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roman-writing · 6 years ago

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Increments of Longing (3/4)

Fandom: Warcraft III / World of Warcraft

Pairing: Sylvanas Windrunner / Jaina Proudmoore

Rating: T

Wordcount: 24,623

Summary: The Zandalari trolls have joined forces with the Amani, and Prince Kael’thas seeks a new military alliance with the seafaring nation of Kul Tiras by arranging a marriage between the Ranger-General of Silvermoon and the sole Heir to the Kul Tiran Admiralty.

Author’s Note: shoutout to @raffinit for being an absolute legend and reading over this for me, and also to everyone who keeps yelling at me to let these two bang for the love of goD. you’re all valid.

read it below or read it here on AO3

It only rained for less than an hour. Just enough that Jaina’s clothes were saturated. Then, the clouds drifted back to the barest memory of rain, a light drizzle that misted the air and obscured the golden tops of trees. The ambush, which had taken place late that morning, meant that many of those who had ridden on the road were now without horses to carry them, Sylvanas included.

Ithedis had gone back and fetched his and Jaina’s horses, despite Jaina’s protests that she could walk just fine. As the battalion had readied itself for the continued march east, he had appeared from the treeline, somehow managing to wrangle both steeds and haul himself up into the saddle with only one good arm. On the other hand, Jaina had to help Sylvanas to her feet and all but force her onto one of the horses.

“I’m fine.” Sylvanas tried to wave her away, even as Jaina held onto her upper arm.

“It’s not a problem. Just take my horse.”

“I can ride on one of the wagons with the other injured Rangers. We can commiserate over our shared misfortunes.”

“Or,” Jaina countered, steering her towards the horse, “You can take my horse, and I’ll walk because I’m not injured.”

At that, Sylvanas’ keen eyes fixed upon her. She glared pointedly at the wounds along one of Jaina’s cheeks.

“Oh, no,” Jaina shook her head. “No. You don’t get complain about a few splinters, when you were run through by a spear.”

Before Sylvanas could respond, the lieutenant colonel approached them along the road, walking through a group of Rangers. She stopped nearby and saluted. “General?”

Relenting with a sigh, Sylvanas jerked her head towards the horse, and Jaina helped her up. After she had clambered into the saddle with a grunt of pain, Sylvanas grabbed the reins and said to the colonel, “What’s our status?”

“Ready to continue the march at your command,” the colonel answered smartly.

“And our losses?”

“Ninety four dead. Seventy eight injured. The healers have done what they can for the worst of the injuries, but we need to get to the forward camp as soon as we can to restock and rest.”

Sylvanas’ jaw was set in a grim line. “Then let’s go. I want us there well before dusk.”

With a nod and another salute, the colonel turned and began barking orders to her captains. The Rangers arranged themselves back into their orderly lines, and the air was filled with the familiar creak of armour and rustle of booted feet.

Before Jaina could start walking, Sylvanas held out her hand.

Jaina blinked at it for a moment before understanding what was happening. Reaching out, she grasped Sylvanas’ forearm and hauled herself behind her. The horse shifted beneath their combined weight, its ears flicking with a stamp of one hoof. Once she was there though, Jaina didn’t know what to do with her hands. Sylvanas had pulled her cloak back on and her hood up, but her armour had been put onto a cart and pulled away with the rest of the supply chain, presumably for repairs or scrap. Underneath she wore her battered leathers, revealing glimpses of skin where her injuries had once been.

Not wanting to touch anywhere that might still hurt, Jaina rested her hands on Sylvanas’ shoulders. Without a word, Sylvanas nudged the horse forward. Jaina could feel Sylvanas tense, shoulders and back hunching somewhat. She almost snatched her hands away, then realised Sylvanas was being jostled by the horse’s choppy steps.

“You could have told me this was why you wanted to ride in a cart,” Jaina said. She didn’t have to look around to know that Ithedis was following them on his own mount.

Sylvanas guided the horse around Rangers, making their way to ride at the front of the line. “It’s fine. And you were very insistent.”

“I -” Jaina started to say, but Sylvanas cut her off.

“Forget I said that. It was unfair.” Yanking back on the reins once they had reached the head of the battalion, Sylvanas said, “It’s good for me to be seen back on my feet, as it were.”

When Jaina clenched her hands, she grasped handfuls of Sylvanas’ cloak and grumbled, “You should have told me.”

“I forgot that you wouldn’t know. Most Rangers would have understood. As I said -- it was unfair.”

The horse plodded along the road. Behind them, the battalion marched just as before, except this time they had hooked up carts to the yokes of horses and oxen. Injured Rangers swayed within the carts, some of them chatting easily, others nursing bandaged limbs. As they passed the remains of the ballistas and archers -- the shaman’s body had since slumped to the ground after the glacial spike’s magic had finally faded, Jaina noted with relief -- Sylvanas tilted her head to admire Jaina’s handiwork.

“Not bad,” Sylvanas murmured.

“Better than you.”

Jaina thought she’d muttered it low enough that Sylvanas wouldn’t hear, but Sylvanas snorted with laughter. She stopped with a wince almost immediately.

Leaning forward slightly with a frown, Jaina asked, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Sylvanas reached over her own shoulder to gently grasp Jaina’s hand, but she would not turn to look at her. “I’m fine.”

After that they rode in silence. Once or twice Jaina tried to initiate conversation, but every time she opened her mouth words escaped her, and her voice died in her throat. The mist grew thick and fast around them, shrouding the battalion on its march through the mountains. Jaina bowed her head, letting her brow rest against Sylvanas’ back. Sylvanas made no comment, and they continued on without a word.

They reached the forward camp well ahead of dark. Temporary wooden walls had been erected all around the encampment, and beyond the walls a series of groundworks -- ditches and stopbanks and stakes dug into the earth to funnel an enemy charge. The gates were winched open for them using a system of cleverly designed pulleys that Jaina could not see from the outside. And inside, Vereesa waited to greet them.

“My scouts gave me the news,” she said by way of hello as Sylvanas swung her leg over the horse’s withers and slid to the ground with a grunt. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

“I think that everyday,” Sylvanas quipped.

Vereesa’s eyebrows rose when Jaina slipped off the horse as well. She nodded her head to Jaina. “It’s good to see you again, Lady Proudmoore, though you’re looking worse for wear than when last we met.”

With a grimace, Jaina touched the side of her face. Her shoulder still stung as well, though the pain was muted. “It looks worse than it is, Lady Windrunner.”

“I wasn’t just referring to the wounds,” Vereesa murmured, ignoring Sylvanas’ sharp look. “I’m afraid I need to steal your wife away for a time; the General and I have much to discuss. You should find yourself a healer and rest. I understand you’ve had a long journey, and I’ve taken the liberty of having my Rangers pitch you a tent.”

“I - uhm -” Jaina glanced at Sylvanas, who nodded.

“I’ll find you later,” Sylvanas assured her.

“Right.” Inclining her head to Vereesa, Jaina said, “Thank you. Where are the healer tents?”

But before Vereesa could answer, Ithedis murmured at Jaina’s side, “This way, my Lady.”

He gently touched her elbow to indicate she should follow him, then lowered his hand. Jaina turned to walk after him, but could not help glancing back over her shoulder. Rangers streamed into the camp, obscuring her direct line of sight. Vereesa and Sylvanas were already striding away, their backs turned, conversing amongst themselves.

Chewing at her lower lip and wishing she could listen in on what they were saying, Jaina trailed in Ithedis’ wake. He had slowed his pace to let her catch up, and together they walked side by side through the camp.

Jaina’s eyes roved down to his bad arm, which he had braced to his chest with a makeshift cloth sling. “I’m sorry about hurting you.”

“I’m glad you did,” he answered. When she stared at him in disbelief, Ithedis said, “Do you not realise the impact you had on the outcome of that ambush?”

“Well, I -” Jaina fumbled for how to respond. “I mean, I noticed the ambush.”

“If you hadn’t destroyed that ballista group, the battalion most likely would have died. All of them.”

She winced at the bluntness of his words. Lowering her gaze to watch the path they walked, Jaina said, “I’m trying not to think too hard about that.”

Ithedis’ next words brought her head snapping right back up. “Have you considered any formal military training, Lady Proudmoore?”

Her footsteps slowed. “Have I -? What?”

He stopped beside her. “Forgive me if I have overstepped. I only ask because of your future role in your own kingdom.”

Ever since her father died, ever since her brothers were claimed by the sea not long after, Jaina had known that being the Heir of Kul Tiras would fall on her shoulders. For all that however, she had never entertained the idea that her mother would actually die. Katherine Proudmoore was and always remained dauntless, a pillar of strength that could weather any storm and overcome any obstacle. On the rare nights that Jaina lay awake, staring at the ceiling, imagining herself as the Lord Admiral, she was an old woman in her mother’s clothes, as if Katherine had never truly died, as if she had simply stepped into Jaina’s shoes and took her place instead.

Jaina had to clear a burr from her throat. “I don’t necessarily have to be a naval tactician to succeed as Lord Admiral. I would have advisors.”

Behind his helm, Ithedis frowned. “Your family did not bother teaching you anything?”

“They never thought that I would -” Jaina started to say, but paused.

Her earliest memories of her father were at sea. In fact, she was hard pressed to recall any memory of Daelin that did not take place on a ship. How he would lift her atop his shoulders while he stood at the prow of his flagship, pointing to the fleet. How she would watch him pour for hours over the charts strewn across the desk of his cabin, pestering him with questions until he answered every last one to the level of detail she demanded. How she had grown up steeped in the fleet until she knew the names of every last ship of the line like the back of her own hand, until she knew what order they should file into line for the most effective broadside attack. How to cross the T. How to read signal flags. How to hold the weather gage.

“They may have taught me a few things,” Jaina finally admitted.

Luckily, that seemed to satisfy Ithedis’ curiosity. He continued walking. All around the camp, Rangers milled about, tirelessly preparing for the coming night and the arrival of their new battalion. They worked in groups, talking in low voices when they caught sight of Jaina and Ithedis.

Jaina sighed. More staring. Great. She supposed her name and title got around even on the front lines of a war.

Though -- she blinked, taken aback -- all the saluting whenever she walked by was definitely new.

“Why are they doing that?” Jaina mumbled, watching yet another group of Rangers stop what they were doing and salute to her.

“They are showing you the deference you deserve,” Ithedis answered in his usual stiff tone.

Jaina shot him an incredulous look. “For what?”

“You single-handedly killed over sixty enemy soldiers, my Lady.”

Swallowing thickly past an ugly taste in her mouth, Jaina said, “Yes, I’m trying not to think too hard about that either.”

He did not offer her a comforting hand on her arm, but his voice gentled, “If ever you need to talk to someone, Lady Proudmoore -”

“Yes, I know.” She offered him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Inclining his head, Ithedis stopped by a large tent. It was longer and far broader than all of the other tents dotting the landscape. Where all the tents were a deep blue-green in colour, this one was white. It had no other discernible features, apart from the fact that a stream of Rangers walked in and out, each of them bearing marks of recent battle.

Holding open the tent flap, Ithedis stood to the side. Jaina ducked into the tent and straightened. Rows upon rows of identical cots lined the space. Not all of them were filled, but some of them were. Rangers sat, awaiting treatment, or were lying prone. A handful of healers worked their way steadily through the ranks, assessing patients. They looked like any other Ranger, apart from the fact that they wore only simple leather armour covered in a white tabard.

The one nearest the entrance glanced up when Jaina and Ithedis walked inside. She looked away, then back up again in surprise. Saying something soft to her current patient, she patted their wrist before rising to her feet and approaching Jaina.

“Lady Proudmoore,” she saluted just like the others outside. “Please, come in. Allow me to see to your wounds.”

Raising her hands, Jaina said, “Oh, no. You should really see to the others first. I’m not -”

But the healer was already peering at Jaina’s cheek and shoulder. She walked around Jaina before coming back to stand in front of her. Then, she reached beneath Jaina’s chin and tilted her head to the side, tapping the tip of her tongue against the backs of her teeth in a disapproving sound. “This should be no trouble. May I?”

Jaina gave up and nodded. The healer cupped Jaina’s face between her hands, her touch soft but her palms calloused. With a whispered spell that seemed to thrum through the air, her hands filled with light, which spilled outwards. It did not hurt, but still Jaina squeezed her eyes shut against the sensation of dozens of splinters being pushed from her cheek before her skin could seal itself shut. The pain subsided in her shoulder, and by the time the healer stepped back, all Jaina felt was exhaustion.

“Thank you,” Jaina said.

The healer waved her appreciation away, then frowned at Ithedis. “You, Spellbreaker, will be far more difficult. Your kind have a way of rebuffing any magic, good or bad.” She carefully lifted his bad hand from its sling, turning it this way and that. “Welded to the metal. This will take a while.”

The guilt Jaina had felt before came roaring back. She fidgeted, sliding her fingers over her healed cheek and feeling the faint bump of scars that would fade by morning.

“You should go, Lady Proudmoore,” the healer said to her without looking up from Ithedis’ arm. “This one will take until tomorrow.”

At that, Ithedis looked like he wanted to snatch his hand back and protest. His brow had darkened and his scowl was fierce. He fell silent however, when Jaina placed a hand on his shoulder. “Stay. You don’t need to watch over me here. I’m surrounded by soldiers.”

With great reluctance, Ithedis gave a curt nod. The healer led him towards an open cot, and Jaina ducked back outside.

It had started to drizzle again, skeins of rain unspooling from the edges of tents. Jaina hovered beneath the short awning that provided her a narrow ledge of cover. Peering around the camp, she tried to look for a familiar face -- any familiar face. She would have taken the lieutenant colonel at this point. Or the healer that had tended to Sylvanas in the field.

The Rangers that noticed her presence stopped to salute, and Jaina ducked her head in embarrassment. She could feel an oddly sickening feeling welling up in her throat that had nothing to do with the heat. Steeling herself, Jaina walked out from beneath the awning. She approached one of the Rangers, who was working away from the others, rather than walking straight up to a more formidable group. “Excuse me?”

When the Ranger saw exactly who it was that had addressed her, she offered Jaina a military salute. “Something I can help you with, Lady Proudmoore?”

Jaina waved the salute away. “Please, don’t do that. I’m just -- I mean, I’m not -” Sighing, Jaina gave up and asked, “I’m looking for the command tent?”

The Ranger pointed her in the right direction. Thanking her, Jaina started off, the command tent looking like any other amidst the forest of pitched canvas, apart from the fact that it was slightly larger, had a single golden statue of an eagle atop its crest, and two Rangers guarding its entrance.

Jaina slowed her footsteps as she walked forward. The guards had not yet noticed her, idly chatting while they stood watch over the command tent in the very centre of the busy camp. Eyeing them carefully, Jaina slipped around the tent and walked not to the entrance but to the back. A number of crates and barrels were piled up along its border, and similar supplies rested behind every tent. Casting a glance in either direction to see if anyone was watching, Jaina clambered through a gap in the crates. She wedged herself out of sight and crouched down on the ground.

She cast a minor illusion spell. Nothing to draw attention to herself, should a healer be walking by. Just enough to guide the eye around where she was hiding. Then, carefully, Jaina ran her fingers along the trim of the canvas tent. A gentle probe of magic informed her that -- just as she had suspected -- a series of glyphs were stitched into the command tent’s fabric all along the edges. She could break them if she wanted, but she didn’t need to. All she needed was another small gap.

She wormed a thread of arcane energy through the wards, until she could hear the voices of Vereesa and Sylvanas murmuring within. They were speaking in Thalassian. With a whisper, Jaina cast a quick spell of Arcane Brilliance, allowing her to understand just for a few minutes what they were discussing.

“- heard that you refused treatment like a stubborn ass. Again.”

“Who told you that? Was it Narilis?”

“No, it was your face just now,” Vereesa said. Sylvanas must have glared, for Vereesa snickered. Her next words however, contained not a hint of laughter. “Why do you do this to yourself? I’ll never understand it.”

“I don’t recall stabbing myself with a spear, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“You know damn well what I’m implying.”

“Enlighten me.”

“The other spear jammed very far up other parts of your anatomy, for starters.”

Jaina swore she could almost hear Sylvanas’ eye roll. “I can already tell this is going to be a productive conversation.”

“You didn’t need to come here. I have everything handled,” Vereesa pointed out.

“I should be where I am most effective in fighting this war.”

“You should be at home. Making your wife look less sad.”

“Winning the war sounded easier.”

Upon hearing herself being mentioned, Jaina held her breath. Her palms were sweaty and she tried to wipe them off on her breeches to very little effect. A pair of Rangers strode between the tents, walking right past her hiding spot. Jaina ducked her head down a little further just in case and continued listening.

“I can’t tell if your little mage looks more like someone’s been making her watch a puppy being kicked, or if she’s the kicked puppy.”

A weary sigh, then Sylvanas said, “She always looks like that these days.”

“What have you been doing?” Vereesa asked, accusing.

Sylvanas growled, “Nothing.”

“Well, it has to be something. She didn’t look like that at the wedding.”

“How should I know? She only talks to me when I drag the words out of her. She won’t let me do anything to help. I tried, and she yelled at me.”

“Is she even capable of yelling? I have my doubts.”

“I don’t,” Sylvanas muttered darkly. “Honestly, yelling would be bearable, if it wasn’t immediately followed by tears.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Mmm.”

“Sylvanas,” Vereesa sighed, “are you even trying?”

“Of course I’m trying!” Sylvanas snapped. “I’ve used every trick I know to try to make her more comfortable with me! To smile or laugh or -! I feel like one of those Darkmoon Faire lions that they train to keep their mouths open while some moron sticks his head between its jaws.”

Rather than say something to the contrary, Jaina could hear Vereesa make small noises of agreement and say, “Except it’s the early morning show, and there’s only one or two audience members.”

“Exactly. Just like that.”

“And the lion is all old and underfed and anaemic, and its fur is going patchy -”

“Alright, yes. Thank you. You’ve made your point.”

Vereesa relented and steered the conversation back towards more serious waters. “It can’t be all that bad.”

“Oh?” That familiar drawling note had entered Sylvanas’ voice. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”

Vereesa’s words lowered as she continued. “Well, from what I hear, that little mage of yours was very relieved you weren’t stupid enough to actually get yourself killed this time.”

A groan was muffled as if from behind a hand. “Of course. The rumour mill has already started its grind. Why am I not surprised?”

“Is it really a rumour if it’s true?” There was the sound of a chair creaking as someone’s weight shifted in their seat. “So, tell me. Kissing? What happened to this being -- oh, what did you say before we spent that whole day signing documents? You had such a good turn of phrase -”

“Vereesa -” Sylvanas warned in a dark tone.

Vereesa snapped her fingers and deepened the pitch of her voice just enough to capture Sylvanas’ inflections, “- ‘A purely political union to which I am utterly indifferent.’”

“I think I’ve had enough of sisterly talk for one day,” Sylvanas said in a cold voice. “Lieutenant General, report.”

“Really? You’re pulling rank on me right now?”

“I said: report.”

With a sigh, Vereesa relented. A chair scraped back against the ground, followed by a few muffled footsteps. When Vereesa next spoke, she sounded clipped and officious. “One hundred and two friendly casualties in the last three weeks. Three hundred and fifty three enemy casualties counted in that time, though they could not be confirmed without risking further injury. We have gained a foothold in the foothills directly to the northeast, giving us a minor flanking position on any incoming attack to our current forward camp. The enemy has reacted accordingly and shifted their line further north, giving us a numbers advantage directly to the -- are you really not going to tell me about kissing your wife? Has there been anything more between you two?”

“No,” Sylvanas said through grit teeth.

“No to both? Or no to -?”

“No.”

“By the light of the sun, you really need to get lai -”

Jaina had heard enough. Cheeks burning, she released the spells and let the wards stitch themselves shut once more. She checked over the barrels and crates that nobody was around before stumbling from her hiding place. Her foot almost snagged on the lip of one crate, and would have sent her sprawling had she not caught herself in time.

Jaina straightened, and quickly walked away from the command tent. The first small group of Rangers she came across were chatting in Thalassian, not bothering to keep their voices down much as Jaina strode by. The effects of her spell still lingered, fading in and out so that their words seemed a garbled mix of Common and their own more fluid tongue. Still, Jaina got the gist of what they were gossiping about.

Her. Of course. And Sylvanas.

Apparently Jaina had taken down not sixty but ninety trolls, five ballistas, and no less than three shamans. And apparently Sylvanas had torn out the spear from her own stomach herself to keep on fighting, their combined efforts turning the tide of the ambush. Oh, and afterwards Sylvanas had swept Jaina off her feet for a mind-melting kiss in front of the whole battalion.

Jaina thought she would have remembered doing any of that. Especially the last bit.

Quickening her step, Jaina passed them. She sought out the first Ranger she could find that wasn’t part of a group, and was led to the tent that had been pitched for her and Sylvanas. Jaina left her muddy boots outside, and escaped into the privacy of her tent, away from prying eyes. She groaned and buried her face in her hands.

One shaman was bad enough, and now everyone thought she killed three. And a kiss like that had definitely not -! How on earth did they even think -! It wasn’t anything like -!

Straightening, Jaina put that thought out of her mind. She stepped more fully inside, but her brow knit in puzzlement. The tent was slightly different to the one they had been sharing on their trek eastward. It had a small dining space complete with couches that could be folded up for the sake of travel. Their trunks were all here, but there was the surprising addition of an ablutions corner. It wasn’t much more than a series of buckets -- one that she would stand in, one that contained water, as well as a sponge.

Already the thought of being clean was enough to make Jaina fumble at the buttons of her shirt and head straight for that corner of the tent. She peeled off every scrap of clothing with a grimace of disgust at the troll’s blood caked onto her breeches. Briefly, she considered burning everything, but instead settled on piling the clothes up and leaving tomorrow to decide what to do with them.

There wasn’t enough water to do more than sponge herself down. The whole time Jaina dreamed of the baths at Goldenbough Manor, and of soaking in the cold pool until she felt a normal temperature again. Still, she took her time, making sure to not miss a single speck of dirt or blood, scraping under her fingernails and between her toes until she felt raw; until she felt vaguely human again. By the time Jaina had finished drying herself off, dressing herself in a nightgown, and tidying up the wash area, night had begun to cast its shadow across the sky.

Sylvanas still wasn’t back yet. Ithedis was still being treated in the healer’s tent, and would be until at least tomorrow. Vereesa was presumably still in discussions with her sister. And for the first time in a long time, Jaina truly had a moment to herself.

She didn’t know what on earth to do with it. She lit a portable lamp with a whisper of magic, and carried it over to a stool beside the cot that took up one section of the tent. Placing it down on the stool, Jaina sat on the cot. She pulled out a book. She tried to read. But on every page, she saw the sprawl of bodies spread out in pieces at her feet. She thought about the expression on that shaman’s face as he’d died. She saw Sylvanas braced against the tree, the spear in her stomach, a pool of red blooming around her. She shut the book.

When Sylvanas finally arrived, Jaina was sitting on the cot, her legs drawn up to her chest. She must have done the same thing Jaina did, for she no longer looked mud-splattered, and she wore a new set of Ranger leathers. She also walked fully upright now, which got Jaina to wondering if the healer’s work had finally paid off, or if Sylvanas had gone for another dose at the white tent.

Sylvanas tied the flaps of their tent shut, giving them as much privacy as they could afford in an environment like this. Silent from her place on the cot, Jaina watched her walk across the tent, unhooking her cloak as she went and hanging it over the back of a low-slung couch.

“I’m sorry.”

Sylvanas froze at the sound of Jaina’s words. Her back was facing Jaina, the slant of her cheek and fall of her long hair gilded in the dim lamplight. She did not turn around as she began tugging at the buckles of her leathers and asked in a tone too even to be truly calm, “About what?”

Jaina rested her chin on her knees, and said, “For making you think you weren’t doing enough.”

Shucking her bracers and tooled leather cuirass, Sylvanas arranged them atop one of the travelling trunks. “I see you were eavesdropping.”

Jaina winced. “Yes. Sorry. I feel like lying about it would be worse. Plus, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a terrible liar.”

Sylvanas huffed with laughter and gave a rueful shake of her head. She was still smiling when she glanced over her shoulder. “If this is how your lies typically start, then yes. You’re very bad at it.”

All Jaina could do was offer an apologetic shrug. Sylvanas continued stripping on the other side of the tent, efficiently and methodically removing pieces of embossed leather armour and setting it aside in a neat pile. When she realised she was staring at the whitened scar along the skin of Sylvanas’ lower back, Jaina tore her gaze away.

After a long few minutes, Jaina blurted out, “I don’t think you’re a Darkmoon Faire lion.” She knew by the way Sylvanas stiffened that she should stop, that she should shut her mouth and drop the subject, but instead she forged on, “I think if it had been anyone else, I probably would have left Quel'Thalas by now. And I know I haven’t been the easiest person to read or get to know, but I don’t want you to think you have to keep me entertained or perform for my amusement. I just -- I’m sorry I didn’t notice, or acknowledge how hard you must have been working to make sure I feel comfortable. I will try hard to - uhm - to -”

Sylvanas turned around and Jaina’s voice trailed off. Like most nights during their march east, Sylvanas wore a simple, long-sleeved cotton shirt that hung down to mid-thigh, and -- as far as Jaina could tell -- naught else. She crossed the tent and sat on the edge of the cot, so that if Jaina were to extend her legs they would touch.

In the end, all Jaina could manage to say was, “I really am glad you’re not dead.”

One of the corners of Sylvanas’ mouth quirked in a grin. “I noticed.”

Heat flooded Jaina’s face. Of all the conversations she expected to have tonight, this was the one she had been dreading the most. She fumbled for how to reply, casting about for something that wouldn’t make her sound completely ridiculous, but before she could do so Sylvanas murmured, “Thank you.”

Jaina blinked. “For -?”

When Sylvanas tilted her head, a curl of her pale gold hair draped across her neck. “For wanting to make an effort, rather than giving up and running away. And for being such a terrible liar.”

“I do my best,” Jaina said weakly.

“Now,” Sylvanas twisted her body around so that she was leaning her weight on one hand propped on the cot. “How much exactly did you hear?”

Arms linking around her own ankles, Jaina said, “I stopped listening right when Vereesa was giving her report to you.”

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying, aren’t you?”

Jaina closed her eyes and confessed in a rush, “Maybe a little after Vereesa was giving her report.”

A sigh, then her weight lifted from the cot. Jaina opened her eyes to see Sylvanas rounding the cot to climb in beside her. “Don’t listen to everything Vereesa says,” Sylvanas warned in a dark tone as she adjusted her pillow. “She likes to exaggerate.”

Slowly, Jaina relaxed. The cot was far too small to comfortably accommodate the both of them -- at least, to the extent that Jaina had enjoyed back at Goldenbough. Here, Jaina lived in fear that any wayward movement would have them brush up against one another.

Maybe she could ask for another cot? No. That wouldn’t work. Elves were terrible gossips. Someone would find out. And after the day Jaina had, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted a separate cot tonight.

Extending her legs and scooting further down the bed, Jaina lay down. Before Sylvanas could roll over however, Jaina asked, “Are we alright?”

Sylvanas peered up at her, curious and thoughtful. After a moment, she replied softly, “We’re alright.”

Jaina didn’t realise she had needed to hear those words until she felt something unclench in her chest. Sylvanas was already turning away, tugging the sheets just so over her shoulder. Propping herself up on her elbow, Jaina leaned over the little wooden stool that acted as her bedside table. She cupped her hand around the flame of the bronze lamp, and blew out the light.

Time was starting and Jaina couldn’t breathe. She wrote and rewrote the glyphs on the ballistas, over and over, but each time the shamanic runes would shift their form like some sea creature of legend. Her hands trembled so badly that she could barely trace new lines into the glyphs. Sparks fell from her fingertips, trapped in midair, slowly descending.

And all the while the troll shaman was turning towards her. His mask was a skull and his hands were peeled of flesh, revealing sharp tips of bone. Jaina tried to slam her palm onto the glyphs, but they shifted again, and the shaman was bearing down upon her, looming, his chest a ribcage of glowing runes that smoked like fire, like the emptiness of his eyes.

He reached out. His skeletal fingers dug into her shoulder. And Jaina jerked awake with a gasp.

Someone was still grasping her shoulder. When Jaina tried to scramble away, she fell from the cot and onto the tent floor with a startled cry.

Sylvanas peered down at her over the edge of the cot, her hair mussed with sleep but her eyes bright and concerned. “Are you alright? You were thrashing in your sleep.”

Jaina tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Her body shook, and she could feel her nightgown sticking to her skin in a cold sweat. Finally she managed to gasp, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry.”

Sylvanas held out her hand and hauled Jaina back into the cot, murmuring, “Come on. Come here.”

Clambering back into bed, Jaina could not stop the shaking. She panted, adrenaline coursing through her veins, racing under her skin like poison, setting every nerve ending alight. Sylvanas asked no questions. She only pulled Jaina into a gentle hug. Jaina went without protest, gasping into the space between Sylvanas’ neck and collarbone, while Sylvanas propped her chin atop Jaina’s head.

As the shivers began to slow, so too did Jaina’s breathing even out. Her eyes slipped shut. Sylvanas was tracing senseless patterns across her back, and Jaina sighed. Her hands unclenched, fraction by fraction, and as sleep eventually claimed her, she thought she felt something at the top of her head, like a hesitant kiss being dropping into her hair. But she may have just imagined it.

Over the next week, the nightmares were inconsistent and -- thankfully -- fading. Neither Jaina nor Sylvanas mentioned the fact that they awoke in the mornings pressed up against one another. Jaina told herself that the cot was too small, even as she was quietly grateful she didn’t have to wake up in the middle of the night alone.

It didn’t happen every night, but it happened enough that Jaina was tired of the nightmares and wished they would just go away, thanks.

“It gets better, right?” Jaina asked one morning. She was still sitting on the edge of the cot in her nightgown, her legs hanging over the side.

On the other side of the tent, Sylvanas paused in buckling her leather cuirass into place. “It does,” she said. Her hands started moving again, tugging at a strap so that the leather hugged her figure. “Do you regret killing those people?”

Jaina didn’t even have to think about her answer. She shook her head. “No. It was the right thing to do at the time.”

“That helps.”

Jaina chewed at her lower lip, watching as Sylvanas reached for her bracers. “Did you have nightmares afterwards?”

For a moment Sylvanas seemed to consider that question, tightening a bracer around her wrist with a thoughtful slowness. “For a while. Sometimes I still do. But I was trained for these things.”

“Can you ever really train for killing someone?” Jaina asked.

“Of course,” Sylvanas replied without hesitation. “Reactive targets. Guaranteed to improve the accuracy of your archers and infantry.”

Making a face, Jaina asked, “How?”

Sylvanas offered a one-shouldered shrug. “Most people will shoot to miss on purpose, unless they’ve been trained to expect the target to move when it’s been struck.”

“Wish they’d had some of those in Dalaran,” Jaina grumbled.

“I don’t recall you missing any of your hits.”

At that, Jaina wrung her hands in her lap. She couldn’t stop the nervous bouncing of her knee. “No, I didn’t.”

She could hear Sylvanas’ bare footsteps padding across the ground towards her. The cot dipped and Sylvanas sat down. Her voice was soft when she said, “You did well. You didn’t hesitate. You don’t regret it. And it will get better.”

Jaina snorted. “Ithedis thinks I should get military training.”

“Is that what you want? Because I am undoubtedly the best placed person to arrange that for you.”

Jaina shook her head. “Can you imagine me trying to lift a sword or fire a bow? I think my arms would fall off.”

With a grin, Sylvanas poked at one of Jaina’s arms. “Why, I think you’re right, Lady Proudmoore.”

Jaina’s answering glower lacked any heat. She huffed and stood, crossing over to her own trunk to get dressed. Propping open the lid to her trunk, Jaina said, “Thank you, though. For -- you know -” she waved towards the cot, where Sylvanas still sat. “- everything. And if there’s anything you need from me -”

“You’ll hug me at night and make it all better?” Sylvanas teased.

Jaina flushed. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know that Sylvanas would be smirking, enjoying the way Jaina tried to keep from fidgeting.

And suddenly it struck her. Hands on hips, Jaina turned and narrowed her eyes. “You like making me squirm, don’t you.”

Sylvanas wasn’t just smirking. Jaina could see a gleam of sharp teeth that made her mouth go dry. Rather than answer, Sylvanas nodded to the trunk. “You should get dressed so we can go have breakfast.”

Jaina had never gotten dressed so fast in her life. And that counted the time she had been late for an exam on telemancy her first year in Dalaran. She still felt flushed when Sylvanas held the tent flap open for her, and she ducked out into the warm morning air.

The sun was still hidden behind the distant northern hills, casting a shadow across the camp that slowly receded. The clouds had pushed further north, and the rains had gone with them, leaving behind a heat that baked the roads. The ground that had been churned up by feet and carts and hooves had now solidified into a series of tripping hazards that Jaina was constantly cursing when she walked around camp. Even the elves, who normally walked with a feline grace, stumbled every now and then, though they tried to hide it and pretend nothing had happened.

The moment they stepped from their tent, Ithedis fell into place behind them. Jaina greeted him with a smile, and he offered back a murmured, “Good morning, my Lady.”

As they did every morning since arriving at the forward camp, Sylvanas and Jaina ate in the command tent with Vereesa and her lieutenants. The meals were a far cry from the lavish fare Jaina had come to expect back in Silvermoon, and the officers had a habit of working while they ate. They would discuss the latest raids, the latest enemy movements. They would lean across tables to point at maps and add annotations, food in one hand, quill in the other. It was a more relaxed atmosphere than any of the strategy meetings Jaina could remember sitting in on as a child, watching a host of broad-shouldered ships captains in greatcoats reporting to her mother as if on parade inspection.

When they entered the command tent, a few Rangers glanced up. They saluted as Sylvanas and Jaina strode by, before returning to their business. At the back of the tent, Vereesa sat behind a long table spread with letters and maps and paperwork. More paperwork than Jaina had seen since her wedding. She was writing on a piece of parchment, her quill scratching across the page as they approached.

Without looking up, Vereesa tossed Sylvanas a letter from atop one of the piles. “For you.”

Sylvanas caught the letter. “Good morning to you too, sister.”

Vereesa’s only reply was a wordless hum. She continued to write, her brow furrowed, scratching out a word and then scribbling above it. Jaina sat on a chair opposite, and reached for a platter of food that was perched on one corner of the desk, as far away from the paperwork as it could be.

On the other hand, Sylvanas turned over the letter and froze. She looked up sharply at Vereesa and asked, “When did this arrive?”

“Two hours ago,” Vereesa replied, sounding bored.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Sylvanas’ voice bordered on a growl.

Vereesa did glance up then, only to shoot Sylvanas an incredulous look. “I'm not barging into your tent in the morning. I remember what happens when I do that.”

Sylvanas’ shoulders went tense. She glared at Vereesa, who had already returned to writing her letter. Jaina was pink and fidgeting in her chair, reaching forward to pick at the plate of food in order to hide her squirming.

When Sylvanas looked at her, Jaina could have sworn her hand tightened its grip around the letter. If it had though, Sylvanas turned the motion into breaking the very large very official wax seal of the letter. She unfolded it and read.

Jaina was taking a bite of bread and dipping it in a hearty legume dish, when Sylvanas snapped suddenly, “They must be fucking joking.”

“Bad news?” Vereesa asked, her face never changing expression as she sanded her own page to dry the ink.

Sylvanas threw the letter on the table in front of Vereesa, but Vereesa very purposefully did not look at it. “Those decrepit old sons of -” Sylvanas spat a word in Thalassian that Jaina didn’t know but which made Vereesa lift her eyebrows “- are demanding my return to Silvermoon for no other reason than because they can, and they want me to know they can.”

“I’m sure our esteemed Council of Elders has a good reason to call you back to the glory of the Sunwell,” Vereesa said dryly.

Sylvanas’ lip curled. “They really don’t.”

“Can I see?” Jaina reached across the desk even as she asked, but the moment her fingers touched the single page of the letter, both Vereesa and Sylvanas started forward with a jerk.

Sylvanas grabbed Jaina’s wrist, while Vereesa slapped her own hand over the letter, folding it shut in one fell swoop. Startled, Jaina went stock still, looking between the two of them with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry?” Jaina said.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Sylvanas let go of her hand with an apologetic grimace. “The Convocation of Silvermoon is a bit old fashioned.”

“By that, she means this kind of letter is a sacred summonings,” Vereesa explained, handing the letter back to Sylvanas, who tucked it away. “For anyone but Kael’thas or Sylvanas to read it is -- well -- bad.”

“So,” Jaina leaned back in her chair, “You’re the same rank as Kael’thas?”

Sylvanas shook her head. “Not exactly. It’s complicated.”

Vereesa scoffed and reached forward to share the same platter of food as Jaina. “It’s not that complicated. The Sunstriders and Windrunners are both noble houses, but according to legend one is descended from the sun to rule our people, while the other was gifted Thas’dorah and founded the Rangers to defend our people. Neither answer to each other, and only to the Silver Circle, or Council of Elders, or whatever you want to call them.”

“Eight old men who waste my time and like to remind me that I can’t declare war on my own, is what I call them,” Sylvanas added.

Pointing at Sylvanas, Jaina asked, “I knew you headed the military, but does that make Quel’Thalas a two king state?”

“I am not a king,” Sylvanas said darkly. Then after a pause, “Queen. Sovereign? I’m not any of those things.”

“Is the Lord Admiral a king?” Vereesa asked Jaina. When Jaina shook her head, Vereesa said, “Well, there you go.”

Sylvanas swore softly under her breath and sat on a chair beside Jaina, across the table from Vereesa. She rubbed at her forehead and groaned, “This is a nightmare. I just got here, and now I need to leave so I can prance around Silvermoon in that useless tissue armour.”

Taking another bite of bread, Jaina listened to the two of them. From the sounds of it, Jaina assumed she meant the extravagantly ceremonial armour she had been wearing when they had first met in that garden courtyard almost a year ago. Or -? Jaina’s chewing slowed. A year? Over a year?

Tides. Over a year.

Vereesa nudged the platter of food a bit closer to her sister. “Why all the fuss?”

Sylvanas tore off a piece of bread and began to eat. She spoke around a bite, “They need me to perform a ceremonial launching of our new fleet. I assume after that, I need to figure out how to actually run a navy, even though I told them we wouldn’t need a navy so long as we kept this -” she gestured at Jaina, “- alliance going smoothly.”

Beneath the table, Vereesa kicked her sister’s shin with the toe of her boot. “Since when have you ever not wanted to expand your military?”

Sylvanas grimaced. “What do I know about operating a navy?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Vereesa agreed. “That’s why you ought to find out. Or aren’t you supposed to be in charge of all of Quel’Thalas’ military?”

Scowling, Sylvanas countered, “And what am I supposed to do? Commandeer some of the Lord Admiral’s captains? It’s bad enough our allies have had to divert resources to help us build ships while fighting off the Zandalari fleet, and now the Council expects me to go begging for officers, too?”

“Uhm -?” Jaina said.

Vereesa rolled her eyes and continued talking to Sylvanas. “It can’t be that hard. You just steer into the wind, don’t you? Even better, get some mages to work it out for you so you don’t have to rely on the weather at all.”

“I don’t need mages. I need officers. Our sailors are salvageable, but our leadership is completely -”

Jaina raised her hand to get their attention. “I know how.”

Both Sylvanas and Vereesa turned to stare at her. They glanced at each other, then back at Jaina, their expressions suddenly thoughtful.

“She is technically the Scion of the Fleet,” Vereesa pointed out.

“And with the -?” Sylvanas started to say.

“About the whole -?” Vereesa finished for her, pointing at Jaina and miming an explosion with her hand. “- ambush?”

“Mhmm,” Sylvanas hummed in agreement.

“It could work, you know.”

“But only if we spin it right. Are you still -?”

Vereesa scoffed. “Of course I am. What do you think I am? An idiot?”

Shaking her head, exasperated and boggled, Jaina said, “Can the two of you please use full sentences?”

They stopped. Sylvanas looked at Vereesa, who gestured for her to speak. Clearing her throat, Sylvanas said, “Jaina, how well would you say you could induct new naval officers?”

Chewing at her lower lip, Jaina thought about that for a second. Then, she shrugged. “I can’t imagine it’s any more difficult than teaching a hundred rowdy Novices.”

Sylvanas appeared taken aback. “A hundred Novices?” she repeated. “They have you teaching a hundred Novices?”

“Well…yeah?” Jaina said slowly. “How many did you think I was teaching at the Academy?”

“I don’t know? Twenty?”

Jaina had to choke back a laugh. “Oh, no. No, that was when I was still skulking around the Academy being blacklisted by Magister Duskwither.”

At that, Vereesa’s brow darkened, the glow of her eyes intensifying into a dangerous look. “Who was doing what now?”

Both Jaina and Sylvanas waved her away.

“It’s fine now,” Jaina assured her.

“We handled it,” Sylvanas said at the same time.

Rather than appear mollified, Vereesa bristled and hissed at her sister, “Why don’t you tell me these things?”

Sylvanas ignored her. Instead, she looked very seriously at Jaina, leaning forward in her chair so that her elbows rested on her knees. “Are you sure you can do this? If you say yes, I will believe you. If you say no, I won’t think less of you. But don’t say yes just because you think that’s what I want to hear.”

Straightening her shoulders, Jaina lifted her chin. “I can do it. I’m no war hero or anything like that, but I was raised to know how to command a Fleet. It’s undeniably the one thing I am qualified for. Apart from -” she added with a shrug, “- the Kirin Tor and all that.”

A tell-tale grin tugged the corner of Sylvanas’ mouth. “From what I hear you’re well on your way to becoming a war hero, too.”

Jaina made a face. “Please, don’t.”

“Next thing you know, your Novices will be asking about your military escapades instead of mine.”

“Tides, I hope not,” Jaina mumbled.

Half-heartedly, she picked at the platter of food. This time, when Sylvanas reached out to grasp her wrist, the touch was warm and light and comforting. Jaina went still, but did not pull away.

Quietly leaning back in her seat, Vereesa watched the two of them interact with an oddly aloof expression, as if specifically trying not to be noticed. Which, of course, meant that Sylvanas looked her way almost immediately.

Releasing Jaina’s wrist, Sylvanas squinted at her sister, suspicious. “What?”

Vereesa raised both hands. “I didn’t say anything.”

Sylvanas lips pursed, but she only said, “We should make a start for Silvermoon first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Are we travelling back with a battalion or on our own?” Jaina asked.

Sylvanas propped one ankle on her opposite knee. “It will be quicker travelling on our own. We’ll take four horses and ride hard from camp to camp, restocking as we go.”

“Or -” Jaina said, “- I could just portal us there?”

Sylvanas blinked at her, as if that thought hadn’t crossed her mind.

“Did you forget you were married to a mage?” Vereesa teased.

“No,” Sylvanas growled. After a second she added lamely, “She doesn’t use magic around me that often.”

At that, Vereesa snorted in disbelief. Her laughter was cut off though, when Jaina piped up in her wife’s defense, “I try not to use magic for everyday things. One of the first things you learn when becoming a mage is that magic is incredibly addictive. When I was eleven -- I think? Ten? -- When I was young anyway, I used magic for basically anything of convenience. That’s how my parents found out, and figured I needed proper training. First thing the Kirin Tor mage they brought from Dalaran did was make me not use magic for a month before he let me use it again.”

Sylvanas and Vereesa were watching her in silence. Vereesa was the first to speak. She cleared her throat and asked in a too casual tone, “And at what age do humans typically discover they have magical potential?”

Jaina shrugged. “I don’t know? I didn’t officially start classes until I was seventeen like the others.”

Slowly, Vereesa nodded. “Right. That answers that question, at least.”

“So, uh -” Jaina lowered her voice and said to Sylvanas, “- just let me know when you want to go, I guess? And when do you need to introduce me to your officers-to-be?”

“We can begin officer inductions after the anniversary celebrations in Kul Tiras,” Sylvanas replied, tapping her fingers against the flat of her thigh. “As for the portals? This afternoon, if that’s alright.”

“What’s the rush when you can ferry yourselves back and forth at the snap of your wife’s fingers?” To make her point, Vereesa snapped her own fingers.

“The Council specifically said ‘with all haste.’ And as much as I would love to tell them exactly where to shove their summons, I am legally bound to answer them as quickly as I can.” Sylvanas rubbed at her eyes, then stood. “Excuse me. I need to attend to a few things before we go.”

Jaina gave her a little wave as she left, receiving a tilt of Sylvanas’ head in return. As Jaina turned back to the platter of food, Vereesa watched her sister’s retreating back. She waited until Sylvanas was well out of earshot, before turning her gaze upon Jaina.

"Well," Vereesa said, pushing herself out of her seat. "While my sister runs about, why don't we take a walk?" She gave Jaina a friendly smile, but Jaina didn't quite trust the way her eyes glittered. "I feel like we haven't spoken in ages, and we have much to catch up on."

Jaina hesitated, holding a piece of bread in one hand which she debated putting back on the platter or taking with her. She decided on a compromise of stuffing it in her mouth and chewing as she stood to follow Vereesa from the command tent. When they stepped outside and were joined by Ithedis, Vereesa said, “Would you mind if we had a bit of privacy? Not that I don’t trust him, just that I want you to feel you can speak freely with nobody else listening.”

A nod was all it took for Ithedis to drop back.

Leading her towards the calmer sections of the camp, Vereesa and Jaina ended up walking along the perimeter, just inside the walls. Ithedis followed exactly ten steps behind, far enough away to give them privacy, but close enough to be at Jaina’s side in an instant. Vereesa glanced over her shoulder at him.

“You have yourself a very loyal gentleman there. His eldest is one of my best brigadiers,” she remarked. Before Jaina could comment however, Vereesa turned her attention forward. “But I wanted to ask you a few questions before you left, if that’s alright.”

Puzzled, Jaina looked over her shoulder at Ithedis, then back at Vereesa beside her. “Sure. What did you want to know?”

Vereesa did not immediately answer. She clasped her hands behind her back in a pose strongly reminiscent of Sylvanas. Jaina was struck by how similar they looked. If not for their difference in height and hair colour, they could have been twins.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Vereesa began abruptly, “that my sister can be an ass.”

Jaina blinked. She fumbled for what to say before admitting, “Sometimes, yes. But she’s been doing her best. It hasn’t been easy for either of us.”

“And are things between you alright?” Vereesa slowed their pace to a leisurely amble. “I only ask because this alliance is very important. If you need me to box her ears so she behaves, I will gladly volunteer my services.”

“No, that isn’t -! I mean -- She’s been ‘behaving.’” Jaina almost stumbled on the word.

“Has she? That doesn’t sound like her. Are you sure we’re talking about the same person?” Vereesa held out her hand above her head to approximately Sylvanas’ height. “Tall? Arrogant? Vain? Loves the sound of her own voice?”

“She’s not that bad,” Jaina insisted.

Very abruptly, Vereesa stopped walking. Her expression grew serious. “You don’t have to hide behind social pleasantries here. Whatever you’re thinking, you can say it.”

Jaina opened her mouth, and what came out was, “I wish she would stop performing and just relax.”

At that, Vereesa stared at her. Then, she laughed. “That’s like asking the sun to stop shining.”

“Then, I guess I’ll have to summon a bit of rain.”

Jaina’s quip only seemed to make Vereesa’s grin widen. “Do you want my advice?”

Mutely, Jaina nodded.

“Sylvanas is and always has been incredibly stubborn and set in her ways. Keep in mind that she isn’t always aware that she’s performing, or being a complete nightmare to deal with. She does the things she does because she craves approval.” Vereesa seemed to consider her next words carefully, before continuing just as emphatically, “Also she is a complete and total pain in the ass to buy gifts for. So, if you ever hear her mention something, no matter how small, write it down because you will not remember it later and you’ll have nothing to get her.”

“Should I be writing this down now?” Jaina almost summoned a quill and parchment on the spot.

A familiar mischievous look crossed Vereesa’s face, but she merely shook her head. She continued walking, and Jaina followed her back towards the centre of the camp. “You’re clever. You’ll figure it out.”

As they neared Jaina’s own tent, Vereesa wandered to a halt and turned to look at Jaina. Her eyes wandered down, and Jaina stiffened. With a particularly elfin tilt of her head, Vereesa studied the gap in Jaina’s collared shirt. Then she sighed, and looked away. “At least tell me you two have had more than one lousy kiss.”

Jaina had to resist the urge to button up the last inch of her collar, even though there was nothing there to hide except the pendant, which always hung from her neck. “I -- Well, that depends on what you mean by a lousy kiss?”

At that, Vereesa rolled her eyes and muttered, “Hopeless. Both of you.”

Jaina opened them a portal directly to Goldenbough from the forward camp. Vereesa saw them off with a few comments to Sylvanas, the two of them bantering with their typical cutting flair, even as Vereesa offered Jaina a pointed look, which Jaina pretended to not notice. Sylvanas and Ithedis rode through the portal first, Ithedis leading another horse along laden with their personal effects. Jaina was the last to step through, the portal winking shut behind her. Several servants came from the house, puzzled at their return so soon, and Ithedis handed everything over to them.

Sylvanas on the other hand, remained on her horse. Back at Vereesa’s camp, she had donned her ceremonial armour which flashed, gold and green, in the light when she moved. She tugged at the reins and turned her mount towards Silvermoon. “I’ll be back late,” she said to Jaina. “These things always take an age.”

“Good luck,” Jaina offered with a small wave.

With a wry smile, Sylvanas kicked the horse into action, heading down the road, long ornate cloak streaming behind her. Jaina watched her go until Sylvanas rounded a corner and disappeared behind a copse of russet trees. When she turned around, the servants had unpacked one of the horses.

“May I?” she asked, pointing at the horse in question, and one of the servants handed her the reins with a bow. “Thank you.”

“Are we going somewhere as well, Lady Proudmoore?” Ithedis asked, immediately hauling himself back into his own saddle.

“The Academy,” Jaina said. She guided her mount around, careful so as to not upend the trunks and bags that the servants had piled on the ground and were carting into the manor. “I thought I might surprise my students with a pop quiz this afternoon. They’ll never know what hit them.”

If anything, Ithedis seemed approving beneath his helm.

The Novices gaped when Jaina walked into the study room that had been allocated for her seminars. A silence washed across the room, followed swiftly by an excited scraping of chairs as they crowded around her, demanding to know if it were true she had killed a hundred trolls, if she had any scars to show them, if she got to see Sylvanas in action on the battlefield and if she was as deadly as the stories led them to believe.

Jaina raised her hands. “No, no, and no. Now, if you’ll all sit down, please? I have something far more exciting for you today.”

Eagerly, they filed back to their seats. She counted, taking a tally of who was missing; it was her afternoon class on the off day. Only thirty students today, and three had not bothered to show up under the assumption that she wouldn’t be there. Fair enough, she supposed, as she moved around to the lectern. From the looks of it, the Apprentice meant to stand in for her had left early as well. She would have to have a chat with Magistrix Elosai about that one.

A few of the Novices were already fidgeting in their seats. Some of them whispered to one another, though they fell quiet when Jaina started to speak again.

“I hope you’ve all been studying while I’ve been away these past few weeks, because today we’re having a quiz on that list of runes I gave you.”

Her announcement was met with universal groans.

She nodded with false sympathy. “Yes, I know. Specifically, I want you all to partner up. One of you will draw a rune on the table, and the other will attempt to alter the rune. Anyone who successfully manages to alter the rune into a new working sigil, will get a prize.”

One of them raised his hand and asked before she called on him, “Can the prize be food?”

“Sure,” Jaina said. “Why not?”

That got them moving. All of them scrambled to find a partner and sit across from one another at their desks. Predictably with an odd number of students, one was left without a partner. A young girl whose name Jaina couldn’t remember sat at her desk, alone.

Jaina pulled up a chair across from her and smiled. “I’ll be your partner.” She tapped at the desk’s surface. “Can you draw me a rune? Any rune is fine.”

Nodding slowly, the elven girl dragged the tip of her finger across the wooden surface, scorching uneven marks into the tabletop. She would pause every now and then to hesitate. Jaina watched her work without a word. By the end, the girl had drawn a crude yet effective glyph for an ice trap.

“Good. You see this line here?” Jaina pointed, waiting for the girl to nod before continuing. “If you connect it here and add this -” she reached down herself and etched more burns into the table, “- then you get something very different.”

As she spoke, Jaina finished her alteration. The sigil glowed an intense green, and a single golden rose grew from the very centre. She plucked it, and handed it over to the girl, whose eyes had gone wide.

Jaina wiped the table clean, restoring the desk to its previous untarnished state with a sweep of magic from her palm. “Now, your turn.”

Only two pairs managed to successfully alter a rune so that it produced another spell, and one of them had been an accident that resulted in the desk catching fire. Jaina had to rush over and douse the flames. Nobody was hurt, but all of the kids were equally delighted by the commotion. In the end, Jaina still gave treats to everyone before the class was over.

The Novices crowded around the long table near the chalkboard that stretched across the front of the room, suspiciously eyeing the treat she had summoned for them.

“What is it?” one of them asked.

“A treat from my homeland,” Jaina answered proudly. “Ice cream!”

Another tentatively grabbed one of the twenty seven cones and tasted it. His face screwed up in disgust. “It’s cold.”

That had not been the reaction Jaina had been expecting. “Well, yes,” she said. “It’s supposed to be cold.”

Collectively, the Novices took a step away from the table, their ears pinning back in revulsion. The one that had actually tried a taste put his cone back in its holder.

Sighing, Jaina gave up. “Alright, alright. I promised you a treat, so tell me: what sort of food would you like for your hard work today?”

At that, twenty seven faces brightened. Before Jaina quite knew what was happening, two of the Novices had each grabbed one of her hands, and the rest were herding her from the room and down to the main floor of the Academy. Ithedis, who had been standing guard outside the classroom door, trailed after the long line of Novices in bemusement. Apprentices and Magisters watched them stream by, puzzled expressions on their faces at the sight of the Lady Proudmoore being half dragged, half pushed towards the Academy dining hall.

“Lady Proudmoore, you’re back early.”

“Oh! Magistrix Elosai!” Jaina tried to turn to talk to Elosai, who had paused in a broad hallway to watch Jaina go by. The Novices kept pulling her along, so that she had to talk over her shoulder. “I wanted to talk to you about -! Hey, no pushing! Can I meet you at your offices later?”

If Magistrix Elosai said anything in reply, Jaina could not hear it for the Novices were already leading her through the dining hall doors. As far as Jaina was aware, the meals at the Academy were free for all enlisted members, but additional amenities such as sweets and other more expensive items had to be purchased independently. The Novices urged her to stand before a food merchant’s stall. A glance at the stall told her that the merchant sold only one dish.

“Uhm -?” Jaina began in Thalassian. The merchant watched her with a bored expression. “Can I please get twenty seven -- no wait -” She counted in her head. “- thirty three of whatever it is you’re selling?”

Apparently what the merchant sold was fried balls of dough that had been soaked in a honey rose syrup. Each little container came with two pieces of fried dough impaled on a thin wooden stake. Eagerly, the Novices each accepted their share with an enthusiastic, “Thank you, Miss Jaina!” before they darted away with their prize.

“Don’t forget to study those runes! I’ll be here next week! There will be a test!” Jaina called after them, though only one or two seemed to take notice of her warning.

While Jaina paid -- thankfully with actual coins this time, instead of that silly bank slip like at the seamstress’ shop -- Ithedis held the additional three servings of treats left over. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a popular quiz, my Lady.”

“I’m an innovator,” Jaina countered with a smile and a murmured, “Thank you” to the merchant for her change.

She turned and walked towards the exit. Ithedis tried to hand her back all of the servings, but Jaina only took two. “That one’s for you.”

He blinked in surprise. Very carefully, he took it from her, though he did not eat it right away. It wasn’t until they were on their ride back to Goldenbough that Jaina spied him removing his helmet and eating when he thought she wasn’t looking. Rather than point it out, Jaina pretended she did not notice and ate her own serving. The fried dough had softened, bursting with sweet syrup when she took a bite. She had to lick her fingers clean and wipe her sticky hands on her breeches afterwards.

When Jaina arrived at the manor, Sylvanas still had not yet returned from her Council meeting. She ate dinner alone, then retreated to the library. It wasn’t until well past dark that Jaina heard the front doors open, a distant creak followed by the sound of a servant drawing them shut once more. Jaina emerged from the library, peering down the third story staircase in time to spot the flutter of Sylvanas’ cloak as she headed towards the banquet hall.

Abruptly, Sylvanas footsteps stopped. A pause, during which Jaina leaned over the balustrade to get a better view of the main floor far below. The top of Sylvanas’ head came back into sight as she approached one of the small tables that lined the entryway. Even from this angle, Jaina could see that those long ears had perked up slightly.

From the table, Sylvanas picked up the simple note Jaina had left beneath the elven treat in its container. She pocketed the note. Then, she took the sweets and kept walking towards the banquet hall.

Jaina couldn’t quite tell -- it was difficult to get a good view from up here -- but she could have sworn she saw a soft smile cross Sylvanas’ face.

It was only two weeks before Jaina and Sylvanas were set to travel to Boralus for their anniversary celebrations, when Jaina went to Magistrix Elosai’s offices. Oddly, the door was shut. Jaina knocked, waiting for the sound of Elosai’s gentle “Come in, please,” before pushing the door open.

“Forgive me for intruding, Magistrix, I -” Jaina started to say as she entered, only to stop less than three steps into the room.

Elosai was sitting behind her halfmoon desk, and she was not alone. Across from her in one of the seats that Jaina normally occupied on her training days, sat Prince Kael’thas. He had removed his long scarlet cape, so that he sat in his royal armour, the pauldrons like the flared wings of a golden eagle.

He and Elosai both stood when Jaina entered the room. Elosai bowed, but Kael’thas merely inclined his head in a respectful nod. “Lady Proudmoore, how good it is to see you again.”

“I -” Jaina looked between him and Elosai. “Do you need me to come back another time?”

“Nonsense. Please.” He gestured towards the chair beside him. “Won’t you join us?”

Jaina hesitated for a moment before crossing the circular room to sit in the chair he had indicated. Both he and Elosai waited until she was seated before taking their seats themselves. Before Jaina could ask what was going on, Kael’thas spoke.

“You’re part of the reason why I’m here, actually,” Kael’thas waved towards the room around them with a vague flutter of his fingers. “I thought I might check in with Magistrix Elosai and see how your studies were progressing. And from the sounds of it, you’re doing very well indeed.”

“Thank you. The Magistrix is a very patient teacher,” Jaina replied.

Elosai accepted the praise with a calm smile that did not touch her eyes. She did not look cagey, merely reserved. For her however, that seemed to be a natural state of being: serenely aloof at all times. Even when Jaina had accidentally summoned an unstable void anomaly from the Twisting Nether during one of their more cutting-edge private tutoring sessions, Elosai had merely coached Jaina through the necessary steps to contain and banish the anomaly once more.

Now, Elosai seemed content to sit back and let her Prince do the talking, leaving Jaina to wonder if it was some code of etiquette she was observing, or if she was truly that deferential to her sovereign lord.

“Isn’t she just?” Kael’thas shot Elosai a charming grin. “She was my teacher as well, long ago. Before I ever approached the Kirin Tor, in fact. Which is how I knew she would be the perfect instructor for you.”

Jaina blinked. “You -- ah -- you what?”

“A few months ago, I got wind of Magister Duskwither’s unseemly behaviour.” Shaking his head, Kael’thas scowled and leaned back in his seat with a clink of gold against the high-backed wooden chair. “Unacceptable, quite frankly, to treat anyone that way, let alone you of all people.”

“But I thought -” Jaina started to say, only to cut herself off, mouth snapping shut.

If Kael’thas noticed that she had begun to speak, he gave no indication of it. “So, I took care of it for you. Well, not just for you, of course. For the good of the Academy. We can’t have that style of leadership here. No, no. What sort of precedent is that supposed to set?”

“I -”

But apparently that was a rhetorical question, for Kael’thas continued. “Which is the other reason why I’m here. In fact, your visit could not have been more serendipitously timed. In the next few weeks, I will be nominating Magistrix Elosai here for the position of Headmistress of this Academy.”

Elosai appeared unfazed by the announcement. Jaina glanced over at her, then said, “Congratulations, Magistrix. Does this mean you will be passing me over to another Magister for training?”

Kael’thas shook his head with a patronising chuckle. “Oh, of course not.”

“You will remain my student as long as you like, Lady Proudmoore,” Elosai said for herself, her voice even. “Or for as long as you still have anything to learn from me, which may not be that long.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Jaina sounded a bit breathless to her own ears.

Again, Kael’thas cut in, unsatisfied with being on the perimeter of the conversation for even a moment. “However, it does mean that the Academy will need to allocate you new offices, Lady Proudmoore.”

Taken aback, Jaina’s brow furrowed. “What? Why?”

“I won’t have you being seen in that little hovel Elosai has you in now,” he replied with a dark look in Elosai’s direction.

Eyes widening, Jaina leaned forward and insisted, “It was me. I wanted that office. I was uncomfortable with anything more grand, and Magistrix Elosai was very kind to accommodate me and my -- uhm -- eccentricities.”

The last bit she added with an apologetic grimace at Elosai, who tilted her head forward in a grateful nod that was all but imperceptible.

Kael’thas saw. He straightened in his seat. “Even if that’s the case, it’s inappropriate and unsuited for a person of your skill and station. Your wife should have done something about this fiasco long before I needed to step in, but I suppose we can’t all have the same contacts in Silvermoon.”

Gritting her teeth, Jaina swallowed down whatever unruly retort that bubbled up in her chest. Instead, she took a moment to breath and said, “Thank you, Your Majesty. Your generosity is appreciated. I’m just not sure if I’ll need the space soon.”

That seemed to throw him off his stride. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Well, truthfully I came here to discuss my upcoming obligations with Magistrix Elosai so I could adjust my schedule.”

Elosai nodded. “There has been an unprecedented number of Novices requesting entry to the Lady Proudmoore’s seminars, and we had discussed making her position here more permanent.”

“I can’t,” Jaina said. “I’m sorry. Sylvanas has asked me to help her train and induct a new round of naval officers. I can continue teaching my current amount of Novices, but I can’t take on any more students. In fact, it might be best to scale down a bit.”

With a hum of understanding, Elosai replied, “Of course. We can lower your class size to twenty each rotation. Would that suit?”

“That should be fine. Thank you so much, Magistrix.”

Kael’thas was staring between them, confusion marring his usual façade of candor. “The Ranger-General has asked you to -? What -?”

Jaina felt only a small shameful spark of pleasure at his bewilderment. She smothered it and offered him an apologetic smile. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I thought you would have already been informed. With the launching of the new fleet, my wife has requested my expertise in training officers. I will have to manage my time more carefully, teaching at the Academy and also now at Sunsail Anchorage. Fortunately, the Anchorage is just south of Goldenbough. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

For a moment, Kael’thas was stunned, but he recovered quickly with a smile of his own. “But of course. What an excellent plan. It will look very good to the public for you to be involved in overseeing the new naval officers.” His smile widened somewhat, but his eyes had narrowed. “To be honest, I did not think the Ranger-General had it in her to display such social tact.”

Jaina didn’t tell him that it had been a collaborative idea between Sylvanas and Vereesa.

“You must be having a positive influence on her,” Kael’thas added.

Jaina returned his smile with a shrug. “That works both ways.”

He hummed, studying her thoughtfully. Then, he said, “Nevertheless, you will be moved to better offices. I won’t hear a word to the contrary,” He held up his hand when Jaina began to protest. “Think of it as an anniversary gift.”

Reluctant, Jaina bowed her head. “Thank you. You’re too kind.” When she straightened, she pushed back her chair and stood. “If you’ll please excuse me, I have a class soon.”

Both Elosai and Kael’thas had rose to their feet the moment she had done so.

“If I don’t see you before then, have a safe journey to Kul Tiras,” Elosai said, offering Jaina a far warmer smile than Kael’thas.

“I will.”

Kael’thas gave his own shallow bow of farewell. “And do say hello to your wife for me.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.

When Jaina was in the doorway and about to leave, Kael’thas called out, “Oh, and Lady Proudmoore?”

Jaina paused, one hand on the doorframe. When she looked around, both Elosai and Kael’thas were watching her. “Yes?”

Kael’thas smiled. “Happy Anniversary.”

“Is that what you’re wearing?”

Jaina was staring at Sylvanas, aghast. They stood in the entryway of the manor, their travelling trunks already being carted away by servants at the front door in preparation for their visit to Boralus. Sylvanas stopped, glancing down at her gold embossed ceremonial armour, lacquered and glittering whenever she moved.

“Yes?” she answered, sounding puzzled at Jaina’s reaction. “Don’t I have to play the part of Ranger-General? It’s an official diplomatic visit, and the first time I’ve ever been to Kul Tiras, let alone the first time I’ve been invited as the foreign spouse to their future leader.”

Jaina pointed at the fur-trimmed cloak Sylvanas had added to the ensemble like an afterthought. “I don’t think you’ll be very dignified when you freeze to death before we even reach Proudmoore Keep.”

Sylvanas rolled her eyes. “Please, Jaina. I’ve fought mountain campaigns. I can handle a bit of rain.”

“It’s autumn. In Boralus. It’s going to be more than a ‘bit of rain.’”

“Your concern, while touching, is unnecessary,” Sylvanas drawled.

“You know what?” Jaina strode over to one of her trunks before it could be loaded onto the carriage, and took it from a servant with an apologetic smile. She dragged it onto the ground and opened it up. Kneeling down, she rummaged through her things.

Sylvanas peered over her shoulder. “What are you doing? We’re going to be late.”

Jaina didn’t look up. “We are not going to be late.”

With a huff, Sylvanas said, “I don’t need a change of clothes. This armour is perfectly fine. I put on my winter cloak.”

“That cloak wouldn’t keep you warm through a fine Kul Tiran summer, let alone a wintry autumn.” Jaina dug around, found what she was looking for, and pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper. “I was going to wait to give you this until the anniversary, but here. Take it.”

Mouth twisting to one side, Sylvanas nevertheless took the package and opened it. Between her hands spilled a cloak the colour of the sea at storm, stitched with runes in gold thread all along its edge. She thumbed the fine fabric.

“It’s lovely,” Sylvanas said, brow furrowed. “But it doesn’t feel any thicker than the cloak I’m currently wearing.”

“That’s because it’s thinner.”

Sylvanas’ eyebrows rose. “How useful.”

Taking the cloak from Sylvanas’ hands, Jaina admonished her softly, “Oh, shush. I made it with sigils designed to keep you warm and dry. So long as you don’t go jumping in the ocean, it should do just that.”

Startled, Sylvanas asked, “You made it?”

“I went back to the seamstress’ shop and purchased some fabric, and then I enchanted a needle and let it go for a few days in the library,” Jaina explained.

She didn’t tell Sylvanas that she had almost forgotten about the needle, and when she’d gone back four days later, it had finished with the cloak and was attempting to embroider her books.

Reaching up, Jaina began tugging at the hooks holding Sylvanas’ current cloak in place beneath her pauldrons. Sylvanas sighed and helped. Still, she let Jaina place the gift over her shoulders and fasten the new cloak in place. It was longer than the old one, and it draped across Sylvanas’ front as well as her back.

As if to make a point of that, Sylvanas tried to sweep one of its edges back over her arm, only for the cloak to fall back over it again. She grunted. “How am I supposed to wield a weapon like this?”

“You’re not. You’re supposed to get stuffed full of arrows like the rest of us layfolk.” Jaina gave a tug to one of Sylvanas’ bracers. “And weren’t you the one complaining that this armour was made of tissue paper just a few weeks ago?”

“Sometimes I like to joke.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed.”

Satisfied, Jaina turned to re-pack her trunk. Before she could do so however, Sylvanas grabbed her by the wrist. Jaina stopped and looked back at her in puzzlement.

“Thank you,” Sylvanas said, meeting Jaina’s gaze and holding it.

Jaina smiled softly. “You’re very welcome.”

Sylvanas did not immediately let go of her hand. A shiver raced up Jaina’s arm as Sylvanas traced her thumb over the tendons of her wrist. Sylvanas blinked, her expression settling into something stiff, as if taken aback by her own actions, and she dropped Jaina’s hand.

Clearing her throat, Sylvanas stepped past her, “We should go. We’re going to be late.”

Jaina rolled her eyes and followed, repeating, “We are not going to be late.”

They were late.

“I told you,” Sylvanas grumbled.

“I’m sorry,” Jaina apologised for the third time. “But how on earth was I supposed to know the portal system from Dalaran was having trouble?”

Breathing in a deep breath, Sylvanas closed her eyes. “I know. It’s not your fault. I just -” she opened her eyes and glared straight ahead. “I hate being late.”

Jaina placed a hand on Sylvanas’ shoulder. “It’s going to be fine. Are you ready?”

Still staring straight ahead, Sylvanas seemed to gather herself. A strange transformation swept over her. It was all a series of small things that Jaina had never seen her assemble before in person. A lift of her chin. A hardening of her eyes. A slight broadening of her stance, as if preparing for an incoming blow to the stomach. She tried to clasp her hands behind her back, only to scowl at how the cloak got in her way.

Then, finally, she nodded. “Let’s go.”

The moment they stepped through the portal, Jaina was struck by a wall of cold air. The chill washed over her, sinking its talons into the admiralty greatcoat she hadn’t worn for nearly a year since living in Quel’Thalas. For the first time in what felt like an age, Jaina was glad she was wearing heavy clothing. The greatcoat may have been uncomfortable and bulky even as it pulled her shoulders back, but it was designed for precisely this kind of weather.

They stepped out into the very centre of Unity Square. A statue of Daelin stared across their heads, and behind him the massive bulk of Proudmoore Keep loomed over the harbour. Dozens upon dozens of soldiers in Admiralty colours lined the square, hands clasped over their weapons, their uniforms darkened from the fine drizzle of rain that sifted down from an iron-clad sky. The banners of every great House of Kul Tiras were stiff with frost, hanging from the grey stone walls.

At the fore of the congregation, Katherine Proudmoore was waiting to greet them. In her Lord Admiral finery, her hair clapped back into a severe bun at the back of her head, she looked as stately as she did in Jaina’s memories. She made a gesture to one of her aides, and a roar went up as a captain shouted orders. In perfect unison, twenty one cannons facing the ocean fired. The noise that followed all but shook the ground, and Jaina couldn’t help but wince a bit.

On the other hand, neither Sylvanas nor Katherine flinched. They remained implacable in their own way. Behind her, Jaina could hear Ithedis clench his fist around his double bladed polearm at the sudden noise.

When the gun salute had finished, Katherine stepped forward until she was standing right before them. “Welcome to Kul Tiras, General. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“It’s an honour to be here,” Sylvanas replied just as stiffly.

The two of them clasped hands in Kul Tiran custom, though Jaina noticed the way Sylvanas’ torso leaned forward just slightly, as if she were holding herself back from a bow.

When Katherine turned her attention to Jaina, her expression gentled. Jaina didn’t know she was holding her breath until her mother opened her arms. Exhaling a sigh of relief, Jaina all but fell forward into a hug. It was far too short for her tastes, but Katherine kept her hands on Jaina’s shoulders as she stepped back.

“You’re looking well, my dear,” Katherine smiled, lines appearing around her mouth and at the corners of her blue eyes.

A broad smile split Jaina’s own face and she breathed, “I missed you. It’s good to be home.”

Katherine took a moment to cup Jaina’s cheek with one hand before letting her go. The tenderness drained from her face as she turned on her heel and motioned for them to follow. “Please, come with me. I’d like to take you on an official tour of the harbour before we adjourn for tea, General.”

“It would be a pleasure, Lord Admiral,” Sylvanas replied.

She swept back her cloak to offer Jaina her arm. Jaina took it, and they walked together beside Katherine. Ithedis and a host of guards in Proudmoore colours trailed after them.

Sylvanas leaned her head down and whispered, “Tea?”

“She means ‘dinner’ in this context,” Jaina explained in a hushed tone.

“So, no actual tea?”

“Well,” Jaina shrugged. “Probably a cup of tea afterwards.”

Sylvanas gave her an odd look, as if debating with herself whether Jaina was making this all up.

“I swear it’s real,” Jaina hissed.

They fell silent, standing up straighter when Katherine glanced over at them pointedly. With a tilt of her head, Katherine said, “This way, if you will.”

Together, they walked through Boralus. Both Katherine and Jaina took it in turns pointing out various sights as they headed towards Mariner’s Row. The Stormsong Monastery earned them a few queries about the Tidesages, but mostly Sylvanas allowed them to steer her through the city as though they were leading a prize horse past an admiring crowd.

Even in the storm grey cloak Jaina had made for her, Sylvanas stood out from the everyday Kul Tiran in every sense. She was too tall, too slender, too graceful. Her long ears twitched at every wayward sound like a nervous cat, though her expression gave away nothing. As they walked, people would stop and stare. A few would greet their Lord Admiral and her daughter, but most simply gawked at what was undoubtedly the first elf they had ever seen in their lives.

For all that, Sylvanas made a convincing act of not noticing any of the attention. She alternatively spoke with Katherine or Jaina or both, asking questions about the history of the harbour, about its construction and what sieges it had survived. She requested to be taken across the battlements so she could jump nimbly atop the crenellation and stride from merlon to merlon as she gazed curiously down the walls, ignoring the way the Kul Tiran soldiers openly gaped at her.

Leaping down to stand beside Jaina once more, Sylvanas said, “We should organise an exchange of craftsmen. I have some ideas on how to fortify the Sunwell, and I’m sure these battlements could benefit from the addition of leyline anchors.”

Katherine inclined her head, not at all taken aback by Sylvanas’ behaviour. “A fine idea. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement that suits everyone.”

“I can talk to Magistrix Elosai about sending over a few experienced Apprentices,” Jaina pointed out. “Though, I don’t think they’d want to stay for too long.”

“The weather isn’t nearly as bad as you made it seem,” Sylvanas said, but even as she spoke, she held out her arm to Jaina once more. When Jaina took it, she felt how cold Sylvanas’ hand was beneath the magically preserved warmth of her cloak; her fingers held a fine tremor that she tried and failed to disguise.

Jaina shot her an incredulous look. Sylvanas blinked back at her, all innocence. To anyone else, Sylvanas would have appeared stoic and stony-faced, but Jaina saw right past that act.

“Mother,” Jaina said, “Shouldn’t we start heading back to the Keep? I’m famished.”

“Certainly. You can tour the Keep’s battlements tomorrow morning, should you find the time, General,” Katherine answered, already heading in the direction of the Keep.

The drizzle had thickened, not quite to a fully-fledged rain, but enough that Jaina could feel the damp start to seep through her own double-lined greatcoat. Sylvanas hadn’t pulled up her own hood, so that the mist dotted her golden hair. The tips of her ears and nose had long since gone pink. To Jaina, the icy rain was a blessed relief from her months and months of suffering through humidity, but Sylvanas -- for all her staunch refusal to acknowledge the cold -- couldn’t keep the shiver from her hands.

Discreetly, Sylvanas sniffled against the chill. Jaina pulled a handkerchief from a pocket of her greatcoat and handed it to her. Sylvanas shook her head, and with a roll of her eyes, Jaina stuffed the handkerchief away again.

Lowering her voice so her mother couldn’t hear, Jaina said, “I know you’re cold. You don’t have to pretend you’re not.”

If anything, that only made Sylvanas square her jaw bullishly. “I’ll live.”

“You’re being stubborn.”

“I’ve never been stubborn in my life,” Sylvanas sniffed.

For that, Jaina poked her in a gap in her armour, right above her flank. Sylvanas went stiff as a board, and trapped Jaina’s arm with her elbow. She narrowed her eyes, but Jaina merely hooked her hand into the crook of Sylvanas’ elbow, so that when Katherine looked over at them it appeared they were walking arm and arm just as before.

A cross between dry amusement and exasperation crossed Katherine’s face, before she shook her head and continued on as if she hadn’t seen anything. “How go your efforts with the Amani? I got your report that you narrowly escaped that ambush not long ago.”

“About as well as your efforts with the Zandalari,” Sylvanas answered smoothly.

Katherine chuckled darkly. “Tides help us all if they ever actually manage to join forces.”

“That’s what this is all about though, isn’t it?” Jaina added. “Keeping them fighting a two-front war?”

Eyes darting between the two of them, Katherine murmured, “So, it is.”

They did not dally any further on their way to the Keep. Both Katherine and Sylvanas tended to walk with purpose, always with a destination in mind. Sometimes when walking with them, Jaina felt outpaced. In this instance however, Jaina was glad, since she could feel the way Sylvanas was clenching her hands in an attempt to keep out the cold. When she glanced back at Ithedis, he looked just as miserable, despite the new set of winter fur-trimmed armour he had donned.

Walking into the Keep felt like sinking into a warm back after a long and trying day. A steward took Jaina’s coat. When he tried to take Sylvanas’ cloak however, Sylvanas shook her head. Every fireplace on the main floor was lit, warming the dark grey stones lined with tapestries and rugs. Even so, Sylvanas made sure to sit herself at the chair nearest the fireplace in the dining hall. She tried to act casual about it, pretending not to notice Jaina’s knowing smirk as Katherine pulled out the chair at the head of the long table for herself.

When the first course was brought out, Sylvanas stared down at the table setting. From the corner of her eye, she watched the way Katherine picked up a fork and knife, clumsily following suit.

“Work from the outside in,” Jaina murmured, leaning in close to whisper in Sylvanas’ ear.

Shooting Jaina a grateful look, Sylvanas started to eat. Or at least she tried to. As the conversation continued -- talk of war, talk of politics, and always the bland talk of weather -- Jaina noticed the way Sylvanas’ brow furrowed, the way she fumbled with the cutlery, knife slipping across ceramic, fork unsuccessfully attempting to spear a boiled vegetable, which rolled to the other side of her plate.

Finally taking pity on her, Jaina nudged Sylvanas’ elbow with her own. When Sylvanas look over at her, Jaina very purposefully showed how to brace a bit of food with the knife while she stabbed it with the tines of her fork. Eyes narrowing, Sylvanas did the same and finally managed to get the sprout that had been evading her for a full minute.

“Why can’t we just use our hands like civilised people?” Sylvanas grumbled in Thalassian.

Jaina snorted with laughter. Rather than reply however, she looked to her mother and said in Common, “I’ve missed normal food. Everything in Quel’Thalas has to be toned down for me. Too spicy.”

Katherine shuddered in sympathy. “You got the low spice tolerance from me, I’m afraid.”

Sylvanas managed to finish the meal without further incident, apart from dropping a piece of food onto her lap with a scowl. When Katherine scraped her chair back to usher them into a side room for a cup of tea after dinner however, Sylvanas shook her head.

“Thank you, but I think I’ll let you two catch up without me.” She finished patting her leg down with a serviette, and tossed it onto the table atop her cutlery. As she passed Jaina, she grasped her gently by the shoulder and asked, “Where are we staying?”

Jaina pointed. “My old rooms. Take the stairs to the second floor of the main tower. Down two corridors -- right and left. Then the third door on your right.”

With a nod towards both her and Katherine, Sylvanas left.

Katherine watched her go with a mildly amused expression. “She’s a bit -”

“Waggish?” Jaina supplied helpfully.

“That’s exactly the word I was thinking.”

Together they headed into the sitting room and sat across from one another in armchairs before another fireplace. Tea was brought on a silver platter and placed on a table between them. Before Jaina could lean forward to pour herself a cup however, she heard a clearing of a throat and the clink of armour behind her.

“Excuse me, my Lady,” Ithedis murmured to her in Thalassian. “I will give you privacy, but I must ask first where I am meant to be staying during this visit?”

Confused at being addressed in Thalassian, Jaina nevertheless answered in his own tongue, “The captain of the guard will make sure you’re looked after, Ithedis. And if you need anything, let me know.”

He bowed to both her and Katherine, then departed.

When Jaina turned her attention back to her mother, it was to find Katherine looking at her strangely.

“What’s wrong?” Jaina asked.

“Nothing, of course.” Katherine leaned forward to pour them each a cup of tea. As she handed Jaina a cup and saucer, she said, “You’re learning their language very quickly.”

Jaina laughed. “Oh, no. Definitely not. I’m still terrible at it. They were speaking very slowly to me, is all.”

“Hmm,” Katherine replied, but made no other comment. She held out a little porcelain jug, “Milk?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“You seem to be acclimating quite well to life in Quel’Thalas. You’re positively rosy.” Katherina gestured towards Jaina’s face with her cup of tea.

With a shrug, Jaina sipped at her own cup. “I won’t lie. It hasn’t been easy. But it’s getting there.”

Katherine hummed in understanding, a low wordless noise as she drank. She handled her cup with the same poise Jaina had always admired and tried to emulate as a child. “I heard you handled yourself quite well in that scrape to the east.”

Somehow that poise had never quite stuck, no matter how hard Jaina tried. “I did what I had to.”

“Don’t we all.” Katherine’s eyes were keen and discerning. She was gilded in light from the nearby fireplace. “How are you? Really?”

“I’m fine,” Jaina said. Realising how unconvincing that must have sounded, she amended quickly. “Good. I’m good. Sylvanas is kind and considerate, and -- yes, she can be a bit of a stubborn ass, but everything is good between us. We make it work.”

Katherine sipped at her tea. “And they treat you well in Silvermoon?”

“They do. I’m teaching at their mage academy now. I sort of ended up with a lot of young students that needed help with their studies, and the administration decided to just make it official.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Finding purpose in a new environment is always a struggle.” Katherine placed her cup back on its saucer. She seemed to mull over something before announcing, “I’m sorry I couldn’t attend your Kirin Tor ascension ceremony.”

Stunned at the admission and the sudden shift in topic, Jaina said, “It’s - It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not.” Katherine paused to pour herself another cup. Leaning back in her chair, she stirred in a dollop of milk. “Ever since taking this position, I’ve missed half of your life.”

With that simple statement, the ground seemed to open up at Jaina’s feet. She stared at her mother, who was primly tapping at the rim of her cup with a silver spoon, refusing to meet her eye. “You haven’t,” Jaina insisted. “You were always there for me when I needed you.”

It was suddenly very important that her mother know that, but Katherine simply placed the teaspoon on her saucer and sipped at her cup.

“That’s kind of you to say, my dear, but it’s untrue.”

Jaina didn’t know what to say to that. Her father had died when she was thirteen years old, and ever since her mother had been an absent figure, consumed with the position that was thrust upon her and which she never wanted. For a year or two it hadn’t been so bad. At least Jaina had her brothers. Until suddenly she didn’t. And then it had been magic and training and Dalaran, filling the holes of her life with the pages of books as if desperately trying to plug the leaks in a sinking ship.

And now -

“It’s not your fault,” Jaina said softly. “It’s not anybody’s fault. Storms happen.”

Katherine smiled down into her cup of tea. “Oh, yes. Storms always happen.” She sighed and took another sip. “Thank goodness you turned out the way you did. I can’t imagine what would have happened if you’d had even a drop less mettle in your blood.”

“I think my governesses would have appreciated it, actually,” Jaina said.

Katherine snorted with laughter. “You did run through an awful lot of them as a child. I remember having to get the steward to interview new ones for me after you drove the last one away.”

“I wasn’t a very good kid.”

Katherine sniffed. “What nonsense. You were a wonderful child. Very well behaved.”

“For you.”

“Exactly.”

With a smile and a shake of her head, Jaina reminded her, “I used to enchant their teacups to pour hot water into the guardsmen’s boots as a distraction to escape through the north tower’s sally port.”

Over the rim of her cup, Katherine’s eyes sparkled. “And a fine tactical decision that was, too.”

The warmth of the fireplace cutting through the coolness of the stone walls of the Keep, the familiar smells and timbre of her home, made Jaina sink back into the cushions of her seat. She cupped her tea between both hands, relishing the transference of heat into her skin.

Looking up, Jaina said, “That reminds me. May I borrow some of your books? Sylvanas asked me to help induct some new naval officers, and I need to brush up on my reading.”

Katherine lifted one inquisitive eyebrow, but all she said was, “You may. Take anything you need.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. And don’t be afraid to send me a letter, should you ever need anything. I may be at sea seven months out of the year, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be there for you.”

“I know,” Jaina murmured. “I’ve always known that.”

They finished their tea. They talked in soft voices. And then, as the fire grew dim beneath the marble mantlepiece, they placed their cups and saucers upon the table and stood. Together, they walked towards the stairs of the main tower.

Once there, Katherine kissed Jaina’s cheek and murmured, “Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night,” Jaina whispered.

Her mother walked down another hallway towards her own chambers, and Jaina headed off towards her old rooms. She did not rush through the familiar halls. She took her time, studying the high vaulted ceiling, scuffing her heels along the long train of cloth that trailed down the centre of the floor, running her hand along the base of a banner in passing. Even though she hadn’t lived here in years -- not since she left for Dalaran -- Jaina could remember every nook and cranny of this Keep. She was half tempted to go exploring for her old favourite hideouts, but instead she turned towards her room.

The door still creaked the same way at the hinges when she opened and closed it. Inside, her mother hadn’t touched any aspect of the room’s layout. Apart from having the space cleaned and the sheets changed, it was exactly as she recalled, down to the moth-eaten tapestry along the far wall that Jaina had begged her father not to take down when she was a child. Jaina had no doubt her brothers’ rooms were treated much the same.

The fireplace was lit, and the logs within had been reduced to embers that filled one side of the room with heat and a faint source of light that Jaina used to manoeuvre. Sylvanas was nowhere to be seen. For a moment, Jaina considered heading out to look for her, but instead crossed to her travelling trunks stacked in one corner. She changed into a nightgown -- one of her long cotton ones, rather than the flimsy silk thing that she’d left behind at Goldenbough -- and wandered towards the sprawling bed.

It wasn’t until she pulled back the sheets, that Jaina realised Sylvanas was already in bed. Another quick look around proved that her armour was piled up in another corner, covered by the cloak. An extra blanket had been thrown across the bed. Despite it, Sylvanas shivered, her narrow figure folding inwards as though she were trying to wrap herself into a ball, seeking out any shred of heat and trapping it in place.

Hesitantly Jaina climbed into bed and scooted over to the other side. She curled up behind Sylvanas, wrapping an arm around Sylvanas’ stomach and whispering, “Is this alright?”

She half expected Sylvanas to inch away, but Sylvanas nodded. She even hiked her legs up so that her knees nearly touched her chest. At the first brush of Sylvanas’ bare feet against her thighs, Jaina cursed softly under her breath. “Fuck! You’re freezing!”

In answer, Sylvanas burrowed deeper under the covers until even the tips of her ears were hidden from the brisk night air. Now that they were huddled together beneath the blankets so closely, Jaina had no choice but to have her head be completely covered as well. Jaina huffed with laughter, which blew against the silky strands of Sylvanas’ hair. Enveloped in heat and muffled darkness like this, the only thing Jaina could smell was the warm scent of Sylvanas’ hair. Comforting smells. Woodsmoke, and rain, and, as always, the faint strains of sunlight.

“We can never live in Kul Tiras except in the summer,” Sylvanas mumbled, her voice muffled by the sheets.

“So long as that means we don’t have to live in Quel’Thalas in the summer,” Jaina replied. “How about we trade? Summer in Kul Tiras. Winter in Quel’Thalas.”

Sylvanas nodded furiously. “It’s a deal.”

Jaina hummed another soft laugh. She could feel Sylvanas’ back slowly warming up against her, the shivers receding. She tightened her grip as she adjusted herself a little, settling her pillow so that she could fall asleep in this position and not wake up with a crick in her neck.

“Jaina?” Sylvanas said.

“Mmm?”

“You can say: ‘I told you so.’”

“That’s very magnanimous of you.”

“Magnanimity is one of my most sterling qualities.”

Eyes closed, Jaina smiled. She waited a moment, before nudging Sylvanas’ shoulder with her forehead. “Sylvanas?”

“Mmm?”

“I told you so.”

The anniversary celebrations took place three days later. Most of that time was devoted to preparations, and before Jaina knew it she was pulling on her ceremonial Admiralty garb in front of a narrow pane of glass in her rooms. As she was adjusting her sleeves, Sylvanas stepped into the room. Jaina glanced at her reflection in the mirror, then stared.

Rather than her ornamental Ranger-General armour, Sylvanas had donned a Kul Tiran suit, sleek and dark and tailored. It had just enough gold embroidery to add a foreign touch, while still keeping to its traditional Kul Tiran cut. She had left her hair down, softening the look, rather than pulling it back as was the current style in Boralus.

“That’s what you’re -?” Jaina had to clear the squeak from her voice. “What happened to your armour?”

“That was for our first public appearance when I was a foreign dignitary. Now, it’s our anniversary celebration, and I’m your wife.” Sylvanas added as an aside, “Also, I thought Kael’thas would hate it.”

Jaina considered that for a moment. Turning, she said, “Then you have to wear it.”

A delighted grin tugged at Sylvanas’ mouth. “You’re encouraging me to openly slight Kael’thas?”

“Fuck Kael’thas,” Jaina growled. After discovering his dabbling at the Academy, she had relayed the story to Sylvanas, who had taken her usual satisfaction in learning that he had blundered.

Sylvanas placed a delicate hand at her throat. “My, my! Lady Proudmoore, such obscenities about my divinely born sovereign Prince!”

“I figured since I wouldn’t start fights at fancy parties or get myself impaled on a spear, I should insult your leige lord.”

Sylvanas hummed in agreement, a sage expression on her face. “It really is the least you could do.”

A knock on the open door. They both looked over to find Ithedis bowing to them. “Lady Windrunner, Lady Proudmoore, the guests are arriving.”

“Great,” Jaina sighed. She crossed the room, giving her braid a last pat down to ensure there were no stray strands.

“Your hair looks fine,” Sylvanas assured her.

“I know. I’m just -” Jaina grimaced.

Sylvanas smiled. “I know.”

Gathering herself with a deep breath, Jaina looked at Ithedis. “Thank you. We’ll meet you downstairs.”

He inclined his head and departed.

Sylvanas watched Jaina for a moment before asking, “Ready?”

“No. But, let’s go.”

Wordlessly, Sylvanas offered Jaina her arm. Jaina took it, and together they headed downstairs to the grand hall of Proudmoore Keep.

Guests were invited from every nation in the Alliance and Kul Tiras. Officially, Kul Tiras had yet to join the ranks of other humans in their Alliance of other races, though the marriage linking Silvermoon and Boralus seemed to be a first step in that direction. Especially now, with a host of foreign diplomats arriving at Proudmoore Keep to celebrate.

Jaina and Sylvanas had to stand at the entrance of the hall, greeting every guest as they arrived. An hour in, and Jaina had to shift her weight back and forth between feet. Her smile had started to feel plastered on a quarter of an hour ago, and she wished she had gone Sylvanas’ route of august solemnity. Though truthfully Jaina doubted she could do anything even remotely described as ‘august.’

For most of the night so far, Sylvanas had thanked their guests in a smooth cultured tone, remembering each of their names without fail. At the approach of a mixed congregation of dwarves and humans however, she went a bit tense and glanced at Jaina. It took Jaina a moment to realise that it was an imploring look.

Rising up on her toes, Jaina whispered in Sylvanas’ ear, “Muradin Bronzebeard. The younger brother of King Magni.”

“And not the king himself?”

“I think Muradin’s an ambassador to Lordaeron? He was probably just more conveniently placed to attend.”

Sylvanas nodded. She straightened her shoulders as the group arrived, and greeted them with a shallow bow. “Muradin. Here representing both Ironforge and Lordaeron, I see.”

He returned the bow. Absent his usual horned helm, the top of his stout head barely reached Sylvanas’ waist. “On behalf of clan Bronzebeard, I thank you for having us this evening. Terenas and Lianne also send their regards, and apologise for being unable to attend themselves.”

“You’re more than enough good company on your own,” Jaina replied as he took her hand and shook it.

The braids of his long copper-coloured beard twitched in a smile. He let go of Jaina’s hand and his eyes sparkled as he glanced up at Sylvanas. “How did you ever manage to wrangle yourself a sweet girl like this, General?”

Jaina flushed, but Sylvanas appeared entirely unruffled for she drawled, “I’m sure it had everything to do with my charms and nothing to do with our stations.”

With a good-natured chuckle, Muradin inclined his head to the both of them. “Forge be with you, both. And happy anniversary. Here’s to another year.”

He continued on into the Keep, and Jaina turned her head to see which guests were approaching next. She groaned, “Oh no.”

“What is it?” Sylvanas asked, lowering her voice and leaning down a little.

Jaina kept her smile steadfastly in place even as she hissed, “The Ashvanes.”

“One of your noble Houses, yes?”

With a nod, Jaina said, “I can’t stand Lady Ashvane. She’s so - so -” She tried to think of a word strong enough to accurately convey her feelings, and ended up with, “- disingenuous.”

Sylvanas had to bite back a snort of laughter. “Is that all? You must hate half of Silvermoon, then.”

“Only the half that deserves it,” Jaina grumbled.

But then Lady Ashvane was sweeping towards them, and they had to lean apart again and pretend to look stately, which Jaina had never been good at and which Sylvanas seemed born to do well. Halfway through the introductions to Lady Ashvane, Jaina could feel her smile turn into a grimace. She was grateful when Lady Ashvane continued further into the room, and they could finish greeting the rest of the guests.

Then, they paraded themselves around the grand hall, the normally militant space made no less austere when festooned with additional banners from Silvermoon and House Windrunner. While everyone else got to eat and drink and mingle, Jaina and Sylvanas walked arm in arm through the crowd, strategically joining conversations here and there, saying a few choice words before moving on to the next group. With Katherine in the room and Sylvanas looking as refined as she always did, Jaina felt more like a shadow of her mother than ever.

A nudge at her side brought Jaina’s attention back to earth. She blinked at Sylvanas in confusion.

“Is everything alright?” Sylvanas asked, her voice low enough that nobody else could hear as they walked the room, though her expression remained aloof and unapproachable.

“Fine. Interacting with this many people is tiring is all.”

With a wordless hum of agreement, Sylvanas steered them towards a set of throne-like chairs that had been set behind a table at the head of the hall. “Come on. Let’s sit.”

Even seated, they were approached by a continuous stream of guests. This time however, it felt worse -- too much like they were holding court to a doting retinue. Every time a new group drew near them, Jaina would sink just a little further down in her chair, hoping that the stones would swallow her whole and she could escape this personal hell.

Being home wasn’t supposed to be like this. Being home was supposed to be about relaxing in a familiar place, eating familiar food, drinking familiar drinks, spending quality time with her mother, showing Sylvanas her favourite places in Boralus. Not introducing an obviously uncomfortable Sylvanas to her third cousin twice removed on her father’s side, whom Jaina herself had met only a handful of times as a child at family reunions.

“How many siblings did your father have?” Sylvanas hissed after shaking the hand of Jaina’s twenty-second cousin of the night.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Jaina groaned. “Too many. My great-grandmother had seven children, and they all had at least five children a-piece, and so on and so forth.”

“Your mother wasn’t joking about Heirs. You’re swimming in them.”

“Drowning, more like.”

Another hour passed. And another. Jaina gave up and had a glass of wine, wishing it were a cold tripel at her favourite pub on the docks instead. Finally, nobody else approached, and they were left in relative peace.

“I’d say we’ve done our part rather well, wouldn’t you?” Sylvanas tilted her head towards the congregation that was now fully ignoring their presence. “We’ve given them the opportunity to gawp at us, and now they’re happily playing their own political games.”

“Joy of joys,” Jaina said dryly, setting aside her glass on the table. “And now we get to sit here and be bored for another few hours before they get drunk enough that we can slip away and they won’t notice our absence.”

At that, a thoughtful look crossed Sylvanas’ face, followed by a grin.

Jaina frowned at her, then her eyes widened. “Oh, no. I know that look. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not going to happen.”

“Well, whyever not?”

“Sylvanas, I am not starting a fight with you at our anniversary.”

She feigned offense at Jaina’s accusatory tone. “Such slander. From my own wife, no less. I was simply going to suggest you create a diversion so we could sneak out now, rather than waiting for boredom to kill us.”

At first, Jaina opened her mouth to tell Sylvanas off, but then she paused. Across the hall Lady Ashvane was sidling up to her mother with a goblet of wine and a sycophantic smile. Jaina sucked on the backs of her teeth, considering.

Turning to Sylvanas, Jaina glared. “You’re a very bad influence on me.”

In answer Sylvanas’ eyes gleamed. “I know.”

“You see that tapestry over there? The one with the kraken fighting a dozen ships?” Jaina motioned with her head.

Sylvanas glanced discreetly over her shoulder. “I do.”

“When I say ‘go’, I want you to run over there and press the fourth stone up from the bottom right of the tapestry. Don’t wait for me. Alright?”

Sylvanas nodded. She was already tense, muscles coiled to spring forward at Jaina’s command.

But Jaina wasn’t looking at her, she was looking at the Lady Ashvane. She waited until the Lady Ashvane had managed to get Katherine’s attention and was handing her one of the goblets.

“Go.”

With a whispered spell, Jaina flicked her fingers just as Sylvanas soundlessly slipped from her seat, quick as a shadow. The barest burst of magic jolted the Lady Ashvane’s elbow, so that she tipped the goblet of wine all across the front Katherine’s greatcoat. A gasp went up from the surrounding guests, and everyone turned to watch Lady Ashvane’s growing horror and the Lord Admiral’s tight-lipped anger.

Ducking from sight, Jaina rushed after Sylvanas. A small hidden door was open behind the tapestry. Jaina pushed the tapestry aside and scrambled inside, her hands automatically finding the lever that shut the door behind her.

Sylvanas’s hands found her shoulders, steadying her in place as they crouched in the dark. Her eyes glowed softly through the dimly lit corridor that extended before them. “Nicely done. Are you sure that doesn’t count as starting a fight at a fancy dinner party?”

“I’d rather not stick around to find out,” Jaina replied with a low laugh, already heading off down the corridor.

Sylvanas followed, bent nearly double to fit in the crawlspace. “Is your mother a fisticuffs person? Or a blades at dawn person?”

“Yes.”

“Terrifying. I almost feel sorry for the Lady Ashvane.”

“I don’t,” Jaina muttered.

Sylvanas laughed.

The exited the corridor onto a side hallway deeper into the Keep. Poking her head out, Jaina glanced up and down for any guardsmen. She gestured for Sylvanas to hurry, and they dashed along, rounding another corner and descending a series of stairs that curled in tight circles down into the bowels of the Keep. On the way, Jaina ducked into a spare room and grabbed them each a cloak in Proudmoore colours, draping it over their shoulders and pulling up the hoods.

They had to hide behind a suit of armour as a group of guardsmen passed. The guards carried halberds taller than themselves, talking in loud voices that echoed across the high stone walls. Jaina had to stifle a laugh behind her hand when Sylvanas nearly knocked the helmet clean off the stand of armour. None of the guards noticed, even as Sylvanas stabilised the helmet with her hands, Jaina pressed up against her back and shaking with silent laughter.

As soon as the guards had disappeared from sight, Jaina grabbed Sylvanas’ wrist and pulled her along. “This way.”

Soon, Jaina was lifting the grate that hid the small sally port, and they were sneaking along the outer walls of Proudmoore Keep. And then, Jaina was leading Sylvanas through the streets of Boralus towards the Ashvane Company Yards.

“Where are we going?” Sylvanas asked.

“To get some real Kul Tiran food and an actual drink.”

With their finery hidden beneath the bulky woollen Proudmoore cloaks, they drew little attention. Sylvanas hunched slightly, and had to keep tugging at the hood of her cloak with a grimace so that her long ears did not push the hood back and reveal her face. She kept the hood up even when Jaina led them to the front entrance of the Salt and Shanty.

Jaina pulled back her hood the moment they stepped inside. The warm air was crowded with patrons, with the smell of home-cooked pies and spilt beer. Nobody looked at them twice. Pushing her way to the bar, Jaina ordered, then dragged Sylvanas to a far corner by the fireplace, where a dingy little table was free. They squeezed into the rickety wooden seats and looked out across the room.

Upstairs carried the thump of feet and the sounds of a fiddle, people singing well-known shanties with a zeal that earned the tavern its name. Sylvanas and Jaina could hardly hear one another speak over the noise, leaning their heads close to swap stories or comments as they watched the other patrons.

When two pies and two mugs of dark frothy tripel were brought out, Sylvanas’ head perked up. She took one of the plates, looking around at their small table. “No cutlery?”

With a pointed look at her, Jaina picked up her own pie with her hands and started to eat.

“Blessed be the sun,” Sylvanas sighed in Thalassian.

They ate and drank in peace. Jaina savoured every bite. She leaned back in her seat when she’d finished, cradling the pint in her hands and nursing it slowly as the fire warmed her side.

“I have a newfound appreciation for your struggles with elven cuisine,” Sylvanas admitted as she finished her own pie.

“You did tell me you would struggle just as much in Kul Tiras as I did in Quel’Thalas.”

“Prescentience is a necessary quality for a general.”

“Apparently so is an ego the size of planetary bodies.”

Sylvanas grinned at her. “No, but it helps.”

Jaina snorted with laughter and sipped at her beer. Just as she was thinking this night was finally taking a turn for the better, she heard a gruff voice from the crowd.

“Isn’t that the Lord Admiral’s daughter?”

Freezing, Jaina’s eyes widened. Beside her, Sylvanas went just as still and tense.

A few patrons turned to look at them. “Oy! Aren’t you two supposed to be at some fancy party at the Keep?”

“Was that what all those foreigners are here for?”

“I could have sworn I saw a dwarf in Tradewinds. Hairy as a pirate, and shorter than a cabin boy.”

“Come off it, Baz.��

“What’s the occasion, then?” One of them asked Jaina and Sylvanas directly. More people had joined in, half of the pub staring their way to get a glimpse of the Lord Admiral’s daughter.

Jaina half expected them to not actually wait for her reply. When they did however, she stammered out, “Uhm -- It’s just -- My wedding anniversary?”

That earned her a few scattered laughs.

“You don’t sound very sure about that, love.”

“Did you forget the wedding night? Thought you were supposed to remember that kind of thing.”

More laughter, and more raucous this time.

Jaina’s face was bright red now. Sylvanas’ shoulders were tense, her gaze fierce. She made an abortive movement, but Jaina grabbed her by the arm and shook her head.

“So, where’s your elven general, then? That her, there?”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Abruptly, Sylvanas reached up with her other hand and swept back the hood of her cloak. Rising from her seat, Sylvanas offered the room a mock bow. Appreciative whistles and claps answered her antics.

“Time to take advantage of the open borders! Anyone got a boat for Silvermoon?”

“How’d you land yourself such a catch, Lady Proudmoore?” Someone called from the back of the crowd.

Jaina didn’t know what possessed her to shout in reply, “By using finer bait than you could afford!”

The roar of laughter that followed filled the tavern. A few people slapped their hands atop their tables.

Someone swayed to their feet and hoisted a tankard into the air. “A toast for the Lady Proudmoore and the finest catch!”

As the crowd tipped their pints back, Jaina pulled discreetly at the edge of Sylvanas’ cloak. When Sylvanas glanced in her direction, Jaina nodded her head towards the exit, which was not so conveniently located all the way on the other side of the room.

“Barkeep!” One of the patrons yelled. “Drinks on the house for the happy couple!”

Jaina tried to wave that away. “Oh, no. Really. We should get going.”

A chorus of disappointed cries rose at that. “So soon? The night’s still young!”

“Pull up a chair, General!”

“Tell us about Quel’Thalas!”

“Fuck Quel’Thalas. Tell us about the Second War!”

“How old are you, General? Were you in the First War, too?”

Sylvanas ignored them. Taking Jaina by the hand, she started towards the exit. Nobody tried to stop them, but they barely made it halfway there when someone shouted, “Come on! You’ve got to give us something!”

“Give the Lady something at least!”

More laughter. It was crowded enough that Jaina was half pressed up against Sylvanas as they attempted to wedge their way through the other patrons.

“Go on, Lady Proudmoore! Show her how Kul Tirans give as good as they get!”

“I’m well aware of that already!” Sylvanas countered as they inched their way towards the exit.

At that, the patrons all but crowed.

“Prove it!” someone shouted.

“Prove it!” another repeated, and a number of them pounded their fists on the tables.

Sylvanas’ jaw was squared. She glanced at Jaina, before looking away quickly, trying and failing to push through to the exit as the crowd took up the cry.

“Just -” Jaina tugged lightly at the front of Sylvanas’ woollen cloak, even though they already stood near enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from Sylvanas’ figure. “Just kiss me. Let’s get this over with and go.”

Sylvanas hesitated only a fraction of a second before she seemed to come to a conclusion. Something flickered in her glowing gaze, and then she cupped the back of Jaina’s neck in one hand and bowed her head down to kiss her.

The twice they had kissed before, Jaina had initiated it. And both times, no matter how lingering or desperate or ceremonious, their kisses had remained firmly, strictly chaste. Now, Sylvanas grabbed Jaina by the hip with her free hand to pull their bodies flush together. Jaina inhaled sharply through her nose when she felt Sylvanas’ mouth open against hers, the tip of that tongue brushing against Jaina’s lower lip.

Hesitantly, Jaina let her mouth drop fractionally open, and Sylvanas did not wait to deepen the kiss. Jaina could faintly hear a whimper catch at the back of her own throat. This was nothing like before. This was fervent and heady and hungry. Sylvanas’ hand slipped down to the small of Jaina’s back, her other tightening its grip in Jaina’s hair. Her legs trembled when she felt her tongue graze against one of Sylvanas’ fangs, when those fingers skimmed against the nape of her neck, when Sylvanas pressed one leg forward, just enough that a jolt ran through Jaina from crown to toe and her breathing grew ragged.

All around them, the tavern patrons were roaring and laughing in approval, slamming their tankards against their tables in a slosh of bitter ale. Jaina could barely hear them over the buzzing in her ears, noises crashing together into a wordless static. She was clutching at Sylvanas’ shoulders like a lifeline, her eyes half shut, her vision hazy.

Even when Sylvanas broke the kiss, she didn’t pull away immediately. Jaina gasped, her grip tightening around the rough fabric of Sylvanas’ stolen cloak as if to hold her in place, or perhaps to hold herself upright. Jaina wasn’t quite sure.

Sylvanas swayed forward, and for a moment Jaina thought she was going to kiss her again as their mouths brushed. Instead, Sylvanas inhaled sharply and straightened. She took Jaina by the hand and dragged her at last from the packed tavern.

The cold night air hit Jaina like a slap to the face. Sylvanas was already pulling up the hood of her cloak once more and stalking back the way they’d come. Clutching her own cloak around her shoulders, Jaina hurried after her, half-jogging to keep up with Sylvanas’ long-legged stride. Her exposed skin was numbed by the time they reached Proudmoore Keep.

The last of the guests were departing through the front gates. Sylvanas and Jaina did not speak as they crept back through the sally port, avoiding the detection of stewards and guardsmen all the way through the Keep until the very last stretch of corridor. There, Jaina tried to say something, only for Sylvanas to stop suddenly in the hallway leading to their quarters.

“What’s -?” Jaina started to ask, but she fell silent when she looked around Sylvanas and saw who it was that stood before their bedroom door.

Ithedis glowered, shield in hand, his expression thunderous.

“Oh…” Jaina winced. “Shit.”

For a moment Ithedis said nothing. When he spoke, his tone was as stiff and officious as ever. If not for the fury in his gaze, she might have thought nothing was wrong.

“My Lady,” he began, “you disappeared for nearly three hours.”

Jaina grimaced, “I know. I’m sorry. We were just -”

When she trailed off, Ithedis continued, “It does not concern me where you go in private, only that you tell me where and when you go.”

“I know,” Jaina repeated, more firmly this time. “It was a spur of the moment decision, Ithedis. We didn’t mean to worry you.”

“And yet you did. The only reason why I did not tear this Keep apart brick by brick, is because the Ranger-General was also gone, and I presumed she was with you.”

At the mention of her title, Sylvanas’ ears twitched beneath cloth. She reached up and pulled back the hood, but said nothing.

“If this were Quel’Thalas,” Ithedis said, “it would have been different. But this is a diplomatic mission, and the officials here all have their own agendas. I know of at least two guests tonight, who would have gladly taken advantage of any vulnerability to see this alliance in ruins by the month’s end.”

“Just two?” Jaina said weakly. Ithedis gave her a sharp look, and she mumbled, “Sorry.”

With a sigh, he stepped forward. His voice softened, “The Lord Admiral was asking after you. I told her that the two of you had adjourned to your quarters for the evening. My answer seemed to satisfy her curiosity.”

Jaina shifted, uncomfortable. “Thank you.”

He nodded. Walking past them, Ithedis parted with a brief, “I am only glad you are unhurt, Lady Proudmoore. Lady Windrunner.”

Jaina held her breath until he had rounded the corner, and they were alone in the hallway. She tried to laugh, walking towards the door to her old rooms and pulling it open, but it sounded feeble to her own ears. “Well, that didn’t go quite as expected.”

She stepped into her rooms, but Sylvanas did not follow. Hesitating in the doorway, Jaina looked back.

It had been months since Sylvanas had last worn an expression that Jaina could not decipher. Now, Sylvanas was watching her with an utterly inscrutable face. She looked as if she had been carved from stone, the unyielding line of her shoulders, the fists clenched at her side. Jaina swallowed against the sudden dryness of her throat, afraid to speak, afraid at what answer she might hear.

“Are you -?”

“I have something I must attend to,” Sylvanas said abruptly, sounding hoarse. She turned on her heel, already walking away. “Don’t wait up for me.”

“Wait -” Jaina started to say, but the words died on her tongue.

Sylvanas left with quick and silent footfalls. Jaina stared after her until that dark green cloak whipped around the corner, and she was gone.

In a daze, Jaina stepped into her room and shut the door. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her hands and face were only just warming from their walk. Still feeling numb despite the fire crackling away across the room, Jaina tugged off the stolen cloak and tossed it onto the floor. She leaned her shoulders back against the closed door, and simply stood there, gazing at the empty room.

She chewed at her lower lip, at the memory of the kiss. It lingered at the very edge of sensation. Fragments of it came rushing back like the tide in a jumble. The softness of Sylvanas’ mouth. The firm grip of her hands. The glide of her tongue. The insistent press of her thigh.

Even now, Jaina could feel a coil of heat hooking into a place beneath her stomach. She shifted her feet and could feel an answering slickness between her legs.

Closing her eyes, Jaina tilted her head back until it bumped the door. She clenched her hands into fists, and repeated, “Shit.”

They did not talk about it.

At some point in the night Sylvanas had presumably returned to their room. It had taken Jaina an age to fall asleep alone, though she suspected she wouldn’t have slept at all if Sylvanas had stayed.

Not that anything would have happened -- she was absolutely sure nothing would have happened. Just that the very thought of trying to sleep that night knowing that Sylvanas was within arm’s reach would have been far far worse than what had actually transpired, which was Jaina clutching a pillow tightly to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut, and trying to ignore any friction when she shifted her thighs.

Needless to say, she slept very poorly when she did manage to finally fall asleep. And still, she woke up at the first traces of watery sunlight peering through a latticework of heavy cloud that dappled through the Keep’s windows. Groggy and already fending off a headache, Jaina stirred to find that the sheets on the other side of the bed were mussed and warm, but that Sylvanas was nowhere in sight.

Their travelling trunks were packed and ready to go by the door, an unwelcome reminder that they would be leaving Boralus today. With a groan, Jaina rubbed at her eyes and hauled herself from bed to get dressed. She had to force herself to brush out her hair rather than leave it in the tangled mess that her braid had become during the night. Then she re-braided it -- sloppily, and not nearly as nicely as Sylvanas would have done if she’d been there and if Jaina actually had the courage to ask her to touch her -- and, yawning, left the room.

Down at breakfast, Sylvanas was seated at the long dining table with Katherine, the two of them already eating and talking. Directly behind Sylvanas, the fireplace crackled with heat, though she still wore the enchanted cloak Jaina had made for her. A glint of her ceremonial armour could be seen when she moved, the gleam of a bracer here, the shine of a sabaton there.

Both Katherine and Sylvanas looked up when Jaina entered the dining hall. Their conversation died off, but not suspiciously so.

Katherine smiled warmly. “Good morning. Your wife and I were just commiserating over your sheer number of cousins.”

“They do seem to multiply every year, don’t they?” Jaina approached, fighting off another yawn. She hesitated for a moment between sitting at Sylvanas’ side or sitting across from her. Deciding that sitting across from her would look suddenly suspicious, Jaina took the same seat she had a few nights ago, slumping forward so that her elbows rested upon the table and she could rest her chin in her hands. “You two are up early.”

“Military time,” Sylvanas said by way of explanation. She met Jaina’s gaze, but glanced away soon after.

Something stuttered in Jaina’s chest. She straightened slowly, arms lowering. She had hoped that somehow last night had been a fluke. An accident. Something that would vanish like smoke by the time they saw one another again. In that brief moment however, a simple glance managed to send an electric jolt through her. Jaina’s hands clenched together in her lap. The bite of fingernails into her palms did nothing to ground her against the irrational idea that if she looked too long at Sylvanas every thought would be clear as day across her face.

She really needed a better night’s sleep. At least the nightmares had gone.

Clearing her throat, Jaina kept the shakiness from her voice, but just barely, “Can I have a cup of tea, please?”

The pot was nearest her mother, who leaned forward to pour Jaina a cup and pass it along. This end of the table was laden with various breakfast foods, all hearty Kul Tiran fare apart from a selection of fruit from Quel’Thalas. Sylvanas’ plate had been filled primarily with the fruit, though she had also taken a roll of buttered bread.

Jaina didn’t touch the food, but accepted the tea with a desperate kind of relish. Her stomach had seized itself into a knot of snakes. She hated the way she found herself watching Sylvanas out of the corner of her eye, like a naughty child peeking through a curtain at some forbidden scene beyond. Sylvanas seemed not to notice; she was wearing that inscrutable expression from last night. Jaina also hated that she was inscrutable again.

A steward approached Katherine with what appeared to be a letter. Without a word to him, she took it and he left. With a glance at Jaina, she remarked, “You look tired, my dear. Is something troubling you?”

Shaking her head, Jaina said, “I didn’t sleep very well.”

Technically not a lie, though the words still twisted in her mouth as if she had lied.

Katherine lifted one eyebrow as she broke the letter’s seal and opened it. “I thought you two went to bed early?”

Both Jaina and Sylvanas went tense.

“We - uh - well, we -” Jaina fumbled for what to say She could lie, but Katherine would know. Finally Jaina breathed out in a rush, “Can we talk about something else?”

Flipping open the letter, Katherine looked over the top of it at the two of them, but all she said was, “Certainly. Wasn’t it convenient, the way Priscilla Ashvane flung her wine at me last night right before you disappeared? I do love ruining my best frock in front of a roomful of my peers.”

Jaina froze. Beside her, she could hear Sylvanas’ soft derisive laugh, no more than an exhalation.

Face flushing, Jaina mumbled into her teacup, “Sorry.”

For all the flat disapproval in Katherine’s words, they lacked any bite, and the corner of her mouth pulled into the hint of a smile as she read her letter. “I must say, for a marriage of convenience I am glad you two get along so well. I know that’s not always the case.”

Jaina’s stomach swooped, and she made sure not to look at Sylvanas. Then, she frowned at her mother in confusion, “Wait. What do you mean: ‘you know’?”

Not looking up from her letter, Katherine sipped at her cup of tea. “Your father and I were an arranged pair, of course.”

“What?” Jaina gaped. “Why didn’t I know about this? Did you two not like each other?”

Katherine flipped to another page of her letter. “We got along just fine, obviously,” She gave her daughter an amused glance. “Did you never care to look into the line outside your Proudmoore lineage? I was a minor noble of House Waycrest and married into this House.” Taking a thoughtful drink of her tea, Katherine said, “Your father and I always thought you might have a bit of Drust in you. His line isn’t particularly well known for their magical abilities, after all.”

Jaina touched her pendant through the cloth of her robes. It radiated cold against her skin, but seemed to ignite beneath her fingers, a flare like a cool breeze sending a shiver down Jaina’s spine. She snatched her hand away and continued to drink her tea.

“It’s a shame we have to leave so soon, Lord Admiral. You’ve been an excellent host,” Sylvanas said. She ate a slice of red-fleshed fruit that smelled of nectarines and made her mouth brighter against the gold of her skin. In the grey halls of Proudmoore Keep, Sylvanas burned like a torch, all crimson and colour. Jaina had to swallow down a hasty gulp of tea and look away, when Sylvanas’ tongue swiped at the corner of her mouth.

“You’re welcome back at any time,” Katherine replied, folding up her letter and setting it aside. “And best of luck with your fledgling navy.”

“We won’t need luck. We have your daughter.”

If Jaina could have hid behind her teacup, she would have. Still, she tried her best as both her mother and her wife watched her -- one with mild amusement, the other unreadable as a book in another language.

“And I’m sure she’ll do me proud,” Katherine said, both serious and teasing all at once. “You have sixty ships of the line in total now, yes? You’ll need to elect a Vice Admiral to help with your command administration right off the bat, Jaina.”

Jaina paled at the implication of that. “Oh, no. I’m not the Admiral of the Silvermoon Fleet. That’s -” She pointed to Sylvanas.

At that, Sylvanas tilted her head to one side. “I’m sure we’ll find someone suitable for the job.”

“I hope so,” Katherine sighed. She picked up a knife to start buttering a roll of bread, but paused to gesture with it towards the letter at her elbow. “I’ve just received news from the west. More Zandalari ships engaging in skirmishes all along our waters, trying to lure us into a vulnerable position. As if I’d be so stupid.”

Sylvanas hummed, taking another bite of fruit and leaning her elbows on the table. “We’ve experienced similar to the east. I suspect they’re trying to keep us off balance so that when the real attack comes, we won’t know from which direction.”

Katherine put down her knife, leaning it against the edge of her plate. “It is the obvious strategy. Turn their greatest weakness into their greatest strength.” She gave a little huff of annoyance, scowling at the bread roll in her hand. “It’s bloody irritating when the enemy actually has a decent head on their shoulders.”

Sylvanas’ answering chuckle was dark and throaty. “Yes, but that’s what makes it so fun.”

“You and I have very different ideas of fun,” Katherine replied dryly, taking a bite of bread. As she chewed she looked over at Jaina. “Is this the reason why you were almost killed in an ambush?”

“That was too much fun, even for her,” Jaina said.

With a disdainful sniff, Katherine said, “I think I’ll stick to a good novel and a warm fire for fun, thank you.”

Sylvanas snorted. “I see you get more from your mother than a magical ancestry.”

Jaina’s last morning in Kul Tiras passed far too quickly. She drew out the pot of tea with her mother for as long as she could, but before long Sylvanas was pushing back her chair with a murmur about seeing to their luggage. Then Jaina perused the Keep’s library and her mother’s own personal stock of strategy books, during which Katherine offered helpful commentaries on which texts would be the most use and for what.

Soon, Katherine was seeing them off back at Unity Square. Jaina had loaded an extra travelling trunk with books and other materials from the Keep’s library. A crowd had gathered to see them off, just as they had done when Jaina and Sylvanas had first arrived. A smaller but no less dignified military arrangement accompanied them, bringing up the rear procession. Thankfully, they did not have a repeat of the twenty-one gun salute.

Jaina hugged her mother twice before opening up a portal. Once before she opened the portal and once after, for longer. She took a moment to breathe in the familiar smell of her coat, tightening her hold around her mother’s waist and savouring the way Katherine stroked her back.

“When do you go back?” Jaina asked into her mother’s shoulder. She didn’t need to clarify. They both knew that Katherine spent more time at sea than she did on land.

“Two days,” Katherine murmured, squeezing her just a little tighter.

Not for the first time in her life, Jaina wished she could teleport herself onto the Lord Admiral’s flagship so she could visit her mother whenever she wanted. But a teleportation spell or any portal required the caster to know the exact location of their destination, and the flagship was never still.

With a final squeeze, Jaina pulled away. She waved before stepping through the portal. Back to Dalaran, and then back to Quel’Thalas, Sylvanas right on her heels, Ithedis not far behind them.

The heat of Silvermoon swept over Jaina in a sickening wave. It had her tugging off her greatcoat and slinging it across the crook of her elbow. She looked up at the spires of Goldenbough Manor, which glinted bronze in the noonday sun. Long thin triangular banners streamed from various points of the tall, slender building, emblazoned with the emblems of both House Windrunner and Proudmoore.

The first thing Jaina noticed was how colourful the world seemed here in comparison to the perennially overcast gloom of Boralus. The second thing Jaina noticed was an odd sensation blooming in her chest, a warmth that had nothing to do with the summery air of Quel’Thalas.

Something about the sights, perhaps? The sound of lyrical birdsong? Or the scents of the manor itself -- sweet amber resin and sun-baked earth and roses -- as the doors opened and she walked with Sylvanas into the entryway? Jaina could not tell.

Rather than head upstairs to their quarters to change, Sylvanas strode straight towards the rear atrium. Curious, Jaina followed, trailing in Sylvanas’ wake a few steps behind. Sylvanas pushed open the double glass doors leading to the sweeping estate grounds overlooking the sea. She did not stop walking until she had left the shade of the manor and stood in a glare of light so intense Jaina had to shield her eyes with the flat of one hand.

Then, Sylvanas removed her cloak, draped it on the ground, and sprawled down atop it so that she basked, arms outstretched gracelessly to either side, in the sun.

“I can never leave Quel’Thalas ever again,” Sylvanas sighed in pleasure. Her eyes were closed and she tilted her face up to the sun.

Jaina stood over her, angling herself so that her shadow did not disturb Sylvanas’ sun-soak. Despite the events of the morning and the night before, she could feel a soft smile pulling at the corner of her mouth as she studied the fan of Sylvanas’ hair across the cloak, a spill of gold across storm grey fabric. Jaina idly plucked at a loose thread curling from a button of the greatcoat folded over her arm.

Sylvanas opened her eyes, meeting Jaina’s gaze but not moving from her spot on the ground. “Are you sad to have left Kul Tiras?”

Looking out across the whitewashed cliffs, the sea beyond a dappled emerald blue, Jaina felt that same strange stirring that scratched at a place just behind her breastbone. The pendant seemed to answer that feeling, an echo of sensation. With her free hand she played with the pale stone on its fine chain around her neck.

Another year rolled out before them like a long length of cloth stretching to the horizon from their feet. She had Novices to teach, new offices to move into, exchange Apprentices to arrange in Boralus, naval officers to induct at Sunsail Anchorage, a mysterious pendant to crack, work to be done, direction and purpose -- and a wife watching her with wary eyes, as if waiting for Jaina to affirm every fear she harboured.

Jaina shook out her admiralty greatcoat. She placed it on the ground and sat atop it right beside Sylvanas. Rolling up the sleeves of her white button down shirt, Jaina smiled, leaned her arms upon her knees, and said, “Actually I was thinking it was good to be home.”

#sylvaina #increments of longing #sylvanas windrunner #jaina proudmoore #roman writes #phew I'm tired #anyway #enjoy!

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stillthewordgirl · 6 years ago

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LOT/CC fic: Ripples in Time (Ch. 3 of 3)

Set in my "Chances Are" continuity. (In which Leonard Snart got stuck in 1958 with Sara, Ray, and Kendra.) Rip's already lectured Sara and Leonard about how their actions in 1958 may have changed many things. Turns out, at least one of those things strikes very close to home. Set between chapters 16 and 17 of "Somewhere on Your Road Tonight."

Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

It’s late by the time they get back to the hotel, sneaking in like teenagers, but Sara’s still so full of adrenaline that she makes quite good on the promise of that kiss. Later, Leonard somewhat groggily asks for the number of the truck that hit him—though he does it with a pleased smirk on his face—before falling quite soundly asleep, and Sara follows soon afterward, still entwined with him on the far-bigger-than-Waverider-quarters king bed.

She sleeps soundly herself, waking by the time she’d planned to and rising quietly. Leonard only utters a sleepy murmur, but he opens his eyes a little by the time she returns, showered and dressed.

“Going somewhere?” he mutters, reaching for her. Sara evades him easily, but then leans back over to kiss him.

“I told you,” she reminds him. “I’m going to see Dig and Lyla and baby Sara, and then to lunch with Thea.”

Leonard blinks, but then she sees memory rise in his eyes again. “Right.” He pushes himself up on an elbow. Sara hums appreciatively as the sheet falls aside a bit, giving her a very nice view. “You want me to come with you?”

She’d already told him it was fine, but she gives it due thought again anyway. Something about the idea of seeing Len meet her small namesake is very appealing. But…

Leonard nods as he sees her pause. “Go see the kid without having to explain me,” he says quietly, stretching back out—and smirking as he sees Sara’s eyes trail slowly down his torso, following the line of dark (OK, maybe a little graying) hair under the sheet that’s still slung over his hips. “I’ll see you later.”

“Mmmm.”

“Sara. Aren’t they waiting for you?”

“They’re not going anywhere.” Her fingers twitch with the impulse to reach out and pull away that sheet.

“Neither am I.”

When Sara finally does leave, Leonard’s not ashamed to admit he goes back to sleep, enjoying the opportunity in a way he rarely can. When he finally rises, he gets ready in a more leisurely fashion, then tries to figure out what to do next.

It’s obvious, probably. It doesn’t take long before he decides to see if he can saunter into the Arrowcave like he does into STAR Labs. Hopefully without getting an arrow through the brain.

Well. He’s never been one to make the wisest decisions. And the challenge is intriguing.

Presumably, Queen & Co. won’t want to piss off Sara by killing him. So there’s that.

Memory gets him to the site. Skill gets him in. The security system is good, very good, but it’s not Leonard Snart good. He doesn’t even trip it. He just…convinces it.

So, he’s very, very smug when he saunters into the Arrowcave proper, smirk on his face, hands behind his back, trying not to look like a threat but completely willing to look like an asshole.

It lasts as long as it takes him to get far enough for Felicity Smoak (who’s sitting at her desk and studying her computer) to glance up and see him.

“Oh,” she says in a bored tone, “it’s you.” Then, to his surprise, she giggles. “The man of the hour.”

Well, this isn’t what he expected. Or wanted. Leonard frowns at her, letting his arms fall to his sides. “Come again?”

Felicity waves a hand at another desk. “Read ‘er and weep, lover boy.”

Leonard eyes her a moment, then sidesteps over to that desk. There’s a newspaper there, one of the more tabloid-ish local ones, and he glances down at it.

His jaw drops. Felicity snickers again.

There’s a photo there. It’s under the fold, as the top is face down, but it’s still clear and in full color. And it’s…him. And Sara. Kissing. There on the rooftop. A nearly full moon in the background, illuminating them in a scene like something from a movie.

The photographer had somehow managed to miss the archer in green who was on the rooftop with them. Leonard stares at it a moment, then skims the caption. Oh. Peachy. They’ve clearly identified him as Central City’s Captain Cold (“hasn’t been seen for six months since his escape from Iron Heights”) and they’re baffled by Sara (“another Star City Canary?…successor?...who?...why?”). To his slight amusement, the paper’s clearly linked them to the police raid on the drug operation, though not the Arrow, and they’re both being taken as well-intentioned, if vigilante-inclined, heroic types.

It’s a good pic, actually. Even if he never saw it coming. Leonard studies it a moment longer, imagining what’s going to happen if Lisa sees it before he can explain, then shakes his head.

“Way to destroy my image.” he sighs, tossing the paper aside.

Felicity is peering around her screen, looking like she’s holding back laughter. “You did it to yourself,” she points out.

“That’s who I was talking to.” Then something else occurs to him, something involving Felicity and how he first “met” her and who her friends are—and how she’s watching him with such gless. Leonard stops in his tracks. “Wait. Tell me you didn’t send that to…”

Too late. He closes his eyes in resignation as a golden-red blur darts into the room, resolving into a red-suited man who’s not even bothering to wear a mask, but who is wearing an immense grin.

“…Barry Allen,” Leonard finishes. “Gee. Thanks, Smoak.”

Felicity stands, eyes huge. “Wait. You know…”

“Yes, I know his name,” Leonard drawls in exasperation before folding his arms and leveling a stare at the other man. “Barry.”

“Snart!” the younger man says happily. He looks like he’s going to step forward and try for a hug, but Leonard steps deliberately backward when he sees it coming, and Barry stops. “I knew you guys were back for a couple days, but Dr. Stein and Jax and Mick wouldn’t say where you were. You and Sara Lance? Really?”

Leonard keeps his gaze chilly. “That tone of surprise is rather insulting, Allen.”

“I didn’t mean it that way!” Barry looks a little rattled, which is satisfying, but that big grin is still there. Once, Leonard would have assumed it was mocking him, but he knows better now, with 1958 and Gabriel Drive behind him. Barry Allen is idealistic and brave and, OK, kinda cute. He’s also kind, and Leonard knows it now for the odd strength it is instead of a weakness.

If he really thinks Leonard is happy with Sara Lance, that grin is 100 percent genuine.

“It’s just…” Barry actually scuffs a toe on the ground. It’s kind of adorable. Leonard scowls. “…I never even thought it was likely that you two would meet, let alone…ah…”

“Hook up?” Felicity asks gleefully from her desk, apparently deciding to try to stir the pot a little more for her own entertainment. Leonard ignores her, although Barry flushes a little.

“Yeah,” he mutters, though he keeps that damned grin. “After all that protesting about not being a hero…”

“I’m not…” Leonard gives up. “What’s your point?”

“Nothing! Good for you, Snart. I mean…is it serious? Um.” Barry darts a glance at Felicity while Leonard decides he’d rather sink into the ground and vanish than have Barry Allen fishing for clues about his intentions toward Sara. “Does Oliver know…?”

“Does Oliver know what?” The man himself stalks into the room and Leonard closes his eyes in a “give me strength” gesture. There’s a faint sound from the far wall and an elevator opens, letting Laurel out. It’s a measure, Leonard figures, of how weird this whole situation is that he’s relieved to see the lawyer. He tosses a glance her way as she wheels toward them, annoyed that it probably comes out a little pleading, and is even more annoyed when Barry…well, giggles is probably the best word…on his other side.

But Queen takes one look at the paper and snorts, a sound that Leonard thinks might actually contain a little amusement. “Oh, I did,” the archer says. “Frankly, I think everyone in the city has. And beyond.” He gives Leonard a cool look, but there is indeed a hint of humor in his gaze. “I should have warned you. The would-be paparazzi have taken to camping out in places with good views of likely rooftops. Sorry about that.”

He’s not sorry at all. Leonard regards him steadily, then decides not to take the bait. “Well,” he drawls, looking down at the photo. “It’s a good pic. Maybe they’ll give us a copy of the file in exchange for an autographed copy or something.”

Queen loses the smile, but Laurel chuckles. She starts to say something, but they’re interrupted by the footsteps, and Sara’s voice lifting in greeting.

“Hey,” she calls as she enters the room, “look who I found outside!”

Because this day couldn’t much any weirder or more awkward. Still, Leonard finds his lips lifting in a smile as he watches Mick sauntering in at Sara’s side, eyeing the gathered heroes with a look of wary uncertainty. He obviously brightens with relief, too, as he sees Leonard, though he quickly hides it behind habitual surliness and the expression that says clearly that he’s already decided to give no fucks about this gang of heroes before they can decide not to give any fucks about him.

“Allen,” he barks at Barry. “What the hell?”

Barry looks sheepish. “Well, I wasn’t going to bring you in here without asking,” he retorts, then looks at the nonplussed-looking Queen. “Uh. Hi, Oliver…”

Felicity raises a hand. “Uh. Did you just tell the arsonist Oliver’s name?”

“Already knew it, Ponytail.”

Eyes go to Leonard, who promptly jerks his thumb at Sara, perfectly willing to pass the buck. She rolls her eyes.

“They’re my teammates,” she says with exasperation, folding her arms, “no matter what you think of their prior career paths.” She glances at Mick. “You’re not going to burn down the Arrowcave, right, Mick?”

“Pro’bly not.”

“See?”

Queen finds his voice. “Sara…”

Sara can take care of herself. Leonard moves with some alacrity toward Mick. “You let Allen flash you over here? Really?”

His friend shrugs. “I was bored. And Allen wigged out over that pic…though not as much as Ramon did.” He smirks. “You OK? Blondie’s dad didn’t try to murder you?”

“Not yet, anyway.” Leonard’s trying to decide whether to surreptitiously get Mick out of there or stay and watch the potential chaos, when his thoughts are interrupted by a quiet, amused voice.

“Mr. Rory, I presume?”

He glances over and sees Laurel sitting there watching them, a smile hovering around her mouth. He offers her a wry smile, glancing at Mick, who blinks at Sara’s sister as she sits there and considers him.

“Yeah,” he finally manages. “Hi.”

Laurel inclines her head to him, extending her hand. Mick, looking slightly flummoxed, takes it, but keeps holding it as if he’s not sure what to do with it. Leonard, not sure whether to smirk or wince, clears his throat, but Laurel doesn’t seem to mind, considering Mick thoughtfully.

“I understand that you’ve known Mr. Snart here a long time,” she tells him. “In fact, I gather you’re the next best thing to brothers.”

Mick blinks. Leonard blinks. But neither of them bothers to deny it.

“Uh,” Mick says finally. “Yeah. And yer Sara’s sister.”

Leonard winces again. Laurel just smiles.

“I am,” she acknowledges. “And I have so many embarrassing stories about her. And I’m willing to share them.”

Mick brightens. Belatedly, he gives her hand a shake, letting go, but Leonard sees Laurel tighten her fingers around his, briefly, first, almost a gesture of encouragement. Then she starts asking him about Leonard, about how they met, and Lisa, and Leonard decides that even after everything, Mick won’t purposely try to sabotage Laurel’s opinion of him.

He backs slowly off even as Sara comes up beside him, bumping his shoulder with hers and chuckling evilly as she sees Laurel talking to Mick.

“She’s not Mick’s type,” he says, even though he’ll admit some uncertainty. “Too classy.”

“I think you might be wrong about that,” Sara murmurs without saying exactly what he’s wrong about, but continues without clarifying. “Well. Even if nothing like that does happen, I think they might be something even rarer and more special.”

She smiles at his inquiring look, answering the unspoken question. “Friends. And isn’t that unexpected?”

“Huh.” Leonard considers them. Mick can claim all he wants that he doesn’t have friends, but that’s changed, on the Waverider…and he’s certainly behaving himself for the moment.

“Laurel’s good with people,” Sara says softly. “Better than I am. And…she’s changed. Once, I could see her balking at…”

“Befriending a criminal and arsonist?”

“Well, yeah. Now…” Sara smiles a little more, watching as Mick answers some question or another, getting a smile from Laurel. “We’ve all changed.”

“True, that.”

Somehow, with Barry’s visit and the entry of a few of the other members of Team Arrow, the gathering at the Arrowcave’s developed an oddly congenial atmosphere. Barry’s dispatched to get Iris at Felicity’s insistence, and the Diggle family turns up with wings and pizza at one point. Leonard’s getting used to getting various sorts of once-overs as new players arrive, and he thinks he’s handing them with equanimity.

When the Diggles arrive, Sara reaches for the tiny, curly-haired girl with a murmur of pleasure, and Leonard can’t help but watch as small Sara Diggle reaches for her in return. He exchanges a glance with the namesake’s father—one that on John Diggle’s part says clearly “don’t mess with us—or her--and we won’t mess with you”—and nods in acknowledgement.

The man Felicity calls “Curtis” gives him another sort of once-over, and the men exchange a nod with its own sort of recognition. He’s cute, in the sorta-geeky-yet-sorta-badass way Leonard has a certain predilection for in guys, and it’s kind of nice to see the same sort of appreciation there, even if neither one of them will act on it.

Then Thea Queen arrives and, having apparently been filled in by Sara, checks him out in the sort of semi-lascivious slow scan that actually draws a smirk from Leonard’s face. She winks at him when she’s done, and he winks back, and just like that, they seem to be OK.

Someone, at some point, gets beer and other beverages. Leonard notes in bemusement that a few more familiar faces have arrived…the Steins and Jax, Cisco and Snow. Sara’s in her glory, talking to old friends and new, and after a while, Leonard merely gets a drink, parks his back against a wall and watches her, smiling at her happiness.

“Snart.”

“Queen.” Leonard takes a drink of his beer, not taking his eyes off Sara. Oliver Queen leans next to him, apparently watching the same thing. After a few moments, though, Leonard can feel the gaze on him.

“I do not...dislike you as much as I would have thought.”

As overtures go, it’s certainly not the friendliest, but it’s more sincere for all that, and Leonard turns a little, eyeing the vigilante. “Same,” he drawls. Then he tilts his head. “I’m sensing a ‘but.’”

(He thinks he deserves a medal for not layering innuendo in those last words. A freakin’ medal.)

Queen doesn’t seem aware of that, but he does acknowledge the words with a return tip of his head—and a frown that makes Leonard frown in return.

After a moment, Queen speaks again. “I want Sara to be happy. She’s been through a lot and…” He hesitates. “A lot of it was my fault. In one way or another.”

Leonard leaves that alone. “You don’t think she’s happy,” he says, watching Sara and the smile on her face, making it both a question and not. He feels Queen turn his head to watch her too, and the silence between them stretches.

“No,” the other man finally says, with a sigh. “I know she is. I can see it. But…” He looks back at Leonard, who’s rather surprised to see sympathy in his eyes. “Snart. For how long?”

Leonard narrows his eyes. “Explain.”

Queen looks back at Sara, who’s still holding a contented-looking Sara Diggle and talking to the woman named Lyla. “What are you going to do?” he asks. “Come back from killing Savage and go back to being a crook?” His gaze flicks back to Leonard. “Shift paths and be a hero?” He holds up a hand as the other man starts to retort. “I know it worked out all right yesterday. But…people know who you were. Do you really think they’ll just let you change?”

Leonard wants to get angry about the words, but…there’s a strong feeling of inside knowledge there, and even pain, in Queen’s voice. And he’s wondered about such things himself; it’s why he’d grabbed the opportunity to reinvent himself with both hands, back in 1958. But can he do it in 2016?

He hesitates, and Queen sees it. The other man nods curtly.

“If it doesn’t work out, whatever your new plan is, what happens?” he says. “Do you just leave? Sara…she’s had too many people leave. But do you really feel like there’s a future for you two?”

Leonard stares at him. He still wants to be angry. Hell, he wants to be enraged. He wants to deny what Queen’s saying. But…

He’s said it himself. Queen’s right. Many people aren’t very willing to let juvenile delinquents…or their adult versions…be anything else once they’ve labeled them so.

Leonard glances away. He hears the other man sigh.

“I don’t…” Queen stops. Then he sighs again. “Just…think about it,” he says, shaking his head. He turns and walks away, back toward Felicity.

Leonard watches him go. Then he looks back at Sara, who’s set little Sara down and is smiling at the small girl as she toddles across the floor. And then he turns away, heading for the stairwell.

He needs some fresh air…and some space to think.

“Where’s Leonard?”

Sara’s been enjoying herself quite a bit during this rather impromptu party in the Arrowcave. She’s kept an eye on Leonard and Mick as she catches up with old friends, pleased at how they seem to be relatively comfortable—definitely more comfortable than she’d feared, or even hoped. Mick had been pleased at the arrival of others he actually knew, and it seems like Stein, of all the people, has decided to be somewhat protective of him.

They’ve become family, on the Waverider. As amazing and unlikely as that might seem.

Leonard had been holding up the wall and watching everyone and everything in his usual fashion, but he’d seemed comfortable enough. But he’s not there now, and Sara realizes she can’t remember when she’d last seen him there. And when she had…

Oliver’s looking guilty. Goddamnit.

Sara starts for him purposefully, glaring, and Felicity, seeing her coming, glances at him too. Her eyes narrow—she’s even better at judging guilty Oliver Queen expressions than Sara is. Laurel, no slouch at that herself, glances over, then starts wheeling toward them.

Oliver looks alarmed. Good.

“We had…a talk,” he says abruptly, folding his arms as the three women converge on him. “But if he left, he left of his own volition.”

“Oliver Queen,” Felicity hisses. “What did you say?”

He starts sputtering, but Sara doesn’t want to hear it. She turns away, scanning the room, then starts for the stairs.

“Sara!”

She turns back, looking at Laurel. (Felicity’s already lighting into Oliver as others start to notice.)

Laurel studies her, empathy in her eyes.

“If he left,” she says, “he’s still planning to come back. That man wouldn’t leave you on Oliver Queen’s say-so.”

Sara gives her a reluctant smile. “That man,” she responds, “won’t do anything on Oliver’s say-so.”

Laurel smiles in return. “Go find him,” she instructs. “No matter what stupid thing Ollie said, this Leonard Snart loves you. He won’t have gone far.”

She’s right.

Leonard, for all his relative dislike of heights, had gone where Sara is likely to find him—up, to the Star City rooftops. She finds him there, staring out at the city, expression distant and thoughtful.

He turns his head as he hears her approach, and she sees a smile flicker across his face. Well, that’s something, at least.

“You OK?” Sara asks as she joins him, gazing out at her city as well.

Leonard makes a noncommittal noise. “I just needed some fresh air.”

Sara snorts. “What did Oliver say to you?”

“Nothing that isn’t true.” But he caves as Sara lifts an eyebrow at him. “Suggested I think about what sort of future we’d have, me and you.”

Sara resolves, again, to kick Ollie’s ass. “That…” She stops. Sighs. “I want a future with you, Leonard. What that future is…we’ll work that out together.”

Leonard gives her another flicker of a smile. “Yes. That’s a given.” He hesitates, then reaches out, taking her hand, a rare sort of gesture for him.

It’s a relief. But Sara frowns, wondering. “Then what’s wrong?”

Leonard looks down and takes a deep breath. But he’s still holding her hand, and he doesn’t drop it. “Sara,” he says slowly. “I don’t know that I’m…that I’m the marrying kind…”

Oh.

Sara takes her own deep breath. Her fingers tighten on his. “Len,” she says, just as slowly. “You and I both know that…that it’s not always just…just a man and a woman, a floofy white dress, and a big party-- and then a house with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids and a golden retriever.”

His eyes lift to hers. There’s so much in them, and for a moment it takes her breath away. Then she clears her throat and keeps going, the emotion in his eyes giving her the strength to continue.

“Really, I think, it just comes down to two people who…who look at each other and say… ‘I love you, and I’ll stay with you,” she says. “If you’ll have me.’”

The words come out more intense and direct than maybe she’d originally planned. But Sara knows immediately that she’s OK with that. She’s at peace in a way she never thought she’d be, actually, standing here on a rooftop in Star City, listening to the sounds of the city below, staring into the eyes of a snarky, infuriating, complicated, wonderful crook.

After a still, oddly serene moment, he tugs her just a little closer, expression gaining an edge of…something. Determination? Resolve? Sara puts her other hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat even through the layers he wears, strong and steady even through that armor.

Then he nods, almost to himself, and speaks.

“I love you,” he tells her quietly. “And I’ll stay with you. If you’ll have me.”

It’s a proposal, and they both know it. Or maybe she’d proposed first, and it’s just his half of a mutual proposal, which seems like them, to be honest. The thought makes Sara smile, even as she goes up on her toes to put them more on a level.

“Yes,” she says in return. “Yes. Of course I will.”

A return smile flickers across Leonard’s serious face, something more complicated than just happiness (though that’s part of it), deeper than just relief. He pulls her close and kisses her, then, there on the rooftop, and Sara winds her arms around his neck and kisses him back, pouring herself into it, letting some of the worries and concerns of the future drift away, because they have this.

They have this.

When they finally separate, they’re both grinning like idiots, even Leonard, for whom that particularly foolish smile seems quite incongruous. After a moment, he shakes his head and settles his features into something more Snartlike, sardonic amusement mixed with his habitual confidence, and holds out a hand. Sara takes it again, then tugs gently, starting to lead him back to the others, the friends and family who might be worried about them.

Leonard goes willingly, especially since she heads for the fire escape and not just the edge of the roof. Sara hears him chuckle as they start down, and glances back at him.

“Anyway, we don’t need a golden retriever,” he tells her solemnly. “We have Raymond.”

She doesn’t stop laughing until they get back to the Arrowcave.

#captain canary #ripples in time #chance are #arrowverse

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codynaomiswireart · 6 years ago

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“Gauze in the Wound” - Part 10

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 and 9

“Crying is all right in its way while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you have to decide what to do.”

~ C. S. Lewis, The Silver Chair

“I cannot believe you fools!” the Commander shouted to the line of agents that stood at attention before him, most of them flinching back as he ranted on, and doing their best to keep their balance on the swaying deck beneath their feet as the ferry glided southward along Corona’s western coast. “How!? Tell me, HOW did some of Saporia’s top operatives manage to let a mere child slip right through their fingers!? AND let themselves be bested by an old man!?”

“I’m right here you know,” Xavier muttered under his breath from where he sat chained to the mast, though no one around him took any notice of his comment. Xavier tried to fight passed the cotton ball feeling inside of his mouth as he spoke, still feeling a bit heady from the sway of the ferry and the effects of the knockout formula he had been stung with shortly after the Separatists had cornered him in the alley behind the forge. But even with these unpleasant sensations, Xavier couldn’t help but try to throw in a quip as he listened to the separatists quarrel amongst themselves.

“Well, maybe if someone thought to cover the back entrance instead of assuming the fences would’ve been enough to prevent any escape,” one of the lady agents snapped in the twins’ direction, “then maybe we would’ve gotten our prize!”

“Oh really!?” the lady spy hissed back through clenched teeth, her brother looking ready at any moment to restrain her from lunging at her accuser. “Well, maybe if YOU hadn’t hesitated to knock out the old man when we first got into the forge, then maybe we would’ve had a chance to grab the kid before he even knew what was going down!”

Several more shouts and rebukes broke out amongst the line of agents, but were soon silenced as the Commander shouted, “ENOUGH!” and everyone’s mouths snapped shut as he rubbed and pinched the bridge of his nose in clear irritation.

“By the blades of our ancestors, I would be perfectly within my rights to throw the whole lot of you incompetent buffoons overboard right now! This was supposed to be one of the most crucial missions ever pulled off in our lifetimes, and you all blew it! Do you have any idea what this is going to cost our campaign now that our first real viable advantage over Corona is out of our reach!?”

“With respect sir,” the male spy now made to speak, not showing any fear as the Commander looked sternly back at him. “Our mission was not a complete failure, and the Demanitus steel is not entirely out of our reach. We did bring back one of the very blacksmiths who worked on the blade after all.”

“Aaaah yes. Him. Really!? Do you really think he’ll actually be able to replicate the blade for us without the formula?”

“Oh he will,” the male spy continued, now eyeing Xavier with a sideways glance. “That is, he will, if he wants to live.”

Xavier merely gave a knowing smile at this. He had been expecting this kind of thing of course since his mind had cleared enough for him to realize where he was and what was happening. “I’ll go ahead and make this easy for you right now,” Xavier said in reply, doing his best to sound assertive as all eyes turned to him and he swallowed to clear his throat, and shook his head to clear it a little more before speaking. “You…you can do whatever you want to me, but…but I will n-never help you. The steel and its formula belong to Corona, and I am the king’s man. I would sooner die rather than help you.”

“Hmm…” the male spy hummed thoughtfully, now beginning to pace in front of Xavier as he laid a hand on the hilt of his sword. “‘Tis very noble of you to say so master blacksmith. I admire that, really. It isn’t often that we are faced with such courage as yours. However…” Here the man drew his sword from its scabbard, pointing it at Xavier’s throat, but Xavier didn’t even flinch as he felt the tip of the cold steel touch his skin, and simply did his best to hold eye contact with the man as blinked away the salty sea air from his eyes. “You may not be willing to help us if your life hangs in the balance. But…what about if the boy’s was?”

Xavier raised his eyebrows at this, but did his best to not let his resolve falter as he asked, “And…what makes you think you can even threaten him now? Varian is safe behind Corona’s walls.”

“Not as safe as you might think old man,” the male spy continued, pressing the sword a bit further to Xavier’s throat. “We all know Corona’s security forces are stretched thin as it is, and Saporia has more than just a few spies and arsonists within her ranks. Assassins, rogues, snipers, bounty hunters, mercenaries; we could easily employ someone to do the job to capture or take out a singular target like that. If you refuse to cooperate.”

Xavier frowned at these words, trying hard to discern through his tired mind whether or not the man before him was exaggerating things. Indeed, if Saporia had such skilled fighters at their beck and call, as the man seemed to suggest, then why hadn’t they taken out the king himself years ago and be done with things? It didn’t make sense that the separatists would spend all this time skulking in the shadows en masse when a single skilled archer or infiltrator could’ve done the job years ago.

But the more Xavier thought about, the more complicated the situation actually was. Saporia’s victory didn’t just depend on them taking out the king. For indeed, though such an act would certainly be a hard blow to Corona, the position King Frederic left behind could simply be filled by Queen Arianna, or even by Rapunzel herself as the head of state if the worst should happen. And the likelihood of carrying out three successful attempts on the lives of the royals (let alone one) would be virtually impossible, especially given the Captain’s own vigilance in keeping them all safe. And what about the other nobles loyal to the king and his family?

No. If Saporia was to win their underground war against Corona, they would have to ensure a total victory by a well-planned coup of the entire ruling government, or else a victory of conquest over her people by force. It seemed that the remnants of Saporia’s fighting forces were actually considering the second option as a viable one, and having a whole battalion armed with Demanitus steel shields, armor and weapons would surely make this idea not so far-fetched as it may initially seem.

In short, so long as they could get the means by which to craft their own Demanitus steel weaponry – while also short-circuiting Corona’s ability to do so – the Separatists of Saporia stood a good chance of gaining an upper hand, and perhaps even eventually taking Corona by force. This all depended then not only on the separatists having the formula for Demanitus steel, but also ensuring that those from Corona who knew how to make it were in their own charge…or else not able to craft it for Corona themselves.

“There’s still one problem,” Xavier now said, attempting to stifle the foreboding feeling growing in his chest as he thought about these things. “What makes you think that I would still be willing to help you when Varian’s life – as well as all the others’ of Corona mind you – would be under threat still once you got a hold of this weaponry? H-how much blood would have to be spilt in any event before you all are satisfied?”

“Do not insult us old man!” the man suddenly growled hard through clenched teeth as his eyes turned flinty. But he also opted to draw away his sword and smartly slide it back into its sheath as he continued to speak. “Contrary to popular Coronian beliefs master blacksmith, we Saporians are not savages! We’re not out to decimate Corona’s population. If they are willing to surrender quickly in light of whatever superior armament you craft for us, we of course will negotiate terms of peace with as little bloodshed as possible. And once the royals are deposed, they may go on living in the dungeons or in exile. But we refuse to stand by and let the already spilled blood of our ancestors be put to shame so long as Corona continues to exist. Besides, it’s not like ol’ Fred has been that great of a king now, has he? In fact, I seem to recall that it was due to his own negligence that Corona is currently in the straights that she’s in now. What sort of a king would allow his kingdom to fall into such disarray before seeking out any solution, eh?”

Xavier was silent. While he considered Frederic to be a good friend, he too honestly felt rather conflicted about how the king had handled the situation with the black rocks. Especially after all the time he had spent with Varian and listening to him, Xavier knew that the king was certainly not blameless in all that transpired in the last several months. To be sure, King Frederic could’ve done much better by his people, and even by Rapunzel herself when it came down to it.

But overthrowing King Frederic? That was absurd! Frederic had a lot to answer for, yes, and he wasn’t out of the woods yet by any means. But after the Battle of Old Corona, he had been trying to rectify things to the best of his ability, had allowed Rapunzel to go on her quest to find a solution to the rocks that plagued the landscape (not only in Corona but also in lands beyond), and had also provided the financial and material means by which they made the successful Demanitus steel in the first place. Despite his disappointments in him, Xavier knew that doing anything that would hurt King Frederic and his family like this was not the answer, whatever the separatists (or Varian himself) may have thought about it.

“I can see you need some time to think this over,” the man towering over him finally said. “You can give us your answer later on once we make landfall in Equis. For now, perhaps it’s best for you to sleep on it.”

With that, the man gave a quick snap of his fingers, and Xavier felt a quick sting in the side of his neck once again before his world faded into a cloudy black.

Andrew glared daggers at the assembly before him as he was brought into the conference room for the emergency meeting being held by the king. As the only known member of the Separatists of Saporia currently held captive in the castle, Andrew was of course brought in for interrogation concerning the attack on the capital earlier that night. Not that he knew anything about it of course (as far as his brethren were concerned, he was as good for them for the time being as a captured pawn was on a grand chessboard), but his presence had been insisted upon nonetheless.

The meeting had yet to officially begin, so for the moment everyone present was abuzz talking to each other about all that had transpired that night, though Andrew did notice that the kid (in handcuffs like himself) who sat right beside him seemed to have been left out of the conversation. Though in looking at the kid’s demeanor, it was probably for the best, or else the boy preferred it that way. The kid sat with his elbows braced up on the table, his hands clasped together in front of him, and his forehead leaning against them with his eyes shut, as if in prayer and/or deep, worried thought. Going by the flushed color of the boy’s cheeks, it looked as if he had just got done having a good cry or breakdown or something some minutes before, though he was still and silent now – taking deep breathes in and out, as the raccoon perched on his shoulders moved up and down slightly in tandem with the motion, occasionally nudging at the boy’s cheeks with his nose or one of his forepaws in comfort. Andrew had of course heard by now of the emotionally unstable alchemist that had caused the king a whole lot of trouble a few months ago, and Andrew heard that he had been quite young, but he didn’t realize just how young.

“Tch! What a cry baby,” Andrew couldn’t help but think to himself in disgust as he looked down the kid, who was oblivious to (or deliberately ignoring) any curious eyes that watched him. “Why’s he here anyway?” Andrew wondered. He knew the kid wasn’t on the best of terms with the royal family. Could he have somehow been involved in the attack? Perhaps if he was an ally, they could find a way to escape together! Goodness knows being imprisoned here in Corona was dull beyond belief.

“So, some night, huh kid?” Andrew began, attempting to strike up a conversation to hopefully get some information from him, though also being conscientious of the guards that stood directly behind the two of them. “Man though, it’s about time we had some excitement around here. The dungeons were getting super dull I have to say. Not like this meeting is going to be much better, but at least they had the decency to have refreshments on the table. The name’s Andrew by the way! And you are?”

But the boy didn’t move, and gave no indication that he even heard Andrew, though his raccoon puffed up a little in defense from where he stood balanced on his master’s shoulders.

“Hey!” Andrew tried again, a bit louder this time. “I asked you a question!”

“Hey, leave him alone!” the guard who Andrew recognized as Pete barked at him from where he stood behind the kid’s chair. Still, the kid did not move, and now his raccoon gave a low growl at Andrew’s probing. But Andrew didn’t pay any heed to that. (“Why would they let the kid keep such a pesky animal around anyway?” he wondered, though he kept that much to himself.)

“Fine. Don’t talk to me. Whatever,” Andrew said tersely. “Though didn’t your parents ever teach you that it’s impolite to ignore your elders?”

Andrew couldn’t help but feel a small chill go through him as now he finally got a reaction. It wasn’t a large reaction by any means, but it was very deliberate. At these words, the boy turned to give him a sideways glare out of the shadow behind his long dark bands, and Andrew was sure that if looks could kill, he would’ve been a dead man where he sat as he saw the look in those icy blue, pink-rimmed eyes. But the moment quickly passed as without a word the kid merely went back to his original posture, once again still and breathing steadily, his eyes closed.

“Ugh, what I weirdo,” Andrew muttered under his breath, knowing Varian would’ve heard him, and getting another sharp word from Pete to be silent.

…But Varian didn’t care. He didn’t have the energy to care, for shortly after getting the news about Xavier’s capture, Varian had been quickly escorted to one of the bathrooms, where he proceeded behind closed doors to completely fall apart. It was embarrassing to him, in retrospect, but at the time so much had happened so fast that it seemed to be the only appropriate response. Varian now swallowed hard, still tasting the last of the bile that lingered at the back of his throat, and tried his hardest to recollect himself as Xavier had taught him.

Xavier…

Finally, things started happening as the meeting was called to order, and Varian listened keenly to everything that was said, and was asked to give his testimony on what had happened at the forge. Though he looked a tired mess, Varian was able to give his account in a relatively steady manner, and though his voiced hitched a bit when he talked about Xavier being left behind as he ran to get help at the castle, he was surprisingly unemotional as he gave the facts of what had happened. As he sat back down after relating his side of what happened, Varian was startled as the strange prisoner beside him was then asked to answer the assembly’s questions on account of him being one of the Saporian separatists.

“All right then Hubert-” the Captain began.

“Please,” the man interrupted with a smug expression. “I prefer Andrew if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind, and we’re calling you Hubert,” the Captain retorted back, giving Varian the feeling that there was a bitterness between the two men that ran deeper than the usual hostility between the Captain and the other prisoners. “Now, as we were saying, Hubert, your associates have taken one of our citizens captive, and they made off with him on one of the merchant ferries located at the docks-”

“One of my ferries!” Nazeem suddenly snapped from his place at the table. “And if you don’t give us the information we need to get it back, so help me I’ll see to it that you pay for its loss!”

Varian frowned hard at this statement. Of course the self-centered merchant would be more concerned with the loss of his property than the potential loss of life of one of Corona’s most beloved citizens. So much for his apologies yesterday.

“Nazeem, please!” King Frederic said in response. “We’ll get around to talking about the damages done during the attack, but we have other priorities to attend to first. Please, continue Captain.”

The Captain nodded, turning again to Andrew. “Now listen here Hubert, we need you to tell us where your associates have taken the captive in question. As a separatist yourself, you must know where they’re headed with him. Cooperate with us, and we may see about lessening your sentence here to the dungeons.”

Varian’s blood began to boil as Andrew merely shrugged in response to this question. “What makes you think I must know where they’ve taken him? I haven’t received any communication from my comrades since I’ve been incarcerated here.”

“But you must know where their base of operations is,” the Captain growled at him.

“Eh. Sometimes it’s here. Sometimes it’s there. Would be pretty stupid for us to stay in one spot for very long now wouldn’t it? And hey, if they’ve gone out to sea, you pretty much have no chance of tracking them once they’re out of Coronian waters. Tch! If you ask me, I’d say you’re guy’s as good as dea- Gaah!”

Suddenly, at that moment, before anyone could register what was happening or do anything about it, Andrew felt himself get grabbed harshly by the front of the shirt, and came face to face with a very infuriated Varian.

“DO NOT FINISH THAT SENTENCE!” Varian all but screamed in his face. “TELL US WHERE THEY’VE TAKEN HIM RIGHT NOW YOU SCUMBAG OR I’LL-!”

But Varian too was interrupted as Pete and the other guards present pulled the two men apart, for by now Andrew had quickly recovered from his shock and would’ve taken a swing at Varian (and likely Varian would’ve retaliated) had the guards not intervened and dragged them both away from each other and away from the table, their respective chains clinking together noisily in the scuffle.

“EVERYONE, PLEASE!” King Frederic bellowed over the din, everyone going still, though both Varian and Andrew breathed hard as they glowered at one another from their corners of the room.

“Varian, we do not tolerate such violent outbursts in this court!”

Though still shaking with rage, Varian did look down at the floor, genuinely ashamed. He had let his temper get the better of him again, and he knew Xavier wouldn’t have liked that. So much for trying to be the “noble opponent.”

“Kid’s as crazy as Cassandra,” Varian heard Andrew hiss under his breath, earning a hard glare from the Captain in response. Ah. So that explained things a bit.

“Captain,” the king now said as Queen Arianna looked up at him with concern from where she had remained seated, “I think it would be best of Varian returned to his chambers for the evening. We can discuss more about his actions later after we’re done here.”

“I agree your majesty,” the Captain concurred. “Pete, if you would please?”

“Right away sir,” Pete replied with a brief salute, and took Varian firmly by the upper arm as he made to bring him back to his room, and the two of them and Ruddiger could here Andrew’s interrogation resume behind them as they left the meeting hall.

There was a long, awkward silence as Pete escorted Varian back through the hallways of the castle towards his room. Through the windows they passed by, Varian could see the first traces of the sky turning lighter after such a long, hard, and dark night. Definitely one of the worst of his life.

Andrew couldn’t be right. He couldn’t be! There had to be some way to get Xavier back! But Varian knew they were running out of time, and judging by the destruction and sabotage that had occurred around the city, on the docks, and on the other sizeable sailing vessels, it would be quite a while before Corona would be able to spare and muster any sort of viable fighting force to go and get him back. Especially with so many of their troops divided between the capital and Old Corona…though Varian fought to not think about that too much. That couldn’t be helped now.

So, what were they to do? Once again, Varian was left with a horrible feeling of helplessness, and of being alone. Given all that had happened, it was most likely that the city would go into lockdown for the next several days (or perhaps even the next week), and all energy would be spent aiding the local townsfolk, securing the city, and making repairs on everything that had been damaged. All right and practical of course, but was there nothing Varian himself could do now? Wasn’t there anything he could possibly-?

Suddenly, Varian’s eyes went wide as he remembered something.

When he had been brought back into the castle earlier that night, the guards had taken the sword and the formula packet from him to be put in the Captain’s office…but they hadn’t bothered to frisk his pockets.

As casually as he could, Varian laid a few fingers on the outside of one of his pockets, wondering if he was remembering things correctly. But as he felt the slight bulge in his right hand pocket, he knew he was indeed recalling correctly.

His hachimaki was still tucked away in his pocket!

[“I know it’s only a little thing, but perhaps it may be of some help to you in the days ahead.”]

“…Well…I do know one thing I could do with it,” Varian thought to himself, though cringing slightly at the idea that began to form in his head (and knowing it probably wasn’t what Xavier had in mind when he said those words to Varian). But if Xavier was to have any chance of being returned to them, Varian had to take action, and soon.

It was going to have to be now, or never.

“Hey, listen Varian,” Pete finally said as they came to the door of Varian’s room and he proceeded to unlock it. “I…I just want you to know that…we’re all really sorry. Really. I mean, Xavier’s always been a good friend to all of us, and…well, if we could go after him right away we would, but…you see-”

“It’s ok Pete,” Varian replied, earning a look of utter surprise from the guard at his reply (and for hearing Varian speak his name for the very first time).

“Uh…what?” Pete asked again as he and Varian both went in to the room, and Varian waited patiently with his hands held out in fists before him as Pete unlocked the cuffs from around Varian’s wrists.

“It’s ok,” Varian repeated. “I…I know you all have your responsibilities and reasons for doing what you do, and…it’s ok.”

Pete blinked down at Varian, thoroughly confused by how well Varian suddenly seemed to be taken things, especially after such an enraged outburst only moments ago, but he also detected a genuine sincerity in the alchemists words and expression.

“Oh…uh, well, I-I’m glad you…well, I’m glad you understand Varian. Though believe me when, none of us want…I mean, we all want to-”

“And I also have mine,” Varian suddenly said, and before Pete could so much as let out a yelp of alarm, Varian had opened up his clasped fists, revealing the hachimaki he had been holding taught between them. In a series of movements so calculated that Pete could barely register what was happening, Varian had wrapped one of the guard’s wrists up in the strip of cloth, gave it a strong and harsh tug, and the world suddenly turned head over heels as Pete found himself rolling helplessly over Varian’s crouched form, and then found himself gasping for breath as Varian had decked him, leaving the poor guard winded on the floor for a good few seconds.

(Apparently, the guards’ previous concerns about Varian getting just a bit too strong for their comfort were not so unsound after all...)

As Pete scrambled to get back up, Varian quickly swiped the keys from where Pete had dropped them on the floor, and scooping up Ruddiger in his arms. Varian then quickly darted out of the room and shut the door behind him, locking Pete inside behind him.

“H-hey!” Pete said between coughs and gasps for air, and banging his fists on the door. “What-what’re you doing Varian!? Y-you can’t-!”

“I’m sorry Pete,” Varian said hastily through the thick wood of the door as he unlocked the chained leash from around Ruddigers neck, and then proceeded to run back down the castle’s empty corridor, tying the hachimaki tightly around his forehead as Ruddiger ran close at his heels.

“…But I can’t lose anyone else.”

#tts #rta #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #fan fiction #gauze in the wound #varian #xavier the blacksmith #the separatists of saporia #andrew #hubert #captain of the guard #pete the guard #king frederic #queen arianna

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terreisa · 7 years ago

Text

The Savior and The Scoundrel: Crash Into Me

Emma has had a few titles attributed to her in her life: princess, captain, pirate but none sat so heavily on her shoulders as Savior. When fate forces her to step into the role prophesied before her birth the only saving she wants to do is to bring back the man she loves. Fulfilling the Prophecy along the way is an additional reward. Sequel to A Crown and A Captain.

Prologue, Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10

ff.net, AO3

“She’s a marvel, isn’t she lass?”

Emma flicked her gaze to Killian for only a moment before it was drawn back to everything around her. It was easier to let herself be awed by the speed at which the scenery whizzed by or the unnatural glow of the helm in front of them than to try and converse with the man beside her.

The car sounded like an animal, even from the inside, as it roared down the roadway. In all the questions they’d asked Regina about the vessels none of them had thought to ask what it was like to travel in one. Emma didn’t exactly understand what made it move but she could still sense that Killian handled it as well as he captained a ship. It also seemed he hadn’t allowed the loss of his hand to hinder him in any way. She didn’t dare observe him long enough to find out.

“Restored her myself,” Killian continued, a proud lilt to his voice. “Hard to find the parts for a ‘74 Firebird in the middle of nowhere Maine but the Jolly’s well worth it. That’s what I named her, Jolly, from-”

“It’s a pirate ship,” Emma blurted out, amused despite herself.

The Jolly Roger was a famed ship in their realm but had been sunk by the Dark One over two hundred years before. She looked over at Killian to see if there was any spark of recognition at all and found him beaming at her.

“Fan of Captain Hook are you?” He asked gleefully with an arch of his brow. His hook tapped the helm sharply, “I hope you weren’t fooled by the waxed mustache and permed buffoon of the Disney ilk, lass. The man Barrie described is a far more dashing rapscallion if I do say so myself.”

Emma hummed noncommittally as she once more looked out at the passing scenery. She didn’t know what a disney or a perm was and suspected that Barrie was some kind of writer but she didn’t want to expose her ignorance by commenting about it. The last thing she wanted was Killian thinking she was a simpleton.

“Now,” he said easily, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen between them, “Should I ask you about your seeming vendetta against Mayor Viridans or where you’ve been this past week? How about that injured shoulder or how you found yourself in the company of the town pariah? Or we could start easier and you can tell me where you’re from.”

“I’m from nowhere special,” she said with a huff, trying to quell the panic his questions had stirred.

“Well, that could mean one of two things: either you’re from a small somewhere that even I couldn’t find on a map or it’s exactly as you say, nowhere,” he said thoughtfully, hook tapping a disjointed rhythm on the helm. “Caught up in the system were you? Would explain the ability to disappear and reappear as you do, your hesitance around me, might also explain some of your ire towards Viridans.”

“And you’ve figured me out so easily?” Emma grumbled, risking looking at him again.

“You’re something of an open book, lass,” he said with a careless shrug.

“Am I?” She asked, uneasily.

“Quite-” he flashed her a halfhearted grin. “You’ve got that look in your eye of someone that’s been left alone, orphaned. Abandoned. I know it well.”

“What about your brother?” Emma asked before she could stop herself.

Killian stiffened, his knuckles going white with the fierceness of his grip on the helm. She hadn’t intended to bring up the brother he had mentioned to Robin but she was intensely curious how that part of his life had been changed. It also served as a way to pull the focus away from herself for the time being.

“And here I thought I’d managed to avoid this conversation altogether,” he said with a forced laugh. The tapping of his hook became almost erratic, “It’s not an especially winsome tale, lass. I’d hate to scare you off.”

“You won’t,” Emma said quietly, aching to touch him and soothe away the pain she could both see and hear.

“My brother was a stubborn ass who got himself killed because he crossed the wrong people,” Killian growled. “We weren’t close and at each other’s throats more often than not but he was blood. I promised myself I’d bring his killers to justice one way or another.”

“Is that why you were upset with Archer?” Emma asked, remembering the animosity Killian had shown towards Robin.

“I have every right to be upset when the sheriff’s office is firmly in the pocket of the one who ordered my brother to be killed,” he spat out angrily, almost loud enough to drown out the roar of the car.

“What was his name?” She asked softly, taken aback by his rage but not afraid of it.

“Thomas, but everyone called him Tommy.”

Emma dug her nails into her thigh but kept any other physical reaction from showing. It was awful enough that Zelena had stripped everything from him but that she had further twisted his already painful memories of Thompson’s death was too much. She struggled to keep her breathing even, not wanting Killian to sense her distress and think that he was the cause.

“You may not have been close but I can tell that you loved him very much,” she murmured once she was certain her voice would remain steady.

“And it’s brought me nothing but misery,” Killian said gruffly. He brought them to a rough stop and pointed out past her shoulder, “Granny’s Diner as requested.”

Looking out to where he pointed Emma saw a somewhat tall stone building with tables out front hedged in by a small green fence. Through the large windows could see a few people sitting inside. As she watched two people walked out and she caught a glimpse of even more people sitting at a bar top. It looked similar to a tavern but much cleaner and without the rabble that was usually found in them. She turned back to Killian and was somewhat shocked to see that he wasn’t watching her as he had been every other moment he had been free to.

“Are you- are you not joining me?”

He barely spared her a glance, “I never said that I would.”

“Oh. Right.”

Emma could feel the heat of a blush at her assumption and the realization that she had stumbled upon a deep wound of his. It only grew hotter as she realized she had no idea how to escape from the car. She hesitantly reached toward one of the few metal attachments on the door when Killian’s arm reached across her and pulled at the one slightly above it. The door clicked open and she could feel the cool morning air seeping in.

“Thank you,” she said embarrassed, pushing the door open further.

“These older models are a bit tricky,” Killian said with an odd tone.

She looked back and saw that he was watching her again. He quickly turned forward, the corner of his mouth twitching towards a frown.

“I-” stopping short Emma shook her head and stepped out onto the walkway. She bent down to look back into the car, “I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Jones.”

“Quite,” he said succinctly, his gaze focused ahead of him.

With a sigh she shut the door, stepping back quickly when he sent the car shooting forward almost immediately. She watched him disappear around a corner with a squeal and silently berated herself for sticking her foot in her mouth, no matter how inadvertent it had been. Her only hope was that he would seek her out again, if only to get the answers the questions that she had so far avoided answering.

The sound of tinkling bell had her turning back to the building where a couple was laughing together as they left. Emma looked curiously at the impossibly bright, glowing signs proclaiming all manner of things but the one posted above the door clearly showed that despite Killian’s irritation at her he had brought her to the right place. Gathering up her courage she walked under the words ‘Granny’s Diner’ and stepped up to let herself into the establishment.

She stopped just inside the door to take in her new surroundings when she realized several things at once: the smells of several different foods wafting together was nearly overwhelming, it was far too warm without a hearth or stove in sight, and nearly every person she saw was someone she recognized. Two of the dwarves, Grumpy and Sleepy, were sitting at opposite ends of the bar, Little John was scowling over a bowl of porridge at a tiny two person table, her mother’s loyal knight Lancelot was sitting alone at a large table in the corner reading a book, and King Thomas and Princess Ella’s daughter Princess Charlotte was weaving between them all serving food and taking orders. Then, pushing out of a swinging door leading to the back, Emma saw Red and had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out or simply launching herself into her arms.

Red was wearing the same clothing as Charlotte was, severely shortened red pants and a crisp white buttoned shirt, but with a dark burgundy knitted sweater worn open over it. Her lips were painted a red, not dissimilar to the pants she had on, her long brown hair was pulled back into a severe, twisted coil at the back of her head and there were red rimmed spectacles perched on her nose. Altogether it made her appear as though she was trying to look youthful but maturity had snuck upon her anyway.

“Are you staying or are you going girly? I ain’t paying the bill to heat up half of Main Street,” Red barked at her.

“Sorry,” Emma said meekly as she stepped fully into the room, aware that all eyes had turned to her.

“Sit wherever you like,” Charlotte said with a wave of her hand. She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Just not near Leroy, he’s a big crank when he hasn’t had his third cup of coffee yet.”

“I heard that, sister,” Grumpy growled, not looking up from his plate of rashers.

“See?” Charlotte giggled. “Go on, I’ll bring you a menu.”

Emma walked in a daze to a table near the back. She eyed the fixed bench seats with apprehension before sitting on the side facing the door, not wanting to be caught by surprise by another familiar face. Charlotte approached with an overly large shiny pamphlet in her hands just as she was trying to figure out what the stiff cushion at her back was made of with her elbow.

“We serve the whole menu all day if you’re not feeling in a breakfast-y food kind of mood. We are out of the chicken fried steak until later so sorry ‘bout that,” Charlotte said as she placed the pamphlet in front of her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Uh-” Emma looked down at the pamphlet quickly and saw only amazingly realistic drawings of bizarre looking food drawn across it. She balked and asked for something that nearly every tavern had for their morning patrons, “Tea?”

“Sure,” Charlotte said with a nod, “Iced or hot?”

“Er, hot?” she asked confused even further by the other option.

“Cool. I’ll be back with that in a jiff. Oh, my name’s Becca if you need anything!”

“Thank you,” Emma mumbled.

She surreptitiously glanced around the room and was relieved that no one was paying her any mind. There were a few other people that she didn’t recognize, her gaze sliding over them as though they weren’t there at all. As much as she tried not to she found herself watching Red as she moved to and fro behind the bar. Gone was the lupine grace Emma had always envied and instead she was limping slightly, as though she was favoring one leg over the other. Also missing was her ever present smile, replaced instead by a grim frown.

“Here ya’ go,” Charlotte said, blocking her view as she placed a mug of hot water, a small, open box of paper sachets and a saucer with two slices of lemon and a container of what looked to be honey in front of her. “Ready to order?”

Emma quickly looked down at the menu. She was perplexed by the various offerings: things called burgers, lasagna, omelettes and the pictures were of no help. Thinking back to what she’d seen Little John eating she was about to order a porridge for herself when someone slid onto the bench across from her. Looking up she couldn’t help but scowl at the fact that Killian had once again caught her unawares, this time with a grin on his face.

“Two grilled cheese, fries for me and onion rings for her. Didn’t order a drink for me lass?” Killian asked with a mock pout. He winked at her before turning to Charlotte, his grin back in place, “A coffee for me, darling, and I want it from the pot crotchety ol’ Lucas makes for herself, not the swill she serves the rest of us.”

“Um, okay,” Charlotte mumbled looking wide-eyed and pale.

“Hook, stop terrorizing my waitress,” Red growled out from behind the bar, glaring at him.

“Apologies, Lady Lucas,” Killian drawled.

He casually draped his arms across the back of his bench, clearly sensing there was no bite behind Red’s bark. Charlotte skittered away without another word. Emma was left seething and Killian’s cavalier grin just angered her more.

“I can order for myself,” she hissed, leaning towards him so her voice wouldn’t carry.

“Undoubtedly,” he remarked with a shrug. “But I wager you were going to order something other than onion rings and I already told you they’re the best in the state.”

“You scared off the wai-waitress,” Emma said, stumbling over the unfamiliar word but letting her annoyance push her through any embarrassment.

“The girl could use a dose of fear now and then. From what I understand she has a bit of a rebellious streak,” Killian whispered conspiratorially, dropping his arms to the table and leaning towards her. “I’d bet you had quite the rebellious streak yourself, lass.”

“You left,” she said instead of responding to his taunt.

“I-” Killian stopped short, his grin slipping off his face. He sat back and blew out a breath, “Poor form that when you’re such a babe in the woods.”

“Excuse me!” Emma snapped indignantly

“Don’t misunderstand me lass and just listen to what I have to say for the moment.”

Emma gave him a terse nod and sat back as well, keeping a wary eye on him. He seemed almost surprised she agreed so quickly as his eyes widened and he scratched at the back of his neck with his hook. With the movement she realized that he wasn’t wearing his coat and wondered if perhaps she should take off hers as well. Then she noticed that his right cuff was undone and his shirtsleeve was pushed back enough to show the dark markings of a tattoo, one that definitely hadn’t been there when he’d been taken from their realm. She was staring at it curiously when he cleared his throat.

“How about a proposal, lass?”

She tried not to blush at his turn of phrase, steadying herself before answering with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

“An answer for an answer,” he said easily, his hook fiddling with the opposite sleeve. He paused as Charlotte brought his coffee and then left them again, his eyes never leaving her, “You know I have questions for you and I’m sure you have some of your own. I propose that we ask our respective questions but for every answer not given the other is afforded the same courtesy. Sound fair?”

It sounded more than fair to her. She was being given the opportunity to not only find out about his cursed life but to finally find out where his allegiances lied. With her decision so quickly she set about making her tea to not seem so eager. What she didn’t count on was trying to figure out exactly how to make her tea with the sachets instead of the loose leaf or bricks of tea she was used to.

“Need help?” Killian asked, laughter in his voice.

“I’ve got it,” she muttered as she picked one of the sachets up and cautiously peeled the paper open to reveal another smaller fine net sachet inside that held her tea. She pulled the tea filled sachet out and dropped it in her still steaming mug, “I agree but on one condition.”

“And what’s that lass?”

She looked up at him and made sure to catch his gaze with her own, “If I think you’re lying we’re done. Even if you think it’s for my own good. Understand?”

“Completely. The same goes for you as well.”

At that moment Charlotte returned with their meals. She quickly set down the two plates of what looked like toasted, buttery breads with browned rings of some sort on hers and golden sticks on Killians. Emma poked dubiously at the rings.

“It’s food, you eat it,” Killian said in the same odd tone he’d used when he’d let her out of his car.

“Obviously,” she said with a roll of her eyes, picking up the bread instead. She was surprised to see melted cheese between the slices, “Do you want to ask first or should I?”

Killian contemplated her as she took her first bite. She had to stop herself from taking a second, larger one as the flavors rolled over her tongue. As it was she was already wondering if she could convince Grace to make it for supper later that night.

“Where are you from?”

Emma coughed, the question taking her off-guard as she was swallowing. With watering eyes she took a small sip of her tea and tried in vain to come up with a reasonable answer.

“Somewhere far from here,” she finally answered honestly if not completely truthful.

“Not quite a lie but I’ll let it slide, lass,” he tsked.

“How long have you lived here?” She shot back.

“Nigh on 15 years. Every time I planned my escape something kept me here like an anchor around my neck. How did you get here?”

“A ship,” she said with a grin, happy to give him a truthful answer. She took another bite of her bread and cheese and spoke around her mouthful, “And yes that’s where I’ve been staying.”

“Not fair, lass, now you’re a question up on me,” Killian said with an exaggerated frown, grabbing four of the sticks on his plate and eating them all at once.

“Should I go easy on you, then?”

Killian raised his brow before giving her a salacious grin, “I think you’ll find I prefer a challenge. Go on lass, ask what you’d really like to know.”

Emma didn’t want to risk upsetting or offending him by asking the wrong thing but her mind kept circling around to the same two questions. It was a matter between her heart or her head but she wanted to know about his wife and needed to know about his dealings with Zelena. She absentmindedly ate two of the rings on her plate as she contemplated what to ask before realizing it was a cooked onion that she was eating.

“This is the best? It’s onions!” She half whispered, not wanting Red to think she was criticizing the food.

“It’s an onion ring,” Killian said with an amused chuckle. Then his smile faded, “I have a question, lass, but I won’t go out of turn. Ask me yours.”

She dropped her eyes to her plate but quickly looked back up at him. She needed to see his eyes when she asked her question.

“Who ordered your brother to be killed?”

Killian flinched but his gaze didn’t waver, “The same woman I stopped you from attacking the last time we met. Mayor Viridans.”

“How are you planning on getting your revenge?” She asked cooly, even though she wanted nothing more than to jump up and crow that she had been right all along.

“By any means necessary,” he growled. Then, somehow, he focused even more intently on her, “My turn, where are you from and why are you after Viridans?”

Emma winced harder than Killian had and found she couldn’t keep eye contact with him as she answered only one of his questions, “She took someone from me and she has to pay.”

“Then it appears we’re bound together in this endeavor, lass,” Killian said solemnly. She looked up and found he was leaning towards her again, “If you’ll have me of course.”

“I-” she stopped short, swallowing thickly.

It was her chance to be near him, to help find himself again and she couldn’t believe she was hesitating. Then she saw the hopeful, warm look in his eyes and she remembered the other questions she’d had. The ones regarding his wife and their life together under the curse. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to let him down, even if it meant putting shackles on her heart.

“I don’t want attention drawn to me or what we’re doing,” Emma said fiercely in a low voice. “That woman has taken nearly everything from me and won’t be satisfied until she takes it all. Understand?”

“Perfectly,” Killian said with a nod, his eyes darting quickly around the room and then back to her. He opened his mouth, then closed it before seeming to argue with himself for a moment and then asked, “Why won’t you tell me where you’re from?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I did-” she gave him what she knew was a heartbroken smile and focused on eating more of her food.

He eventually followed suit and they ate in silence. Emma worried that she’d lost whatever ground she’d made with him as she sipped her tea sullenly. With no magic whatsoever in the town she knew any mention of portals, curses, and different realms would have him thinking she was mad and could not be trusted. She’d rather have him suspicious of her motives than not believing her at all.

“One day, lass, I’ll get you to trust me,” Killian said suddenly.

“You think I don’t trust you? I promise you that I trust you,” Emma said vehemently. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “There are things I can’t tell you now but I will, in time. I just need you to trust me.”

She startled as she felt the warmth of his hand wrap around hers. Opening her eyes she found him looking at her with a seriousness she had yet to see from him in his cursed life.

“I can’t explain it and I know we barely know each other but I do trust you. I think I have from the moment you threw yourself at me down at the docks-” he squeezed her hand and she found it suddenly hard to breathe. “You can have your secrets for now. I can be patient.”

“Thank you,” she breathed out unsteadily. Casting about for anything to ease the tightness in her throat she once again noticed the ink stained onto Killian’s arm. She flipped over his hand and tapped at his wrist, “What’s this?”

“A fairly recent acquisition,” he said with a gentle grin, as though sensing her need to change the subject. He pushed his sleeve up with his hook to reveal what looked like stars arranged into a constellation she didn’t recognize along his entire forearm, “Got it on a drunken whim not long after I lost my hand. Had no rhyme or reason for picking this constellation but I quite like it all the same.”

“What constellation is it?” She asked, barely able to keep herself from tracing the pattern the stars made.

“Cygnus-”

“The swan,” she said brokenly.

Emma felt her lower lip begin to tremble as tears gathered in her eyes. She hastily pulled her hand out of Killian’s grasp and clenched her hands in her lap, focusing on them as she tried to get ahold of herself. Even with his memories of her lost to the curse it was clear that some part of him still sought out a piece of her. It took everything in her to not spill their story to him right then and there.

“What have you done to upset the girl Hook?”

Emma looked up and found Red standing at their table, glaring at Killian. He was scowling right back but when he looked at her it was with concern in his eyes.

“He didn’t do anything,” Emma assured her. Her eyes flit over Red as she tried to take in any changes their year apart had brought, “I, uh, was just reminded of something. It had nothing to do with him.”

“I’d keep my distance from him if I were you,” Red warned, still glaring at Killian. “I can tell you’re new in town and probably haven’t heard that Hook here is the last person you should associate with.”

“Then I guess you haven’t heard that I’m here to help him find his brother’s murderer,” she snapped back, angry despite herself. Red had been the one pushing her towards Killian in the first place and to hear her speaking so vehemently against him was too much to bear, “So unless you have something to tell me about that I think you should keep your opinions to yourself.”

Red trained her glare on her, nostrils flaring. Emma glared right back. She had spent her entire life at the receiving end of that glare for one reason or another and no longer quailed beneath it. With a huff Red stalked away from their table leaving Emma smirking in her wake.

“I’m impressed!” Killian chuckled. Looking at him she saw him smiling widely at her in awe, “There are few in this town who would stand up to Ruby Lucas and even fewer who would do it while sitting in her diner eating her food. I’d wager you’re a bit of a rebel.”

“Pirate actually,” she mumbled under her breath all while grinning slightly at his praise.

“And seeing as how you’ve defended my honor the least I can do is offer to pay for your meal. Of course it might also go towards making up for ordering for you in the first place.”

Killian’s brows lifted in amusement as he downed the rest of his coffee. He produced a small, folding leather pouch from somewhere on his person and pulled out several green pieces of parchment, tossing them on the table. Emma was left wondering how anyone could pay for things with something that looked as though it could easily be forged with some paint and ink when she realized Killian had gotten up from their table and was pulling his coat back on. She stood as well, glancing around the room only to notice everyone turning quickly back to their meals or companions, acting as though they hadn’t been staring. Only Charlotte and Red continued to watch them from their places behind the bar.

“Don’t go minding them now, lass,” Killian whispered from behind her. “Between your run in with the altruistic Archer and putting the gossipy Lucas in her place the whole town will have a measure on you. Best keep up with appearances.”

Emma felt her stomach turn to lead. She had broken nearly every promise she’d made when she’d proposed returning to shore. There was almost no doubt that Zelena would not only hear about the commotion her and Regina had created at the docks but also the way she had back talked to Red when it seemed no one else had the gall to do so. Her only hope was that she and Regina would be back on the Jewel before Zelena started sweeping through the town looking for her.

She let Killian lead her out the door and out on to the walkway, ignoring the feeling of being watched. Trying not to give into paranoia she casually began walking in a direction she hoped lead away from the docks. There weren’t many people out but she eyed them warily nonetheless, not knowing who would talk to whom about her movements through the town. It was only a slight comfort to have Killian walking at her side.

“Why did she call you Hook?” Emma asked after a few moments.

“Ah, still going with the questions are we?” Killian said with a resigned smile. He brought his hook up, opening the pinchers twice before lowering it again, “A bit obvious that one.”

“No,” Emma chided, fixing him with a serious eye, “Why did she call you Hook?”

“I’m afraid that’s the answer you get for now, lass,” he answered, though not unkindly. “Consider it an equal for not telling me where you’re from.”

“Fair enough,” she said with a shrug.

“But that will have some answers for you.”

He nodded at something across the roadway. Emma looked and saw a clocktower looming over the street. She instantly knew it was the one Regina had said hadn’t moved until they’d arrived. What she didn’t understand was why Killian thought it would give her answers.

“I don’t remember asking what time it was,” she quipped, crossing her arms looking pointedly at him and then back at the clock.

“It’s what’s underneath, lass,” Killian said with a roll of his eyes.

He strode across the roadway without waiting for her. Emma caught up with him as he pulled open a door that was directly beneath the clock tower. Stepping inside she found herself in a vestibule of sorts with a large metal door on one side, a waist high counter on the other and an open doorway directly ahead of her. She could just make out what looked like shelves full of books when Killian let the door close behind him with a bang.

“Booth! I’ve got something for you!”

From the depths of the other room a very familiar voice called back, “Dammit Hook you were supposed to be here two hours ago. I can’t keep covering for you when-”

Pinocchio stepped into the room with several books under his arm looking cross when he stopped short at the sight of them. His eyes widened and then narrowed as he took her in before crossing behind the counter and slamming the books down. Emma for her part was beyond pleased to have found him so easily but schooled her features into a look of mild curiosity.

“I told you I’m done being set up by you,” Pinocchio grumbled.

“Ah, no,” Killian said quickly. His ears turned red as he scratched at the back of his neck, “Eva here is looking for some answers.”

“Really?” Pinocchio said in disbelief. He looked back at her with newfound appreciation, “Nice to meet you Eva. I’m August, town librarian and amateur town historian, what can I help you with?”

“Uh, I guess anything you can tell me about the town to start?” she asked, looking helplessly at Killian, unprepared to talk to Pinocchio at such a moment’s notice.

“Particularly anything to do with how our overlord came into power,” Killian continued. He leaned over the counter and started poking at a thin black box, “Perhaps you’ve a book or two about private detectives, true ones not your ridiculous pulp novels. Let’s see, any county, state and federal laws concerning wrongful deaths, missing persons, and go ahead and throw in kidnapping for fun. Also a copy of Peter Pan if you will.”

“Peter...” Pinocchio closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thought I said I was done trying to help you with your goddamn crusade to pin Tommy’s death on Viridans, Hook. You have no proof.”

“I have plenty of proof,” Killian growled. He looked back at Emma for a moment and then took a deep breath as he faced Pinocchio again, “Eva’s here to help me finally prove it to everyone else. The books, if you please.”

Pinocchio stared between the two of them, as though trying to read the truth in their eyes. Finally he shrugged and motioned for them to follow him back the way he had entered the room. Killian motioned for her to go before him with an encouraging nod.

As she entered the room that housed the library Emma had a thousand and one questions flying through her mind. Unlike Red or Charlotte Pinocchio seemed to be a friend of sorts to Killian even though he too called him Hook. He also moved with a quickness and ease she hadn’t seen from him since they were much younger. It left her wondering at the encompassing power of the curse that it could completely mask his own personal curse and the pain it had constantly caused him.

The library was small, no more than twenty or so short rows of books. A couple of large tables ran down the middle of the room separating one set of bookshelves from the other. With a quick look down one of the rows Emma was shocked to see a surprising number of half filled or completely empty shelves. She turned to make a comment about it to Killian but saw him running his fingers fondly across the spines of books on a small cart to his right. It was a dizzying reminder of all the times she had found him idling away his hours reading in Sherwood Forest or trying to track him down in the immense ice library in Arendelle’s castle.

“Have a seat,” Pinocchio said, rapping one of the tables with his knuckles.

He darted off down a row leaving her with a chuckling Killian.

“How do you know him?” Emma asked as she sat. It was one of the few questions that was relatively harmless to pose.

“Went to school together,” he said, shaking his head. He gave her reassuring smile, “We didn’t really move in the same circles but Storybrooke High is small and it’s impossible not to know everyone in your class. Don’t worry, you can trust him.”

“I know,” she said simply, reveling in the pleased look he gave in return.

“You know you can Google half this shit right?” Pinocchio grumbled as he strode out from a different row than he’d disappeared down with a few books already under his arm.

“Perhaps, but we prefer the hard stuff,” Killian said with a waggle of his eyebrows at her.

Both her and Pinocchio rolled their eyes at him. A pang struck Emma as she remembered similar exchanges between the three of them back in their land. Her melancholy was tempered however by the clear camaraderie Killian and Pinocchio had with each other. If nothing else she was glad they’d had each other’s backs in some way under the curse.

Pinocchio set down the books he was holding and dashed away again, effectively preventing her emotions from getting the better of her. She sat and pulled the pile of books towards her. They appeared to be the books about the laws of the land and she wrinkled her nose at the dry sounding titles. Killian snorted above her, clearly reading over her shoulder and being amused at her reaction to them.

“Not the most titillating of reads but I find it’s easier to get away with breaking the law when you know exactly which ones you’re breaking,” he boasted. She looked up at him with narrowed eyes and he gave a shrug, “Come now lass, you know perfectly well you weren’t throwing your lot in with a saint.”

Emma wasn’t sure what a saint was but understood the general meaning behind the word. She hummed something that wasn’t a complete acknowledgement that he was right and turned back to the books. Killian chuckled and pulled out the chair next to her when a voice called out from the vestibule.

“Booth, come out of those dusty shelves! I need a word!”

She was about to ask Killian who it was when things started moving faster than she could keep up with. Pinocchio came running out of the stacks, haphazardly dropping all the books in his hand but one on the table before walking quickly but calmly towards the vestibule flapping his free hand at them from behind his back. Killian had grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip when Pinocchio had run by and he was frantically tugging at her to get her attention. When she looked at him she saw his jaw ticking in agitation and a fire in his eyes.

“I don’t have time to explain but I can’t be seen anywhere near here,” he said quickly and in a low voice that wouldn’t carry, “I trust August with my life, he’ll look after you. You’ll be okay.”

Before she could utter a sound he snuck away leaving her behind, stunned and confused. With a huff of annoyance she stood from the table and as quietly as she could she crossed back to the open doorway, keeping care to stay out of sight.

“-just couldn’t find money in the budget for a new computer. Maybe you should focus on getting more donations next year instead.”

Emma recognized the voice as the one belonging to the man Walsh that had been at Regina’s cottage. She pressed herself closer to the wall and listened all the more carefully.

“How magnanimous of you Sheriff to come down here to tell me this instead of having the budget committee give me a call or even send an email. Which they did, after their meeting, yesterday. Unless of course you’re here to do more than deliver a message I’ve already received. Come to check on things? Burn some books perhaps?”

To anybody that didn’t know him Pinocchio sounded as though he were merely annoyed, his tone mocking but Emma knew better. They had been friends for all of her life and she could hear the scalding fury beneath his words. She marvelled at how quickly Walsh had been able to strike a nerve in only the few minutes he had been talking to Pinocchio.

“As long as you aren’t checking out any of the books on the school district’s banned list to the students again you should be fine,” Walsh intoned blandly. “I just came here to let you know about the budget.”

She heard what sounded like a double tap of a hand on wood and hard-heeled footsteps walking away from her position. Then they stopped.

“By the way, you haven’t happened to come across any visitors have you?”

“Visitors?” Pinocchio said so flatly it was barely a question.

“Yes, anyone saying they’re from out of town or-” Emma could hear the footsteps begin again, walking slowly toward her, “-someone you’ve never seen before. Strangers if you will.”

“Why would they come here? The Visitor’s Center is at City Hall.”

Pinocchio’s voice sounded too calm, almost rehearsed. She cursed under her breath at the chances that even with different life in his head he still couldn’t lie.

“A library is a place to gather information, is it not?”

Walsh’s voice was close, too close. Emma held her breath and hoped he wouldn’t take another step.

“Maybe ten years ago,” Pinocchio said drolly, but much less wooden. “Everyone has a phone to look up all that crap now. The only people who come here are the old folks from Sunset Storybrooke and they’re not coming back until next week.”

“And you want a new computer?” Walsh’s voice became just the slightest bit quieter and Emma hoped he had turned back towards the door leading out. “Now I can see why the budget committee keeps denying you the funds. If you see anyone you’ll let me know?”

“Oh, of course,” Pinocchio said snarkily.

The footsteps started up again, leading away from her hiding spot, “By the way the school board voted in favor of expanding the banned book list. You’ll find that one right at the top.”

The sound of the front door opening and closing had her noisily releasing the breath she’d been holding. Her head swam as black spots danced before her eyes. When her vision cleared Pinocchio was standing in front of her frowning slightly.

“Am I going to end up in jail because of you?”

“Not if I can help it,” she promised, looking him in the eye to show how serious she was.

“Well then-” he sighed, rocking back on his heels, “I guess that’s as good as it’ll get. Here, I guess it won’t matter if this isn’t on the shelves for a while.”

He handed her a book before brushing past her back into the library. She watched him go, aching to talk to him as she had all her life about everything that had happened and everything that was happening. Instead she sighed sadly and looked at the book in her hands.

It appeared to be a book meant for children, the illustration on the cover was colorful and it didn’t have an overabundance of pages. The title was written with fake gold leaf on an equally fake leather cover. Turning it over in her hands she was at a loss as to why Killian wanted her to read a book titled Peter and Wendy. Returning to the table the books Pinocchio had retrieved for her she resolved to ask him as much. Whenever their paths happened to cross again that was.

If you’d like to be tagged so you don’t miss future chapters let me know.

Tagging: @teamhook, @galadriel26

#cs ff #cs ff au #cs au ff #captain swan #ouat ff au #savior and scoundrel

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boloorsportsmania · 4 years ago

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#830 SA stars shine as Superman ABD and brilliant Morris hand RCB a thrilling win against RR; Dhawan’s magic, Axar’s dream last over 3 sixes and 4 dropped catches by CSK ensured DC go to top of IPL 2020 points table; Liverpool held by Everton and Chelsea by Southampton and more... :-)

RR won the toss and chose to bat first. RCB made 2 changes. They dropped Siraj and Dube and brought in Gurukeerat and Shabaz. RR opened with Uthappa and Stokes. It has been 2 years since Uthappa had opened in IPL. He had success as opener for KKR . He started showing that impact right away. He hit Sundar for 3 boundaries in 3rd over to set the tone for RR. He and Stokes had 50 run stand before Morris dismissed England star for 15. Samson joined Uthappa. Both hit a couple of sixes to give RR the momentum. First moment where game changed a bit was in 8th over. After hitting Chahal hit for a six, Uthappa got dismissed after trying to hit one more. His 22 ball 41 had ensured RR run rate was in the right direction. Samson then showed why he is not playing international cricket. Off the very next ball, Samson tried hitting Chahal out for a six when RCb spinner bowled a bit wide cleverly. Samson gave catch practice to long off. RR 69-3. Smith and Butler then steadied the ship for RR. They had a 48 run stand before Morris dismissed dangerous Butler for 25 ball 24. Butler has never got going for RR this season. RR were placed 127-4 with 27 balls left. Smith then upped the ante. He targeted Udana and Chahal for some punishment. Morris’s last over gave RCB some respite. He just gave 4 runs and got 2 wickets to keep RR score at 177. Morris’s dream IPL for RCb continued as he ended with 4-26 spell. He just either bowls yorkers or wide slow balls. He doesn’t bowl length or short in death overs. Smith was top scorer for RR with 36 ball 57. Finch gave RCB roaring start when he hit Archer for 2 sixes. Shreyas dismissed Finch with a flighted delivery for14. RCB 23-1. Virat and Padikkal then steadied the ship for RCB. They kept rotating strike with odd boundary. They were at 77-1 at half way stage. They had to make a move on at this stage. Tewatia bowled a brilliant spell in the middle when he just gave 30 runs in 4 overs. Padikkal struggled against his bowling. He was finally dismissed by him for 35. He struggled to time today which happens. He seems to be a strong leg side player but doesn’t have a cover drive or good cut shot to go with it. RR bowlers kept bowling him wide off the off stump. RCB 102-2. Virat was dismissed off the very next ball by Tyagi. Tewatia grabbed a brilliant catch at mid wicket. 102-3 in 13.1 overs. 2 new batsmen in and RR were favourites from here on. Gurukeerat and ABD took the game deep. RCb needed 64 runs from last 5 overs. ABD sixer and few singles of Archer bowling reduced target to 54 from last 4 overs. Unadkat bowled 3 dot bowls in a row to increase pressure on RCB. Gurukeerat just couldn’t connect the ball. It came down to 53 from 20 balls. Abd hit Unadkat for a six to reduce target to 45 needed from last 3 overs. Tyagi bowled a brilliant over where he just gave 10 runs. He bowled fast yorkers which is the best ball in death overs against any teams. 34 was needed from last 2 overs Smith did his final mistake when he gave Unadkat ahead of Archer. He should have given Archer 19th over so that Unadkat has enough runs to defend. ABD just hit Unadkat out of the park. It started off with 3 sixes, a single, a wide followed by key boundary by Gurukeerat and ended with a single. 25 runs came of 19th over. Match turned on its head. Gurukeerat hit 3 runs if first 2 balls and gave strike to ABD whi finished with a 2 and a six. He finished with 22 ball 55 which had 6 sixes. SUPERMAN from SA had won another match from RCB from the dead. SA stars Morris and ABD took RCb to 12 points. This was a match which RCb won which they could have easily lost. Though RCB have lost 3 matches this season, they have won all the matches where they match went close (SRH, MI and now RR).

CSK chose to bat after winning the toss. They brough back Jadhav and dropped Piyush. It is tough to understand why CSK doesn’t give chances to youngster Jagadeesan. If Sam is made to open and Jadhav comes at 6, Jagadeesan can come as opener as well. CSK have always faltered in grooming youngsters. Baba Aparajith was classic example who didn’t get a single in 3 years as csk player. Tushar dismissed Sam for a duck of first over. Watson and Faf then took DC bowlers to cleaners. They had 87 stand when Watson was dismissed by Rabada. Faf and Rayadu took CSK past 100. DC pulled CSK back with quick wickets of Faf and MSD. Faf played well for 47 ball 58. CSK 129-4. Jadeja and Rayadu hit 50 runs in last 21 balls to take CSK score to 179-4. Jadeja continued his good form with 13 ball 33. Rayadu hit 45 from 25. DC without Pant and Hetmyer looks weak in the middle order. They need to win such chases if they aspire to win IPL. Can they replicate what RCB did earlier in the day ?? CSK has been a tough team to win while chasing. Deepak Chahar gave CSK a great start. He dismissed Shaw for a golden duck. Shaw had 3 consecutive poor games now. Rahane didn’t contribute much either. CSK 26-2 in 4.1 overs. DC need to make a move on and they did. Dhawan played some attractive stokes post that. He had 3 lives (at 25, 27 and 50). It was his day. It was MSD who had dropped the 3rd catch. Chahar and Watson had dropped 2 earlier ones. Dhawan brought up this fifty of 30 balls. . He and Shreyas had 68 run stand before Bravo dismissed DC captain. DC brought up 100 in 13th over. They upped the ante post that. Stoinis and Dhawan took DC score to 129-3 by 15th over. 51 runs was needed of last 5 overs. Bravo, Sam Curran and Thakur would the bowlers they were most likely to face. Since both were set, they were favourites from this point but CSK have won a bunch of games from such situations in the past. CSK had another chance when Dhawan hit directly at Rayadu but CSK star dropped a sitter. Stoinis hit Thakur for a six of the next ball to add salt to CSK wounds. Thakur had the final laugh when he dismissed Stoinis for 24. DC 137-4. It came down to 41 runs needed from last 4 overs. Dhawan hit a four and a delight six of Curran to reduce the target to 30 needed from last 3 overs. CSK usually win such matches. They need to get Dhawan out though. Thakur just gave 5 runs of first 5 balls but Dhawan made room to hit a boundary towards square leg to reduce target to 21 needed from last 2 overs. Curran dismissed Carey for 4 . Carey has never got going in his 2 matches for DC. All depended on Dhawan. At 99, umpire gave him out for edging but Dhawan reviewed and won the decision. Curran just gave 4 runs to give DC a target of 17 runs needed from last over. Dhawan reached his maiden century of 57 balls. MSD surprisingly goes to Jadeja when one over of Bravo was left. That was a poor decision. Axar hit him for 2 sixes to reduce target to 3 needed from 3 balls and later 1 from 2 balls. Axar hit Jadeja for another six. Axar gave Jadeja a taste of his own medicine. It was a Dhawan show and Axar took the cherry. CSK messed up with 4 dropped catches. They have not been consistent this season. MSd’s confidence in Bravo is not great too. He did not give Bravo an over in last 5 overs which is so odd to see. DC go to top of leaderboard with this win.

In EPL, Everton held Liverpool to a 2-2 draw. Mane scored for Reds in 3rd minute only for Keane to level for Everton. Salah gave Liverpool the lead again in 72nd minute. Just when it looked like Liverpool have pulled off another win, Lewin levelled the score for Everton. Chelsea were held to a 3-3 draw by Southampton.

#boloorsportsmania #ABD #Morris #Dhawan #Faf #Axar

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berfometalpha · 5 years ago

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Legacy of Eternity Chapter 1: The Adventure Begins Part 2

When the team arrived at the bridge head they saw Kent was furiously punching the air when they saw a white energy field spreading across the face of the bridge.

Rex got down from the transport as one of the troopers were busy contacting the other rebel camps. The troopers reported that Aisha and her party placed a powerful barrier around the capital city preventing the marines or knights from following them.

Kent had been trying to break the barrier using his fists for the past several minutes but his knuckles were already bleeding bad.

He looked furiously at the marines asking where are the mages as he ordered to break the barrier. They will arrive in about 30 minutes sir, according to the mages we have here sir this barrier will be impossible to break since Lady Aisha was the one who made it.

“Then get to it... I will not accept idleness from these mages... We have to save them from doing something they shall Regret!” Kent shouted as he slammed his fist to the barrier.

“Commander, Stop you are going to break your arms...” Rex said.

“Rex, good bring Clayton and his railgun we can use it to break the barrier! Clayton get down here and bring your Railgun!” Kent shouted.

“Boss, my Railgun’s out of commission the fuel cell converter is ruptured that’s what I forgot to mention to you earlier!” Clayton replied.

Kent looked furious and extremely frustrated at the situation as he walked away for a bit when Rex and Willow approached Clayton asking if what he told Kent was true.

“Rex, Willow dont get mad but I lied to Kent...” Clayton whispered.

“Clay you know that is insubordination right?” Willow stated.

“I know but have you seen how Kent is right now? If he uses my Railgun... well remember the last time he linked it to his bio-cell reactor...” Clayton explained.

“Ohh... Right... Almost forgot that incident...” Rex said.

“What incident?” willow asked.

It’s a long story and it happened before the rescue operation on Vega... In short we were captured at the 1st legion’s ship the crusader of domination, the first legion thought we were renegades at the time... And we were escaping the ship since they captured the Night Hawk... Kent used my railgun and linked it to his bio-cell reactor core that he made on the fly using his blood. When he linked it into my railgun and it generated enough power to light up 30 industrial cities for 50,000 years... My Hyperburst railgun fired and destroyed an entire ship while we were in it... Though we did survive but believe me... We all agreed that we wont let Kent hold a Hyper cannon class plasma Railgun again! That would be a death sentence for us all!

“That Explains everything... But look Kent really is angry and frustrated... It’s as if he is... Frightened...” Willow stated.

“True but... Rex should we mention that thing? Lady Charlotte said that we should only mention it unless it is absolutely necessary?” Clayton said.

“Do you mean Blight Taker? that sword is off limits Clay Lady Charlotte has said it herself...” Rex replied.

“This counts as an emergency... Rex I am telling you now... You need to make the call...” Clayton stated.

“Wait What’s the blight taker? That sounds a bit familiar... But What is that any who?” Willow asked.

Rex made the call to The Strike Base Lasting hope which is a massive fast deploying space station/ battleship that acts as a forward station for the Strike Fleet and can defend itself against anything that is thrown to it by any other legion.

“Lasting Hope this is Captain Rex Crosswolfw from Strike Team Zero-7, i need to speak with Commander Charlotte Sentinel please respond over?” Rex asked.

“This is Lasting Hope Strike Base Commander Charlotte Sentinel Speaking... Rex What’s going on?”Charlotte asked.

“Commander... ““Sigh”“ We need help... Lady Aisha and her party of heroes sneaked out of their room and headed straight for the capital without back up... We confirmed your suspicion Ma’am... Rio swordtaker has betrayed the heroes and nearly killed everyone in the camp... Now we are currently pursuing the Heroes but they had placed a powerful barrier around the capital city... Lady Aisha placed a barrier around the city preventing us from pursuing any further... Any use of artillery would endanger the militants and civilians around the capital... We are out of options Ma’am...Permission to use Blight Taker Ma’am the last time they faced the King they nearly died Ma’am... Kent is really angry and frightened... Ma’am!” Rex reported.

Their was a silence that shrouded the communications line after a brief moment Charlotte told Rex to get ready. Meanwhile inside the armory of Lost hope the Blight Taker was heavily guarded by Class 7 Primal Wolves Champions the Grey Fangs. The Knights noticed the Vault where the Blight Taker was kept as it kept shaking as if a monster was trying to get out.

Attention to All knights on Deck 7 be advised Blight Taker is awake and is trying to break out of her containment do not try to stop the sword let it out... For the Knight Eternal is now awake...

The Grey fangs immediately unlocked the vault but by the time they opened the vault door the Blight taker sliced its way through the vault as it spun rapidly cutting through the thick Zennomite hull of the space station as if it was a hot knife on a piece of paper.

One of the knights was unlucky to be passing by the path of the Blight Taker just before it hit the young knight initiate. It turned into a ball of purple light and phased through the ship entering the upper atmosphere in mark 40 speed.

As it was entering the atmosphere every knight on Ren’veil was alerted to the presence of the sword that devours darkness. as it flew past the Vai’lien sky a group of New Kingdom dragon riders were unfortunate enough to pass by it’s way as nothing will stop her from being reunited to her master.

It easily tore through a dozen dragons with relative easy as if they were a leaf in the wind. The blight taker reached the team’s position in about a few minutes later but as it reached out to the young knight it shattered the barrier as it faded into dust as it collided into Kent.

The Blight Taker disappeared into his left arm as the barrier fell apart Rex and the others didn’t know what happened.

“I guess we are lucky now that the barrier is gone... I’ll go and start up the APC!” Clayton said.

“Kent, Get aboard now we’re Red lining it to the Capital!” Rex shouted.

Kent looked back to his friends and immediately boarded the APC and flat lined it to the capital city as many marines immediately rallied all their squads pursuing their General.

As the APC was fast approaching the gate’s of the capital city they had more problems to deal with aside from the barrier.

“Boss Man we have a gate sized problem!” Clayton shouted.

“What now! We are running out of time.” Kent said.

“The gate is closed shut and their are a lot of archers on the wall and they don’t look happy!” Clayton said.

“Big brother... Don’t worry I got this! Now where was it again...” Genji said as he was trying to find something in his pocket.

He pulled out an old world music tape and played it in the APC as it started playing music about searching for a hero.

“Why do that Genji?” Kent asked.

“To set the mood Boss man Lady Aisha needs a hero and you’re it so lets set the mood and... BIG BRO KICK IT!!!” Genji pointed as Clayton smashed the pedals.

Clayton nodded as he buried his foot on the pedal as the Apc was about ramming speed into the magic infused reinforced Steel gate.

Genji grabbed the twin rocket launcher loaded with Clayton’s special Explosive rocket worth 50KG worth of compressed High explosives including Liquid Jormite the most volatile and high explosive liquid used for cracking class 3 asteroids.

“It’s time to make a hero Boss Gen your up! Oh yeah say something cool before you fire.” Clayton shouted.

As arrows began to pelt the APC Genji opened the top door carrying the rocket launcher with a smirk on his face as he mounted the rocket on his shoulders. “Back check done... OKAY YOU FUCKS YOU CAUSED OUR BOSS MAN SOME HEART ACHES SO TIME TO MAKE THINGS GO BOOM!!! WARGH!!! HA HA HA” Genji said as he pulled the twin triggers on the rocket firing both missiles at the same time.

As both missiles flew into the gate causing a massive gate was blown to shreds along with a portion of the walls protecting the gate. As the gate came crashing down the APC jumped over what was left of the gate they somehow made it through as many of the New Kingdom soldiers.

As they broke through several defensive lines with in the city causing a major distraction where ever they go.

“Boss we’re almost at the King’s Castle what ever your going to do boss... I mean I know your the man with the plan... OH SHIT!” Clayton as he swerved to the left.

A massive iron golem suddenly appeared slamming into the APC nearly destroying it. After it rolled several meters from the main road colliding into an abandoned house though incapacitated the team was all accounted for at the very least.

Kent got up as he pulled out the Excalliburst blades from his bio-cyber cell converter slicing the underbelly of the APC.

As he walked out the knight was greeted with more than 5,000 soldier and 100 Iron Golems. Kent moved his neck slightly as his body re-connected the bones that were disconnected.

“Okay... That’s it... I am Very angry right now... So I am giving you all one chance to drop your weapons... and surrender peacefully before i start cutting off arms and legs? You have 10 seconds to comply...” Kent said as he started to limber up.

As he started to count down his body started to heat up as he started to raise his arms and crossed both blades together and made his approach to the army.

Those who surrendered he left them alone but those who just disregarded his warning he cleaved off at least one arm or leg or even both arms and legs.

The 5,000 highly trained soldiers were mere child’s play towards the young knight specially his time in the Hell’s gate. Several minutes later many of the New Kingdom army were either dead because of the dismemberment and immediate cauterization of their wounds through the excaliburst blades or had their heads bashed in by Kent.

“Well At least the boss cleared the way I guess...” Genji said as he rubbed his head.

“How can you... Oh...”Willow said as she saw the carnage her General did.

“Well one thing is for sure he cleared the path ahead... So everyone...GET up... and RUN!!!”Clayton shouted.

“You don’t have to shout Clay... And Yes lets run... Wait... Where’s Micheal?”Willow said.

“Of all the time.. Okay I’ll go with you WIllow Let’s find the little dude... Rex I can’t believe I am saying this but... Take the smart ass and my big brother and head to Kent’s location... He is going to need back up!” Marky said.

“Understood Marky you two be careful we are not out of the woods yet...” Rex said.

Before the team went their separate ways Clayton stopped Willow for a brief moment with a heavy sigh he told her I’m not like the boss man but Willow... Um... Just watch your back the only one who gets to run you down is me!”

Willow smirked at the sergeant and looked at him with a smile I know you can’t really say some nice things because you got brought up differently but... I Will watch my back... And dont think im letting you go for saying that... I will discipline you later.

“I’m counting on it... Rex lets go!” Clayton shouted.

Willow and Marky ran to the side streets in hopes to find her brother while Rex and the others followed the path made by Kent leading into the castle.

“So you and Willow Big bro... NICE!” Genji said with a thumbs up.

“Be quiet lil bro... And yes... It’s nice to have a bitch like her... She is like... Fucking shit stick I cant think of a good word”Clayton said.

“You do realize that you can be a little nicer when talking to her right? I understand Clay that you want to be a bad ass all the time but you could ease up on the curse words... Im just lucky that you haven’t gotten suspended for sexual harassment...” Clayton said.

“Still you can be a little nicer to everyone else... Like Kent and have you been attending your anger management sessions?” Rex asked.

“Yes... I’ll try to be a little nicer... We are chosen by Kent not because we are friends and all but we put something on the table that makes the team effective in our daily missions believe me if we were put in other teams we would either be dead of in the firing line.”Clayton replied.

“Right Let’s hurry the General must be kicking butt right now.” Rex said as they heard a massive explosion from the upper levels.

The three fought their way through what survived of the New Kingdom army as the explosions were getting louder and louder. They reached the entrance to the throne room or what was left of the main door Rex was about to enter the throne room when Clayton grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back before several blades skewered him.

“Thank’s Clay I owe you one.” Rex said.

“You’re welcome you have kids Rex it would be very bad if you got killed Fiora and Korra will be sad my guy.” Clayton said as he pulled out his chain gun.

“Okay then... I’ll take a page from Kent on this one... It’s time to nutt up!” Rex said as he pulled out his pistols.

“Or Shut up!” Clayton and Genji said at the same time.

The three entered the throne room to see the heroes of Ren’veil were down on the ground badly wounded or incapacitated.

“Rex over their Kent’s locked blades with the King and that bastard Rio!” Clayton stated.

“Way to state the obvious Clay... Genji check on the heroes Clay with me maneuver 5 Clay!” Rex shouted as he started firing at the two.

Clayton Fired his chain rotary gun to the left where the three were locked blades while Rex fired at the opposite direction hitting Rio on the shoulder while the King used his Dragon-snake cloak to block the bullets giving Kent a chance to break off.

Kent Jumped back to his surprise to see Rex and Clayton standing behind him while Clayton poured on the pain with his chain gun.

“Rex where have you guys been?” Kent asked.

“We took a Sunday’s stroll, looking for Micheal... well you know our usual start on a monday...” Rex said.

“Right... enough said captain... We are in trouble these two are drawing power from a massive manna pool reserve somewhere in this castle we have to find the manna conversion crystal or this fight will just drag on forever... Wait Where’s Willow and Marky?” Kent asked.

“They are looking for Micheal I‘m sure they are heading towards our way now.” Rex replied.

Rex pulled out an impact grenade and threw it towards Rio knocking him across the room Kent immediately pointed towards Rio as he had a score to settle with him. Rex, Genji and Clayton were to face off against the King the young knight rushed in delivering a powerful sword swing at Rio.

The Swordtaker managed to dodge Kent’s sword swing and summoned 3 smaller muramasa blades that bounced off his skin.

Clayton kept the king pinned with a seemingly endless barrage of energy bullets while Rex pulled out a pair of combat high frequency knives and tried to cut off the King’s hands but the King summoned a legion of undead soldiers that were dealt by Kent earlier.

Genji ignited his plasma blades and cleaved through the undead with relative ease but every time he puts down more and more kept on resurrecting.

“We can’t keep this up forever Boss I’m running out of energy for my blades...” Genji said.

“Damn it... THAT’S It I AM DONE WITH THIS FARCE!!!” Kent shouted as his body began to unlock 7 of the 49 limiters placed by the Black Queen.

Rio laughed at Kent as he summoned over a dozen Massive muramasa blades and fired them like meteors falling from the sky towards the young knight. Kent grabbed one of the blades and crushed it with his bare hand as his fingers turned into claws and most of his left arm turned into a heavily armored dragon layer scale arm greatly increasing his strength to absurdly outrageous levels.

He then interlocked the Excaliburst blades into the Skull breaker swords and charged towards Rio. Kent’s original strength which could be compared to 600 tons of force per swing when one of the 7 discipline limiters are removed.

The Discipline limiter that was removed was his Rage when removed his strength, speed, reaction time by 5,000% though it increases his power for a short time without it’s counter discipline limiter the Discipline of Serenity to maintain Rage mode will increase the risk of Kent going berserk the longer he maintains rage mode.

Kent’s left eye changed into a dark red as he entered rage mode he grabbed one of the muramasa blades mid-air and threw it back towards Rio. Though he was barely able to dodge it in time the blade throw was able to destroy a massive section of the throne room wall.

Rio didn’t even bother to look back as he charged at Kent with an upward swing followed by a spin kick and double slice combination attack. Kent dodged the double slice countering his sword swing by throwing his Skull breaker sword like a boomerang before it could return to Kent. He followed up with a three punch combination with a reverse ax kick with a rushing upper cut directly to Rio’s jaw and kicked him in the chest sending him flying towards the throne.

He slowly walked towards Rio seeing fear in his eyes overwhelmed the Sword taker and summoned blades left and right trying to push Kent back to no avail.

The young knight walked towards Rio grabbed him by the neck and raised him up Kent was slowly crushing it with a satisfying smile on Kent’s face as fangs started to appear.

Kent smiled seeing Rio struggle and beg for mercy since he couldn’t break his grip. Rio summoned more blades that tried to strike Kent but the blades were merely bouncing off his skin.

“Mer...cy!!!” Rio pleaded.

“You said a long time ago... that you will Kill my champion... that you can kill him with one swing of your sword... You boasted your strength to Kent... Though he didn’t do anything... But I wanted to snap your neck... From the start... But... My Daughter would never forgive me for such... Instead I will leave you with a parting gift...” The Dark voice said as he raised his right hand towards Rio.

He slowly pierced Rio’s soul barrier the Dragon that took over Kent snapped off Rio’s legs and right arm and took away most if not all of his sword skills and gave it to Kent as Punishment for his arrogance.

“What.. did you... DO!!!” Rio asked.

“As punishment for killing the children of Ren’veil and selling them to those wretched dark gods... I took

“Kill ME!!!!” Rio shouted.

“Not even death can save you From me Human... but I shall Gladly oblige your request... For my Champion of course... And one more thing... The one eyed Knight will not save you this time around...” The Dragon said as he snapped Rio’s neck and ripped him in half and threw the corpse off the edge.

Oh well... good riddance to bad rubbish... Now then to deal with the King... But first... a change of pace... The dragon said when he turned to face the King but he returned Kent to his sanity and reviving the discipline of rage.

Kent remembered Killing Rio which brought him great satisfaction though most if not all of his memories were still a bit hazy but he remembered throwing Rio off the edge of the throne room plummeting to his death.

“Wait, what happened... Ugh... my head... Wait no time to be dizzy... We have a battle to win!” Kent said out loud as he picked up his Skull crusher swords and regrouped with Rex to fight the king.

He turned around to see Clayton flying towards the young knight as he Grabbed the Promethian Gunner’s collar and shoulders catching him before he was sent out the hole Kent made earlier.

“Thank’s boss man you saved my neck back there! By the way where is the bastard Rio did you do him in?” Clayton said as he got back up.

“Yeah... It was oddly satisfying to be rid of that retarded man who boasts consistently of his power and courage... What a pathetic display of his status as a Hero no less.” Kent said as he cracked his neck.

“Well good riddance to that piece of filth boss man...”Clayton said.

“GUYS I DONT MEAN TO INTERRUPT YOUR TALK BUT... HELP!!!!” Genji shouted as he was barely holding back the King’s relentless sword strikes.

“Right... sorry Genji... Clay... Remember that one move I really hated?” Kent said.

“Oh you mean maneuver 69.1?” Clayton asked.

“Yeah, Lets do It I still got one in the tank!” Kent replied.

Clayton smiled as he grave Kent some active grenades giving them to Kent as he grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him towards the king, The young knight immediately threw three of the five grenades at the King making him dodge as he got closer Kent ignited one of the grenades and threw it right in front of the King which he was able to knock out the air.

Kent was locked blades with the king as he pulled out of the last grenades Clayton gave him and stuck it towards the King and kicked him away. The grenade exploded but that was no ordinary grenade a proton plasma grenade.

“That should have killed him right?” Clayton asked.

“Well if not I am calling bullshit on that big bro!” Genji said as he got back up.

“Well that was a proton plasma grenade... one of Clay’s special explosives... That should be enough to kill him... Right?” Kent asked.

“It should be enough boss man that grenade is the same thing I used to blow up the armory back at Dawn base... oh shit!” Clayton said as he felt a chilling tap on his shoulder..

“SO IT WAS YOU WHO BLEW UP MY ARMORY YOU ASS!!! I was building my new Exo-frame suit... ““Crying”“ It took me 2 years to build that frame and it just melted in seconds...” Kent shouted.

“Guys the battle is not over yet! We got a king sized problem...” Rex said as he reloaded his pistols.

As the King stood back up when most of his body was torn to shreds by the Plasma grenade which Clayton quoted that he shouldn’t have survive the impact from the Grenade alone.

“Hey you fucker Just drop dead already! that is just cheating.” Clayton stated.

“I dont think this counts as Cheating my friend... Lady Arra said before she got knocked out since he is still wearing the pendant of Life he is drawing from the massive manna reserve underneath the castle and using the life energy to heal himself... Now that I think about it... that does sound like cheating...” Kent replied.

“Yeah boss man that is utter Bullshit it’s like some weird writer is making our opponents ridiculously overpowered so we can drag this along then another player comes in kicks ass take names and then chew bubble gum... What an Ass move narrator!” Clayton said as he broke the 4th wall.

“Seriously my friend... You are talking utter nonsense and stop 4th wall breaking Now is not the time to break walls now is the time for the Action Clay!” Kent said as he disengaged the Skull breaker swords.

“Still this is utter bullshit Boss man!” Clayton said as he fired his chaingun at the king.

The king raised his hand stopping all 600 bullets at once and threw it back to the team. though they were able to barely dodge in time. The King then sat back on his throne laughing at the efforts of the team.

You dare to come to my world... Stopping my right to rule and cleanse this beautiful world of all imperfections... and you even have the audacity to stop me... well then... Let’s see if you can stop THIS!!!

The King said as he started to absorb more and more life energy had begun to seep from the ground and went into the King’s body as more and more tendrils went into his body the bigger and more monster like he became.

A few minutes later he became more than 45 feet tall with more horns sticking out of his body than can be counted and his sword mutated into a demonic blade and revived the dead soldiers into death knights.

“Well we are in trouble... unless someone can pull out a trump card or something like... Right now?” Clayton said.

“Wait I just remembered something... Rex what was that purple light that fused to my left arm?” Kent asked.

“Oh yeah how could I forget... I requested Lady Charlotte to send the Blight Taker relic sent to you... Kent did you get it?” Rex stated.

“Wait THE legendary Blight Taker... The same Blight Taker that if she gets angry will turn her wielder into a deathly puppet THAT BLIGHT TAKER?!” Kent asked.

“Yes the same thing... That was our only chance to save those kids... We will buy you some time figure out how to summon the sword from your arm! Genji Clay Formation 3!” Rex said as he started shooting the king.

“Okay then... Time to meditate...”Kent said as he kneel down and cleared his mind.

Kent was brought before the Temple of the soul where he could commune with his own persona and other personalities. Before he could take a single step the young knight was dragged out of the temple and into the Phantom void.

The Phantom void according to ancient legend this is the only realm that the Blight Taker maintain’s for it’s wielder should the Warden of the Blight taker judge the wielder true then she will allow the full might of the Blight taker to it’s fullest potential.

So you are the new Knight that dares to summon me? The warden said.

The warden waved her fingers at Kent forcefully dragging him towards her forcing him to sit across a coffee table.

I sense fear in you... Good are you afraid of me... young one? Well... you should be... The Warden said as she was about to snap her fingers and turn Kent into a Undeathly puppet.

Before she could snap her fingers their was not a single ounce of desire or lust for power and others inside the knight that wielded

“Interesting... unlike my previous wielders who searched for power... you on the other hand... Despise it as if you want to throw it all away... Very well I will lend you my power for now... Let us see how far will you go... tell Charlotte my regards for me child...” The Warden said as she snapped her fingers again.

Kent was snapped back into reality when he saw his team was getting beaten down as Clayton was literally throwing rocks at the king’s Face.

“WAIT this is!” Kent said as he saw a bright blighted light emerged from his left hand.

Kent stood back up as he saw the blight taker emerged from his left hand in the form of a long single blade sword. The warden sent a message to her wielder saying I reshaped the Blight Taker into a form more... comfortable to your specifications and skills... Use the power I am letting you borrow and prove to me that you are worth of the Role of the Eternal Knight...

Then we shall talk again...

Kent looked at the blade as it roared out of hunger for the blood of the guilty he was eager to feed the blade though his left hand was still shaking after suffering internal damage when using Rage mode.

He had no other choice but to push it beyond it’s limits as he placed himself into a quick draw stance. After a brief moment of concentration his left eye started to bleed the pupil turned black while the retina turned red in color.

He didn’t had time to think Kent unleashed his skill called provoke luring the king towards Kent.

“That’s it you ignorant bastard... Come here... just a little more!” Kent whispered as his left arm veins were exploding.

“NOW!!! SHADOWFIRE COMBINATION ART... BLIGHT MOON QUICKDRAW... BLOOD VIOLET PETAL DANCE!!!” Kent said as he disappeared in flash of black light.

After a brief moment Kent emerged from behind withe the Blight Taker drawn as beautiful heart shaped petals began to fall around them. The Blight taker was drawing the blood of the king into it as it finished it’s dinner Kent turned to his team to check on Rex who was shoved into the wall and Ben who had his body stuck to the floor.

The King looked at the one who killed him as he said one more time before his body turned into black petals I shall... Return...

“Don’t count on it ass wipe!”Kent said as he threw the Blight taker hitting the King in the head.

The Blight taker turned the blade into a massive jaw as tendrils began to dig into the king dragging his soul out of his dead body. He struggled to get away but the Blight Taker is a place no soul on creation should ever go to as the blade already devoured 4 dark gods already and hundreds if not millions of demon class champions.

Let your sins burn you for all eternity... Repent for all the souls that you had wronged... Repent for you shall never know peace... Repent knowing that you had sacrificed your people for your own gain... I Warden Kyrisu of the Blight Taker judge you to Eternity of torment... Know that you shall never escape from me... Not even your gods can save you now!

The Warden said as she burned her message into the Kings soul as he struggled to maintain connection to his body as he got devoured by the Blight Taker.

It’s over isn’t it... Kent thought to himself as the sword returned to his left arm he then checked on his friends and got them all out safely though they all suffered some form of injury. Marky and Willow along with Micheal and the rest of the Strike team Zero Dawn made their way to the throne room to aide their leader.

The Knights immediately secured the throne room before Kent could take a breather he checked on Aisha and the others.

Before he could approach Aisha he knelled down to check on her if their was any injuries but his arm started to feel as if a thousand needles were piercing the insides of his left arm.

Fenris immediately ignited his Plasma knife and cleaved Kent’s left arm and tossed it aside as it exploded sending no more than a thousand miniature Muramasa blades flying in all directions hitting most marines who were busy aiding the other heroes.

Though they were okay but are in critical condition the knights removed the lodged blades from the mariens and carried them to safety.

Fenris immediately applied first aide to Kent’s Arm but nothing seemed to force or provoke the regeneration protocols of the Virus inside his body.

“Damn why isn’t it working!” Fenris thought.

He could hear laughter echoing in the throne room as it sounded familiar Did you think that I’ll die that easily you cocky prick... Now Look at what you did to me!!! Now I’ll kill you and become the king and become immortal!

“Rio is still alive!” Rex said as he coughed out blood.

“Lily get Rex Kent and the others out of here we shall taker care of this!” Fenris said igniting his Vibration plasma claws.

“Okay, Fenris kill Rio for Kent!” Lily replied as the medical teams carried the heroes and the injured team out of the king’s castle.

The Iron wolves began searching the throne room for Rio as one of the Iron fangs (a special team made for the strike team that specializes in drop assaults and heavy type close quarter combat and siege warfare is their main specialty) as they searched the throne room they found the dismembered remains of Rio sword taker who clung onto life using the muramasa’s manna stores.

“Master Fenris look... The bastard is still alive... Ha... and he had the gull to call our lord a monster... Let’s kill him right now!” The younger Iron Fang stated.

“Wait... I have a message from Lady Aliyshia before we kill him.” Fenris said as he took the recorder.

Rio, I was already aware of your treachery when you said my Father of all people abandoned Angel city to it’s fate... I knew you were a traitor... and you had the gull to keep comforting my daughter... I cannot believe you... I guess that’s why your sister looks down on the Sword Taker clan...You all had abandoned your duty in search for greed and power... I hereby announce the annulment of the arranged marriage between the sword takers and the Ayekawa Clans... you are on your own... I will announce the betrayal personally so no one will even bother to work with the Swordtakers anymore... This is payback and revenge for my people of Angel city...

“Their you have it... you don’t deserve this Relic... Ill make sure that I will find another person worth of it... I’ll take this first then you lot can murder him!” Fenris said as he took the Muramasa Pendant from Rio’s neck.

Fenris showed it to Rio and stole it from the Swordtakers the other Grey fangs began to mutilate Rio to the point he was not even recognized.

As the battle for Ren’veil finally had drawn to a close the rising sun had finally came to greet the Knights of the Strike fleet. As Fenris took off his helmet and approached the edge of the breach.

He sat down as he took out his kanteen of alcohol and raised it high Cheers to our brothers and sisters... Let your memories be the seeds for tomorrow! Hail to the fallen! Fenris saluted as many of the Grey wolves followed Fenris and drank from their Kanteens in celebration for Ren’veil shall have a new and better tomorrow that starts today...

#End of Chapter 1

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