would have themselves preferred." Amora mumbled solemnly. "A last arrow saved for you… Enough for today. We return to the city."

On their way back Alina nudged Halvdan in the side with a bit of bread that was hopefully not too frozen.

"I know you don't want to eat right now." She kept her voice down. "But you must keep your warmth up. None of us can give that any more."

He took it, and reluctantly put a small bite in his mouth.

"It doesn't feel right to…to eat and drink like nothing happened. But of course you're right…"

"I don't want you to like it." Alina whispered and took his hand even if her own was cold. "Should we go find something to read in the library when we get back?"

She tried very hard to ignore the Mirrahs staying too close to them so they could eavesdrop shamelessly, even as Ire tried to be a good brother-in-arms and hold them back.

"I think I had better get something warm to drink first. Then to see His Hornliness I reckon."

"Must you?"

"Can' wet cawefuvvy cuvtivated impwessions go to waste, can we?" Halvdan made a funny apologetic grimace with his mouth stuffed with dry bread. "I think it fits the picture, the compulsive sycophant feeling the need to worm his way to his idol and brag about his latest accomplishments. Especially since he can barely stand the close company of his new command as we all know."

He squeezed her hand a little when he said that.

Alina did not like Varimathras. He was not a Forsaken like the rest who had their wills forcefully broken and she did not know what to think of that. But it could be that Alina did not know the whole story of where dreadlords came from, and it would be wrong to judge without. They were said to have been the Scourge's jailors and the obvious following question was who had been theirs?

But he was being snide to Halvdan.

Snide and demeaning.

And Halvdan refused to stand up for himself, because the Dark Lady wanted him to keep an eye on her chancellor while she was away. And what better way to do that than play the part of someone overly impressed with the towering demon and out of his league in his new position – fresh meat for any savvy politician to sink his Fel-tipped claws into?

In order to better do so Halvdan argued that he should appear as someone slow-witted and easy to intimidate and bully. If the dreadlord intended to play foul that should invite overstepping, and with the new title of ranger champion he was in the end much too notable to simply dismiss and ignore.

However logical that may be Alina didn't like seeing it. She had to step out of sight to not give anything away when her dwarf made a fool of himself – yes in her mind that was precisely what he was doing! He had even conspired with Amora to orchestrate some minor mishaps that would underline his lack of competence and authority so that His Hornliness would take note.

She almost hoped that unpleasant old gargoyle would decide to rebel so they could end this degrading charade.

They tramped through soft snow that puffed up like powder and hard snow that groaned like old leather. It was the darkest part of the year and Winter's Veil would be just a day or two away. Alina did not quite know, nor did she know if she should care about it. Or, more accurately, she was not sure whether she should be allowed to care about it.

Halvdan cared though – both of the dwarves loved the snow as deeply as any of the Undercity children – and Alina cared about Halvdan. Wasn't that enough?

The sun had set for the day but the white ground almost seemed to glow on its own.

There was beauty even in this shadow world of white and black and blue.

They were walking across fresh snow.

All was silent.

Until it wasn't, and something so once unexpected as flickering lights of warmth greeted them amidst he jagged ruins of the surface city. Forsaken worked in workshops and smithies, and lit fires and torches just for the sake of defiance against the dark forced upon them.

Outside the south gate would normally only be the guard detachment at this time. Not even the Forsaken could do much work on the walls when they were buried in these drifts. This evening there were more, there were five cloaked rangers and three figures wrapped in thick winter clothes, a human, an elf and a dwarf…

"Look, Hal." Alina whispered. She made no conscious choice to do so, maybe it simply felt right not to disturb the serenity around them.

And…well. The rangers always invented nicknames and pet names for one another. They always had. So it would be no strange thing if Alina did that now. She and Halvdan were in the same squadron even. Right?

It would just be…a lot more convenient…if Amora and the Mirrahs did not catch that right now. They were all good to have as squad mates, they had kept her from falling into memories and losing her grip with astounding success. It was just that they struggled with not making a colossal fuss over the simplest things.

Mira and Marrah shouted mildly profane greetings and sprinted away ahead to say hello to Kalira's squadron as it turned out to be. Halvdan and Irizadan followed them with Alina and Amora last but dwarven plate and shorter legs were not made to keep pace with fleet-footed rangers.

Alina came to think that it was highly unlikely that Halvdan would have to present himself to Varimathras now, and her mood immediately improved. At the very least they could think of a reason or three for Kalira to decide to come along and stare him down now, being commander of the south and surely interested in a report of the latest developments in the capital during her absence.

Runar was running to meet them and he and Halvdan embraced one another.

"Are you alright? Still in one piece and not turning Forsaken yourself?"

"My left big toe is making a good attempt. Greaves are overrated for wintry marches." Halvdan muttered. Alina would have words with him over that later – they did not carry spares for nothing or for Ranger Champions to freeze their feet off being tough!

"You look terrible."

"This is the latest fashion in northern Lordaeron. Ghoul slabs. You southerners are hopelessly behind."

SMAFF!

A loosely packed snowball shattered against his face and painted Halvdan's beard and brows white. He furrowed them threateningly and knelt to rapidly scoop up one of his own and return fire, or return snow. Alina was on second thought not sure if dwarven riflemen terminology was very applicable.

"Time to get clean." Runar explained. "Though you spies have a well-known aversion to coming clean as we all know…"

"Knave!"

"Scoundrel!"

"Meddle-mongerer!"

"Sneak-snake!"

They continued to exchange insults and volleyes, oblivious to the onlookers and uncaring of decorum and appearance.

"Five silvers on Runar." Rhonin wagered. It had to be Rhonin Redhair, because that was Vereesa Windrunner herself next to him! In the flesh, and alive. Everyone knew about Sylvanas' little sister and her height and silvery hair were hard to miss anywhere. She was terribly handsome, yet looked weary.

And she really was taller even than the Dark Lady.

"Traitorous transmuter!" Halvdan protested. "Five silvers on that featherbrain? Is this what you are supposed to be greeted by after an arduous patrol of dutiful diligence? Outrageous."

"It could be worse." Runar grinned.

"Worse how?"

"Well… Alina and her sisters could have started calling you, I don't know, Danny Boy?"

"What – how – the heck?! Danny Boy?!"

Halvdan sputtered and the surrounding dark rangers screamed with laughter and whistled like a small riot was taking place.

"Rangers! Arrest that man!" their Ranger Champion ordered and lead by example by chasing the for the moment perplexingly un-diplomatic dwarven diplomat, making a furious effort despite still being clad in iron.

"Ha! I am a dark ranger trained in woodcraft!" Runar darted in and out behind the closest trees. "Too nimble for heavily plated lummoxes to catch up with!"

"Rangers are no match for certified rogues to track down – huff! – why don't you go get a pair of their cups for yourself!"

"I'm deep in their cups already!"

"You are… What?"

"But not as much as you, I'm sure! Or…wait, what were we talking about… The thing is that my squadron makes camp in a tavern in Ambermill…uh…"

A storm of indecent whistling and laughter from both squadrons drowned out any further conversation.

Someone snuck close to Alina and handed her something behind her back. Something soft. And precious.

Amora and Kalira, seasoned lieutenants as they were, were casually conversing in Thalassian and catching up with each other while observing the spectacle.

"Dwarven rangers are truly a sight, that is for sure…" Amora said to herself and then looked towards their visitors. "Vereesa. It is good to see you. How have you fared in these dark times?"

"I have lost many and much that I held close. But no hardships endured appear truly noteworthy, in comparison." Vereesa said in the ceremonial, formal manner of Thalassian meant to convey great respect.

"Whatever shards of Quel'thalas that still shine, I do not begrudge doing so. May I ask, has there been any word from…from home?"

"None for long, and only rumours. Fog is ever over our homeland now."

Then further exchanges were cut short when two dwarves barged into the scene and the leading one crashed into a drift of snow before them all.

"Safe space!"

"What?!"

"Basic rules. No tagging at dark rangers. Everyone knows."

"Objection!"

"Objection overruled."

"Hi Danny Boy!" Velonara chirped. "Look, Ratatosk! Other daddy's home!"

She set down the impatiently struggling squirrel who scurried away to Halvdan in a bronze-tailed blink.

"Rattletusk." Halvdan corrected her tenderly and held the fluffy animal close to his cheek. He was smiling and looked so at peace with his eyes closed, and Alina wanted then and there to be a squirrel too. Just for a little while. Then she and Rattletusk could have one cheek each. That would be fair, wouldn't it?

"Rangers! Form up!" Kalira ordered and Alina and all her sisters fell into line with practiced swiftness.

"Dress uniforms on!"

As one, they took out their woollen scarves and tied them proudly. A row of bright spots in the flickering lamplight.

A warm caress in a world that offered them too few.

"Blimey…" Runar mumbled.

"Now listen up!" Kalira had an announcement to make.

It was quite the announcement. They were going to go to Theramore like the rest and were invited to a masquerade ball of all possible things! Alina was definitely curious, and the best of all was that it would be a long, long way from every clawing ghoul and every spiteful demon in all of Lordaeron! She found herself suddenly longing for the warmth of Jaina's city – it would do dwarven feet some good too!

She could bring her violin along and play for Jaina! That was a good thing. She was definitely doing that. And clearly both Runar and Kalira's squadron would go too, which was good to hear because that would only be fair and proper, but not their commander herself this time.

"Lieutenant Kalira won't be joining us." Nara informed.

"Someone has to keep watch over Lordaeron in the meantime after all, and I have strict orders from the Dark Lady to do so." Kalira said a little primly.

"She is going to talk strategy with Baron Frostfel while we're away from home." Lenara explained.

"Ah." The Mirrah's nodded in understanding.

"Presumably there will be tactics involved too." Velonara elaborated. "Lots and lots of tactics. On the great table."

"Thank you, Ranger Velonara."

"But surely that is where we go to plan?" Vel' was innocent sugary sweetness given elven form. "To our fine great table for the war councils?"

"Amora, I will owe you one for watching the girls for me." Kalira said to her colleague. "Are you sure they won't be too much for you?"

"I take comfort in the fact that Theramore is a walled city. If nothing else we can lock the gates." Amora returned the smile. "Try to leave some practice swords undented for the rest of us now."

"I make no promises."

"And you lot –" Amora turned to her and Kalira's rangers and dwarves and tried her best to appear strict. "The situation in Theramore is tense and the Dark Lady and Lady Proudmoore are doing what they can to ease those tensions. I expect everyone to be on their best behaviour throughout, is that clear? Also, the Baron's old squire is a sergeant in the guard there. He's called Rodrick. Try to be nice to him, alright?"

The broad grins she received in return would have sent shivers down the spine of stalwart veterans.

"Very well. Archmage Rhonin, Ranger Captain Windrunner, if we have not frightened you away yet we are ready to move out." She saluted Vereesa impeccably.

"Oh, no worries." Vereesa shook her head. "You should see Spitzamina and the rest back in Dalaran on some days –"

CLANG!

A spellbreaker blade fell to the ground from numb fingers. Dropped negligently like its wielder did not know it was there.

Vereesa turned down the line of rangers with a frown and saw the tall cloaked figure in full Silvermoon panoply. She stood absolutely still, and paled, and almost whispered, brimming with compassion.

"Ire…"



***​



One could not tell that Jaina's study had recently had a lot of its surplus items removed.

Masks waiting to be delivered to specially invited guests competed with letters of the same and lists of this or that thing that maybe should be reviewed by the city's archmage and maybe someone else entirely, the ordinary self-multiplying correspondence and last day's half-finished last batch of important things that Jaina took on.

Anya shook her head at the sight. What good was lockable doors and considerate neighbours when pieces of paper stole your sleep even more fiendishly?

"Just a minute, I need to finish this – damn!" Jaina knocked an ink bottle precariously close to the edge but Anya was there to catch it. "Goodness how fast you are…"

"Can't someone else do that?" Anya pleaded, and Jaina sighed.

"I – yes. Someone probably could." Jaina eyed the ominous pile of more task lying in wait to ambush her. "I just…the masquerade was my idea and I feel I don't want to burden anyone else more than necessary."

"So because it is your idea you should do all the work even if it's for the sake of other people and meant to be, what do I know, fun?" Anya looked at Lyana. "Remind me to never ever have any ideas."

Then Jaina finally put down her pen.

"If the party takes so much preparation that you fall asleep you should host it in your bedroom instead." Anya nagged.

On second thought that would actually be a good idea because Jaina got very funny when she was sleepy. And she was just so lovely to look at when she was lying in bed. Anya would like to do it all night if she was allowed.

"Fine, fine, I surrender. Point very much taken, my strict chambermaid."

"Do you want us to get something from the kitchen?" Clea asked but Jaina shook her head.

"No, I wanted to show something!" Jaina moved a handful of debris aside and took out a roll of cloth and several drawings. "I wanted to do something cheeky for the masquerade – what do you think?"

Anya and Lyana and Clea and Kitala stretched their necks over each others' shoulders. Jaina had made detailed plans and notes about materials for sure. But acquiring those and getting to the point of realising these plans was a thing yet to be done.

"I know I am behind on schedule but I just hoped if I got the greater load of things done first I could focus on –"

"Jaina?!" Pained's voice sounded from below. "Were we going to attend the evening council session? I was told there would be someone there to see you."

"Oh, bugger!" Jaina leapt out of her chair. "I'll – I'll clean up later! Or something!" she promised while rushing out of the room and down the stairs, as if she had to excuse the state of her study to her guests.

All four of them looked at the empty spot left by their ranger mage, disheartened.

"Poor Jaina. Every time she find a minute, that's the time when they begin it…" Kitala rhymed and imitated the proverbial Theramorians in administrative distress. "Archmage! Archmage!"

Anya agreed with her. Why was it that every time people like Jaina and Sylvanas thought out something good and smart it had to include stupid amounts of work for themselves?

"Yeah, keep-a busy… You know what? I think Jaina won't be going to her own ball."

The three of them turned on Kitala.

"What?"

"Not go?"

"What did you say?"

Was it really that bad? Anya looked again on the barely, no, not at all begun costume.

"You'll see. Work, work, work... She'll never get her dress done."

"Poor Jaina."

"Hey!" Lyana snapped their attention back. "We can do it! Anya, to the seamstress with Clea! Kitala to the basket-weavers!"

"Why there?"

"Because we need something wicker-ly light and strong for these. Look." Lyana said and pointed at Jaina's drawings.



***​



Jaina's tower.

If Rhonin had not been so red-haired and in general predisposed towards a ruddy complexion he was sure he would have turned green as an orc with envy. The entire place was like a mage's ideal resort, and with none of the inconveniences of Dalaran's towers like small windows or cramped stairs. Here you could stretch your legs out properly and sink back into the nest in the corner of the couch in the upper library and pocket laboratory – two libraries, just that a spark of genius – and there was even a balcony on the second floor.

Vereesa did not truly grasp the magnitude of the excellence. She thought Jaina lived very neat and pretty and was happy for her sake, which Rhonin thought was nicely said of course but just a little bit underwhelming. Jaina's and Sylvanas' faces however, when Vereesa told them how much it reminded her of the doll house Sylvanas had made for her when she was little, were exquisitely priceless.

Rhonin and Vereesa had surprised their hosts at the council hall after having had a good look at the town and and seen more than one old colleague and friend from Dalaran. He had also rented a room for him and Vereesa at an inn called The Tusked Herring and dealt with all the other minute details associated with travelling, whether one was aided by magical means of conveyance or not. Rhonin thought the art style the inn displayed would offer Dalaran's stiff academics healthy new perspectives.

Theramore was…something to get used to. It was probably helpful in that regard that they had both had their shock partitioned in small portions over a long time. Not all citizens had been as privileged.

Only that it was worse than shock. It stunk. Lieutenant Kalira had not exaggerated when she called the situation tense, and far more than witnessing the state of the most withered – as the most accepted term was – undead, that gave Rhonin the creeps. It reminded him far too much of what Dalaran had been like under Marshal Othmar Garithos, and the mark he had left on it.

This coming masquerade ball held many layers to it. It took no great feat of deduction to perceive that Jaina hoped it would have an effect beyond being able to brag about hosting the largest party of the year.

The event was not the only thing going about in the world though, and Rhonin had a lot to tell about Dalaran that had not been possible to squeeze into the narrow frame of a hastened and dire stately and sisterly visit some month ago. He and Jaina were comparing experiences trying to rebuild the magical education of Dalaran versus forming something of the same from scratch in Theramore.

"…yes, as a matter of fact the thought of taking an apprentice has crossed my mind." Rhonin admitted. "It might be fun even. But how do you find the time?"

"Magister Rhonin the Responsible…" Jaina's eyes glittered. "Handing out weekly assignments to polymorph the city guard."

"Only the ones who need it. Honestly – watching a gate comes with no inherent requirement of being grumpy or impolite. Maybe a bit on enchanting here and there would both lighten up the day and keep our sentinels on their toes…"

They moved on to magical theory and the very interesting discourse regarding portal anchors that had as a matter of fact been reignited by Jaina's and Sylvanas' visit and suggestions of linking Dalaran with Lordaeron and Theramore through such means. Rhonin possibly, uh, probably, went a little ahead of himself. It was not just any day you had the chance to delve into such exquisite arcane gossip with a colleague who could keep up.

"…I think it must have been just before you set out to investigate the plague that Dalar Dawnweaver presented a pretty groundbreaking work on the subject of stabilizing portals. He theorized that leylines are not to be likened to physical distances but that they – or their effects, their imprint on the physical world? – function separately from material constraints, and if that holds it would fall to question why portalling to a remote location would have to be inherently harder than portalling to a close one, or in any case it need not necessarily follow the same logics as travelling physically."

"But Aran Spellweaver shot that down soundly, didn't he?"

"Yes but he actually only managed that on formal grounds. The thesis was rejected on the basis of insufficient foundation, not because the hypothesis was disproved – on the contrary I think it holds up and he may be right."

"But that's huge! It's a breakthrough, we could –"

"Is yours always like this too?" Vereesa said fondly to Sylvanas. "If it isn't de-linear leylines and the heat coefficients of fireballs it is obsessive transmutation most accurately summarized by the simple term prank. Not to mention this stunning academic solidarity best likened to a loose confederation of warring gnoll tribes."

"Mages are a handful." Sylvanas agreed. "I have found it especially challenging to put them to bed, at which time they tend to be the most inquisitive and chattering despite having had a whole day to satisfy their limitless and unceasing curiosity. Or I used to find it so."

Sylvanas' last addendum was awkward. It was like she had fallen into the habitual banter without thinking, and then on second thought pulled herself back out of it. But why?

"Brutes and barbarians all, wouldn't you agree Jaina?" Rhonin countered casually to steer the conversation away from that for the moment.

"I'd say! I mean – honestly – how many high jumps can you do in full gear before it gets repetitive?"

"Stricter exercising is needed for that one, wouldn't you say, Ranger-General?" Vereesa dryly remarked.

"Ranger Mage Proudmoore has worn her cloak well ever since earning it. Though perhaps, now that you mention it, I should ask Ranger Captain Areiel to organise some early morning runs. We would not want to interfere with the scheduled activities later in the day of course."

"Protest." Jaina squeaked. "I am in fact extremely and irrevocably busy at just that time in the morning."

"I'm feeling low. I'll get a glass of mana wine. Sylvanas, would you like one?"

"We can see if it does anything for me. Since scientific testing is currently so in fashion."

Vereesa grimaced a little when she rose. Rhonin did not pretend to be ignorant of it but he also knew Vereesa would prefer him to remain seated and continue talking with Jaina. She was adamant about relegating her mana deprivation to a peripheral and secluded place in their lives.

"On second thought I did live in a tent for the better part of autumn even when indoors, so my current stance for Kirin Tor refinement can be called to question." Jaina said.

"I may or may not have taken the opportunity to modify one of our public parks now that we are rebuilding the city anyway. There was a bit of a deficiency of racks and rings to the former. I think the kids like it. There are almost always someone there when I try to sneak off between the incessant councilling sessions."

"You mean the other kids like it." Jaina triumphantly scored an easy point.

Now alone, Rhonin jumped on her like a wolf upon a flock of the polymorphed.

"No wriggling out of it this time. I demand a full report."

"Of, ahem, what?"

"You and Sylvanas. She has died, but you looked like the greater ghost of the both of you last we met."

"Oh. I understand you ask but please believe me when I say that it is a very long story."

"My magical sense of excuse and avoidance is tingling. Can I at least implore you to share the scraps of the present? Are you good now?"

"I think we are. We did very, very wrong, the both of us, and I left her and returned home."

"Left her." Rhonin echoed slowly.

"Since she remained in Lordaeron, I mean."

Obviously so. It just so happened though that people sometimes left each other in a specific geographic position, and sometimes in…other than geographic ways, and for a moment there it almost sounded…

Rhonin mentally shook his head. Back to the present!

"What then?"

"I wrote to her. I sent the letters through portals into her room in the Undercity."

"Have you any idea how irritating you are?"

"I – what? Rhonin, what do you mean?"

"You just casually described using intercontinental portals for something so mundane as sending mail like everyone can do it! Even with your instructions it was an absolute pain finding our way here and I tell you, it was not my winter wardrobe that made me step onto your grounds half-drenched in sweat." Rhonin said pointedly.

Jaina reddened, but her eyes sparkled with mischief and amusement still. There was the real and true and proper Jaina alright!

"You maintain that food conjuration is easy, so you are disqualified from having any opinion." She pointed an accusing finger at him.

"If you had serious interest in conjuring something more filling than pastries you would undoubtedly have mastered the subject by now, I have been told."

"Not you as well! I already have untold dozens of elves wanting to meddle in other people's mana bun affairs."

"There are nutritious alternatives. Just saying."

Rhonin made a theatrical and pointless pattern with his fingers and a stalk of cool, fresh grapes materialised. He politely offered half to Jaina. She looked at it with stubbornly maintained suspicion while Rhonin bit a grape off his.

"Anyway…" Jaina continued. "…she wrote back and we started seeing each other again and I invited her to come and visit me here. With the other Forsaken of course. There are about a hundred of them here together with eight squadrons of rangers for protection, and then the two who came over with you."

"And your city is not overly taken with the idea, I take it?"

"No."

"And they feel as if you are forcing on them the grievous past they came here to finally be able to escape."

"All too accurate I fear."

"So now you are running yourself ragged attempting to make two halves of what is left of old Lordaeron live nicely together, apart from the fact that one half does not live any more of course?"

Jaina grimaced.

"I would expect nothing less on your part. And Sylvanas from all I've ever seen of her never did something by half. You must have had a trying time."

"We have. Have you heard the way people talk about the Forsaken – some people I mean? With their bright establishments and whatever bloody else."

"Bits and pieces. Feels like home, under the sweet and gentle hand of the good Marshal Garithos. And I think I can imagine what the rest is like."

"I wanted so to offer them a safe home, away from Lordaeron where they are hunted like beasts. And then, my own people, just…I feel so stupid."

"Your people have every right and reason to feel what they feel." Rhonin leaned back and calmly met Jaina's distraught look. "Consider it. Who would want to lose and mourn a family member only to have him or her knock on the door like literally a ghost come to haunt you? No wonder people's instinct is to bar that door and never open it to anyone again. But they are still wrong and you are right, for one very simple reason. The Forsaken are people too."

"Thank you, Rhonin. Thank you for saying that."

"Now, what's the plan for the big ball? What do you need – fireworks? Polymorphing? Conjuration, illusions, glamour spells?"

"At the risk of now uttering some famous last words, I thank you kindly for the generous offer and ask you to help as you see fit."

Rhonin rubbed his hands eagerly and let some flames and sparks emit just to complete the picture. Jaina saw what he did of course.

"What sort of evening are we aiming for? What do you want it to be?"

"I want everyone to be reminded that we aren't so different. We are still the same from Lordaeron and Dalaran and Quel'thalas. Some got luckier than others, is all. And I most of all want to do something nice for…for my dark rangers. Something that is against everything that bright establishments and the idiots in them stand for."

Their Banshee Queen still very much counted as one of them, surely, Rhonin felt content to assume.

"That word has really stuck with you, hasn't it? Do you think you need a masquerade to convince these dark rangers of yours how much you like them?"

"Uhm, well, no…"

"Where are they, by the way? I take it you have at least a squadron nesting somewhere here too like everybody else entangled with the Forsaken?"

"I don't know, I haven't seen them much in a while. I assume they are as busy as everybody else with preparations."

"I may not be such an expert as you on the subject, but as I understood it unseen and unaccounted for dark rangers are a major source of concern."

"You are an astute learner, Archmage Redhair." Jaina congratulated and actually let a brief suspicious glance sweep over the room, as if a ranger or two might be silently lurking behind the curtains, before all her focus shifted to something else entirely. "I need to ask you something!"

"Of course, absolutely."

"What is a mana potion?"

Now, the average listener may make the mistake of dismissing Jaina's eager question as imbecilic or herself as crazy, and snidely explain how a mana potion was the bottled serving of bluish liquid that you could drink if you were low on energy and fortunate to have one at hand.

Rhonin was not the average listener. He knew Jaina, and he knew the inherent value of listening carefully when she had a new idea.

"Are we…discussing components here?" he asked slowly. "Or more how it works on an abstract level?"

"The latter!" Jaina approved of his quick following. "We can observe certain effects after ingestion of such a potion, correct? We can hypothesize that the potion caused those effects. But we are not very informed of the causal link between those two, are we? We just know from experience that if you do this thing, that thing is bound to happen."

"A statement of circumstances applicable to a not inconsiderable amount of our shaping of arcane forces." Rhonin put another grape in his mouth. "Are we now then seeking to understand how – on a basic elementary level – our cherished mana potion operates?"

"Just so! The thing is, a potion can cause its effect in two basic ways. Either it carries them with it and let them be ingested just the way food and drink is…" At this Rhonin looked meaningfully at the untouched grapes in Jaina's hand and she gave in and bit one off and stuffed it in her cheek like a rodent while she continued their discourse. "…or it causes our bodies or minds to produce that extra mana on its own."

"A tad simplistic, but agreed."

"No nitpicking! It's bad form. Now, if the generative theory – that mana is produced by ourselves – is correct then it can be called into question why a mana potion would even be superior to a refreshing cold drink or a hearty snack – no mana bun commentary allowed! – which are not particularly magical as far as we know."

"To be honest, isn't that a valid point already? No one cast spells well on an empty stomach and magic isn't that different from any other work that requires mental focus and precision."

"It is, and let us put it away for the moment as the…corporeal needs of mages and others alike."

"Corporeal? You're honestly beginning to sound a bit like our new allies."

"Oh, that is nothing. Have you any idea how many times I have stoutly refrained myself from saying 'skeleton crew' when talking about how short on hands we are for every imaginable task? In any case…" Jaina paused to actually chew down her first grape and devour two more. "...what I wanted to get to is that a mana potion does something more than just refreshing us in the way of any cold drink. And I think that should point to the transitional theory – it sounds more impressive than the ingesting theory, don't you think? – being true and to a mana potion, at least to some degree, actually containing mana that is in some way added to our own."

"Hard disagree."

"Oh."

"Mana is as much a part of us as our flesh and blood. Why would a mana potion, on top of being physically refreshing, not be able to act as a catalyst for us to recover more of it the same way we recover our physical strength from a meal?"

"Bugger."

Rhonin sat quietly and considered what she had said, and then asked.

"Why do you want it to be that way?"

"Well, the thing is, I did something once when I was supposed to cool Ranger Captain Areiel so she wouldn't hurt. I had whacked her in the head with a staff – "

"Right, right…of course..."

"We were training! And anyway, it seemed to do something more than just cool her. It was such simple magic, barely a spell at all, but she just sort of relaxed like she had just, I don't know, had a breath of fresh air. What was it?"

"No idea. I've lost counts of the nights I've laid awake trying to come up with some spell that could help the living elves now. Nothing."

"Has, ahem, Vereesa…reacted to your magic…literally, I mean...?" Jaina impersonated a strawberry and cleared her throat audibly.

"Specify. Know also that my lips may or may not be sealed, oh seeker of knowledge."

"Like Areiel did, and like I suspect dark rangers in general may do. I'm not sure how, or if it is related, but Clea has gotten her voice back – this summer she could barely whisper. All of them appear much happier than when I first met them."

"You utter nutcase, of course they would be happier after becoming your friends!"

"Well, right, but what of Clea? She is undead, but still an elf, and they absorbed magic from the Sunwell…and I had hoped that, maybe, they could turn out to have been absorbing it from me now." Jaina chewed on her lip in deep thought. "Could it be bubbling?"

"What is that?"

"When you emit unrefined mana. Like you shouldn't, but sometimes do…"

Jaina was clearly embarrassed about it and Rhonin understood. Mages were supposed to control the arcane and losing their grip on it like that was not inherently dangerous but very unprofessional, and something they were trained to avoid instinctively. Just as naturally as you avoided tripping over your own feet when walking or refrained from talking with your mouth full. You learned to avoid it.

"…we called it bubbling."

"Pfthehehe!" Rhonin snickered.

"The older age class called it leaking but that sounded like you would need your linens changed –" Jaina scrounged up her nose briefly " – so we changed the term instead, to bubbling."

"We called it bleeding."

"How morbid!"

"Morbid?" Rhonin looked in horror at her. Did this naïve novice he had for a friend not understand a thing? "No, no, it was ten times worse! Do you know how bookkeepers and accountants speak of costly enterprises bleeding money? Like the red numbers in the books and so on? That was the metaphor, as if all of our mana was a quantifiable sum and we would be irresponsible misplacing any of it and not investing it in the most efficient application of spells possible… Complete horror, Jaina! Horror!"

"Bubbling…could that be it?" Jaina mumbled in a sort of sing-song voice like she was not really present.

What if it could?

Rhonin was overcome with both the insatiable longing of every mage worth his staff to leap to his feet immediately and test the theory on his ailing elven wife, and bottomless sense of foolishness. He had racked his brain for a spell – what if the answer was no spell at all, the antithesis to a formed spell?

"Don't be too harsh…" he mumbled, perhaps to himself. "We were taught not to do it, ever."

"If it would work… Uh, I don't know if I actually know how to deliberately bubble."

"It will indeed be hard to let go of that grip."

"Mmm… Maybe pretend you're giving her a kiss of life and it's your breath leaving you and flowing into her?"

"My breath leaving me…who is being morbid now?"



***​



Sylvanas and Vereesa were in the kitchen. It had turned into a very long pause to get mana wine.

And of course Vereesa should have offered a glass an of course Sylvanas should make the mistake of telling her straight out not to waste it on her, and now they were at it.

Their talk had begun so well and so predictably – with Vereesa being her Vereesiest self and lighting up like a lynx on a trail at the prospect of grilling Sylvanas about hers and Jaina's relationship, which was not a relationship but an alliance and Sylvanas was simply staying in Jaina's tower at times on gracious invitation from her hostess.

"I and my squadron do not 'live' here in any common sense of the word, along with the inescapable obligatory note that we do not 'live' at all nowadays." Sylvanas explained while sighing inside over Vereesa's obsession with details of shallow importance. "We just stay here to keep watch over Lady Proudmoore while she sleeps and to assist Pained who has taken on many other duties."

"Is Jaina in danger? Has someone threatened her?"

"Not as I know." Sylvanas absently caressed the pommel of her dagger.

"And…you?"

"None more than the usual." she smirked.

"Even here?"

"Of course."

"That is despicable!"

"Do not be a fool, Vereesa. I was Scourge. We all were."

"For that exact reason it is despicable! You were mind-controlled, made to do the things you did! An imbecile could understand that and the difference between then and now."

"Said imbeciles did not knew me like you did."

"How can you talk like that? Sylvanas, do you hear yourself speaking like that, in past tense like you are something past?"

"Well, I am." Sylvanas gave a half-hearted half-smile and shrugged. She pulled her tunic down and nodded in the direction of her chest where the upper end of the Scar told of her fate to anyone who would look.

"You just –"

"No, Vereesa. There is no 'just' for me, not that I believe you intend to trivialise the ordeal I or any other Forsaken went through. The scars of that run too deep and the being, the person, that I was and that you knew is regrettably dead and gone. What remains is this ghostly shadow and you must for Belore's sake realise it."

And Vereesa argued against it.

As ardently as Jaina ever had.

And there was so much Little Moon did not know, that she could not know.

But it needed to be said and the sooner the better.

So Sylvanas told her.

Every shameful detail, every dubious choice made. Every shortcoming of trust, of loyalty, of plain decency. Every dearly, painfully, regretted act committed towards the first living human to treat her kindness, every instance in which Jaina had deserved better.

Jaina who in her anger had still reached back for her, Jaina who had accepted her apologies, Jaina who had welcomed her into her lands, her city and her home.

Jaina who, which she now so obviously failed to impress upon Vereesa, should rightfully have not wanted anything to do with her again but still did, and who was growing more precious to her every day and night so that it outright frightened Sylvanas.

Of course Vereesa refused to understand.

"Look at me!" Sylvanas stopped herself just before going too far. Her snarl did not become a shout, her anguish did not transform into fury. Vereesa was her little sister and she would remain so, whatever Sylvanas herself had become. You did not shout at your little sister like that.

"Look at me." She spoke again, with monumental sorrow.

"I see only my sister that is the dearest elf in the world to me and for whose death I will never forgive the world for letting happen. And if I am wrong in this and there is truly nothing of her left, then I would want the world to see and be reminded of what it squandered. And If I have no sister left, I beg only to have a last look at the one that I remember.



***​



It was Winter's Veil and late in the afternoon. Jaina had not quite finished every single preparation for the masquerade that she could take part in, but she would never be able to finish that in time and she had also been urged away by the expectant staff from the Tusked Herring to get herself dressed in time.

Yeah.

It was just that…there was no dress to get herself dressed with.

Jaina had sunk down into her chair in her study. The festivity would begin in an hour and of course she had to attend but…what a fool she felt like, and what a fool she would look like, wouldn't she? The hostess of a masquerade ball without a mask for her own?

Well. What was a masquerade ball, anyway? It could turn out a complete failure for all she knew, it might be altogether dull, or…or stiff with all those friends of hers who had helped so much to organise and all the dark rangers she had invited…or dull, had she said that…or…or totally wonderful…

She had not had so much as a look at her pile of materials for days, there had been so much to do. She could not even remember where she put the things, she must have misplaced them too.

Great.

Jaina would have to think of something, something quick to barely save face and not look like she had given up on her own idea. She had never been reliable enough with glamour and disguise spells, not like she was with invisibility. She could put on her ranger uniform but that would be cheap, and wrong, and insulting to all her fellow rangers. She did not dress up as a dark ranger, she was a dark ranger mage and she would never pretend otherwise.

Could she manage something mask-like in frenzied hurry? No, she did not have the materials at hand and masks were not essays after all.

Her apprentice robes would have given Archmage Modera a fond smile but anyone else would not be able to recognize any significant difference between one mage robe and another, and besides she wanted someone else to wear it.

Tides damn it! Jaina was getting more stressed by every breath, and now she could hear the town bell ringing to welcome all guests to start making their way to the city hall. Should she throw a sheet over herself and pretend to be a ghost, or ask to borrow a suit of plate armour (which would likely chafe her skin off within the hour)?

"Jaina?" a pleasantly melodic voice called for her. "It's time to get dressed, come."

There was no way out of it. Unless the rangers had an idea? Jaina admitted defeat and dragged herself to see them.

Her ranger squadron, except for Sylvanas who had something to attend to elsewhere, and Pained, awaited her in full costumes. The dark rangers looked as handsome as they looked happy in their masks and some spare clothes borrowed from Jaina and Pained to complement them.

"Hi." Jaina mumbled awkwardly. What was she going to do. "Uhm, I –"

"Inside here." Lyana ordered her and led Jaina to the bedroom where the rest had gotten themselves dressed.

On the bed somehow lay Jaina's costume.

Finished.

Complete.

And altogether, totally, awesome.

"But…I…how…"

"Happy Masquerade Day!"

"How have you…how could I…oh, thanks so much!"



***​



Sylvanas stretched her arm out and held it there patiently for Vereesa to take her time.

"A glamour spell would spare you the effort as I understand it."

"I want it to remain a secret to all. Consider it a later-than-last ditch attempt to apply a veneer of civilisation to my stubborn sister too."

"If civilisation is defined as that grease I hold its merit in doubt."

"The only thing you will hold is still."

And Sylvanas did. Vereesa's touch was gentle and her handling of colours meticulous, and it might as well have been talons set aflame for how it prickled her skin and her soul.

But Sylvanas held still, and let her sister paint a picture of something that was no longer true, of a sister that only lived as a memory.



Author's Note
This was an extremely complex chapter to write that I did not expect to be nearly so complex.
Vereesa's scenes I simply did not have the energy to write out in full. I can not tell everything in detail about everything that happens and I obviously have my focus on some things more than others. No one has demanded that I do, I only write this out as a reaction to bot-like trolls who never even liked the story in the first place.

The joke about Halvdan being called Danny Boy is another of those things that I have had written down for well over a year I think. It is a pleasure to finally get to use it.

Mira: Yes, very good!
"Pours sand in Alina's hair"
Alina: What the heck was that for?!"
Marrah: Halvdan is Danny and now you're sandy!
Alina: Sandy???

Halvdan:
I got chills, they're multiplyin'
It ain't snowballs no more
'Cause the playing you're supplyin'
It's electrifyin'!

Velonara:
You better shape up, cause you need a man, and his heart is set on you…

Cyndia:
You better mask up, you better understand, tie them on don't use the glue…

Nara:
Nothing left, nothing left, let's go, let's go!

Ranger chorus:
It's the ball that we want (You are the one she wants)
Ooh ooh ooh, beardling
With the masks that want want (You are the one he wants)
Ooh ooh ooh, point-ear
The ones that we taunt (You are the ones we taunt)
Ooh ooh ooh
The ones we need (The ones we need)
To stalk indeed (Yes, indeed)

...

The dwarves are followed by similar musical outbursts wherever they run into friendly pointy-ears it seems…


They are not the only ones. How could the dark rangers have worked so fast with Jaina's costume without a dark ranger work song?

Lyana:
Hey! We can do it!
We can do it, we can do it,
We can help our little Jainy
We can make a costume pretty
We are tireless and gritty

Anya:
I would tie my sash around it
It needs a ribbon through it
With geeky cosplay at the ball
She'll be the dreadliest of all
In the dress we wing and tail-or for our Jainy

Hurry, hurry, Theramorians
Let's be nice and help out for once
At the city hall we'll rally
All with masks make up the tally

Sylvanas:
I can cut more swift than scissors.

Vereesa:
And I could do the sewing.

Lyana:
Leave the sewing to the rangers
Or else surprise face dangers
And make sure to take a walk just you and Jaina!
Oh, you should do more than talk with our Jaina!
 
Chapter 52: Masks and Mirrors
Chapter 52: Masks and Mirrors

Wherein the origin of the title Dread Lady is revealed.

Author's Note
What if the episode would be in the form of a musical? Or perhaps it is just a random encounter in the street on the way to the city hall and the masquerade ball of the chapter?

Jaina:
Monsieur Gheed?

Gheed:
Madame Archmage?

Dear Archmage
what a splendid party!

Jaina:
The prologue
to a bright new year!

Gheed:
Quite a night!
I'm impressed!

Jaina:
Well, one does
one's best . . .
Here we are!

Gheed:
I must say, all the same, that
it's a shame your Banshee
fellow isn't here!

Dark Rangers:
Masquerade!
Paper faces on parade . . .

Anya:
Masquerade!
Hide your face,
so the world will
never find you!

Dark Rangers:
Masquerade!
Every ghost a different shade . . .
Masquerade!
Look around -
there's another
mask behind you!

Clea:
Cat of barn. . .
Cat with yarn . . .

Lyana:
Wolf and ram . . .
What a jam . . .

Kitala:
Pony play . . .
But no toy . . .
Where is her . . .
Stableboy . . .
Faces . . .

Dark Rangers:
Take your turn, make a mess
of the merry-go-round . . .
for an inhuman race . . .



The evening of the masquerade had arrived! A grand, glorious gala night where everything was great when you had your costume finished for you and your preparations done!

The Theramore city hall was decorated with lamps and braziers and torches burned for warmth in the courtyard of tents formed in front of its doors. In order to keep the pressure off the council hall where the actual masquerade ball was and not make anyone who stood outside feel excluded, all food would be served outside. A last minute improvising of an acrobatic troupe as well as a cadre of both elven and human spellcasters in the mood for something fiery would see to the evening's outdoor entertainment.

The Tusked Herring and several smaller businesses supplied food and drink for all who so wanted. The Gull had not been contracted.

The hall's lower floor was the ballroom while the upper one had some rooms converted to loges for the elaborately theatrical to get dressed – which in practice amounted to a few mirrors having been borrowed for the occasion.

Guests and spectators had started to trickle in a little after dinner time. Spectators referring to all those who had no masks but who Jaina had on second thought decided to admit anyway, because the evening was after all not about holding the door against someone wanting to come in. Especially the children she reckoned could be appointed honorary mask-wearers on account of imagination alone.

Jaina had considered if making elves go as cats was not a little unimaginative but when it came to Kitala it was too perfect an opportunity to pass up. Pained was a ferocious frostsaber – Jaina had insisted – and Clea went as a very artistic tree while Lyana was a certain many-eyed creature fond of webs. When they stood close to one another Clea could help her with a few missing arms, since trees did not have any.

Usually. Unless you were visiting Ashenvale Forest of course.

With them went Dalaran Academy Apprentice Anya Eversong in Jaina's old robes and a mask speckled with tiny glittering stars, with her real mage staff in hand.

And Jaina herself…

…hmhehehahaha…

"The night beckons!"

Smoke and green lights sparking announced the coming of Jainazzar, the most dreadful dreadlord on this side of the ocean!

A genius harness-like vest kept her wicked wicker-and-cloth wings steadily in place and a horned diadem in the shape of a circlet crowned it all. She even had a tail with an awesome heart-shaped tip.

Jaina had thought up the perfect spooky dreadlord lines and another accent vith vhich to annoy the Banshee Queen.

"Ah, Darkness Incarnate, hello! So the demon hunter left you a message? No, I am afraid I don't have his address."

"For the last time, Lady Web." Jaina pretended to be annoyed by Lyana the Spider Queen. "I do not supply herbs. I'm a dread lord, not a drug lord!"

"This is not a dress, it's the standard dreadlord uniform."

"Dressed to kill? Bleugh!"

The dark rangers swelled with pride and shook with giggles as demon Jaina giddily ran amok across the befuddled crowd, fully immersed in her character and loving every moment of it. It was so good, it was better than she could ever have made it on her own, even if she would have had time that she never had to make it!

Though running amok was a bit of a stretch of course. The place was packed, for both living and Forsaken had dared to attend even if a good deal of both categories of guests still huddled nervously in separate clusters. Wasn't it ever the same?

Regardless of any stiffening shyness the party was still looking to be a swelling success, Jaina thought as she toured the different archipelagos of guest islands to set a good example and admire the art exhibition that everyone's masks presented.

The knightly trained guard sergeant Rodrick had taken it to an extreme by appearing in at least some pieces of plate armour complete with a borrowed tabard in Forsaken colours. He wore no mask but had dyed his hair white and tried to let a moustache grow to treat it the same, though it was much too thin for his character.

His accent, on the other hand, was spot on.

"Good evening, fair Lady Prroudmoorre!" he bowed chivalrously. "Remember to keep ze shield raised, I tell you! Zat is ze way of us knightly knights, and posture straight as ze lance you carry! Let us raise az well ze spirits of our skeleton crew of knights in zese grave times where gallant quests are undertaken by ze cream of Lordaeron!"

Jaina tried to bow just as finely but she lacked both the costume and the scrupulous training to do so.

"Why, Baron Frostfel, and here I thought you were guarding Lordaeron in ze the Queen's name?" Jaina smiled like a presently very coquettish Fel demon.

"Hah! Ze very word of my name ztrikes fear into ze rotting hearts of all wretched knaves and villains across ze realm! If my sword will not finish zem, my drill schedule will!"

A little bit to his side Jaina could spot a few taller Forsaken, who she had a feeling might be deathguards. Despite their inherent grim appearance, she was sure she caught the hint of a snicker.

Jainazzar swept further across the ballroom and now it was becoming a ballroom for real. An orchestra of mismatched instruments was warming up and Jaina could to her great delight spot Alina in the band. Regrettably she would have to postpone a hundred and one nosy questions for later so that she did not interrupt their playing.

Dark rangers were not in short supply though. They came in all shapes and sizes these days! Even broad and mysteriously bearded sizes and gnome sizes! Each with a ghostly white mask and borrowed ranger cloak that in the latter case dragged along the floor like a gala gown in its own right.

"Look what a handsome pair!" Kitala exclaimed in delight. "How have we missed these new recruits?"

"What squad are you in, girls?" Clea wondered. "But, dearest, what happened to your chest armours?"

"We can whip out a set of cups for you whenever you need, just ask." Lyana assured like the responsible quartermaster she was.

Jaina tried to imagine either of them fitted with dark ranger chest armour of either variety – though cups were a much funnier mental image than dinner plates – but they would surely be too wide in one case and too tight in the other.

"The living haunt me!" Shadowddricht Mekkatorque-Jansen piped up.

"I went to talk jobs with these scruffy Theramorians the other day and they were like 'uhh, what's that smell?' and I was like, 'Oh, sorry, it's me. Forest air, y'know, and no tar'." Gromwelleesa Gromfayer added.

"And then they said they didn't think I'd be able to fit in with the other employees, 'cause they're living and, you know, I'm dead, so I wouldn't be a team player. But then I said I could work all hours. And they said 'Oh, right. You could work the graveyard shift'." Shadowdriccht elaborated.

Jainazzar had to fly onward and bid these dashing new rangers goodbye. She hoped they would report to Amora Eagleye promptly, who she was sure she had caught a glimpse of close to Alina.

More guests were trickling in and filling up the hall. It was well they had windows that could be opened!

The ram with glowing horns that shifted slowly in colour looked extremely suspicious and worth investigating closer.

"This is what happens to mages who polymorph too much." The accompanying Wolfreesa informed her and nodded at her ram. "You look great, Jaina! So funny!"

"I reject that statement categorically and move that the assembly should consider it bark and no bite." Ramnin Redhorn stated primly.

"I can show you bite alright. Grrrr…" The hungry silver-haired wolf at his side growled ferociously.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to have a spare bone or leash on you, gentle creatures?"

Wolfreesa nudged him in the side.

"Should you really ask the undead for a spare bone? Or a spare leash for that matter – do you assume that elven rangers somehow carry those on them routinely?"

The barn cat, tree, spider and mage apprentice smirked together with their bemused frostsaber friend.

"Maybe we should." Anya said. "So our mages – I mean dreadlords – won't run off from us." She pouted accusingly at Jaina.

"Wha – Anya? Is that you?" Wolfreesa tilted her head and forgot to be ferocious.

To Jaina's astonishment and delight she stepped forward and clutched Anya tightly.

"Little Star!" Right then and there Jaina felt almost envious of Rhonin. Vereesa was simply beautiful on every level when she was affectionate like that.

"What a delightful mask you have, it is perfect!" Vereesa turned halfway to Rhonin and the rest of the quizzical onlookers. "Anya is Little Star, like I am Little Moon and Sylvanas is Lady Moon. I made it up!"

"Do you know each other?" Jaina blinked.

"A little. Sylvanas brought her home to visit a few times when they were in the same squadron. I named her Little Star the first time!" Vereesa explained proudly. "You should have kept coming by. I think mum scared you off, being Ranger-General and all, didn't she?"

"Well…maybe."

"She could be hopeless at being anything else sometimes. But I think you liked dad."

"I didn't want to cause trouble for Sylvanas and make it look like she showed favouritism. She always had everyone's eyes on her."

The wolf smiled a little regretfully at the mage apprentice.

"You are right, she always had."

Jaina realised with a sinking feeling that she had a rather uncomfortable confession to make, one which would be best left for later but which she just couldn't keep secret in Vereesa's face.

"Uhm, Vereesa, this is rather embarrassing, but…me and Anya actually happened to visit your home. Recently."

Vereesa looked from one of them to the other.

"We should have asked first…" Anya admitted in a small voice while Vereesa connected the dots like the elven ranger captain she was, well versed in untangling the tangled tales of her subordinates.

"And just how recently is recently?" When none of them answered immediately she shook her head slowly, warningly… "Do not tell me that you went there on your own right into the heart of the Scourge infestation!"

Jaina and Anya looked uneasily – belay that, with rising panic – at one another. The dread of dreadlords paled against that of hungry ranger wolf captains.

"We are going to have words about this later." Vereesa commanded low but sternly and very much like her older sister, while she took Anya by the shoulders so she could look her and Jaina over for any missing limbs they might have forgotten to mention. "Dearest husband, I retract my former statement. Clearly these two both need to be kept on a leash, and a short one at that."

"Vereesa. You're…not uncomfortable around us?" Clea probed. "I mean, I refuse to believe our costumes can be that good."

"I have had a lot of time to think. Not enough to prepare me for the real thing – I think nothing could – but me and Rhonin got to meet some of you gradually and sort of ease into it all. And I saw Sylvanas in Dalaran and it tore my heart out even though I was half on my knees from mana deprivation and depression. So at least I will not run screaming like a little girl whose older sisters hid in the closet dressed in sheets."

"She – they both did that?!" Kitala sounded genuinely outraged.

"They were complete bastards at times." Vereesa nodded.

"We should have given Sylvanas a harder time when she was a captain." Clea huffed in sympathy. "What did you do about it?"

"When Mother told them off for causing mayhem downstairs I went to bring them their sheets back, very neatly folded and all." Vereesa looked prim and proper so that anyone could have smelled foul play from a mile away.

"What had you put in them?" The herbalist Spider Queen slyly inquired.

"Rose hip powder! I had a secret cache of it, together with my miniature pocket bow and cherry cores."

Jaina looked deviously at Rhonin.

"You seriously married into this family of brigands?"

"Oh, you know us mages." he mused and let a small flame dance across his fingertips for the effect. "Madmen and loons who can't resist playing with fire…"

He held his wolf all the tighter and kissed into her hair while Jaina's rangers huddled closer. They were drawn to warmth like moths were to lights.

Jainazzar had for the time being ignored the rest of the hustle and bustle of a busy ball that was starting to take off for real. The members of their orchestra were finding their places and played a peculiar mix but followed one another quite good, even she could tell that.

Perhaps she ought to take a look at how things were going outside? It was still some time until the fireworks and similar would have their fullest effect but already high time for refreshments.

The business of cooking was booming and already attracted as much attention as the actual ball. People had to eat after all.

"Good evening, Your Arch-Wingedliness."

Jaina found herself looking at two mysterious dwarves. One had dubiously black-dyed hair and beard while the other one sported a most suspicious yellow on top of the very visible dark undertones. They were dressed in ordinary travelling gear but the first wore a dark scarf tied around his mouth and the latter a brightly blue broad ribbon around his neck with some sort of medallion that was evidently part of the disguise.

Even accounting for the costumes and the occasion Jaina was almost sure she did not recognise these two guests. Could they have arrived by ship lately?

Unless…

"Halvdan, at your service." The dark-dyed dwarf introduced himself suavely. "Supreme spymaster and guardian of the Guild of Gizmos and Gadgets used in spying for maximum disorder and mess."

"Runar, your obedient servant." His colleague bowed with a flourish. "Author of confounding convolutes and tangled treaties extraordinaire."

"Jainazzar the, uh…of the demonic Fel-lowship. Sworn opponent of the Fiendish Order of the Fish Soup." Jaina nearly bounced on her toes. It was really them, it surely had to be! "Say, I don't believe we have met but I do believe I have heard a great deal of intriguing things about your adventures. May I insist on tempting you with a free drink, since that is what we civilised demons do all the time?"

'Un-Halvdan' looked around with demonstrative suspicion and answered in a hushed whisper.

"Not here! It is too crowded. We approach the market stand from two points of entry, with a diversionary manoeuvre from Jainazzar and a precautionary sweep of the surrounding area from Runar while I infiltrate the target and procure the package."

'Un-Runar' on his part made a show of bringing up a long list or letter from a pocket, or apparently a diplomatic treaty as it of course was, and read out loud.

"Whereas the high contracting parties, comprising of the party of the first part, known hereafter as the first part, the party of the second party – part – known hereafter as the second part and the party of the masquerade party known hereafter as the partygoers, have this day and hour agreed to trade rights including but not limited to…what are we having, again?"

Jaina snorted and readily agreed to plans of infiltration and contractual clauses alike. Though neither had much effect against the very well known obstacle of a queue, in which it got a bit chilly. Perhaps the pyromania – ahem, pyromancy – and gnomish pyrotechnics needed be moved ahead of schedule for the sake of warmth?

In that interest she downed her drink quickly and ushered her mysterious company inside again. She wanted to find out all there was to know about the dwarves and about Alina – who she could see playing her violin for them all and not paying much attention to anything but her music – and about everything scarf-related. And about their interactions with Sylvanas!

But where was she?

Jaina was positive that the presence of the Banshee Queen should attract some sort of attention wherever she was and however she chose to appear.

It did.

Something, she could not tell what, drew her attention to stairs by the left inside corner.

Down those stairs stepped Sylvanas Windrunner, Ranger-General of Silvermoon.

It was as if she glowed on her own. Her hair was light blonde, her skin was no longer blue but the light tan that high elves tended to sport when they spent most days in the sun. The uniform was spotless blue with armour and cloak, ornamental feathers and all. Her eyes were closed.

Chattering quieted down. Alina ceased her playing with a hideously false note.

Someone gasped, and someone else screamed, and screams were turning into crying left, right, in front, everywhere –

Sylvanas stood still, and Jaina thought she did not know what to do. And neither did Jaina.

One by one dark rangers, scattered as they were here and there in the hall, went down on one knee with no thought to their costumes. Everyone else looked on awkwardly but none dared utter a single word.

Then one begun to sing.

It was a haunting, heart-wrenching slow melody that carried with it a monumental sadness. Maybe it was the way they all sung it, maybe it was all that Jaina would conjecture from what she knew of the elves, of the Forsaken and of the rangers that she had come to love. She was choking on that great lump of disturbing something that had decided to form in her throat and now just itched to trickle out of her eyes.



Anar'alah, Anar'alah belore

Sin'dorei

Shindu fallah na

Sin'dorei




Anar'alah

Shindu Sin'dorei

Shindu fallah na

Sin'dorei




Jaina blurted out her panicked excuses and hurried away through the packed crowd towards her rangers by Vereesa.

She found the youngest Windrunner in distress, held steady by Rhonin and with tears of her own running down her cheeks. She would have been on the edge of wringing her hands if she would have picked up that sort of habit, Jaina was sure.

"What are they singing?" she asked as hushed as she could while still making herself audible.



Anar'alah belore

Shindu Sin'dorei

Shindu fallah na

Sin'dorei




Anar'alah belore

Belore




"The Lament of the Highborne." Vereesa explained shakily. "It is a hymn or poem of…past and future struggles and the sacrifices of the high elves. It is sung akin to…to an oath of allegiance to liken it to something human."

They looked more at Sylvanas. Still she had not moved visibly. Still she stood quietly in the middle of the emotional turmoil her mere presence had given rise to.

So…so very alone she looked where she was. A solitary figure on the outermost edge of everything.

"I want to go home!"

Jaina, somewhere in the outer periphery of her mind, recognized that it was Thalassian. And recognized with equal crystal clarity how it was not anyone's home in Theramore that was missed so.

And it went right to her heart.

Dalaran. My old, peaceful, wonderful Dalaran.

Master Antonidas!

Who among them did not miss a home and a loved one forever lost? Forsaken or living, what difference did that make in the end?

"What have I done?" Vereesa gasped and tore herself from Rhonin to hurry through the awestruck crowd towards her sister. She was nimbly navigating her way across the packed room and left the rest of them far behind. Jaina with her bulky and cumbersome wings could move neither quickly nor deftly. When she had finally excused herself through the crowd of her upset guests with Rhonin and her squadron of dark rangers in tow they found Vereesa alone.

"Sylvanas…where is she?"

"She went up." Vereesa looked utterly miserable.

"Well let's go up after her then!"

"No. She pulled rank on me."

"What the – "

"No, Jaina, you don't understand. It means absolute no between us, it always has. It has always been reserved for the strictest and most serious circumstances. I…I would disrespect her and b-break her trust if I insisted now…oh, Belore… Jaina! You are the only one who outranks her here."

"Me?"

"Go up!" Anya insisted and maybe the urgent tone of her voice was even more distressing than how she actually was shoving Jaina towards the staircase.

It was just as well that no one accompanied her, the way she nearly stumbled and snagged her wings in something while taking the stairs two steps at a time. Only as Jaina emerged into the empty corridor of the upper floor did she stop for the shortest time to gather her wits. Because first thing, all the doors were closed and she did not actually know which room Sylvanas had gone into.

Didn't she?

Was she not a Kirin Tor archmage whose magic sang in her blood and who knew what frost and fire tasted like in the air before creak or crackle had sounded and glowing runes had revealed the spell's nature?

Could she, by now, truly not tell from where the familiar spark of necromancy – glimmering black and many-hued purple to her mind's imagination – that was her Dark Lady called to her?

Jaina swung right on her spot with the precision of a compass needle.

"Sylvanas?" she almost whispered at the door with all the tenderness she could muster. There was no audible answer.

Vereesa and Anya both wanted her to go inside and Jaina wanted nothing else herself. But. Was she rushing ahead now without thinking it through? Like she had –

CRASH!

Breaking…glass?!

That settled it!

She opened the door.

Sylvanas stood before a gilded mirror hanging on the wall. What was left of it. Sharp and long shards of glass littered the floor but several were still stuck in the hand that had made them shatter.

She was looking at her hand with absolute detachment and indifference.

Jaina took a tentative step forward. And she found to her surprise that she was not afraid anymore, of ruining the moment or something worse. They had come too far together and made it through so much worse, and she knew the Dark Lady too well to be fooled by anything here and now.

Only comforting her Sylvanas was important now.

"I ruined your party. And your mirror."

Jaina closed the door behind her. She took a closer look at Sylvanas, who had half turned her way, like she wanted both to hide away and not show her back to Jaina. The make-up was smeared and wiped off in lines, violently like from rending claws wanting to leave gashes. They spoke all too plainly to her.

"Watch how angry I am."

She took a few steps forward, careful not to let her costume get stuck in anything.

Sylvanas clenched her hands, clenched her jaws, and it was painful to look at and painful to feel her pain, and how she was too overcome with emotion too hard to bear quietly to even give answer.

But there were no black tendrils writhing about the Banshee Queen. No dark smoke boiling off her frame.

Remarkable, a small part of Jaina's mind wanted to note. She took notice of the thought and dismissed it outright. It was rightly remarkable, and it was also insignificant and irrelevant for the only thing that mattered was that Sylvanas was sad and something had to be done about it.

Tides, she huddled in her spot like a frightened animal in a dark corner. Mistrustful of the world around her but unwilling to fully turn away from it. Incapable of holding on to what she held on to, incapable of letting it go. And so very, very hurt.

I am not afraid of you. I am your friend. Come.

A fire lit up in the fireplace because Jaina willed it.

"I am not going anywhere else. And I am going to bandage this hand."

Before the fireplace was a bench, one with padding. Jaina sat down on it and very carefully drew Sylvanas closer.

"In your right pocket, do you carry bandages?"

"Yes." Sylvanas whispered. "They are for the living who need them, not for myself."

"Then they are for me, who need them right now." Jaina held out her hand. "Bandages, please."

Sylvanas obeyed her. There was no fight left in the Dark Lady.

Jaina unwrapped the tight bundle of linen and put it beside her on the bench. She begun to pick out glass shards from Sylvanas' hand in silence. It was a good thing the undead did not bleed so much but Jaina winced when pulling out the sharp cutting things. Right now that glass seemed right malicious to her eyes.

Sylvanas had not moved. If she felt any pain she did not let it show.

"I think that is all of them. Do you feel anything still inside you?"

"No. All."

Jaina bandaged the hand. She took her time, for she was going to do this right. She did not care if a powerful banshee would be able to regenerate the damage in short time on her own or not. Every cut and every puncture deserved her care.

When she had tied it there were only two knuckles left uncovered. Jaina kept holding on and stroked them with her thumb.

"Poor hand." she hummed.

Sylvanas trembled. It was barely noticeable at first. Just a twitch. One you could have easily overlooked, were it someone else and were you someone else than Jaina. Sylvanas Windrunner did not twitch unless something was very, very wrong.

You don't have to hold together for all of us at all time anymore.

The Banshee Queen trembled. Small tremors at first that grew to silent, wordless shaking. It never wanted to stop and Jaina sat there and kept stroking the fingers that Sylvanas with prodigious effort wanted to hold still in the middle of everything. A small and frail steady point, a fixture in a world that was swirling madness all around them were their hands that held on to one another.

"I'm s-sorry I dragged you into all t-this."

Sylvanas was crying.

The simple, ludicrously simple, realisation hit Jaina like a punch in her guts. Her Dark Lady could not fell tears and her nose did not run. And that was all the difference there was to it. Jaina dubbed it un-crying then and there and vowed that she would never distinguish between the two.

"I am not."

"I hurt you."

"And I you. And let us not do that ever again. We are useless at it anyway."

"Useless?"

"Completely. I openly went and told your guard the first thing I did when I enacted my master plan to sneak your prisoners out. You insisted on poisoning yourself first when you were going to poison me – Anya has told me so don't even think of trying to deny it – which you then did with an antidote at hand to keep it from actually happening. And if either of that is not completely amateurish then I don't know what is."

Sylvanas laughed. She laughed and she un-cried at the same time, like she did not know what of them to do and was choking on either.

"Hhhaaa… Yes, w-we are. We are utterly useless. But even when I try to treat you the way you deserve I only make a mess out of everything and I end up hurting you even more. I am so very, very sorry, f-for all of it, for everything!"

"And I forgive you."

"You should not."

"Forgiveness is given, not earned, and I do as I wish with mine. But I hope you know that already, and are only too sad and too frightened to dare to be assured."

They sat in silence for a little while and only watched the embers dance in the fireplace while Jaina cradled Sylvanas' hand in her own and felt it warming from herself.

"I am not angry with you any more." It was easy to make her voice comforting, it was more than easy, it just happened by itself. "I was, but I am not. Not even a little bit. I regret everything that happened so wrong between us, and I regret that neither of us could catch the break to do better. But…we won. In the end."

"We did?"

"You are still here and I am here. And I wouldn't want any of us to be anywhere else right now. And…and if nothing else I got to have my scars treated now and not later, and what if they would not have healed as good at a later time?"

"I am…so happy for that. I promise –"

"I know you are. It was your tears the Scourge stole, not your feelings."

"You…know?" Sylvanas said it like she dared not trust anything around her anymore and up could be down and inside be out whenever she looked the other way.

"Of course I do." Jaina whispered. "You and I sometimes try so much when we need only do so little. We build castles and hunt treasures when we should sit down and talk instead. And…Sylvanas Windrunner, can I give you a hug?"

She made the smallest nod.

Jaina saw in her the same kind of rigid shell as when Anya had hugged her upon returning. A shell she wanted out of, frost that longed to thaw but could not do so on its own.

Oh, you poor banshee! Come!

Sylvanas trembled in her arms, she melted and slumped against Jaina who drank in the cool, calming feeling of her Banshee Queen close to her. The smoothness of her cheek against Jaina's. The scent of metal, oil and leather in her nostrils. It was Sylvanas. It was familiar and safe. It was home. Jaina hugged her long and hard until the tremors abated and she stilled, and then hugged her even harder.

"Did I do wrong, never touching you enough?" Jaina nearly sobbed against her. "It was always the other way around, it was you who held me and comforted me when I needed it. Was I being selfish?"

"No! No, not at all…no…" Sylvanas spoke very low but was so close to Jaina's ear that it was just fine that way. "Precious ranger mage of mine. I have…trouble imagining anyone wanting to be close to me. You…trusting me enough to let yourself be touched and seeking my comfort when you were hurt is…so precious to me. It keeps the great dark beyond further away."

Jaina thought of Sylvanas who held her cloak open for her when she had been beaten and whipped and who rode home without stopping and carried her to her bed, Sylvanas who played with her and scratched her head the night Cyndia had returned.

"I kind of liked being your pet." Jaina whispered and blushed terribly for saying it, even now.

Sylvanas did not even chuckle and much less quip back, but squeezed Jaina tenderly in answer.

"My Scar. You know what…what it looks like. It is monstrous - I am monstrous. I do not let anyone close even…when I rightly should. It is ever there to…to remind me of what I am, and it makes it…difficult to be touched and easier to be the one touching."

"Your scar is beautiful." Jaina said without hesitation.

"What?"

"Like Kitala's ear. Your Scar is you. It is hurt, but still a part of you. Hurt, but still here…and nothing will change that." Jaina rubbed her back a little. "The Scourge failed, and quite frankly they failed miserably, to make you their monster."

"Sometimes I fear it has. That I can be nothing else and that all paths wind back to that miserable, crushing existence! There is a dark abyss wherever I turn and it yawns to swallow me and rises up closer to drag me down and I am sliding down into unfathomable nothingness where I am Scourge again and know only suffering."

Jaina sat there and held her and soothed her and did not stop her. Did not hold her back.

"I feel myself slipping, down some icy side of a slope I try to crawl up, or it is on both sides of a narrow, invisible road of damnation that only will at best end in my true death anyway so why bother!"

"I won't let that happen. Not now and not ever. And the rangers will even less."

"I hate being dead!" Sylvanas broke apart again into another fit of tearless grief.

"You are not. You are undead and you are still here in spite of everything that was done to you. And you are not on your own."

The elven ranger armour may have gotten in the way of rubbing the wearer's back but was all the more accommodating to stroking her neck. So close by Jaina could see the hair dye and how was good but not complete.

Am I wrong not to wish you be different from the Sylvanas that I know? Not the evil having been done to you, but what it made you into? I can not long for something I have never known just as I can not be anything but fond of the Dark Lady I have today, here and now.

But I will speak to you about that on another day
.

Someone was singing in the hall below them and Jaina caught traces of Alina playing over the general noise she could discern. She could not recognize the carrying singing voice however.

Sylvanas had noticed her change in posture and straightened herself out of Jaina's arms to look askance at her.

"That voice…" Jaina wondered out loud and saw Sylvanas' eyes widen.

"That is the voice of Clea Longstrider, that none have heard for over two years." she said near reverently.

Jaina knew better than to say anything more for as long as the tune sounded. She could not discern the words like Sylvanas probably could with her elven ears, and made no effort to. Instead she tried to picture Clea before her mind's eye, when she was Clea Longstrider and sang in sunny Quel'thalas before her voice was stolen from her. But for all that she tried the picture would warp into the Clea that she knew under the Kalimdorian sun, the Clea who had gotten her voice back.

"I didn't expect my masquerade to turn out like this. I hope they can make do downstairs without us." Jaina mused.

"Should we go downstairs?" The Dark Lady was asking quietly in the sort of small voice that told that it was not something she was looking forward to.

"They can wait a little longer." Jaina smiled gently at her. "Banshee Queens can make such shocking entrances that they may need to calm down some more. There aren't many who could scare actual ghosts like that."

Sylvanas gave her a faint, and a little bit grateful, smile back.

"I really like your costume. You make a much prettier dreadlord than the one I have. Would that you could be my chancellor instead."

"All our rangers helped me. I would never have finished it in time on my own."

"They all love you. You know that, don't you? You are the kindest, loveliest human we have ever met and you mean the world to us, Jaina."

"You said Jaina!"

"Yes? That is your name, is it not?"

Jaina beamed at her while Sylvanas made a brave effort to look oblivious and slightly quizzical. Eventually she rose, uncharacteristically slow. Jaina did not blame her. If she had gone through anything remotely similar herself she would just have wanted to curl up and sleep, and once again she wished that Sylvanas could have done the same.

"If it would be alright with you, I think I rather want to be alone for the rest of the evening."

"Only if you promise to think kind things of yourself. Explicit Archmage Directives."

"I will do my best. If I find myself deviating, I shall think of you. Could I ask you to return my uniform to Vereesa?"

"I – uhm, of course?" Jaina agreed, slightly befuddled by the request, and watched Sylvanas open the window wide.

"Has no one taught you it is impolite to watch as a lady undresses, little mage?"

Jaia looked away – even if she was inappropriately enough very, very curious – and heard garments being put on the floor. She was sure they were being put in immaculate order.

"I will meet you at your tower. I promise."

A banshee's echo – Sylvanas' banshee echo – but calm. Almost gentle, if that was at all possible.

"I know that."

Jaina turned around.

Sylvanas floated over the floor in almost banshee form, wrapped in dark smoke like a shroud but calm and collected. It held no sway over her. The Banshee Queen now mastered her ghostly form.

"Goodnight, Jaina." She made a deep court bow in the air. "My Dread Lady."

Sylvanas bent backwards and fell into smoking tendrils and writhing mist. She hovered in the air just long enough for Jaina to look at her in her full banshee form and then floated off out through the window and into the black night, harried, haunted, but her own.
 
Ouch, damn. Sylvanas sounds rather like someone with depression. Hopefully it helps to have actually said that out loud.

Well, it may not have gone perfectly smoothly, but all in all I'd call the party a success so far! I'm not sure Un-Runar is really cut out to be a diplomat, though. That still made too much sense to be a real legal document.

Thanks for the chapter!
 
just means she'll have to make up for lost time later.
Sylvanas:
"rubs hands"
"stretches neck"
"rolls shoulders"

Ouch, damn. Sylvanas sounds rather like someone with depression. Hopefully it helps to have actually said that out loud.
Well, it may not have gone perfectly smoothly, but all in all I'd call the party a success so far! I'm not sure Un-Runar is really cut out to be a diplomat, though. That still made too much sense to be a real legal document.
Thanks for the chapter!
She really is, but she is becoming more and more open about it and it will indeed help her a lot.
The party is a significant success that Jaina and Sylvanas don't realise, having been absent for the most time.

Runar: I say! Soon I will be back in business to put everything in (dis)order!
Halvdan: And I will have to cover up the tracks of the bumbling fool masquerading as some sort of spy!
 
Chapter 53: Leadership and Ladyship
Chapter 53: Leadership and Ladyship

Jaina is faced with a moral dilemma when an elderly Theramorian dies and her Forsaken husband wishes to follow her.

Jaina calls Sylvanas a dumb bitch and Theramore celebrates New Year's Eve with both a proper diplomatic reception and a most improper one.

The chapter has some very good and hopeful things happening but the funeral after the cherry incidents is obviously super sad.



Jaina nearly yawned her jaw off its hinges when she rolled out of her vast bed. It had been a late night yesterday.

Masquerade balls were sort of intended to be late nights.

Usually though, you did not have to straighten out a severe case of ballroom-wide shock and the sudden disappearance of the main guest or joint hostess. At least as far as Jaina knew. She was in all fairness relatively new to this masquerade business.

Her guests had, also in all fairness, been very understanding. From what Jaina could deduce there had been no snide things said whatsoever when she was gone and Clea's singing had rescued them all from the near funerary mood.

Tides give that this morning would not bring her some conveniently postponed backlash from disgruntled guests of yesterday. Pained had said that she had some people waiting outside her tower and that they did not wish to hurry her, but Jaina decided it was preferable to get whatever this was done with.

Whatever this was, turned out to be dark rangers.

All of them.

They stood in perfect formation, tall and proud and silent, and when Jaina appeared they snapped to attention with ceremonial precision that they normally shunned. Almost sixty left foot boots hit the cobblestone and mud, which meant ten squadrons of which some were understrength, as Jaina knew by now.

"Woah…" was all she managed to blurt out. Everyone looked so polished from top to toe and Jaina was probably the one who marred the overall impression. She had not even combed her hair. "Wha…uhm…"

"This is called a parade, Dread Lady." Sylvanas said evenly from her place at the head of the formation. Jaina saw that her hand was still kept dutifully bandaged. "It is typically meant as an accolade to someone highly respected."

"But, but…oh, you didn't have to –" Jaina tried but could not help breaking into a smile.

"We are dark rangers. We do what we want –" Anya said, probably insubordinately.

"Now those are true words spoken." Areiel noted out of her mouth from her place next to Sylvanas.

"- and everyone saw how you left your own masquerade, your own big idea and moment, to take care of our Dark Lady. You made us feel respected for real – or at least you would have, if you had not done that already."

"You made the right decision." Sylvanas emphasised like she could see exactly what Jaina was thinking. "I…needed you with me. Thanks for coming after me…Jaina."

By the Tides, if she didn't know better she would think that Sylvanas sounded shy. But she had still admitted what she just admitted in front of everyone else, indomitable Banshee Queen and all.

And she was saying Jaina.

"When you had left no one really knew what to do at first." Areiel explained and she was not her usual self this day. "And not a few of us were so distraught that I nearly feared someone would break down and Wail."

Jaina went cold inside. That thought had not even crossed her mind, so used had she become to feeling safe in their company.

"Though when it came down to it no one did. We just cried, those who still can, and our living…living kin, they did so too apparently…couldn't stand seeing us grieving alone… We made a royal mess all of us and…I guess we mourned our home together…"

Did Areiel…sniff? Could she do that?

"Your guest…were kind… No one…said a mean word…" Areiel definitely sniffed, and pulled in a deep breath she did not need, except of course for talking. "I do not know exactly how you had envisioned this ball, but however you did…I think you succeeded."

If they had not been standing in such a perfect line Jaina would have wanted to embrace her ranger captain.

"Would you like to inspect your ranger company?" Sylvanas asked her.

"Should I?" Jaina whispered to her and the Dark Lady nodded discreetly. "Ah, yes, right…I will be inspecting."

Apparently it involved Sylvanas accompanying her along the lines of rangers like a staff officer but she remained tight-lipped like closed oyster and offered no guidance at all about what Jaina ought to be looking at. In fact Jaina would bet that Sylvanas was secretly enjoying putting her to a sort of test and seeing how she would react. Well then!

'Inspecting' made Jaina think of habitually grouchy Alliance sergeants barking needlessly loud, so that she and other spellcasters nearby had their concentration interrupted. Jaina would not have any of that. Areiel could act many times scarier but she only did that when she – admittedly – had very good reason for yelling your ears off.

In fact, Jaina would be inspecting her borrowed ranger company like she imagined Areiel would, and check that everyone was well and had what they needed.

Though she would scrutinize Areiel herself a little, little bit extra.

The ranger captain was very spotless however and not even Jaina could find anything amiss. Except of course –

"How are the supplies of hugs, Ranger Captain?" Jaina ruled Theramore and she and no one else decided what was proper or not right here and now.

"Of…hugs?"

"Yes, there seems to be an unacceptable deficiency of those. Restock as soon as you are able." Jaina instructed her and caught Areiel in a tight one.

You need a ranging partner too, Areiel. A squadron of your own, for help and company.

"Please release me before I start crying again." Areiel pleaded. "And...orders received, Archmage."

Jaina continued to where Anya and Lyana tried to not look like anything particular but Jaina saw through it and knew they approved. She collected a stray strand of Anya's hair and put it in place behind her ear for good measure. When she reached Kitala she found that she had raised her hand unconsciously towards her ear and that Clea noticed and tried to hide her amusement.

Those ears were hard to keep away from.

When Jaina reached the other squadrons than her own, she sharpened up and took her time to look them over more thoroughly. Actually, would not dark rangers be the absolute last to point out if their things were broken or if they needed something?

Not on her watch. Jaina made note of every worn item and every needed thing she caught missing. She did not skip a beat when Velonara stuck her tongue out, but pinched her nose and pointed out how it must be the knob for raising the castle's drawbridge.

There were four ranks of the rangers and furthest out in the third were Rishk and Vilerion. They were as brushed and tidy as the rest and especially Vilerion's boots practically shone, in stark contrast to Jaina's own.

"Those are some smart-looking boots, Ranger Vilerion." Jaina complimented. "Mine are certain to look on with envy."

Vilerion made a strange face when Jaina said so, and she could hear a quiet chuckle from Sylvanas.

"Ranger Vilerion is the victim of a mysterious curse. No matter the occasion or the care he shows his boots they always end up muddy. It defies all sense and reason and I have been inclined to believe that he could have walked across one of Silvermoon's crystal floors and still attract an otherwise unnoticeable layer of dust and sand."

In the rank in front of them stood the Mirrahs. Jaina could see that Marrah's shoulders shook a little when she heard Sylvanas describe the phenomenon.

"All too true I'm afraid." Vilerion confirmed.

At that moment a wagon drove by, and if the driver was careless or if the wheels slid on the stone still wet from the nights' rain, it made straight for the large puddle of water right next to them.

Vilerion leapt forward, grabbed Marrah by the arms and swept her out of the way before anyone else could blink.

SPLASH!

Jaina almost winced and Vilerion resignedly looked down and sighed deeply. Even the most benign spectator would have trouble envisioning the until now pristine state of his footwear, upon which a significant part of that puddle appeared to have been deposited.

Marrah reached up on her toes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"I still think your boots are the finest, Ranger Vilerion."



***




In weather foul and fair, business had to be done at the market square. Nothing less than a strong gale would chase away the hawkish merchants from their stalls, and even amid the stiff breeze and wet weather characterizing the windy season Theramorian commerce was booming.

Though these days there blew even more chaotic winds than ever seen before. Black-cloaked whirlwinds cavorted through the packed area and darted between critical customers and courteous vendors, over carts and under carried boxes and barrels.

On top of that, cherry cores were flying through the air all around.

"Gotcha!"

"Did not!"

"Glancing hit on your boot!"

"Reload, Velonara! I'll cover you!"

"Does that mean you'll cover my expenses too?! One more fistful please, Madam Morrowind, as fast as you can. I am about to be pinned down!"

Marliane Morrowind sold pastries, pies and mugs of warm soup, depending on the season and weather. And naturally the national pride and joy of Theramore that were her candied cherries.

"Here you go, dear. One copper, I think it amounts to." Marliane amiably filled up her cupped hand.

Velonara threw three on her table and leapt away.

"I'll pick the rest up soon!"

Madame Morrowind's cherries were certainly doing better than they usually did at this time of year. To her it mattered less if her former kin were former such, or where the cherry cores ended up after the purchase.

Cyndia and Velonara strained to stay out of the sights of Mira, Marrah and Kitala while Vel' chewed frantically on a pending counter-barrage.

"And just what is going on here, Rangers Hawkspear through Starshadow, if I may ask?"

Pained took a long step in front of the red-eyed cavalcade that skidded to a halt before her steady gaze.

"We're cherrying this fine morning, Miss Pained."

"Cherishing."

"I said that."

"Cyndia and I are taking evasive action."

"As opposed to the poor cart of grain, the barrel of fish and the two startled horses I spy on the uncommonly rowdy town square." Pained observed. "And while the children of our city are no doubt just as delighted as they look over having found likeminded spirits, may I firmly suggest that you take this tactical exercise elsewhere? Such as outside the city gates for instance."

She looked over the dark ranger shoulders at a long trailing tail of Theramore's youngest, who were watching the dark rangers causing mayhem and getting in trouble for it with equal unabashed glee.

"Yes, Miss Pained." four dark rangers acquiesced in unison.

"Boring." Kitala grinned merrily at her.

Pained watch them leave while shaking her head and internally debating if and how to let this come to the attention of the overworked city guard, and what assurances and promised favours would be needed to calm the affected mercantile parties.

"Another day on the job." Ranger Captain Areiel observed with long-suffering resignation when Pained returned to join her a short distance away.

"They show good accuracy." Pained noted. "But honestly quite a few could use more planning in their teamwork and especially give a thought to cutting off enemy escape routes."

"The market square makes for rough terrain, practically a morass this early in the day." Areiel nodded. "You can not just barge ahead and rely on superior suppressive cherry core firing. Do they think themselves a Kul Tiran man-of-war?"

"I have often found herbal tea soothing after dealing with delinquent or run-away sentinel recruits and mages alike. Can I interest you in sharing a cup?"

"I regret that I never had access to it, it sounds like it would have been of great use. Unfortunately undeath has not been kind to my sense of taste and I fear tea would be regrettably wasted on my tongue." Areiel declined but then she changed her mind. "On second thought, belay that. I would love to have a cup of tea with you, Pained. Whether I can taste it or not."



***​



A few days passed and New Year's Eve would be arriving before anybody had had time to fully breathe out after Winter's Veil. While the last fireworks display had seen some attendants unable to attend, Jaina knew that Rhonin and a cadre of likewise pyromantically inclined mages were planning an even greater spectacle.

The anti-Forsaken sentiments had quieted. Jaina was not sure what was going on in that regard but the docks had seen some disturbances that called for the city guard to break rowdy crowds up. As she understood it there had been no Forsaken involved however – in contrast to certain dubious running in the market square that Pained had assured her was taken care of!

To be honest she did no longer care as much and she had told herself that she would not. Her energy and thoughts were better spent on governing and improving the lot of Forsaken and living citizens alike than attributing undeserved importance to those who wanted neither. The masquerade preparations had taken their toll and it was almost a relief to go back to the everyday conundrums for this week.

Sylvanas had been more absent than usual which made Jaina a little disappointed, but she was allegedly spending more time with Vereesa which on the other hand was very, very good to hear. Or so Jaina was sure even if she still had that longer talk about unchecked shore leave and certain elements of trespassing waiting, and the thought of both Windrunner sisters collaborating on such a point was slightly unnerving.

But this morning, just as they were walking up the steps to the council hall, someone was coming. The drivers of carts and wagons halted and the ever-present noise died down when people stepped out of the way and city guards stood solemnly at attention.

Alfred, the withered and ancient Forsaken gentleman, walked slowly and straight as a post with a great burden in his arms.

One swept in a white sheet…

Oh.

Jaina had stopped frozen on the spot and the same she reckoned went for those accompanying her together with Pained. They bowed their heads and Jaina felt moths fluttering about in her stomachs. Funerals were bad enough as they were and funerals in Theramore the very worst.

"She was cold. I had just gone to put the kettle on."

His grave voice was like a call from the other side and Jaina shivered. Little trace remained of the Alfred who had offered his wife his arm the day the Forsaken arrived, and like few other times since she had first laid eyes on Captain Bonecarver, she was made aware of how thin the line could seem between undeath and death.

"Where may she rest?"

"I will show you."



***​

They were burying Gertrude close to the eastern ocean shore with the others who rested there. The stretch of rock and sand had become Theramore's graveyard even if no one took pleasure in acknowledging it. Outside the sea roared and waves struck land like they had for an eternity and would continue to for another.

There were not a lot of them, mostly Jaina and the other council members who had been present by the city hall. Sylvanas had received notice and already been on her way with her – and Jaina's – ranger squadron. Apart from them Alfred had not wanted to wait for anyone else. There were no relatives or friends of any numbers to speak of though a few neighbours had caught up and attended dutifully if nothing else.

It was short work to dig even in the densely packed rocky soil. Theramore's city council commanded an affinity with pick and shovel as well as arcane means above the average.

"Perhaps a little wider, my good man." Alfred requested from Gromwell Gromfayer who was working his way through the earth below them with little apparent trouble. It made Jaina uneasy, but he was ever calm when he turned towards her.

"Lady Proudmoore, may I ask you to do what is necessary to let my wife and I rest undisturbed?"

"I – I understand." Jaina nodded. "And please, it is just Jaina, Master Alfred."

Then the full implication of what she had just agreed to dawned on her and she imagined she felt the blood leaving her face.

"I am old, much too old, and I wish to rest with my Gertrude. Death has parted us once already."

Gromwell's mattock stopped and all but the sea went still around them when he made that statement. Jaina felt her stomach fall.

"Dark Lady, will you grant me my true death?" Alfred looked at Sylvanas.

"The decision is not mine alone. We remain in Theramorian land under Theramore's laws. Jaina?"

Sylvanas' tone was calm and gentle and her deference courteous. And it made Jaina want to panic.

She looked around for guidance but found only pale looks that mirrored her own and the quiet understanding of the dark rangers. They had seen infinitely worse things.

This was insane.

She couldn't let someone be killed right in front of her eyes?!

Before anything else she gave Gromwell a portal back up at least and he had something very reasonable to say.

"First thing first. Let us lay the lady to rest."

No part of a mage's education covered if magic was a worthy way to put someone in her grave, but allowing her husband to lay her to rest must surely be. Alfred set her down with the utmost care. It was easy to imagine that he had shown that in all his life.

He deserved better than to have to just die!

He deserved to…to…

He deserved to keep going, for how long no one could say, in loneliness not even broken by sleep without his other half. Because Jaina thought it was right and proper?

Yet, if she tried the thought from a distant angle, what would she say if a living Theramorian asked the same? If she was to speak from her heart and throw little things like, say, laws, aside?

She would say that life was precious. And beg whoever asked to reconsider.

If life was precious, was undeath not? Should the day stay dead, like the bright thugs would maintain?

What sort of ruler allowed something like this?

She felt like a lost little girl, archmage and all. There would be no going back, no second chance, if you choose wrong. Not even the cruel realities and cold necessities from the war against the Burning Legion were present to guide her decision.

"Jaina. What say you?" Alfred asked, and it was like a bell that tolled in ominous warning.

"I-I do not know. I am sorry, terribly sorry, but I have no answer."

"Do I not deserve a choice of my own?"

"Yes – I mean, you do, but – but I don't want you to die."

"Why not?"

Why not?! Because – because you did not want people to die!

She made decisions every day that could mean the life and death of another person. If she did not keep up their communications with Lordaeron and the Scourge should strike, without Sylvanas and Areiel and sixty rangers there to defend. If she and her council did not manage with utmost care their supplies of fresh water, their crops and defences Theramore would become a city of ghosts. If they let it be built foolishly a single fire could wipe their city from the map.

But that Tides-damned differed from presiding over someone having his life taken!

She looked pleadingly around.

"I truly do not know. I have no good answer to give, Master Alfred, except that my heart tells me no. What – what do the rest of you say?"

The silence was as deep as that of the graves around them before Gromwell stepped forward.

"Us dwarves are taught to respect our elders from tender age, even when wisdom gives way to bollocks." He offered an awkward grin. "A man's choice is his own, and Master Alfred's is his."

Jaina nodded her thanks to him for speaking first.

"I do not condone such acts." Pained said. "But I recognise that my beliefs may not hold all the answers for the questions of undeath. Nor will I oppose any decision so long as it does not endanger you, My Lady."

Oddricht was next to offer his view.

"We're all out of our league here as living. There's sound reasoning in turning to those who know a matter most." He nodded towards the dark rangers and their queen.

"Sylvanas?"

"I will obey your decision in whichever case and there may be circumstances I overlook. You are the one who knows Theramore best and what consequences this decision could have. However much it would break my heart to hear such a request from one I hold dear, I have no right to deprive another of his right to choose."

Of course Sylvanas would stand for that. She hated the Scourge more for taking her own will from her than taking her life.

Of the rangers Kitala spoke first.

"There is a difference – there has to be a difference – between forbidding someone to seek his end and to oppose it. But where such a line should be drawn I can not say."

"There is no such limit. It's impossible!" Anya protested. "We would never stand by and let one of us end herself!"

"We would, Anya. If we somehow knew that the only alternative was that we would be Scourge again, we would." Lyana stroked a tear from her ranging partner's cheek.

"Anya is still right. There is no clear line. There is no principle or rule or law that could not be twisted and turned bad that could govern this decision alone. It must be heartfelt. And therefore I think you should allow this, Jaina. It may be that none of us will die by ourselves and can eventually only end our existence by our own hand. If you sought to prevent that you would have to become little better than another Lich King in that regard."

Clea looked every inch the big sister of the squadron they thought her.

Did Jaina have justification for saying no?

It was justified if you could talk the person out of wanting to end himself later. If you honestly believed you could do so you should cry stop and step between that person and his choice. Did anyone believe that, here and now?

"Then…then I can only say that I can not know what is right, but therefore I can not and should not make a choice for someone else. If...if you want to go through with it…"

She could barely believe her ears testimony that she was just saying this. Or more like croaking, Jaina reckoned. She tried to swallow the choking emotion away in vain.

"Ach, don't worry about us, girl…" Alfred said and some little spark of warmth remained after all in his voice. He seemed to just remember something and reached up to unclasp a locket on a thin chain around his neck.

"These were in fashion once in Lordaeron." He looked long at the heirloom.

"I know." Jaina nodded quietly. "I used to have one…once."

Alfred opened the protecting case. Inside were two miniature paintings, faded by time perhaps but expertly made and still more than clear enough to depict a dashingly proud young man and what must have been a stunning beauty if the artwork was to be believed.

"Oh yes. We weren't always like this." Alfred said as if he could hear her thoughts. "Oh, I know she became batty and not always too nice to deal with. And I am not what I used to be. But those were the times, and you should have seen us then. Or heard, haha!"

It was a right ghostly laugh.

"We got married the same day old King Terenas was born, though to us he was always young King Terenas of course. See, the queen, who was at the time in labour, heard the laughing and singing outside and thought it a good omen. She said she took comfort in the thought of bringing the boy to a world that could know happiness like that, and she gave us this locket and a mighty fine painter to fill it. The king gave us a teapot, it held together ever since. Winked and said we could offer one another a faraway toast during sleepless nights."

Alfred gently closed the locket after a last fond look and handed it to Jaina.

"Pass it on to another happy couple with their lives ahead of them."

She could hear Gromwell sneeze loudly.

Then Anya was there beside her and sheltering her with her ranger cloak, and Pained held her arms wide around both of them.

Alfred sort of straightened himself and looked at Sylvanas to ask a little awkwardly.

"How, ah, should I stand?"

"Humans kneel when you declare your love and your allegiance, correct?" The Dark Lady suggested.

"Aye. Aye, that is proper."

He went down on one knee before his wife's grave, dignified to the last, and bowed his head. The Banshee Queen seemed to tower over him, dark and terrible and unyielding. Jaina could see Sylvanas draw one of her daggers. It made no sound. Rangers ensured they did not.

She spoke softly, as softly as if comforting one of them.

"May none disturb you rest. May none call you back against your will. And may you find each other soon on the other side with all the beauty and happiness you shared on this. And I hope…" She slashed his head clean off. "…that your thoughts were on that and not your fear of the pain I had to bring you."

Jaina blinked in shock as her mind caught up with her eyes. Sylvanas had moved in just a blur, in almost faster than that, like Jaina knew she could. A dry, sharp snap hit her ears instead of the usual gut-churning sickly wet crunch of destroyed living flesh and bone.

Alfred's body fell over on the ground.

It was just an old skeleton now.

No lights shone.



***​



They had come to The Tusked Herring after burying Gertrude and Alfred to drink to their memory. Or just toast it and maybe drink a little bit, as in Anya's case and that of most other Forsaken. She was happy that the others took care of most of the toasting and celebrating of memory because Jaina certainly did not feel up to it and then Anya did not feel up to it either. And Sylvanas wasn't very good at celebrating and not in the mood either because she was busy comforting Jaina from the other side. So the rest of Theramore could handle memorials while they handled their mage.

Anya was sure that for an absolutely terrible, horrible, short but still long moment Jaina regretted her decision when she saw Alfred's body on the ground. During that moment she felt herself grasped by cold fear that Jaina and Sylvanas would shout and argue, but the Jaina had stepped forward to next to Sylvanas and, as she had promised, set fire to the bodies of Alfred and Gertrude. She had channelled her magic with her features drawn and tense and almost a sneer. Anya first feared Jaina felt contempt, or disgust, about it all, but the more she looked the more she believed that it was Jaina's defiance. Their mage was making a frighteningly hot arcane pyre out of nothing, until not even a shard of anything other than ash would be left to raise ever again.

The Forsaken did not have the means to incinerate their own dead even with such thoroughness but none present dared disturb Jaina. Anya was also sure it was for the best.

And when she was done she fell into Sylvanas' arms and Jaina cried and they did not argue at all.

Afterwards someone came up with the idea of making a tombstone and fusing the couple's old teapot to it. It turned out very fine.

Their locket Jaina told Sylvanas to pass to the couple they had eavesdropped on. Anya did not understand in the slightest but Sylvanas evidently did. It did not sound quite like Sylvanas to be eavesdropping on couples? Jaina, a bit more like perhaps. Jaina was mostly very polite but she was also very, very curious.

Anya had at first feared that Getrude and Alfred dying like this would send an angry mob in their way or something like it, the way it had happened in the Undercity when they had Jaina and the darkest days before that. She could see that Sylvanas had been worried too though as it was turning out nothing bad had happened yet. On the contrary the most prevalent – or loudest – opinion among the Forsaken was one of respect for Alfred. At least from the moment he saw his old wife again he had reputably spent not a single thought on the Scourge or the Lich King, and he had gone out in one last act of defiance against the undeath forced upon him.

No one dared utter a foul word if they were thinking it, and that dead stays dead meanness was just unsayable now.

Anya was not sure how she felt. There was a difference, that was true, to Somand and Siren who would go to seek their deaths in battle when their own people had rejected them.

Was it because Alfred and Gertrude were human? Never! Anya refused to think that. On the contrary she was sad for humans who had such little time in their lives!

Maybe it was because Alfred wanted to end and was not simply despairing. Maybe that really made all the difference.

She clutched Jaina tighter where she sat on her right side. Jaina was not allowed to have little time! She was not!

Sylvanas sat by the corner of their bench, built half into the wall, and turned so Jaina could lean against her while she reached out for Anya behind her back.

"We endure and we remain, keeping our watch." she said like she would have when they were just rangers together. "But we are not expected to like it."

"I'm sick of people dying, all around me." Jaina muttered and sounded miserable. "Always, everywhere, and people all around going out of their way to speed it up instead of the other way around."

"You have seen too much of this in too little time, my gentle mage."

"And you then?"

"And I, most obviously. And Anya. And I would give anything I could to spare either of you the misery this world holds in such abundance."

"I understand why mages turn to necromancy. Who wouldn't want to?" Jaina was almost petulant and Anya would bet she wanted someone to be mad at her just to break the current dismal tedium.

She would not oblige her. No matter what Jaina said. Instead Anya huddled closer so she could feel the heartbeat beneath her mage robes and the warmth against her ear.

"I wouldn't have done it like them. Not even if I knew how. I don't wanna…enslave souls and all –"

"Trust me when I say that necromancy in your hands is not something I would fear to see wielded."

Sylvanas said it with dry humour and deep kindness at the same time.

Anya held on to that thought. Couldn't Jaina be the Lich Queen instead, so she and Sylvanas could take turns ruling all undead? Sylvanas could rule in the mornings when Jaina wanted to sleep in, and Jaina could rule in the evenings so Sylvanas could go out and have fun with her rangers more. And Jaina would have repaired all of them with her magic. Jaina would glue them back together.

And if someone really wanted to…to just rest and don't be undead anymore, their Lich Queen would have let them and not forced anyone to exist to just be her servant and tool. She would leave them be and let them sleep, in peace.

"Sleep well, Alfred and Gertrude." Anya mumbled.

Maybe Jaina heard something of it or maybe she was just tiring and thinking of sleeping anyway.

"Sylvanas? Could you…sit with me tonight for a while when I sleep?"

"All night, little mage."



***​



The following day Jaina and Sylvanas went for a walk. It was on Sylvanas' suggestion and she made the argument that while all her rangers had gotten to see the peninsula and surrounding lands she had barely stuck her nose outside the city walls. Jaina thought the attempt at pretext was almost cute.

They followed the main road to the right where it divided and kept following the ocean shore after passing above the burial grounds. It was a cold morning and Jaina pulled her cloak tighter around her. The cold was inside her as well today.

"You are not well, my mage. Yesterday troubles you greatly."

You could say that again. How could it not? Why should it not?

Maybe if you were a Forsaken for whom a clean, quick true death was a lesser concern – stop.

Jaina told herself sharply to get her wits together again. Sylvanas was not stating the obvious, she was being concerned.

"Yes, it does."

Jaina walked a step closer to Sylvanas so their shoulders almost touched, or would have if those bulky pauldrons had not kept her at a distance. Sylvanas took notice and offered Jaina her hand instead. And that was even better.

She even thought the Dark Lady showed a trace of a smile before she became serious again.

"You want me to be something else than what you saw the day before. A cold woman capable of striking down the innocent with indifference."

"I know that you are something else."

Sylvanas smiled sadly at her.

"To take lives is my trade. It is not pretty and it is not pleasant. You know that very well and you are no stranger to the waging of war that you detest." Sylvanas spoke very kindly and gave her hand a small squeeze. She was not being demeaning. "I still feel the rush of battle and bloodlust but it is long since I sought it out with eagerness. I have had many human lifetimes to come to terms with the necessity to wield my bow and blade and I have been bathed in a sea of terror and death matching all my previous life. If therefore my hand should be steadier than yours I beg you humbly not to think yourself naïve, or me without compassion."

"I don't think that – uhm, think the latter thing." Jaina corrected herself dutifully and a little guilty. Sylvanas looked at her knowingly and Jaina looked shyly back, and in the middle of everything it was a comfort to be the Dark Lady's pet mage who would never be allowed to get away with being unfair to herself.

"Despite all that you have been through, Jaina, you smile for your people's joys and weep for their sorrows with all your heart. That is a rare and valuable quality in anyone, let alone rulers of cities, and I would not want you to be anything else."

There was another matter on Jaina's mind. A sensitive one that she had dreaded asking about but come to realise that she needed to.

"Sylvanas. I would like to ask you something."

"I can tell it is not a particularly enjoyable thing."

"I would like you to tell me what became of a Lordaeronian lord by the name of Garithos."

"Garithos? A bigoted fool, arguably worse as ally than enemy." she sneered. "…I see. Very well."

Sylvanas described the events sincerely, that Jaina was sure of. A lot she also recognised and could put into context with what Sylvanas had told her about the Forsaken's uprising and early months during the feverish ride home from Hearthglen and some other occasions.

Jaina was also sure that Sylvanas very accurately guessed her opinion of the decision to let Varimathras end Marshal Othmar Garithos in a deluge of molten rock, prejudiced and detestable man or not.

"Formally our truce might be said to have ended upon the conclusion of our mutual victory against the Scourge, and the former hostilities resumed…" The Dark Lady suggested with uncharacteristic meekness and a trace of an uncomfortable grimace.

Jaina only gave her a long look.

"But no, I will not hold that up. Do you think me a monster, Jaina?"

They walked for a time in silence. The rocky shore road became more overgrown further in the peninsula though nearly every tree and shrub was bent by the ever-present winds.

Jaina gave the question much and honest thought. What did she hold up as moral standards?

Her first thought was not to kill or cause harm unless forced to. Because – because nothing, and because everything. There was no why to it, she just felt it. What that constituted in practice was a whole other thing to specify but she could not think otherwise than that an honest intention would go a long way to make Azeroth a better place.

She told Sylvanas so, and she made no pretence about having a more sophisticated philosophical foundation than she had. She knew it would make no difference to the importance the Dark Lady attached to her opinions.

"I know you do." Sylvanas answered. "I once…strove not to cause harm for no reason. Rangers did not hunt for sport or kill for fun, and I took Areiel's lessons to heart and suppressed such tendencies wherever I could."

Like in many other instances with the Forsaken, there was palpable before left unspoken.

"But applying moral standards also has to take into account the person they apply to." Jaina did not know herself if she continued or counter-argued. "And I will find it a tad hard to swallow that someone slaved to the Scourge until mere days ago would be even remotely right in the head."

Jaina thought more about it.

"A kicked dog will eventually bite at anyone approaching. A proverbial one I mean, in reality I guess it would of course run the hell away if it could –"

"Are you calling me a bitch, Jaina Proudmoore?"

"How – wha –"

"A proverbial one at that… The proverbial bitch."

"Stop it! You moron!"

They kept walking for a little while, turning back towards Theramore along one of the smaller trails between the two main roads.

"You wait for me to deliver a verdict?" Jaina asked. "You expect it. You are used to being judged."

Sylvanas grimaced in answer and did not contradict her.

"I will say that I think killing Garithos was extremely dumb and I wish you had not done so. I will also say that I am saddened about everything and anything that contributed to placing you in that position and to you making that decision."

"Dumb how?"

"In death he became ten times the hero he could never be in life. Any rumours of his fate that leaked out could not have been to your advantage." Jaina spoke very calmly. "Do you think it could have contributed to the rebuke of the Forsaken emissaries sent into human lands?"

"So I killed them…it was my fault too…"

"No! You have told me not to shoulder the blame of others, now allow me to return the favour!" Jaina moved into her path and forces Sylvanas to look up. "The Alliance was still ordered to kill undead on sight. The Alliance still knew only Scourge undead. The Lich King turned all of us against one another and that is that. But I stand by my argument that the solution was a poor choice."

"Dumb. Then what would you advocate?" The Banshee Queen was a little testy.

"Why, trick him of course! Or charm him, or possess him! Then send him as an emissary to command the Alliance to open talks and his army and Dalaran to stand down and welcome you!"

Sylvanas laughed sadly.

"Truly you would have made a fine banshee queen, My Dread Lady."

"I would not. Not after two horrible, horrible years in the Scourge's hands. Not half as good as the real one." Jaina took her hand again. "You are not a monster, Sylvanas."

The obstinate banshee showed her pearly teeth in a scary grin.

"If you are, you are a sort of nice monster. Like the cookie monster."

"The cookie monster?"

"Yes." Jaina patiently explained the concept to her ignorant friend. "Don't you elves have those? Like when tasty cookies in a jar or a box mysteriously disappear, you know? That is the cookie monster."

"Mysterious indeed." Sylvanas noted dryly.

Jaina reddened and looked slightly guilty.

"Then after all, if some people really cared genuinely about all those blueberry cookies – or whatever flavour they hypothetically were – they would not have placed them within reach on the upper shelf in foolish self-delusion that their own lack of height was the general norm."

The Banshee Queen chuckled quietly in the most nefarious of ways.

"Sylvanas Windrunner you utter rake! How many people are aware of your shadowy past as thiever of Alleria's cookies?"

"Slander and hearsay to be denied and rejected." She huffed with her nose in the air. "And that would hypothetically be Vereesa who honestly ate the most of them – look, there's Anya and the rest."

Any further insights into shady cookie pasts were indeed cut short by them meeting up with the rest of their squadron.

"Areiel wants us to patrol the inner shore." Anya said. The inner shore referred to the western side of the peninsula that bordered on the bay and the Dustswallow Marsh further away. "How was your walk?"

"Jaina called me a dumb bitch." Sylvanas nodded thoughtfully. "It was a good talk."

"You – you – I –" Jaina sputtered.

The Banshee Queen looked innocent like a cookie monster.



***​



The Dark Lady wore a dress.

"This is a plot. A conspiracy." Sylvanas made clear before anyone else could say anything at all. "Lyana is identified as the chief culprit and ring leader but the delinquency is sure to run wide and deep within the ranks."

"Luckily the neckline doesn't run as deep, or it would be level with your toes, Dark Lady." Velonara sneaked in, predictably. "Not quite as deep."

Inevitably Jaina's eyes were drawn towards that spot – damn you, Vel' – and she saw that Sylvanas' neckline did for one thing not reach her toes and for another was very exquisite. Black lace lined it so you just had to look closer – to trace the pattern of course – and in the middle it rose again into a sort of point that hid her scar completely in a way an ordinary cut would not, so that Sylvanas would not feel uncomfortable.

If that had not been a top specification to the tailor from considerate dark rangers Jaina would be a murloc. For that reason alone she decided that she absolutely loved this dress.

"Why, but this is most elegant. When did you wear a dress last, Lady Windrunner?"

"On Vereesa's wedding at least."

Jaina guessed she must have looked very amused.

"What?" Sylvanas asked. "I could hardly have gone in a dress uniform, that would have made me Vereesa's superior officer and besides both me and my sister can do other things than work, contrary to persistent popular belief."

"Yes, who could ever get such an impression?" Kitala conveyed the most overdone shock.

"I think it is a very nice plot in any case. I would sure be interested in the rest of the story." Jaina did her best to compliment like a proper dark ranger herself.

It was a very nice plot – dress. It was somehow both atrociously elegantly form-fitting and mysteriously wavy all at once. And there were long thin gala-like gloves to go with it, also black with dark purple details and matching black lace patterns up around the arm muscles. Jaina had to give special credit to the tailor for that. The arms of a professional archer would be having their own measurements just like the usual ones around your hips and belly and chest…ahem.

Well, dresses ended at the chest and shoulders so it was just as logical to look there as to look at the hem at ground level, right? And it was such a thoughtful design. And…striking…

Objectively speaking, that was a perfectly valid observation! Usually necklines went in rounded or straight path across but they rarely made a detour back up halfway across. It succeeded in both making that bodice less revealing and accentuating the shapes all at once, actually not too dissimilar to how the light ranger armour did, now that she thought of it.

Shape, Jaina firmly told herself. Not plural.

Sylvanas looked both familiarly sternly at her, like a Dark Lady at her ranger mage, and quizzical in a way Jaina was not accustomed to. She hadn't learned to read minds, right (even if it many times felt just like Sylvanas could do that)? Was it something Jaina had said…?

Rest of the story…you couldn't possibly mean… Tides damn it! Why were all other dark rangers allowed to get away with these tangled threads and double meanings all the time and not Jaina?!

"Now you better have just as interesting chapters to follow, Dark Lady."

"I think Jaina can read you like an open book already."

"That is why bookworms make the best ranger mages."

For the love of mana, they were falling on her and Sylvanas in a pack! This was going to be a serious and very proper reception before the New Year's Eve celebrations later and they were already – yes, what exactly was this? Whatever it was, Jaina needed to put a cork in it.

"Now, this is very fitting…" Argh! Fitting, like that dress among other things! "…since we are going to proceed to conspiracies of the highest order tonight, namely state politics. Please follow me."

Ha! Wasn't that a smooth shift?

As in a shift of topic, not clothing.

It was a stormy New Year's Eve and the hustle and bustle of the occasion had done its part to sweep Jaina's melancholy aside, and scores of caring red-eyed gazes had done theirs. She and Sylvanas were now on their way to host another reception in the city hall, significantly smaller but arguably just as noteworthy as their Winter's Veil. As a show of unity and good hope and faith they would open the celebrations with a formal presentation and signing of a real and proper treaty between Lordaeron and Theramore that Sylvanas' dwarves had been working diligently and secretly – one was a professional spy after all – on.

Jaina hoped the scheduled fireworks later would still work, considering the heavy clouds and harsh winds this day that showed no inclination to abating. Though on second thought Rhonin and his cronies would not let trifles like forces of nature get in the way of a good show of pyromancy. It seemed to Jaina that certain elements of the high elven mages may share a pinch or two of their rangers' rebelliousness and greatly appreciate the opportunity to let their arcane hairs, and common senses, down.

Jaina strode energetically up the steps to the hall at the lead of her chattering pack of eager dark rangers and their distracting queen. She was just about to open it when a sharp voice interrupted her, raised over the wind.

"Lady Jaina!"

She turned to see a city guard who looked like she was in a hurry. The regimented cloak billowed like a pennant behind her.

"What is it?"

"A ship has been sighted, sailing into the bay. She flies Kul Tiran colours but she is no man-of-war. We thought you wanted to know."

Oh.

"They…they are free to moor if they should like. We are an open port to all who – who are not at war with us. Especially given the current weather. Thanks for letting me know, soldier. Find lee and carry on!"

She saluted and hurried away to other tasks and hopefully better wind cover.

Kul Tiran?

Why had they braved the high seas at this time of year?

Maybe Jaina could ask around later. For now she would strike it from her mind for this evening belonged to Theramore and Lordaeron and her.

Rhonin, Vereesa, her city councillors, Areiel and nearly all the dark rangers, and a lot of other people were already inside. Jaina almost hurried to take her seat and look as regal as possible. How did actual kings and queens manage that without a sturdy desk in front of them?

Without their dyed beards each of the dwarves struck a much more handsome figure. Blue attire complemented Runar's hair colour and their fabled squirrel on his shoulder most excellently. Not that Jaina was partial towards the colour of the sea in any way.

"Lady Proudmoore, I am proud to introduce our royal emissaries Runar and Halvdan who will present the draft of an agreement on our behalf." Sylvanas declared without faltering on any of the terminological quirks of that statement. Because the dwarves were most certainly royal emissaries, the question was rather of how many royalties, and would indeed speak on Sylvanas' queenly royal pronoun's behalf, the Forsaken's behalf and both Sylvanas' and Jaina's behalf as well.

"Why, what a distinguished delight to finally make your proper acquaintance." Jaina could not help but beam with hard-suppressed enjoyment. "I had been given the wildest of impressions of you both by some unknown and most mysterious impostors, if you could believe such a thing."

"Baseless slander and obnoxiousness without a doubt." Runar dismissed it.

"Evidently complete lunacy and laughably unrealistic ideas." Halvdan assured her.

Rhonin, why did you have to plant this thought in my mind? It's every way your fault I think of Little and Lady Moon now whenever someone uses the word lunatic!

Admittedly it did not take a lot for Jaina's mind to dwell on Sylvanas these days anyway but that was a completely different matter.

"Now, Lady Proudmoore and Lady Windrunner, honoured representatives of Theramore and Lordaeron; we are proud to bring to you this draft of a treaty to lay the groundwork of proper stately relations between the two realms and ensure that any past potential diplomatic foolery and mishaps are properly cleared up."

Jaina blushed and smiled at Sylvanas, who did not blush but looked a lot like only her undead complexion stood in the way of that. It was not like Jaina had come up with the idea to kidnap herself – she started it! – but she had not been her stateliest self either, perhaps. And in retrospect she fully endorsed abducting herself for a refreshing and dearly needed cruise in principle, even if the food was most questionable by the end of it.

Somehow it just felt a little bit like when you had to explain to Master Antonidas how and why your homework had caught fire by itself, completely without your doing of course.

"Initially, we establish the context and pretext –"

"To-to." Ratatosk clicked loudly the way squirrels apparently did – you rarely heard them nearly so much as you saw them – and scurried down Runar's arm to land on the floor with sinuous fluffy grace that no other creatures could match.

Velonara happened to be standing with her squadron close to Jaina, and close enough to pounce on her Dark Lady too at the first opportunity, and grill her about her new sense of fashion. The dark ranger immediately reached for something in her pocket and expectantly gave it to Jaina. It was a handful of nuts.

And it had of course not escaped Ratatosk. His great eyes followed Jaina most attentively.

"Chit-chat." Jaina tried to imitate the chittering of a squirrel and showed the nuts in her open palm while she attempted to look her friendliest self. At first the squirrel eyed her warily and motionless, then he shot forward after a confirmatory look at Velonara and climbed up on one of the legs of Jaina's ornate chair – it was truly an uncomfortable piece of furniture, reserved for uncomfortable ceremonial occasions and best hidden away at other times – and armrest to the treasures in her hand.

Who could keep their minds or eyes on politics when squirrels were about?

Though to be fair Ratatosk was a consular celebrity in his own right, having reputedly wooed both King Magni Bronzebeard of Khaz Modan and Ranger Lieutenant Kalira, neither one a mean feat in itself!

"Yes, they're real good!" Jaina cautiously stroked his back while they munched on a nut each. "Though now we need to be quiet and listen to dad keeping order."

"Thank you." Runar thanked her and cleared his throat. "Now, initially, the broad background strokes in the first paragraph: Recognizing their shared heritage as peoples of Dalaran, Lordaeron and Quel'thalas, the Kingdom of Lordaeron and the City of Theramore come together as allies for mutual protection against any and all foes threatening one or both realms."

He continued most businesslike.

"A curious matter of technicalities arose during the discussions about this – what sort of state is Theramore exactly, Lady Proudmoore? 'City' is a bit of a placeholder for now, though we call it a realm as well so it is not strictly described as limited to the actual city of Theramore in the wording. I have heard the term 'magocracy' but I was not under the impression that you put up arcane ability as a strict requirement for leadership."

"Oh…ah…good question." Jaina rambled. Tides, sometimes being a ruler really felt unnervingly much like being questioned about homework and otherwise interrogated by ancient Kirin Tor wizards. "We have honestly not thought much about it – in all fairness we are pretty new to running an independent city…"

There were some scattered snorts and giggles heard while Jaina gathered her academic wits and continued with much more confidence from a more familiar perspective.

"…but a city is strictly speaking not a defined term either and a city regularly depend on the surrounding lands, so our peninsula could very well count as part of the city from such a viewpoint. Perhaps we should clarify further by referring to the 'City State of Theramore' to pre-empt any future greedy misinterpretations of our terminology."

"Very good." Runar said while Halvdan made a discreet note in a scroll. "The following paragraphs lay out the principles of this alliance and are intended to be formulated in a more day-to-day language. I will therefore summarize the relevant provisions. First, cities and ports will be open to citizens of both signatory states and local laws will apply to everyone present. Both signatory parties agree in good faith to not legislate in a way that unduly inconveniences the citizens of the other party."

"Most reasonable."

"That is right, no partying past living mages' bedtime!" Velonara ordered her fellow dark rangers.

"In times of danger, imminent or marginally less imminent, both signatory parties agree to lend what aid they can to defend and shelter the respective peoples. Obviously this as well is greatly dependant on the good faith of the parties and what help can be spared is left largely to their discretion. We are aware of the vagueness of the provision but find it futile to specify a set minimum force – let alone do so in a publicly known treaty – or attempt to foresee what sort of aid would be most crucial."

"It is as it should be." Sylvanas determined. "The enemy will adapt, evolve and change and so must our responses. If the will to uphold this part of the agreement is lacking, the agreement in itself will invariably count for little."

"Who would command lent troops?" Areiel asked. "And who will supply them?"

"That is unspecified but we have assumed that the hosting state would know its theatre of war best and also its line of logistics. Assuming of course that there is food to convey to said troops in the first place…"

"We will do our very best. But there is only so much fish in Lordamere Lake, so if the force coming to our aid would be, say, small in number but powerful beyond imagination it would certainly expedite things." Areiel looked ever so fondly at Jaina and made no attempt to hide it.

"No fish soup." Jaina pretended to be petulant. "Fish soup is outlawed. Banned. I'm sure it's in the corollary or appendix somewhere."

Even those who did not know the context could recognize habitual banter for what it was.

"What's wrong with fish soup?" Master Oddricht asked with raised eyebrows.

"It can be fairly tasty." Gromwell joined in the heresy. "A few onions and a pinch of white pepper in the pot –"

"And a couple of fresh lemons. Very crucial."

"Fair Lady Windrunner, save me from this company of the lost and the darned." Jaina stretched out her arm in what she supposed was a suitably theatrical distressed damsel manner. "Master Runar, clearly we will have important culinary and other details to work out and I fully see your reasoning in focusing on the broad strokes. Please continue."

"Right. The third provision –"

Even if the late arrival tried to be quiet, the sound of the front door opening inevitably drew a lot of attention. Jaina felt with the drenched guard who looked around like he was trying to determine who in the assembly he should take his errand to.

"It is alright." she assured. "Who do you need to borrow?"

"Well –" He coughed. "Pardon. There is a ship from Kul Tiras anchored outside and they have launched a boat with a delegation. They demand to be let in, as I understood it, and are waiting outside. What answer should I bring?"

Jaina blinked. A small, a stupid small part of her had hoped it could somehow have been her mother on that ship. But her mother would never come in anything less than the Lady Katherine.

"They may come in. They are as welcome as anyone else so long as they behave –"

In a much louder way both doors were flung wide open and someone shouted in indignation outside over the din of the wind and rain. Ratatosk leapt to his feet and was gone in a blink to hide with Velonara. Five dark shapes in cloaks marched inside without looking aside.

Jaina stopped both of her infuriated guards with a gesture and raised her voice significantly.

"Welcome to Theramore! Thank you so much for knocking and waiting to be let inside!"

The mood of the room had changed completely. You could smell the tension in the air. Jaina had half a dozen spells half at the ready when the visitors lowered their hoods. She could see that they wore Kul Tiran dark green cloaks and tabards. Marine infantry officers escorting a fifth person, and they all looked at Jaina like she was a monster.

To them she was.

"We bear a message from the Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras."

He almost snarled at her but that was not what struck Jaina the most. It was his eyes. Defiant, resentful and defiant to the last. It was like they genuinely expected her to have them murdered or something like it!

"Deliver it."

"The message is not for you, but for her."

He pointed at Sylvanas of all people?

The Banshee Queen made every appearance of being decidedly unimpressed. She remained immobile with her arms crossed and only an eyebrow slightly raised in acknowledgement of their existence.

The fifth man took a step forward, drawing everyone's attention. But rather that make a declamation, he begun to sing.



"'Beware, beware the Daughter of the Sea.'

'Beware', I heard him cry

His words carried upon the ocean breeze,

As he sank beneath the tide



Those blood-soaked shores of Kalimdor,

Where sailors fought and died

The Admiral fell at Theramore,

because she left his side



Why this? Why this, oh Daughter of the Sea?

Why this? Did you forget your seaside days?

Always the pride of our nation's eyes,

How could she go astray?



When she did flee across the ocean deep,

The Admiral followed west

What else but sail to save a daughter's life,

And pray she still drew breath?



But there he found upon those distant shores,

Enemies 'pon the rise!

But when he faced those savage foes

His daughter stood aside.



And buried deep beneath the waves,

Betrayed by family

To his nation, with his last breath, cried,

'Beware the Daughter of the Sea'"



Jaina sat still like a stone. So still, while the room and the world spun all around her.

They had taken her lullaby.

Her father's lullaby.

They had taken it and twisted it to this…this…lie!

If they would actually have stayed, if they would have even deigned to look on from their ships, they would have seen Jaina bury her father on the shore!

He had not found enemies, he had found defenceless orc families! And he had slaughtered them! Her own father! Enemies upon the rise?!

How dared they?!

And not just…not just would they taint what joyful memories she had to hold on to under the shadow of what came after, they would have Sylvanas doubt her. After everything already heaped upon her and Jaina, after everything they had been through, every monumental grief and horror and disastrous mistakes they had still survived together, and now…now…of all times…

How dared they?!

Jaina clapped twice, so slow and loud and with her face set in stone, no, set in ice. None dared speak but her.

"Alina. Would you be able to accompany this melody?"

"Please." Alina scoffed, so it sounded more like 'puh-lease', and readied herself with the violin she had at hand for the festivities later. At another time Jaina would have grinned at the dark ranger's newly found confidence.

She turned to the minstrel and cast him a withering glare.

"Again." Her voice was harder than stone and colder than ice, and he faltered on the first verse.

Jaina rose and strode with elaborate dignity and grace to Sylvanas to offer her the courtliest bow she was capable of.

"My Lady, may I have this dance?"

Sylvanas offered her hand with exquisite theatricality like she had never been anything less than the Gala-General of Silvermoon's shiniest marble floors.

"With pleasure, My Dread Lady."

She embraced Sylvanas right and proper – she thought – and that was as far as Jaina's ballroom proficiency could take her.

"Icannottdanceforshithelpme." she hissed into Sylvanas' ear.

"Follow my lead."

And Sylvanas could dance.

She took Jaina with her in a slow, sweeping waltz-like step that moved with the tone of the dirge. Be-ware, be-ware…the way they moved felt like the rhythm of lapping waves to her.



"'Beware, beware the Daughter of the Sea.'

'Beware', I heard him cry

His words carried upon the ocean breeze,

As he sank beneath the tide…"



"They do not know you the way I do. They long ceased knowing you at all."

A banshee's whisper that caressed her ears. How could she ever find it frightening?

Her Dark Lady held her steady and guided her as surely as when she had taught Jaina archery, and it did not matter if Jaina's feet did not know their way around the floor because Sylvanas held her and let Jaina lean against her, and that was enough.

She could face this horrid song in full, she could face it swept up in Sylvanas' arms and Sylvanas' confidence and Sylvanas' quiet reassurance that nothing would change her perception of Jaina.

The decision she had made this very year had been terrible and heartbreaking and the only decent course of action left to her. She had tried and she had tried her best, and she wished she could do more and would always wish it, but she had done what she could to stem that ugly remnant of the Second War.

She knew that Sylvanas understood that even if Kul Tiras may never.



"Those blood-soaked shores of Kalimdor,

Where sailors fought and died

The Admiral fell at Theramore,

because she left his side.



Why this? Why this, oh Daughter of the Sea?

Why this? Did you forget your seaside days?

Always the pride of our nation's eyes,

How could she go astray?



When she did flee across the ocean deep,

The Admiral followed west

What else but sail to save a daughter's life,

And pray she still drew breath?



But there he found upon those distant shores,

Enemies 'pon the rise!

But when he faced those savage foes

His daughter stood aside"



It was Sylvanas who had made her sleep again. It was Sylvanas who had sat up by her hammock until dawn keeping watch for her nightmares and scaring them all away.

It was thanks to Sylvanas she had begun to feel alive once more. Because the Banshee Queen had risked all on an unlikely gamble for her Forsaken and her ruined city.

She was admirable and no one would tell Jaina otherwise.

She was fascinating and alluring and her voice was still just as much delicious melted chocolate to her ears as when Jaina had first heard it.



"And buried deep beneath the waves,

Betrayed by family

To his nation, with his last breath, cried,

'Beware the Daughter of the Sea'"





Beware, beware the Daughter of the Sea…will you, beware, of me...?

Her Dark Lady wouldn't.

Her Sylvanas was here, in Jaina's arms and with Jaina in hers, and she never would, no matter what anyone would sing her to do.

And Jaina had eyes for nothing else than the red of Sylvanas'.

The last accord rang out and the last whirl of theirs was coming to a stop, to an end, and Jaina did for the love of mana not want it to come to an end, and she tensed her grip for a change and spun Sylvanas with her, languidly leaning back in Jaina's own arms, and bent over her –

Jaina was falling heedlessly forward, heart and soul, into that red. Drawn, faster and deeper and unwilling to even think of resisting, so close that she imagined herself feeling the cool of Sylvanas' lips, so close that she knew that she did –

Sylvanas did not turn away and Azeroth turned itself upside-down, and Jaina kissed her.

The tiniest of spots in the back of her mind registered that Sylvanas was undoubtedly keeping them both balanced and not tumbling into a heap on the floor. The rest of Jaina knew only the smooth caress of elven lips upon her own and their delightful wetness.

Somewhere in the outside world spiralling around them, she faintly caught a dwarven tone addressing the Kul Tirans, dry as tinder.

"Nice diplomacy…"

It was quickly followed by the unmistakeably eager call of Rhonin.

"FIREWORKS!"

Sylvanas' eyes were blazing hotter than any fireworks ever could.



Author's Note
Cookie monsters are a Swedish term of endearment and sometimes slight admonishing of someone who is (overly) fond of cookies and may or may not have a hand in their mysterious disappearance.

Clearly clocks are in short supply in Theramore! Why, kissing on New Year's Eve several hours before midnight?! The end of civilisation draws near!
 
Sylvanas did not turn away and Azeroth turned itself upside-down, and Jaina kissed her.
WOOOOO! GO JAINA!

Huh, even hostile bards operating as part of a political agenda can't help but have major romance skills. He walks in the door and ninety seconds later two heads of state are making out. Those bards and their CHA stats...
 
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