#what on Earth is a “fine military carriage”

[capn-twitchery]

making grace's back worse with a corset that forces your shoulders back. double pigeon stance. outfit of "fuck your whole spine"

[mychlapci]

After weeks of radio silence from Prowl, Optimus Prime is beside himself with guilt and concern. Truthfully, even he doesn’t know what a union with the Unmaker entails. He can only hope and pray that all goes smoothly and Prowl returns unscathed… This is traditionally a Prime’s duty, and Prowl is no Prime.

When Optimus finally receives Prowl’s distress signal, he drops everything at once and assembles a small crew to retrieve him. Without a second to spare, Prime, Ratchet, and Ironhide depart for Earth.

Nobody could’ve guessed the sort of state they’d find Prowl in. Dazed, grimy, and gravid, the Praxian barely notices his friends’ arrival until Ratchet’s right at his side. His dull blue optics stay transfixed on the maw of Unicron's cave for a moment longer before shifting to the medic, slowly widening with realization and recognition as he finally regards his presence. 

Prowl seems to come to his senses after a beat, speaking calmly and casually to the group as Ratchet helps him to his peds. He dances around questions about the union, insists that he’s alright, and hobbles ahead of his three dumbfounded friends… All the while idly stroking his swollen stomach with a gentle, reverent touch. Optimus can only stumble after him, with a concerned Ratchet and dumbstruck Ironhide in tow.

The days that follow are strange and tense. Ratchet thoroughly inspects Prowl’s frame, stumped by his findings. Besides being stuffed full of eggs of an unknown species and origin, Prowl is otherwise completely fine. If anything, he looks healthier than before. He’s uninjured and well-fed, his tank full of strange but nourishing organic matter.

What worries the group most is Prowl’s demeanor. He stubbornly maintains that he's fine, but Prime knows better. There’s a far off look in his optics, he can't seem to hold a train of thought very long, and most concerningly, he’s become shamelessly and incessantly horny. 

From trying to crawl into Ironhide’s lap in the pilot’s seat, to bluntly propositioning Optimus with the same cold confidence he’d propose military strategy with, to mindlessly grinding back against and repeatedly cumming around Ratchet’s digits during his initial examination; Prowl’s behavior is as disturbing as it is maddeningly arousing. And the worst part is, Prowl himself doesn't seem to realize that he's acting odd.

By the third day of their voyage, Ironhide gives up on nudging the needy Praxian off his lap, instead focusing on keeping his panel closed as Prowl pants, whines, and feverishly rides one of his thighs. All the bigger bot can do is grit his teeth and clutch the arms of his chair as Prowl shamelessly ruts his bare valve against his leg, smearing sweet pink slick all over Ironhide’s thigh before overloading with a pitiful whimper… And after a peaceful moment of rest against Ironhide’s chest, getting up and casually waddling away like nothing happened, lubricant still dripping down his legs.

Ratchet too succumbs to his advances, deciding that his newfound libido must be an effect of either his carriage or the foreign matter he was exposed to on Earth. The medic prescribes a new nightly routine to ease his restlessness. Prowl easily obliges, dropping to his knees and slobbering all over Ratchet’s spike and valve, desperately swallowing every drop of transfluid he’s given as he absentmindedly strokes his rounded tummy.

The higher his charge is, the more his processor feels like it’s full of warm cotton. He can't help but chase the feeling, unconsciously seeking out anything and everything that might make him feel the way the Unmaker, his mate, made him feel. He takes Ratchet’s spike with ease and overloads untouched the first time it hits the back of his throat, whining like a cheap pleasurebot the second the medic pulls out of his intake. Of course, he calmly leaves Ratchet’s habsuite and returns to business as usual once their appointment ends.

Optimus is the last to give in, too overcome with guilt and horror at Prowl’s condition to participate in his debasement. To see his strong, sharp, proud advisor so easily reduced to a desperate, shameless, spikeslut after selflessly carrying out a Prime’s responsibility… Optimus lays awake at night, trying in vain to ignore the lewd whimpers and squeals from the room beside him; Every single night like a turbofox in heat. He can only imagine what Prowl’s doing in there…

He finally snaps one night, be it out of guilt, pity, or plain temptation. It's easy enough to justify in his head; This is all Optimus’s fault, Prowl’s only like this because he couldn’t carry out his sworn duty. The least Prime can do now is help him out…

ik I said birth in p2, but I got carried away! I promise I’ll do a p3 if you want it <3

-🦴

hrghh that's okay, I love this. Unicron completely changed Prowl, all he can think of is the drag of something wet and thick over his internal calipers… His forge is so full and his valve is always so wet. He needs transfluid in his forge, he needs it like he needs energon, he can't live without spikes. Optimus feels so bad… No Prime has ever come back from their wedding night with Unicron pregnant, it just had to happen this time, when Optimus shrunk his duties and sent his friend in his place… Prowl has been changed, maybe traumatized, and Optimus doesn't know what else to do other than help him in any way he can…

He catches Prowl furiously riding a toy spike, like he does every night, and finally offers to help him… After all, Optimus can't stand his unsatisfied whines. 

[candidhart]

Made this one some time ago and had the HONOR of collabing with my dear friend @royai who wrote this AMAZING piece!

Love u Katie :3

After Dark

by @royai

It came as a surprise to Riza Hawkeye that the light could be as fearsome as the dark.

It never occurred to her that trouble could exist in the thin space between the two, that it should preserve itself there for a hundred years, maybe longer, and wait. She imagined herself as a girl asleep in her bed, moonlight slanting through her four-paned glass window, a ferry for the monsters and the things that were worse than monsters. Children checked under their beds and inside their closets, refused to venture into cellars and attics, thought of warding off the unknown with fat oil lamps and candles melting into their brass candlesticks. That things with spindly arms and bodies blacker than ink could use light as a conduit for their demented games… 

That they could touch her, even…

Nightmares took up residence in Riza’s sleep. In her waking too, they lingered there, limned her mind with the briefest flashing of tendrils. She curled into herself at night, closed her eyes on the horrors. The blackness found her, though. A million spider’s legs on her body, ghosting the flesh, raising the hairs, and that line on her cheek where the monster had touched her would weep. And she would weep, too, because it had been so long since dread had forced its way in. The tendrils brought strange, frantic memories to the forefront. A panic as familiar as church bells. 

Riza’s father, a monster in his own right, in the way that men become monsters and in the way that she had become a kind of monster too. He never minded her but to be those tendrils in the dark. Never in the light. That was her comfort, her safety, her promise.

The light.

A betrayal.

***

Central reached for her like a beggar. Grimy hands, oil-stained, gunk under fingernails chipped and jagged, it closed its hands around her and she was reminded, again, again, again, about the stories her father would tell. He would tell them in his sleep, and make promises of them in her ear, and he would tell them, even, through mouthfuls of blood. That Central was a bastard city. Its towers, spires, and cobblestones bathed in storefront lights bleeding from ornate windows, in the yellow glow of street lamps. 

Riza left her apartment and slipped off a curb, first thing. 

She remembered her first night in the city. Automobiles flicked light into her windows, made shapes out of the lamp she kept on a pile of boxes in the living room. Shadows in the dark. There were sounds all the time. Movement like tree branches.

Back East, back home, Riza could wander into the fields when she couldn’t sleep. She took a military vehicle into the countryside, an hour or so west, just a bit further inward. It parked fine on the dirt roads. Headlights would go black, melt into the darkness all around, and the hip-high grass cradled her as she sank down, down into the cottony earth. Most people counted sheep to sleep; Riza counted stars, stalks. 

She always woke before the sun. Home in time to rinse the sticks from her hair and brew coffee on her electric stove. 

Central did not exist to afford her any of that. Central was alive like hordes of flies are alive. Incessant buzzing, a whirring in your ear that you can’t see, that you worry might bury itself in your eardrum. Even before the tendrils and the monsters Riza would lie awake in her bed, books unearthed from boxes, clothes folded in neat squares over her dresser, a chest of drawers not quite filled yet, her apartment unpacked and unsettled, and fret over the whole of it: Central. 

She slipped off the curb and scraped her achilles on the concrete. Her teeth crashed together with the force, and she massaged her jaw as she reached down to rub her wounded ankle, fingers coming away wet and red.

A car beat over the cobbled street, spewing dampness from its tires. Riza wasn’t aware that it had rained but she smelled it now, acute and intense, like a single pinprick on the skin. 

Out east, that smell was earthy, ancient: soaked stone and evergreens, swollen carriages and damp horse hide, wetted dirt and a choked fire. 

Riza took Longmont to Leander, cutting her way through the city via back alleys where moonlight and street light was caught on brick corners and cordoned off by severe angles. She read the stories of women assaulted in Central well past dark, and had seen all the headlines he placed strategically at her desk, a tiny dog-shaped paperweight holding the newspaper steady until the moment Riza could read it and be properly warned. But it was never the people of Central who made her uneasy.

It was several blocks to his apartment. Riza folded herself into the dark. The creature could follow but he could not show himself here, not without a conduit, not without the light. Everything black, nothing inside of it, a void. 

A rectangle of light exploded over the ground. Riza stopped, terror seizing her hard. A woman with greying hair hummed and whistled as she sprinkled water out over hanging potted plants. Riza’s chest bounced frantically as she watched the shadow of the woman’s hands in the light, the shadow of the watering can wandering back and forth across the chasm of yellow, methodical as a pendulum. 

It happened so suddenly that Riza had little time to react. A mist, a gathering shadow, one red eye peeked out at her from the fluttering darkness. Then, like snakes, tendrils crept out of the line of black and into the little patch of light. Riza willed the woman to close the window, begged her, thought for a moment that she might shout or cry, but it was likely that the woman would only become curious and the window would remain uncovered as she came to watch from her lighted perch. 

The monster was an ancient child and yet, in this form, none of his features were childlike. His smile was wolfish and cruel, thin like a knife’s blade, and his tendrils sharp as barbs. They thrashed up against the liquid dark where Riza was hiding, attempting to gather her by the ankles. 

The child spoke using a dozen voices.

“Where are you going, Lieutenant Hawkeye?”

Home, she thought. An impulse, the truth, spoken so carelessly in her mind. To him. To the stars or the stalks, that tall grass and damp earth. Somewhere known. 

“You have made a rather purposeful attempt to evade me.”

“Forgive me,” she bit, “but our last meeting was less than enjoyable.”

The monster smirked.

“Do I trouble you so much, little Riza?”

The nickname, familiar in sound, comforting in its use, was a bitter poison on his tongue. 

“I’ll ask again for transparency.” The tendrils clawed at the ground, raked it. “Where are you going?”

Away from Central. 

Away from the light.

To him. To him. To him. 

He’ll shut off all the lights, pull all the curtains closed, feed her hot tea and leftover lentil soup and summer sausage. His apartment will smell like cologne and the candle with petals baked into it, and they’ll settle into the down of his bed and see nothing, and the monster will never even realize he has lost. 

“You have only as long as the window stays open,” she said, gaining confidence. “I am not bound to you. I can go wherever I want.”

As she said it, the woman in the window started to stir. Her footsteps grew closer, the sound of the humming rising, rising, rising into the final closing of the curtain. The monster’s frown was washed away by the night.

Riza ran.

His apartment was several blocks east of Central Headquarters. The storm’s eye, the quiet, the massive, white and oppressive thing. Riza wound her way past it without managing to sneak a glance. She didn’t need to. She could feel its gaze on her, what all of it represented. And the squared coach lights were tiny pillars of threats, waiting for her to come closer and be beckoned. 

She thundered past several shuttered windows; an older man on a stoop hunched close to the ground; the sounds of women chattering together like preening birds, their heels clicking over cracked brick and concrete. 

Riza took the stairs two at a time, lunging forward through the hall light, praying nothing would lurch out from the darkness and drag her away. She learned at a young age to fear the sudden jerk of the unknown. 

“Lieutenant Hawkeye,” he said. He must have heard her coming, because his door was wrenched open, and he stood there in pajamas and holding a cup of tea, the bag still soaking. 

“We’ve had an emergency at the office, sir.”

His brows trundled downward. 

“Please, come in,” he said, and moved aside as she nearly tripped her way into his apartment. “Excuse the mess.”

There was no mess, not quite like someone would expect. The Colonel’s apartment was better kept than hers, although she had just moved and he had gotten to stay. Things were collected together in neat piles: alchemy books gathered at one arm of the couch, on the floor, an old mug sat atop them, and there were coats strewn about too, though placed strategically, two on dining chairs and one on the lounge by the front door. Pots hung together in clumps along his kitchen walls, white-tiled, much nicer than Riza’s tan wallpaper; and on his floor, beneath the coffee table, several sewn blankets, all gifts from the Madame’s girls, as far as anyone knew. 

Riza reached for one as she folded herself into his couch. “Please, sir. Can you turn off the lights?”

He set his tea on the counter. Again, he looked at her with concern, but the lights started to fall away the closer he came to her. First the kitchen, the six squares of dining space, the hall light he shut off as he sat opposite to her on the couch. The lamp was last. And finally, with the lights of Central thoroughly shut out, Riza could breathe.

It was much like how she would lock herself in the bathroom as a child, plugging the bottom of the door with a wet towel, the waxy shower curtain a flimsy barrier between herself and her raging father. Eventually he removed the locks, and then the knobs. Even now, she felt the cold,  hard press of the tub’s porcelain on her back. 

“Thank you.”

Silence, and then: “What are you doing here, Lieutenant?”

Coming home. 

“I’m not sure myself, sir.”

The Colonel shifted his weight. He was a full cushion away from her, but his heat radiated all the same. 

“What happened to your cheek?”

“I cut it on a bramble while fetching a lost toy for Hayate at the park.”

Fingers pressed to her skin, a thumb ran slanted along her wound. 

It was reminiscent of childhood, for sure. Riza had always courted this quiet, contemplative darkness. It was when she was a little older that she invited Roy into it, and he welcomed the invitation, and he was a kind, treasured guest. But tonight she was feeling particularly fragile. 

She took his hand and fit his knuckles under her chin. 

The monster had allowed her to be here, that much was certain. There was no other reason that he wouldn’t have stolen her from those stairs. 

She crushed Roy’s hand into herself. 

What was he after?

What was the motive?

Was it… afraid?

Roy leaned closer to her. His fingers squeezed hers. He wanted to say something, she knew, or ask her why she had come to him and begged for the dark. 

She would not tell him. Tomorrow, maybe, but tonight she was fragile. 

Riza found his mouth in the dark. She set his hand free and it wrapped itself around the curve of her neck, tipping her head back. His other hand gave her hair a gentle tug. 

“Are you all right?” he managed to ask around her lips, while she occupied herself with tracing the scars on his hip and in his abdomen. She gripped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled him toward her until she was on her back and he had to brace himself against the arm of the couch. “Lieutenant,” he said, though the sentiment was weak, ill-willed. He was attempting and failing at control.

“I’m all right,” she said, and kissed him again. He tasted like his tea. Again his fingers brushed the cut on her cheek, and as they did she was shocked, jolted. She broke away from him and sat upright. “I’m, uh…”

“I really just need to know if you’re all right.” 

“I’m going to go.”

“Lieutenant— Riza.”

The name was too much, the break in her skin was too much, the darkness was not enough. It was not enough. The curtain hadn’t been enough. The porcelain. All the nights cascaded in the dark, the world pulling itself to a close around her, fitting like a glove. 

“I have to go.”

The Colonel kept to his place on the couch as she stood and put her hand on the door and wondered again about what the monster wanted. 

She hadn’t known as a child, and she had survived anyway.

She had survived.

The light swallowed her whole.

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

The Red Witch

Jasper Hale x Reader Part 5

A/N: Part 5 is here my lovelies! Bon apetit! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. 💕

Summary: Imagine being an immortal witch from the Middle Ages and being the previous love of Jasper before he was turned. You two were separated under certain circumstances and cross each other’s path once again, years later in the present era.

Warnings: Language

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

It was the year 1862. You were sitting in the private carriage of the train that early morning, on the route to Houston. This was your first time in America and you couldn’t help the excitement in you as stared out the window at the vast lands before you. Unbeknownst to Charlotte and some others, you were a countess at the time, in courtesy of your father, Count Balthazar, who was long dead. But you tried to keep your family history as confidential as possible, considering your father was a sorcerer and your mother a witch. When you grew into a young woman, you left your family castle and went your own way, leaving behind everything that reminded you of your cruel father and donated all his wealth to charity. As for your mother, she was a beautiful sea witch. After the death of your father, she was able to gain her freedom and now lives happily in a humble cottage on the coast of Scotland, close to her beloved sea, and married to the local clocksmith who loves her more than your father ever could.

The reason you were traveling to Houston was because you were recently invited out here to preform at the local theatre for charity, to which which all the funds would go towards the families affected by the war. You were a known opera singer at the time and people fell in love with your clear and soft voice that held all the emotion and sadness behind it which was beautiful to their ears. You were also quite an exceptional pianist. It originally started out as a hobby, something you decided to test the waters with, but you didn’t know it would grow into something serious, eventually venturing you out into having a strong passion for the arts like singing, acting, and even painting. When your father was around, you were never able to pursue such things. He believed they were nonsense, a complete and utter waste of time. While these activities were useless to him, they were your whole heart and soul for you. You breathed for the arts. You guess you had your mother to thank for that, she used to sing you a lullaby every night when you were a child to calm your nerves because of the visions you would have. Thankfully, those visions ceased to happen as you got older.

The gentle rocking and sound of the train had lulled you to sleep as you currently had your head leaned against the window and your feet thrown up on the seat of the train. Your hair was tied up in a bun with a peridot green ribbon while a few loose pesky strands fell about your face. A leather bound Wuthering Heights book was tucked neatly in your hands on your lap. You were wearing a simple grey long sleeved gingham linen dress with delicate black lace trim at the sleeves and your collar. A peridot green velvet ribbon was tied around your waist, your neckline sat at the bottom of your neck and covered your collarbone, and a few black buttons ran down the front of your bodice.

Your dear friend at the time was sitting across from you with her fiancé. Her name was Charlotte Griffiths, the daughter of a governor. And though she was mortal, you absolutely adored her, for she took you in when you nearly did not have a home and cared for you as if you were her own sister. Then again, you always adored mortals. This was before you had known Melanie whom you had only met in the 60s. Charlotte’s fiancé was Lord Ernest Thompson, the owner of a estate and a businessman. He was a kind, charitable, and respectable young man, and you thought he was the perfect match for Charlotte. They both were kind and gentle souls.

“Isn’t this exciting (Y/N)?” Charlotte squealed, waking you from your nap.

“Hm?” You opened your sleepy eyes to look at a blur of what most likely was your friend. “Oh of course.” You yawned, giving yourself a minute to adjust your eyes and mind to reality. “Technically you’re the one who begged me to accept the invitation for performing here and practically dragged me along.” You smirked.

“Oh admit it. I saw your face light up when you received that invitation. Anyways, isn’t this a wonderful little adventure for us? You’ve told me how much you liked to travel.”

“Well I wouldn’t quite call a civil war a wonderful little adventure.” You snarked lightheartedly, letting out a scoff before starting to dwell upon what sort of mess you’ve just gotten into.

“My god woman.” Ernest chuckled playfully, lifting his eyes from the newspaper he was reading, his glasses sitting at the bridge of his nose as he glanced at Charlotte. “Can’t you see (Y/N) was asleep?”

“Well I....I’m merely excited my love.”

“Merely?” He raised a brow.

“Oh you’re being harsh on her Ernest.” You joked along, smiling to yourself as the lovers started to lightly quarrel.

You stared out the window again, watching the scenery blur past. You have seen many lands in your time, how they have changed over the course of years, how some have come and vanished to dust. You have seen kings rise and fall. But you haven’t been here, to America. This was all foreign to you.

The train finally came to a stop at the train station and you quickly grabbed your things, desperate to get out and stretch your legs. You hastily threw on your matching bonnet, not caring that it sat crooked on your head. You rushed towards the door and hitched up your skirt, struggling with the petticoat and making sure not to go past the ankles of your boots and expose your stockings or else Charlotte would have a heart attack. You grabbed the handle and stepped down from the train and onto the wooden platform as Charlotte and Ernest followed suit.

Right when you stepped out you could feel the hot and thick damp air surround you, and you couldn’t help but bring out your fan and fan yourself vicariously.

“My goodness it’s muggy. It’s like the devil’s bollocks out here.” You breathed out.

“(Y/N)!” Charlotte exclaimed, smacking you gently with her fan. “Mind your manners!”

“Sorry.”

“You forgot your parasol by the way.”

“Oh. Right.” You took your parasol from her hands and opened it up, putting your fan away. “Wouldn’t want to forget my complexion guardian.”

You were so used to London weather, now you had to get used to this, and your corset was not helping either.

“Would you look at that Charlotte. The sun.” You made a point to her, only making her shake her head.

Once you were all settled and had your things you all headed to the nearest bed and breakfast and checked into your rooms. You and Charlotte shared one while Ernest had his own. You had just set your belongings inside before Charlotte decided now would be a good time to go to the local tea house, despite your slight dismay as you would much rather be taking a nap. You were sitting out on the tables in front of the local tea house, your head propped up by your hand and a cup of tea in your other, while chatting with Charlotte as you watched the local people pass by.

“My goodness. This heat, it’s nearly disgusting.” Charlotte fanned herself as she wiped her forehead.

“I’m sweating in places I didn’t know I had. I might as well be stripping myself bare to the bone.” You added, fanning yourself with your hand.

“I told you to wear a crinoline.”

“What? Those ghastly looking cages for your legs? Never.”

You stared off into the distance in a sort of dazed state, thinking about your comfortable bed back home, and your collection of books you left behind. You were also starting to miss your mother, wishing you were in Scotland watching the waves with her, before noticing that Charlotte had gone awfully quiet.

“What’s gotten into you?” You asked her, seeing her stare at something behind you. “Charlotte?”

“My my, I think you have an admirer.” She giggled, her youthful face lit up with giddiness as she tried to contain her laughter.

“What on earth are you babbling about?” You turned to follow her gaze and saw a tall stranger wearing a military uniform staring in your direction. You straightened up in your chair, your face firm as you started to feel yourself get anxious. You were silently hoping he wouldn’t come over to your table to strike up a conversation.

“Oh! He’s a rather fine looking gentleman I must say. Annnd he’s an officer.” Charlotte was now leaning in to whisper noticeably in your ear. You can practically hear her next you, trying so hard to contain her giggles.

“You’ve gone daft Charlotte. He’s obviously fancying you. You’re the pretty one.” You turned back around, completely disinterested.

“I think not! You know I’m engaged!”

“And how would he know that detail? Hm? A man who sees a pretty woman without any knowledge as to who she is, is most likely to approach her, without any assumption as to whether she is engaged or not. To which he’ll find out sooner or later I must add.” You ran on before taking a sip of your tea.

“Oh come now (Y/N). You know I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t know, you seem to be a little too excited upon seeing other men. I don’t hear you speak of Ernest as such, as I might recall, a rather fine looking gentleman.”

“You know I love my dear Ernest more than anything. I’m just trying to find you a suitor.”

“I honestly wish you wouldn’t.” You sighed inaudibly. “What I’m trying to say is, that gentleman over there does not know that. So just.....oh bloody hell. I don’t know. Just be prepared to decline his advances towards you.”

“You lack faith my dear.” She gave you a pitiful look before looking behind you once more. “Oh look! He’s coming this way!”

“He’s what?! Charlotte!” You hiss as you lightly slap your hands down on the table as to not draw attention. “Don’t just invite him over.”

“Ladies.” You heard the man now standing beside you as he took off his hat and lowered his head in a polite greeting.

You had gotten so nervous in the mere matter of a minute that you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out the next word that slipped your tongue. “Fuck.”

There was a brief silence as Charlotte and the stranger stared at you in utter disbelief at what a proper lady like you had just uttered. A few others who sat at the other tables near you in earshot stared at you in displeasure before looking away.

Oh just wonderful. You wanted the world to eat you alive right there so you could escape their peers.

You locked eyes with the officer for a brief moment before turning away and fixing your gaze on something else, doing your best to seem preoccupied. You wished you brought your book with you so you could bury your face in it.

Charlotte let out an uneasy laugh befor turning to the man. “Well hello officer! I’m Charlotte Griffiths.” You caught your friend extending her gloved hand out to him, to which he kissed lightly.

“Pleasure to meet you.” You heard him say in this thick southern accent you were definitely not accustomed to.

“This young lady here is my dear friend (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Charlotte. Stop this instance.” You leaned closer to her only for her to hear.

You were starting to feel embarrassed more than anything.

“Ma’am.” He now turned to you, to which you gave a short reply without making any eye contact.

“Good day.”

“You know (Y/N) here has come to preform for the opera tomorrow night. You should come!”

Charlotte you did not just.

You sat there with your arms folded and glared at her. She loved getting you into these predicaments, innocently enough. If only she knew how much it bothered you.

“Really?” He turned to you now, smiling. “I thought I heard that name somewhere.”

“Oh, well she’s only one of the best sopranos in England.”

“Ehem. Charlotte that’s quite enough. Thank you.”

You almost felt ridiculed at the moment as you felt the stares of everyone around you weighing in on you. And then that sensation started to creep on you. The same one you felt when you were a child. You glanced around, seeing and hearing the blood flowing through everyone’s veins and their hearts beating in their chests, glowing like a red ruby. You squeezed your eyes shut and pinched the bridge of your nose, silently muttering to yourself and remembering the meditation your mother taught you. Earth, fire, water, air, and spirit. You glanced up from underneath your bonnet as the sensation died down and you could finally hear Charlotte calling out your name.

“(Y/N). Are you alright?” Charlotte was reaching out a hand to clasp your gloved one, gently shaking them.

“I’m fine.” You breathed out while rubbing your temple. “It’s just a migraine.”

“Do you need anything for it?” Charlotte questioned you.

“No. God no. I don’t need any of that poison.” You got up from your seat and dusted yourself off before grabbing your parasol. “I’m going to head back to the inn if you don’t mind Charlotte.”

“Do you want me to walk you back?” The officer asked you, his voice laced with concern as he took a step towards you.

You took a step back away from him in response, still avoiding his eyes. “No. I’m quite alright. I’m pretty sure I can walk back to the inn without any assistance thank you.”

“Good day.” You nodded your head at him before turning away and heading back to the inn.

The officer was the most surprised at this situation if anything. He never received this sort of reaction before. Growing up, he always appeared to have a way with words and an influence over people, they always seemed to like him. His father called it charisma. And yet here you were, this woman he had barely just met, and you didn’t have the slightest sway from him. He was a bit perplexed at this, since he was now the one that was drawn to you.

You on the other hand, you found him to be rather bold. This had happened plenty of times before. Charlotte would bring over someone to introduce to you and it always ended up with you turning them down since everyone of them had been a cocky arrogant arshehole. But the one thing you didn’t want to admit to yourself was you were scared of falling in love. The last time you did, it didn’t end well. Ever since then, you tried to keep your distance and your emotions locked up. After all those years of isolation, you eventually led yourself to believe your curse made you incapable of love.

Tag List: @smileygirl08 @peachyevergreen @Lustdere @moonlights27 @krazykatkay456 @buckysjuicyplums @oi-itsemily @ahahanofanks @iberandom @bittergomez @holyhumorliteraturelight @bells3333 @ashdab2611 @toomanybandstocare @twilight-kpop @cricketlicket @5sosfanforever2001 @justine-en @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @shakespeareanbooty @pancake-pages @elisemurphy06 @ineffabledears @bella-stenbakken @seraphpheonix @trickylittlewitch @twilightrox @hobodolly @big-galaxy-chaos @mega-ultra-so-awesome-it-hurts @mikariell95 @decaffeinated--fangirl @lovestomanyfandoms @fairyunhappy @chaoticsimptown @leelee-ishman @hanster1998 @coricosplays @secretpickleprofessordean @itsbqueenthings @theweasleythatgotintoslytherin @corpseism

[alice-beaumont-ravenclaw]

História

A/N #1: Finally! Fic number 3 of the Brazil series! I apologize for the wait. Let’s just say that stuff happened after I posted the second fic of the series that kinda zapped my creativity. Anyway, now I am back! 

Hottest Spot South of Havana (Part 1, Part 2) |  A Wonderful Surprise

Word count: ≈3000

Alice’s outfit

Alice could perceive the sunlight through her closed eyelids, but she didn’t want to open them just yet. Wanting to enjoy the warmth of the bed some more, she turned around, thinking her pillow felt firmer than she remembered. Her nose detected a familiar smell that reminded her of the sweater she slept in during cold winter nights at Hogwarts. Her boyfriend’s sweater. Charlie’s smell…

Charlie!

Her eyes opened up at that realization, landing on a sleeping freckled face with messy longish red hairs framing it. What was she doing in the same bed as Charlie? Where was Penny? In fact, where exactly was she? She did not recognize the room she was in as she quickly glanced around. As her mind was going at lightning speed, trying to remember how she ended up here, she looked under the covers. Thank Merlin, they still had their pyjamas on. Lost in those thoughts, she felt the pillow underneath her head shift slightly. She soon realized the “pillow” was actually Charlie’s shoulder, and as she slowly looked up towards his face, her green eyes met his warm brown eyes.

“Good morning,” said Charlie.

Alice stared at him, silent, her eyes wide.

“Why are you…?” started asking Charlie before being hit by a realization. He smirked. “You don’t remember how you ended up in my bed, do you?”

Alice shook her head, still staring at her boyfriend.

“Well, you missed my body so much, you just couldn’t help yourself…” started saying Charlie biting his lower lip to stifle a laugh he could feel coming as he saw Alice’s cheeks turn pink.

“What?!” exclaimed Alice, sitting up in the bed holding her face. “Oh, Merlin! They won’t stop teasing after…” She then heard Charlie’s laughter behind her. “Charlie Weasley!” she exclaimed, grabbing the pillow underneath his arm. “How dare you scare me like that?!” she added, throwing the pillow at Charlie’s face.

Charlie barely dodged the pillow as he sat up, still chuckling. “Sorry, it was just too easy, and you’re so cute when you blush,” he said, hugging her and giving her rosy cheek a small peck.

“Honestly, though, how did I end up here?”

“I was sleepy myself when you joined me, but if I remember, you were woken up by Tonks and Tulip getting ready for their hiking expedition, and I think you weren’t able to go back to sleep because of the racket they were making. So you came here,” explained Charlie.

“Oh… Yeah… I remember now. Tonks tripped over an ottoman in the living room; Tulip burst out laughing, followed by Tonks; Dennis escaped Tulip’s pocket, so they started looking all over the room for him while Penny and I just watched. I vaguely remember Penny suggesting I go over to your room since the boys were already waiting outside, so it would be peaceful,” said Alice, scratching her head.

“Feeling you cuddle up to me was a nice way to go back to sleep,” said Charlie, kissing the top of her head. “Are you sure you want to go to the museum today? I wouldn’t mind spending the day in bed with you,” his lips brushing against her neck.

“Charlie!” exclaimed Alice, scooting away from him. “Penny and Andre are probably out there waiting for us!”

“And it looks like Andre brought your outfit in here while we were sleeping,” said Charlie, noticing clothes neatly laid out on the armchair close to the window.

“All the more reason to not make them wait with… whatever you had in mind. They could come in at any moment.”

“Fine,” said Charlie as he started to remove his t-shirt.

Alice let out a small gasp as she backed away some more, only to find out she had reached the edge of the bed. She fell backward, the little thump it made alerting Charlie. He turned around and saw Alice’s ankles and feet above the bed.

“Alice, are you…?” 

Before he could finish his sentence, Alice raised a thumbs up to indicate she was okay, making the both of them laugh. They quickly got dressed, Alice using magic to get her hair into a braid. 

“I’m surprised Andre picked out the overall for the museum. When we were in Paris, he wanted to dress me in couture when we went to the Louvres,” said Alice as they left the bedroom.

“That’s because I know you and also because I thought we might walk around where the museum is after visiting it,” said Andre, who was sitting on the couch, sipping his cup of coffee.

“How… how long have you been sitting there?” asked Alice, frozen in place.

“Since I’ve been done with breakfast on the terrace with Penny,” said Andre, nodding towards the open doors leading to the terrace where Penny was still sitting, reading a book. “You know, I could get used to this lifestyle,” added Andre as he got up, placing his empty cup on the saucer on the marble top of the coffee table.

“We know,” said Alice and Charlie in unison.

“The two lovebirds have decided to join us?” asked Penny as she closed the doors of the terrace behind her.

“Seems like it,” said Andre as he held the door of the suite for Penny, Alice sticking her tongue at her Hufflepuff friend.

Alice and Charlie walked a few steps behind them as they made their way to the elevator.

“Good thing you didn’t give in to me earlier,” whispered Charlie.

Alice simply nodded, her eyes on their two friends waiting for them next to the lift.

After arriving at the Museu Histórico Nacional, they made their way to the inner courtyard, where carriages, probably used by the nobility back during the colonization and the Empire periods, were on display. Andre seemed to find them quite interesting as he stopped to look at them in detail, Penny staying with him as Alice and Charlie walked inside.

They slowly made their way around the permanent exhibits, which seemed to be divided into three periods: pre-colonization, colonization, and independence. The pre-colonization rooms mostly had native artifacts and prehistoric cave paintings. The rooms that pertained to the colonization period contained portraits of Iberian royals, including an equestrian depiction of Philip II of Spain, who ruled during part of the Iberian Union period between Spain & Portugal. There were also displays showing the extent of slavery in the colony as it was a big part of the economy back in those days.

“What’s slavery?” asked Charlie as they passed miniature models representing the slave trade.

Alice stopped in her tracks, turning around. “You don’t know? Actually, I shouldn’t be surprised. Grand-papa always said wizards live in a bubble. Well, in general, slaves are human beings that are owned by other human beings, and they are treated like property and traded as such. They have no rights. Slavery has existed for centuries, but back during the colonization period, Africans were taken by Europeans as slaves and were used in the colonies as cheap labour. That’s a very succinct summary of it.”

“How awful! Why would Muggles do that?”

“Greed? But it’s not like wizards are perfect. While a majority of house-elves love doing their work and find the idea of compensation insulting, the way some families treat them is… despicable,” said Alice, frowning, as she turned back and walked into the next room, Charlie following her.

They eventually reached the rooms that covered Brazil’s independence period, starting with a life-sized statue of Emperor Pedro I and the text of his acceptance letter to stay in Brazil in the early 1800s, marking the beginning of the country's independence period. There were also paintings representing naval military scenes, one of which seemed to have caught Charlie’s attention as he stood there, looking at it.

Alice, noticing he wasn’t close to her anymore, walked over to him to see what could be so fascinating about that painting. “Are there any dragons?” she said, a small smirk raising the corner of her mouth.

“What? No,” he said with a small chuckle. “No, it’s just most paintings we’ve seen so far represented daytime scenes, but this one is a nighttime scene. There’s something… enchanting about it, I guess, with only the moonlight illuminating the scene.”

“How poetic of you, Charlie Weasley,” said Alice, her lips forming a tender smile. 

“I have my moments,” said Charlie, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“But you’re right. The moonlight does have something magical. This reminds me… You know the book I was reading yesterday at the lovely library you brought me to?”

“The Brazilian fairytales one? Yes, I remember. What about it?”

“Well, there was this story about how night came.”

“It comes when the sun goes down, no?”

“Well, yes, but it’s a story about how the phenomenon that is night came to be, because at the very beginning of time, the story said, it was day all the time. There was no night.”

“Really? And how does it explain the arrival of night?” asked Charlie as they sat on the bench near the nighttime scenery.

“Well, the daughter of the Great Sea Serpent, who dwelt in the depths of the seas, married a human,” started Alice. “She left her home among the shades of the deep seas and came to live with her husband on earth, in the land of daylight. Because she wasn’t used to that much daylight, her eyes grew weary of the bright sunlight and her beauty faded. That saddened her husband, as he did not know what to do.

“‘O, if night would only come,’ she moaned as she tossed about wearily on her couch. ‘Here it is always day, but in my father’s kingdom, there are many shadows. O, for a little of the darkness of night!’

“Her husband listened to her and asked, ‘What is night? Tell me about it, and perhaps I can get a little of it for you.’

“‘Night,’ said the daughter of the Great Sea Serpent, ‘is the name we give to the heavy shadows which darken my father’s kingdom in the sea. I love the sunlight of your earth land, but I grow very tired of it. If we could have only a little of the darkness of my father’s kingdom to rest our eyes part of the time.’

“Her husband quickly called his three most faithful slaves. ‘I am about to send you on a journey,’ he told them. ‘You are to go to the kingdom of the Great Sea Serpent who lives in the depths of the seas and ask him to give you some of the darkness of night so that his daughter may not die here amid the sunlight of our land.’

“The three slaves made their way to the kingdom of the Great Sea Serpent. After a long, perilous journey, they arrived at his home in the depths of the seas and asked him to give them some of the shadows of night to carry back to the earth. The Great Sea Serpent gave them a big bag full at once. It was securely fastened, and the Great Sea Serpent warned them not to open it until they were once more in the presence of his daughter, their mistress.”

“I have a feeling they didn’t listen,” interrupted Charlie.

“You would be correct. So, the three slaves started out, bearing the big bag full of night upon their heads, but they soon heard strange sounds within the bag. It was the sound of the voices of all the night beasts, all the night birds, and all the night insects. It sounded like the night chorus from the jungles on the banks of the rivers to give you an idea. But as night was something no one had ever experienced on land, the three slaves had never heard sounds like those in all their lives. They were terribly frightened.

“‘Let us drop the bag full of night right here where we are and run away as fast as we can,’ said the first slave.

“‘We shall perish. We shall perish, anyway, whatever we do,’ cried the second slave.

“‘Whether we perish or not, I am going to open the bag and see what makes all those terrible sounds,’ said the third slave.”

“Oh, Merlin…” interjected Charlie.

“So,” continued Alice, “they laid the bag on the ground and opened it. Out rushed all the night beasts and all the night birds and all the night insects and out rushed the great black cloud of night. The slaves were more frightened than ever at the darkness and escaped to the jungle.

“The daughter of the Great Sea Serpent was waiting anxiously for the return of the slaves with the bag full of night. Ever since they had started out on their journey, she had looked for their return, shading her eyes with her hand and gazing away off at the horizon, hoping with all her heart that they would arrive quickly to bring the night. In that position, she was standing under a royal palm tree when the three slaves opened the bag and let night escape. ‘Night comes. Night comes at last,’ she cried, as she saw the clouds of night upon the horizon. Then she closed her eyes and went to sleep there under the royal palm tree.

“When she awoke, she felt greatly refreshed. She was once more the happy princess who had left her father’s kingdom in the depths of the great seas to come to the land. She was now ready to see the day again. She looked up at the bright star shining above the royal palm tree and said, ‘O, bright, beautiful star, from now on you shall be called the morning star, and you shall herald the approach of day. You shall reign queen of the sky at this hour.’

“Then she called all the birds about her and said to them, ‘O, wonderful, sweet singing birds, henceforth I command you to sing your sweetest songs at this hour to herald the approach of day.’ The cock was standing by her side. ‘You,’ she said to him, ‘shall be appointed the watchman of the night. Your voice shall mark the watches of the night and shall warn the others that the madrugada comes.’ To this very day in Brazil, we call the early morning the madrugada. The cock announces its approach to the waiting birds. The birds sing their sweetest songs at that hour, and the morning star reigns in the sky as queen of the madrugada.

“Once it was daytime again, the slaves came out of their hiding place. Their master turned them into monkeys for having disobeyed the Great Sea Serpent by not opening the bag only in the presence of his daughter. To this very day, one sees the mark upon the monkeys’ lips, where they bit off the wax which sealed the bag; and in Brazil, night leaps out quickly upon the earth just as it leapt quickly out of the bag in those days at the beginning of time. And all the night beasts and night birds and night insects give a sunset chorus in the jungles at nightfall.”

“Wait… Did a Muggle really write that? There are a lot of elements in there that seem magical,” pointed out Charlie, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, most Muggle fairytales have magical elements. It’s like they know about us and our world without really knowing… Like when you heard The Sorcerer’s Apprentice at the Proms. You said how the music really fit the feeling of magic, even though a Muggle composed it. Perhaps people can feel it without realizing it, and some things we see in their tales come from the days when Muggles knew more about us, but now that knowledge is viewed as pure fantasy instead of truth,” said Alice, her eyes brightening.

“Maybe… Wait, aren’t sea serpents a type of dragon?” asked Charlie, smiling broadly.

“Hmm? Oh, hum, yes, I think so, but you’re the expert on the matter,” said Alice, her eyes on the painting, but her thoughts on something else.

“So based on that story, we have nights because of a dragon?”

Alice stared at him, quirking her eyebrows. “I guess so…”

“Cool,” said Charlie, nodding his head in satisfaction.

Alice shook her head slightly, biting her lower lip to avoid laughing. Of course, the dragon would be the one thing to stick with Charlie. Lost in their respective thoughts, neither of them noticed Penny and Andre making their way to them.

“There you are!” exclaimed Penny, standing in front of them, her hands on her hips.

“I am starving,” said Andre, holding his stomach.

“Sorry, we didn’t see the time,” said Alice, as she got up with Charlie.

Penny rolled her eyes, smirking. “You two don’t seem to notice the time go by when you’re together.”

“Shut up,” mumbled Alice, taking a hold of Penny’s arm.

“Did you know that there’s a story that says a dragon is the reason we have nights,” said Charlie as he walked in front of them with Andre.

“Ok, maybe in Charlie’s case, it’s when dragons are involved that he forgets about the concept of time,” whispered Penny, making Alice snort with laughter.

After eating lunch at the museum’s café, they looked at the other exhibits before returning to the hotel. The rest of the afternoon was spent around the pool as they waited for their friends, Charlie wanting to tell Barnaby about the dragon story. Alice stared at the same page of her book all that time, her mind still on fairytales and their origin...

A/N #2: Thank you for reading my fic! I hope you enjoyed it! Now, before someone comments one what Alice says regarding house-elves, I based it on this article. The fairytale Alice tells is from HERE and the painting that catches Charlie’s attention is THIS ONE.  The reason the title is “História” is because in Portuguese, it means both “history” and “story,” which I felt worked with the story. Feel free to leave a comment, including constructive criticism.

[someonestole15]

Face every fight with a smile across your face

Where will you be when the carrier falls?

Calm before the storm, I feel somewhat afraid of what awaits us up there. Plan is to assault the Crimson carrier sitting in orbit around the moon known as Declus. The moon itself is barren and lacks any defenses or weaponry, but it is blocking the Empire from dealing with the carrier from range.

Rails to unknown, they told us to board this train without further knowledge. Almost empty, there are a few other soldiers in this carriage, but the silence is killing me. Valkyrie sat opposite me; Nine beside her, many a question still cloud my mind.

Why did that turret activate when I was on my last legs? How was I able to hold my own against the Sister?

Mix of grey and black, the flashes of gunfire in my mind go by like the pictures in an album, every one of them breaking my mind a little more. Shattered pieces floating around, still combined by hair thin parts, the smallest impact capable of pushing it over the edge.

Slight shivers as the realization kicks in, I’ve been running recklessly for days now, welcoming any chance to die on the field, to escape from the reality.

Breathe, focus, you’ve gotten this far with luck, but from here, play by your strengths.

Form a loadout from known data and Empire inventory. Older fashioned, lower caliber than the Beowulf but easier to manage along with a higher capacity. Power might prove problematic, but I have a few tricks to make sure their armor won’t be an issue. The deck of cards reshuffled in my mind, draw out a hand and see where it lands you.

With no destination in sight, I decided to catch some shuteye, let the dreams of past be reworked into new ones.

Minutes, hours, hard to tell anymore, I woke up as the train slowed down. The view outside of a frigid tundra, how far it taken us from the capital? No need to ponder that, a large hangar on the horizon with a runway longer than anything I had seen before stretching out from it. Several smaller buildings around it, a glistening web above, no wonder the Crimson hadn’t attacked it.

Out onto the platform, the trickle of doubt still sat in my mind, but parts of the plan formed along with the loadout made me feel easier about it. Lost in thought, Valkyrie waved her hand in front of my face and brought me back to reality.

“Valkyrie to Specter, you there?”

“Yes…” The mask still affixed to my face by its seams, the reason why I had preferred fabric for masks, it was practically impossible to tell how I looked underneath it. All I was certain off was that we were on our way to Declus, the glow from my eye felt almost burning through the visors dim glass.

“…Specter/Phoenix, I hear you.”

“There he is, you good to go?”

“Yeah, a bit fragmented but otherwise fine.”

“That does remind me… your transponder doesn’t show up on my list anymore.”

“It was broken from the fall… they installed a new one.”

“But you haven’t changed it?”

“Not yet.”

>Clearing transponder code… Done >Awaiting new code… >Input AX-15 >Code accepted, linking system with VAL_0_1 and K-09_NINE >Complete.

Pixelated wave over my vision as the outlines formed on my HUD, under the mask, my face formed a smile as I wrapped my arms around Valkyrie.

“Never let me lose myself like that.”

“I’ll try…but why the name change?”

“As long as you know me, does it matter?”

“Guessing it doesn’t…” She laughed a little before pulling herself free as an Empire soldier approached us.

“VAL, K9 and… AX-15, please follow me.”

“Understood.”

Trail the soldier like a shadow a man, he took us to a troop transport vehicle and instructed us to board it, following us himself once we were in, radioing ahead as the truck started moving. Short drive, the view hardly changed from the snow and wind blowing throughout the area. Bright sun above, memories of Earth rushed through my mind, everything done there… on Mars… I never got to clear my name.

Actions speak louder than words, and if this goes through, they will have to do a lot of yelling to attempt covering it.

Brakes kicking up a small cloud of snow, the truck stopped in front of a building, blank in details but clearly one of their military bases. Dismount, follow the soldier inside and steps into a room of steel and bright lights.

Loadout request processed before we even got there, scanning my hand on a console sat at the middle of the room brought up the details.

“Someone is packing heat for the mission…” A man in charge of the armory said as he brought in a weapons case and placed it on a table next to me.

“…Rare to see anyone make a request like this, I mean asking me to load both hollow point and High EX into the same magazine? Far from standard issue…”

“Crimson armor has been improved ever since they encaged with the Empire forces, this will get me through it.”

Two clacks from the case as I unlocked it, light caught the matte black receiver as I placed my hand on the grip.

“Glad to see someone pull the old AK bits from storage. Been a while since we’ve had to build one from scratch.”

Lightweight steel, 7.62, steady and optimized to work even in the direst of situations. Hard to modify in its stock form but the kits for adding rails being plentiful, that wasn’t an issue. Folding grip on the bottom rail, strobe light on the left, and muzzle brake at the end of the barrel. Hologram sight along the top, the stock felt as if molded to my chassis as I braced it against my shoulder.

Bulletproof vest over my grey jacket and hood over my head, I slung the AK across my chest and loaded up a .45 caliber sidearm. Less than the Phoenix, but I lacked the time to look for it again.

Fully or semi-automatic, the lightweight frame made it easy enough to use with one hand, 25 rounds in the magazine as I placed it in my holster and strapped the magazine holders to my vest.

The blade within my arm was useful, but over the past weeks, I had taken enough risks with it. Akin to a sharpened slab of titanium, the knife procured by the armory seemed to the spec, but Valkyrie stopped me from taking it. She drew a shiv like knife from her vest and placed it on the table next to the Empire variant before turning back to looking over her own weaponry.

One look at the knives and I made my choice. Two hands, why not both?

Back on my hip, the Empire standard edge and on my vest, Valkyrie’s pride and joy, the grip wrapped in wiring and tape, I continued gearing up with a smile on my face, who knows how long she had been holding on to it.

Geared up, Valkyrie chose to run a DMR over her sniper rifle, seeing as we were heading up to close quarters combat, her backup was a PDW similar to the one I had ran on earth. Strange caliber, foldable to use with one hand or unfolded for better accuracy. Pistol sidearm, Nine was equipped with new charges of smoke, fitted with electric particles to either charge up anyone in it or stun them.

Rack a round, keep the safety on, adrenaline slowly building up inside...

Give em hell

[sweetheartjeongguk]

second chances | prologue

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: royalty au, angst, romance, future smut

rating: pg

warning(s): none at the moment 

word count: 1.8k+

summary: blessings come in all shapes and sizes. in your case, it comes in the form of a man napping in the flower bed outside your cottage.

a/n: sorry for the long wait! i’ve been busy with school and work, and i lost some inspiration during that time. enjoy this new series! 

masterlist

Blessings come in all shapes and sizes.

In your case, it comes in the form of a man napping in the flower bed outside your cottage. At first, you think that your vision was taking a turn for the worst. There’s no way that anyone from the village would travel ten miles to come sleep in a pile of daisies and wildflowers outside your house.  If anything, it’s just a one way ticket to blotchy rashes and a horrible case of the sniffles.

You decide - as any sane person would do - that you should poke the body with the branch you had found on your journey from the marketplace that you decided to use as a walking stick. One poke, two pokes - nothing. You gulp when the body continued to lie motionless on the muddy earth.

For a moment, you fear the worst.

What if someone comes across this scene and accuses you of murdering an innocent man who just wanted to lay and admire the scenery around you? You can’t even prove that you didn’t do it - after all, the man’s probably dead! You can’t afford to leave your sister and her husband penniless while you rot away in the local prison with not a gold coin to your name.

‘He doesn’t look that heavy. Maybe I can bury him in the back and if anyone asks about the random dirt pile, pretend that I was starting my garden a season too late?’

“Alright, I’m up. Can you stop poking me now?”

You choke on a scream when the body grunts at you. So, he isn’t dead after all! More than half of the man’s face is covered by his jacket he flung across to shield from the afternoon sun, but you’re able to catch a small glimpse of his eyes - bloodshot, crusted over with sleep, and unimpressed.

“Sorry! Sorry…” You pull your arm back, tossing the stick behind you and nervously sticking out your hand. Hopefully he won’t be able to notice the sweat building up on your palm. “Let me help you up.”

“I’m fine.” He groans, completely ignoring your kind gesture as he pushes himself off the ground with slight difficulty.

You watch as he takes a small tumble to the right before straightening up and brushing off the excess dirt and grass from his clothes. You try not to snicker at the streaks of dirt and clumps of grass still entangled in his black mop of a hairstyle.

“Sorry for disturbing you, but I’ll be on my way now.” He speaks through gritted teeth, ignoring the throbbing pain in his lower back and legs from his long journey from the far-side of the kingdom. “Don’t go poking strangers with a stick next time, alright?”

Your mouth twitch up into a nervous smile. With nothing more to say, he fastens his belt tighter and turns on his heel towards the gravelly road behind your cottage. It’s not hard to notice the little limp in his step and the darkening bruise that peeked from beneath his coat. Your little hands unconsciously grips on the small sack of coins you earned that morning, squeezing anxiously as his figure draws further and further away from you.

You should leave him be. You should let him keep walking into the woods, never looking back and never giving you one last word in the conversation. You should ignore the sick feeling in your stomach that something was wrong.

That you were letting go of something precious.

“Wait!”

He turns.

You shouldn’t have looked in his eyes.

“What’s your name?”

“I don’t know we’re going to keep up with all these expenses. The king’s already raised the tax by a few silvers, and we’ve only scraped by a couple coins this week alone.”

You can’t help the sigh that escapes your lips, expelling your frustration in hot puffs of air. You try your hardest to ignore the barren jar that sits in front of you and the man in front of you. Covered in a thin layer of dust and cobwebs, it’s practically laughing and spewing insults in your face.

You have no money! No money! No money!

“I can pick up another delivery job from Sue down the road. She’s always looking for some help into town.” You weakly supply, fingers twitching to take ahold of the glass in front of you. The look of your companion’s face keeps you at bay.

“She’s already getting help from that boy two miles down. Yeontan or something like that.”

“Yeonjun.” You swat at his shoulder. “Then what about the Kims at the marketplace? Their son’s been gone for at least a year now, they might need some help with their store.”

“No,” Your friend sighs impatiently. “Namjoon’s back already from his military service. Came back last week. Something about coming back home and marrying that boy he was friends with as a kid. Jin, I think.”

Your form immediately crumbles. Sure, you’re happy that someone as sweet and kind as Kim Namjoon could return home and get married to the love of his life. You can’t help but feel an inkling of bitterness creep into your veins. You feel a tap on your palm, urging you to look up from the splintery kitchen table and into the tired but understanding eyes of your best friend.

“We’ll take care of this like we’ve always have.” His fingers interlock with yours, sending you a small burst of relief with a single touch. “I’ll ask for more work down at the quarry. They’re always needing extra hands around there.”

“Taehyung, I-I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve already helped out with last month’s payments.” You shake your head fervently, fighting through a wavering tone. “I-I can’t keep making my problems your problems too.”

“Last time I checked, you’re my best friend. If you’re going through hell, I’m right behind you every step of the way.” Taehyung squeezes your palm again. “You’ll never be a burden to me.”

Thick globs of tears well up in the corner of your eyes, completely contrasted by the wide smile you send him. Immediately noticing the glistening sheen, Taehyung starts furiously shaking his head and wagging his finger from side to side.

“Nope, nuh-uh. You know how I feel about crying - if you cry, I cry. Then, everything will just get awkward.” You choke on your laughter, eyes still watery and burning from tears.

Taehyung’s joking grimace softens into a slant. “We’ll get through this, we always do. You’ll be fine.”

You’ll be fine.

Taehyung frowns when there’s an uncomfortable twitch in your smile. “Did I say something wrong?”

You shake your head.

“Did I remind you of him again?”

You scoff, rubbing at the stray tears that accidentally drip down your cheeks. “No, of course not. That’s old news already.”

“Are you sure?” Taehyung asks again, his voice even softer and cautious.

You hate being treated by a delicate flower whose petals are barely holding onto the stem. You’ve dealt with it your entire life. When your parents died. When your sister and her husband left for the neighboring village two years ago. When he left.

Bristling slightly, you nod.

“Of course, don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl.”

He knows you’re lying. After all, you’ve been friends with Taehyung since you were children and living the life with your happy family in the once warm and loving cottage. Now, it’s only filled with dust and forgotten memories in the form of ripped sepia-stained photographs and rusted necklace chains. Your home’s no longer a home, and you know that it’s been your fault. You could have held onto a little harder, listened a little more, worried a little less.

Maybe he would have stayed a little longer.

“My mother’s expecting me home in a bit, but I could stay a little longer if you’d like?” Taehyung asks, lips puffing up into a cute pout. “Maybe I can play with Haneul when he wakes up.”

You burst into a giggle. “Go home, Taehyung! You’ve done enough for the night!”

Leading him to the front of the house, you help Taehyung into his coat, sneaking a gold coin into the pocket without him noticing. You know that the gold coin could have been used for another repair on your house or even on a couple groceries from the marketplace, but if anyone else deserves that gold coin, it’s Taehyung.

“See you tomorrow! Tell the little squirt Uncle Taetae will see him later.” Taehyung blows you a teasing hand kiss as he rights himself in the driver’s position of the carriage and grabs ahold of the reins of the horse. “I’m looking forward for that little project he’s got going on.”

“You and me both.” You snort, leaning against the frame of your front door. “Have a safe trip, Tae.”

Waving with one hand, he snaps the reins into action and heads off in the direction of his house - behind your house and down the gravelly path into the trees.

You don’t call after him. Instead, you turn on your heel and disappear behind the broken door of your cottage, swaddled in complete silence and an uncomfortable draft let in through the faulty window by the kitchen sink. You should put the money jar back on its spot next to the front door on a rickety side table that’s about ready to collapse at any minute.

Yawning tiredly, you head into your bedroom, the thought of sleep and warm blankets seducing you back into the comforts of your bed. When you push open the creaky door, the corner of your mouth curls into a half-smile at the tiny bump in the sheets completely covered under the massive wool blanket. Tiptoeing carefully across the wooden floorboards to the right side of the bed, you peel back the blanket, holding back a coo at the sight.

Rosy cheeks slightly damp from the heat of the room and dotted with barely-there freckles. Curled up on his side with his thumb threatening to pop back into his drooling mouth. Dark hair an absolute mess, sealed across his forehead by the film of sweat on his face.

You chuckle at the storybook tucked underneath his pillow - it’s a wonder he sleeps soundly with the thick pages pressing against the back of his neck. You’ve endured too many hours of role playing what feels like a million different characters, ranging from an ancient, scraggly dragon with a smoking problem and an innocent princess who falls in love with the knight who rescues her to a wise, middle-aged king with a mighty beard and an old witch who lives in a swamp. You’ve suffered through crocodile tears when you happily announce the end of the story, but your little stubborn prince demands more story time - but this time, everyone’s a dragon.

In accordance to “royal decree”, you were forced to carry him across the house for an entire afternoon as you pretend to soar through the air and fly across the entire kingdom in search of “the powerful and mighty King Haneul”.  

You may regret many things in your life, but you’ve never regretted your little boy.

Not for one second.

[theclanscript]

ruby

⋈ pairing: minhyuk x reader ⋈ word count: 5,279 ⋈ genre: pirate au ⋈ notes: welcome to the 1600s where minhyuk is still minhyuk except by candlelight ♥

Land Ho!

The cry of the ship's watch positioned in the crow's nest high up on the main mast set in motion a seemingly chaotic array of actions. Men started running across the deck and were joined by more crew emerging from the belly of the aquatic beast. Some started climbing up the smaller masts at the front and rear of the merchant ship and furling the sails, others began to loosen the ropes of the cargo that was stored on deck to prepare it for quick unloading. After weeks of being at the mercy of the rough ocean and even rougher weather, the once dark and sturdy wood had been bleached out in places by the brutal sun and nearly been whipped to the point of breaking by strong, salty waves. The sturdy hemp ropes that had kept them in place were frayed and stiff, but they had made it; destiny had been kind throughout the voyage and they had once again bested the sea.

You turned your head toward the wind and smiled.

You were standing at the taffrail watching the shore getting closer as the ship approached. The breeze was gentling ruffling your dress and behind you the booming voices of the crew mixed with the screams of seagulls as they crept closer and closer to the shore. It was just before noon and the sun was sitting high in the sky as you watched the preparations for the ship to end its duty. You were one day ahead of schedule, but that concerned nobody, least of all you. It just gave you one more day to spend in the infamous port town before embarking on the next leg of your journey.

You had boarded the Havant in Charleston before it had set sail to Jamaica, one of about a dozen passengers making their way from the colonies to the Caribbean. You usually didn’t mind lengthy journeys and spending time on the ocean if it wasn’t for a wealthy businessman from Virginia slightly past his prime who seemed about ready to propose to you after a couple of weeks at sea. Thankfully, you had brought Kihyun with you, who had not only acted as your servant, but also as your protector from unwanted advances of so-called gentlemen.

The journey could have been so pleasant.

It had been swift and without any disruptions worth mentioning once the Havant had made its way through the Windward Passage between the islands of Cuba and Hispaniola; the downward wind had allowed you to make good headway. The ship had used the momentum to round Jamaica from the east and was now headed straight for the town that was built on a stretch of land extending into the bay from the mainland, like the earth had tried to reach across the sea and split the coastal waters in two. The cargo the ship was carrying was mostly for the rich families living further inland, mostly on the prosperous sugar plantations. Since Jamaica had fallen under English reign, noblemen and traders had relocated from both the motherland and the new colonies in the north to the sunny island, which in turn naturally also demanded the presence of the Royal Navy – although it was barely felt.

You saw two officers conversing with the first mate as you and Kihyun disembarked, presumably collecting fees and a list of the passengers on board. Other than that, there was hardly any military present and overall the harbor felt like a peaceful civilian port on this sunny Friday. Kihyun was carrying your luggage, walking one step behind you as you strolled down the dock. You were swept along by the stream of people leaving the Havant, the crew having started to unload and the passengers making their way to the carriages waiting to take them to their domiciles. As you got closer to the cluster of vehicles, the door of a sleek, black coach opened and a familiar face appeared in the opening. The woman smiled gently when she saw you, waiting for you to get closer before reaching out her gloved hand. You took it and let her squeeze yours affectionately.

“It is so good to see you,” she said warmly. “It has been too long.”

“I hope you are adjusting well here,” you replied as Kihyun helped you into the carriage and closed the door behind you when you had sat down opposite of the woman. He stowed away the luggage before climbing onto the box next to the coachman. With a jerk, the carriage started moving. You pretended to watch the scenery outside for a while before turning back to the lady across from you.

“So, the move went smoothly?”

“Very,” she said. “The formalities were easier than I had anticipated.”

“I’m glad.” You both smiled, your shared secret filling the air between you. You had met the woman about a year ago, somewhere in the colonies, while traveling up north. When you had heard that she had settled down on a hill just beyond the large port town, you had contacted her with a small request – and she had willingly offered to accommodate you during your stay here. The estate she had recently purchased was new and spacious, and she had insisted that she would be honored to welcome you in her house.

“Madam Moreau,” you resumed the conversation, “I’m afraid I have another favor to ask.”

“Of course, my dear” she replied, her smile never faltering. “Anything you need.”

Kihyun was standing in front of the open window, the humid night air flowing past him and into the room. He had exchanged the white ruffled shirt and black breeches for comfortable pants and a tan linen shirt, apparently having given up on the buttons halfway up his torso. You were still trapped in your pompous dress that covered a petticoat and a suffocating corset. You knew you could not risk being seen in any state of undress with him in your room. Despite the pleasant relationship with your hostess, you intended to uphold a certain image, especially since Madam Moreau was not the only person living in the house. They were probably wondering why you were traveling with only a male servant already, and you did not want to fuel the rumor mill this shortly after your arrival.

“Tomorrow then?” Kihyun ran a hand through his damp hair to free his face of the bothersome strands. His prominent eyebrows knitted together, giving his face a somber expression.

“Yes.”

“Those parties are such a circus,” he mumbled disapprovingly. “Nothing but a meat market for people to find spouses or sinners.”

You smirked. “Precisely.”

“Which will it be for you then?”

“Whichever will find me.” You got up from your chair and walked to the window closest to you, facing away from Kihyun. You could hear him huff.

“That is not funny.”

“Then stop asking silly questions and start praying I find the right man.” You stared down at the town below you; the dim lights, the dark streets, the moonlight reflected on the still surface of the bay. Beyond the cliffs and rocks to the east the world was completely swallowed by blackness and there was no telling what lurked in the deep waters. Despite the heat, a chill rippled through your body.

You turned to look at Kihyun, but he was already gone.

The governor’s estate lay a little closer to the town than Madam Moreau’s home. The enormous iron gates opened cumbersomely to let your carriage pass. Madam Moreau’s cream-colored dress created a stark contrast to your own dark, deep red attire as you walked up the stairs and into the mansion. A maid led you into the dining room that was already filled with the local aristocracy and their guests. You had asked Madam Moreau to let you accompany her to the governor’s monthly banquet, although, or precisely because your intended stay here was going to be fairly brief. Your friend’s position was your advantage, and this event was very important for your business in the Caribbean.

The interior of the governor’s mansion was impressive. Accents of gold and marble decorated the walls, the furniture was foreign and expensive. Heavy tapestry complemented the delicate features in the hallways and the dining room. The china and wine glasses on the large oak dining table cost a fortune and outshone the many ornate solid gold candlesticks standing proudly along the middle. Despite the warm, humid evenings, the room was pleasantly temperate and people seemed to be in good spirits as you and Madam Moreau entered. A tall man in fancy clothes greeted you and introduced himself as the governor. You responded politely, telling him your name and mentioning that you had just arrived from the colonies.

“Is that right!” the governor laughed. He was a pleasant man and seemed to be enjoying himself immensely even though the party had barely started. “Are you traveling with your husband, young lady?”

“Oh no,” Madam Moreau answered in your stead. “She is yet to be wed.”

“I see.” The governor’s eyes sparkled as if she had just proposed a fun game. “I believe there are some eligible bachelors here tonight. I shall introduce you later, my dear.”

“No, please,” you said with the appropriate sense of abashedness. “I would not want to inconvenience you and your guests.”

“Nonsense!” He laughed again. “A lovely young woman like you has no business being unmarried. You need a fine man to take care of you.”

You smiled and thanked him. When he had left, Madam Moreau scoffed.

“I am curious to see how many of those eligible bachelors are British officers looking to cheat on their poor wives at home.”

You chuckled and followed her to the table to find a seat.

“We shall see. I have heard the governor entertains very colorful circle of friends and acquaintances. There may just be one man who will pique my interest.”

“You are an optimist, my dear.”

“So I’ve been told.”

You took a seat and looked down at your hands; they were clad in the same shade of crimson as your dress, a drop of color among the otherwise muted garments like a speck of blood staining the phonily modest fabric of the town’s upper class. Some were glancing at you as you continued to talk to Madam Moreau, some whispered, some didn’t pay you any mind at all.

It took a minute for you to notice the one who was staring.

He had chosen the seat across from you, arms folded on the table, his eyes greedily taking in every word, every movement, every inch of you until you finally registered his deep gaze. His hair was as black as his eyes, his skin kissed by the Caribbean sun. He had delicate features but there was nothing delicate about his presence – his aura crept into the space around you, drowning out the rest of the room; the smile he offered you was knowing, beguiling, captivating.

He was a dangerous man and he knew it.

“Pardon my straightforwardness,” he said when he had your attention, his voice like the thick velvet of the night sky. “But I don’t believe we have met.”

“No, we have not.”

“Allow me to introduce myself.” He got up halfway to reach across the table and take your hand, the smile on his face growing impossibly wider. “I am Lee Minhyuk.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name. It resonated inside you like a familiar song, a long-forgotten voice; like you had been on a journey and this moment was your destination.

Lee Minhyuk.

You smiled despite yourself but your voice was strained when you spoke. “Mister Lee. Your reputation precedes you.”

“Please, call me Minhyuk,” he insisted. “And I wish I could say the same about you. Won’t you tell me your name?”

“Miss Vermell is a dear friend of mine,” Madam Moreau interjected and put a hand on your arm as if she was trying to break the spell he had created. “She is only in town for a few days.”

“Well then,” Minhyuk grinned and raised his wine glass in a toast. “We shall make the most of them.”

After dinner, Minhyuk had been quick to round the table and offer you his arm. You let him lead you around the room to join a few conversations here and there; he was an excellent conversationalist and you had quickly learned more about every person in the room than you ever needed to know. He had a way of getting people to talk, open up, casually revealing deep secrets as they were being fooled into an illusion of small talk. Minhyuk’s smile was warm but his eyes remained cold. Rather than watching the other guests unravel in front of you, you had been watching him; tall and beautiful, astute and statuesque, a man of the finest manners hiding the roughest edges. You had heard all about him; the stories, the rumors, the accusations.

But right now, you simply did not find it inside you to care.

You followed him onto one of the balconies overlooking the estate’s gorgeous garden, most of which had already been veiled in darkness by the advancing nightfall. The air was thick, promising rain in the early morning hours, and you found yourself taking a few deep breaths against the restraint of your corset.

“Are you feeling alright?” Minhyuk asked and allowed you to withdraw your hand to brace yourself on the banister.

“Quite,” you lied and stood up straight only to find him leaning next to you, looking at you with slight concern.

“I do not understand why women wear those,” gesturing vaguely in the direction of the laced-up front of your dress. You scoffed.

“Yes, I’m sure you prefer your women without them.”

Minhyuk gave a bright laugh. “So that’s the reputation you spoke of.”

“Was there any question about it?”

“Indeed, there was,” he said and leaned down slightly, closer to you. “I have quite an assemblage of reputations, Miss Vermell.”

“I have no doubt.”

“Tell me about yourself,” he suddenly asked. “We have spent all evening listening to other people talk. I have barely learned anything about you.”

“I am but a simple girl on the passage to England,” you evaded. “There is not much to learn.”

“Oh,” Minhyuk got even closer to you, an ominous smile on his lips. “I’m sure there is.”

You stood your ground, looking back at him with cold distance. “Perhaps. But it is not for you to learn.”

Minhyuk stared at you for a few seconds, his eyes scanning your face, the vein in his neck pulsating lightly as he considered his next step. Your own heart was beating hard in your chest as you waited for the result of your gamble – would he shut down, keep his soul hidden like you expected him to?

Or would he surprise you?

In the distance, the rain clouds were rolling in an covering up the moon and stars above the sea. A light breeze sent a shiver down your spine and raised goosebumps on the exposed skin of your neck and when Minhyuk noticed, he wordlessly took off his jacket to wrap it around your shoulders.

“You are an odd one, Miss Vermell.”

“And you don’t play with open cards, Mister Lee.”

“Maybe I don’t like the hand that I was given.” His voice was low now but you could hear him perfectly fine; he was still facing you, his head inches from yours.

“Then what do you hope to accomplish by not playing the game? The fate of your cards will never change if you hold on to them so desperately.”

Minhyuk frowned and it seemed as though he was not in control of his expression for the first time since you had laid eyes on him. Another few slow seconds passed while he regarded you, took you in as if the memory of the night so far had been lost to him. When he spoke again, his dark eyes had softened, the smile tugging on his lips was playful but reserved. The light of the lanterns next to the balcony door flickered over his face; shadows dancing across his elegant features as his eyes searched yours.

“Interesting.” He dragged out the word as if he was still thinking. “You wish to play with open cards?”

You nodded tentatively. “If you really care to find out who I am.”

“I do,” he replied, surprising himself as much as he did you. “It is not often a treasure like you emerges from that godforsaken ocean, especially on this island.”

You stood perplexed. “The rumors did not say that you detest the sea, Lee Minhyuk.”

“Well, I do.” His smile stretched with a hint of affection. “But I will gladly tell you more over dinner tomorrow.”

“I shall look forward to it.”

“Good. In the meantime.” Minhyuk grasped the edges of the jacket that still rested on your shoulders, carefully pulling it close in front of you. Then, he leaned down and gingerly brushed his lips against yours. The contact sent heat radiating from your chest through your entire body and instead of protesting, you simply allowed him to kiss you. He tasted like the sweetest red wine and when he pulled back slightly you realized you had been holding your breath.

“Lee Minhyuk,” you whispered, looking him straight in the eyes. “You are a scoundrel.”

He chuckled, his words tickling your face gently.

“So I’ve been told.”

Lee Minhyuk was by no means part of the aristocracy of the town, but he seemed to be very well off. His house was on the edge of town, not among the wealthy mansions and plantations, but far enough from the grime of the port, the shops, and public institutions like the overcrowded jail to separate him from the poor and the working class. He employed a handful of maids and servants, and an evidently fantastic cook because the food you had been served at dinner had been spectacular, especially with three weeks of ship meals still fresh on your mind. Instead of the dining room, you had dined on the shady patio outside of his sitting room where you were still seated now, having moved to a comfortable bench on the edge of the small but vibrant garden. Everything was a deep green specked with intense pinks, yellows, blues, and a rosery in the middle of it all; a vision in blood red.

“How long have you lived here?” you asked into the comfortable silence that had spread between you when a maid had served you a new bottle of red wine.

“On the island? About five years.” He swirled the liquid around in his glass before taking another sip. “It’s a quiet life.”

“How did you get here?”

Minhyuk glanced at you and smirked. “You just know how to ask all the right questions, don’t you?” You threw him a confused look so he continued. “It’s a long story, but I somehow ended up on a naval ship and it dropped me off here.”

“So you just – stayed?”

“Yes.”

“And-“

“No.” Minhyuk put an arm on the backrest behind you and turned to look at you. “I have talked enough about me for now. It’s your turn. You wanted to play with open cards, so tell me something about you. Anything.”

“Like what?”

He scooted a little closer and you could smell his perfume, feel the heat emitting from his body. “What is your first name?”

“What do you think it is?” Your voice was barely a whisper, its tone mischievous and challenging. Minhyuk’s body reacted by leaning in closer, his hand reaching out to drag his thumb across your bottom lip agonizingly slowly.

“Ruby.” His eyes were fixed on yours as his palm found the side of your face. “I see it in you. Passion, love, a zest for life. That energy, those emotions. A beautiful ruby.”

Your heart was drumming against your ribcage as you simply stared at him, searched his face for his true feelings. But all you saw was warmth, affection, vulnerability; all those things he had not even seemed to possess just a day earlier. You felt yourself break a little at the way he offered himself to you, at the way his fingertips ghosted over your skin, the way his lips found yours as if they had been on a journey and you were their destination.

“Ruby it is,” you breathed when you parted, his hand still firmly cupping your cheek. Minhyuk chuckled and used his other arm to pull you into his side, into his warmth. You closed your eyes when your head sank onto his shoulder, your body melting into his so readily.

“That’s the problem with treasure chests,” he mused and kissed the top of your head. “Some of them are too hard to open, and all you can do is wonder what is inside.”

“What would you like to be inside?” you asked solemnly, trying to suppress the urge to give him everything he was about to tell you. Minhyuk inhaled deeply and pulled you even closer.

“What is out there for you, Ruby?”

“What do you mean?”

“What is out there on the ocean, in England, wherever you’re headed that you cannot stay here on this island. Live a quiet, peaceful life. Grow old under the warm sun, surrounded by roses and love.”

You shifted. “Why would I do that?”

“For me,” he said and your heart ached at his yearning voice. You reached for the hand that had traveled down to your neck and intertwined your gloved fingers with his as a deep sadness overcame you. Your hand felt small in his and for the first time in your life, you wished you could just allow someone to protect you, wished you could live a quiet and comfortable life, and be happy.

Lee Minhyuk really was a dangerous man.

“What about you, then?” you retorted, avoiding his question. “Why are you not considering a life anywhere but here?”

“I have,” Minhyuk replied. “I have thought about it many times. But there has never been a good enough reason to leave. I am content here. I have everything I need. I am safe. And I could provide the same for you, Ruby. I could make you happy like I know you could make me happy.”

Silence fell again as you thoughtfully played with his fingers and ran the pad of your thumb across the soft back of his hand. You could sense the tension in Minhyuk, sense the impatience, the anticipation. But he remained quiet, giving you the time you needed to find your answer.

“I’m sorry,” you finally mumbled, squeezing his hand. “I can’t stay.”

“I see,” he simply replied. You half expected him to let go of you, maybe even get up and leave. But he held you tightly to his body, rhythmically stroking your arm. You raised your head and lightly pressed your lips to his neck.

“Minhyuk?” you said and he gave a low chuckle at you using his first name for the first time. “Why do you hate the ocean? What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied. “I just get these dreams, and they are all the same.”

“Dreams?”

“Yes. You see,” he turned his head to kiss your temple. “In all my dreams, I drown.”

The town lay in restful silence as you made your way to the docks the next night. You had spent the day with Madam Moreau in her kitchen as the rain had fallen outside. She had told you about the time after her husband had been discovered dead in the shallow waters off the coast of South Carolina – pirates, they had said. After his death, she had inherited everything and relocated to the Caribbean; away from curious neighbors, prying family, away from the past. Nobody knew how he had become their target; he had been a wealthy man but his ship had carried neither cargo nor other riches.

Nobody, that was, except for Madam Moreau and you.

You had met her on a sweltering summer evening in Charleston, her beaten and bruised body covered by expensive fabrics and thinly-veiled lies. It had not been long until she had told you about the true nature of her respected and prominent husband – and you had made her an offer she had been more than happy to accept. You had told her that you had the connections, the means to make him the victim of a seemingly random attack.

Everything had gone precisely according to plan.

“I cannot thank you enough,” she had said in the kitchen that afternoon, almost exactly a year later, her voice serious but at peace. “You have freed me.”

“You can thank me by living a content, peaceful, and safe life. You deserve it,” you had replied, holding her hand. “If you ever need anything else, just send for me.”

“The same goes for you, my dear.”

You had smiled at each other, the secret between you forming an invisible, unshakeable bond.

Long after nightfall, long after Kihyun had picked up your luggage, you had taken the carriage to the edge of the town and decided to walk the rest. You enjoyed the darkness, the dim lights, the soft moonlight guiding the way. You stopped when you saw a person by the water, cloaked in blackness. But you knew who it was. You knew why he was here, knew why he had come.

You just wished he hadn’t.

“Minhyuk.”

“Ruby.” He turned and smiled at you, his hand instinctively reaching out for you when you approached. He did not seem surprised by your unusual attire; black pants and a wine red shirt with sleeves rolled up to your elbow. He just looked at you, like he had been waiting forever, like he had been waiting for this moment. The humid night air had caused the ends of his black hair to curl a little bit and his smile was so careless, so innocent that, for just a second, you forgot who he was.

Lee Minhyuk.

He was a dangerous man.

And yet your heart broke at what you were about to do to him.

“I have to leave,” you said, letting him pull you into his chest.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry I cannot be who you want me to be,” you whispered but Minhyuk just laughed dryly. He examined you; the real you, and he lifted your right wrist to his mouth and pressed his lips to the scar on the inside of your arm. “I wish you hadn’t come.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be anybody else than who you are,” he said and smiled. “That’s why I’m here.”

You stared at him, confused, anxious to ask him why; why are you saying this, why are you smiling, why are you here.

But deep inside, you already knew.

The dull thud barely disturbed the night and you groaned as Minhyuk collapsed into your arms. You managed to lay him carefully on the ground and looked up to glare at Kihyun who was casually twirling the club in his hand.

“Well, whaddayaknow,” he grinned. “You found the right man, Captain.”

The shackles clinked against the walls as Minhyuk started to stir, started to come to. He had been out for a while; you had long since left the hidden spot beyond the cliffs and rocks to the east and were headed for the open sea. The voices of your crew on deck seeped through the wooden planks and into the belly of the ship where Minhyuk was being kept for now. In the pitch black night, the shade of the sails seemed no different from the that of the starless sky. But by day, your ship sailed with proud, dark red colors and lived up to its name.

The Ruby.

It was the ship you had inherited from your father at the tender age of seventeen, along with most of his crew. Your first mate, Kihyun, had been your best friend ever since you could remember, and would willingly take on any role you asked him to play when you were on land. Nobody ever suspected one of the most infamous pirate ships between Europe and the Americas was commandeered by the polite, soft-spoken girl passing through various harbors of the old and new world, not even Madam Moreau.

And you intended to live your life without telling her that you had personally delivered the fatal stab to her rotten husband’s heart.

Minhyuk slowly lifted his head as he regained consciousness. You crouched down in front of him and held his head between your hands, inspecting him with worry evident on your face. He managed a weak smile when he registered you.

“I still don’t know your name,” he panted, leaning back against the cold, moist wall behind him. You swallowed hard.

“You knew, didn’t you.”

“Of course,” he grinned. “Vermell – Catalan for red, isn’t it? Who came up with that name?”

You chuckled and made a mental note to smack Kihyun. “Ruby?”

“I lied.” Minhyuk coughed and held his head where Kihyun had hit him. “Your reputation does precede you, Captain. Of course, the good townspeople wouldn’t know.” He reached out with his other hand and wrapped his fingers around your right wrist, his eyes trained on the scar; a branded P.

“Why did you come if you knew? Why did you ever even talk to me?”

“They got bolder with these,” he murmured, still staring at the pirate mark. “I struggled so much, they put it on my knee. Slipped a couple of times. Hideous scar.”

“Minhyuk,” you tried again and finally he met your gaze.

“You know how I ended up there, don’t you?”

“Shipwrecked.” You nodded. “Your ship sank in a battle with a merchant ship. The Royal Navy fished you out of the water and dropped you off on that island believing you were a survivor of the merchants. The Crown put a price on your head for being a pirate, the pirate council wants you dead for being a traitor and a coward. Whoever we decide to hand you over to, the money would be good.”

Minhyuk gave a crooked grin. “So I’ve been told.”

You were struggling to hold back tears. “If you knew – why did you come. You knew we were going to take you. Why give it all up?”

“For you,” he said with a light shrug. “You said you couldn’t stay. So I knew it was time to leave.”

You dropped to your knees and Minhyuk reach out for you, his shackled hands gently squeezing your upper arms and then resting warmly on your back when your head fell against his chest. Your heart broke into a thousand pieces at his kindness, his bravery, his love.

He was a dangerous man.

But you were an even more dangerous woman.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I truly am.”

“Don’t be, love. I would follow you anywhere.” He nudged your chin with his hand to get you to look up, look at him. “Even if it’s to my death.”

A tear fell from the corner of your eye as you leaned in to kiss him, capture his ruby red lips with yours and make a decision. It was too late to turn back now. You had been on a journey.

And Lee Minhyuk was the destination.

Finally, you pulled back and rested your forehead against his as you spoke.

“So be it.”

[kaiju-z]

Seon Adventures Episode 16: On The Road To Crystalgate

So, this one took a bit to get to, due to my want to finish part of a personal project. But here we are!

It is the morning after the Flurry x 2 battle.

The party are awake, fully rested, healed and feeling stronger than before!

After breakfast is eaten and everyone is ready, the lot of the Cultbusters + Ficus load up on the carriage and take to the road once more. The ROAD TO CRYSTALGATE CITY! (play that funky tune!)

After what feels like an eternity of baby related humor, with the party basically agreeing that Luctan is Dadtan, they reach a fortified settlement, along the river’s path. Thick 30 to 40ft tall walls protect it from incursions and tents surround a proper building resembling an inn.  On the outside of the walled part, there’s only one entrance, a big wooden gate. This is the town of Cidinium.

Asking around, part out of curiosity for local lore and part to get information on the baby, Luctan learns that the tents belong to the relatives of the soldiers.  Quite common for families to stop here, see their loved ones, check on them, see their kids. Asking one of the soldiers in particular, regarding the elven family,  the battlescarred, green haired Half-Orc remembers seeing a few coming and going. They think they remember someone vaglue matching the description leaving a few days ago.

During the queary, we learn that Peppery Pete had magically appeared in the man’s room, which is a welcome reprieve from the grim topic of the child’s family. Luctan learns that up, along the way there is an orphanage that they could leave the little one, if they don’t find relatives of his. Though it is possible that the elves they saw were sent down to Sa Doma, from this outpost.

Luctan gives instructions to retrieve and burry the bodies, maybe ask around, otherwise for his own people, in case they too fell victims to Ogres.

During the conversation Ficus holds a firm, encouraging hand on Belli’s shoulder, as she is not on good terms with authorities.

And the party moves along.

On the way to Lebovia, the formentioned place with the orphanage, Mournimar admits that he feels sick of nature, given the most recent experience. Burk, on the other hand, feels alright in it,fine with it even. It’s just that he doesn’t like anything in it. With the exception of Rimefang.

Rimefang is special

Belli offers to cut Mournimar’s hair, after he talks of wanting it shortened, some...

But. Ah.

Some failed instructions on Ficus and Luctan’s part later cause the poor Bard to cut a bit too much, giving Mournimar that short hair.

(He basically becomes Steve Harrington from Stranger Things. Mournimar is Tiefling Steve).

Key phrases used later and Ficus gets dissed by Belli for his hair choice and Luctan suffers a bad case of the war-flashbags at the mention of “cut tail”, having to then be moved, off the reigns of the horses and in the passanger cart for some R & R with Archie and Orion, the orange cats. One familiar, one normal kitty.

Urged by Mournimar, Belli sits with Luck and apologizes for what happened. Luck, in cat heaven, tells her no hard feelings were had over the phrasing.  Luctan DJ scratch-pats the cats and just nods to Belli. (and that’s where we get that photo, y’all).

The path to Lebovia is very uneventful for the next few days, 3 to be exact, it’s very chill, even. But they get there and Luctan does some more queary-snooping.

But sadly, it’s hard to tell. He gets left with the impression that maybe they were from either Sa Doma or Gorrum.

The party agree to take a rest in Lebovia, with Luctan opting to hold onto the baby, until he is sure he has run out of leads.

The party split to three rooms, with Ficus and Amelia having a conversation in the one they end up in (super secret chat convo!), Ficus very much offering his “services” to Luctan, but the disguised tiefling isn’t in the mood (given the fatherly duties over young Chucklefuck, how could he?!).

Luctan and Burk share a conversation, where Luctan learns a bit about Burk’s enemies, the two remaining. The Golliath appeared quite generic, for his folk. Big, gray and swole. The Half-Elf appears to be with red war paint to make the eyes look shallow/bloody, very shortly cropped black hair, near bald and 5’9” in height. No names given. "I didn’t exactly ask them, while they were slaughtering my people.” answered Burk.

Understanding, Luctan offers to teach Burk to read, something Burk will keep in mind.

On the next day, on the path along Lebovia, Belli and Ficus would know of a cut-off path that goes to the rich people area. Belli promises “no robberies”. Using the air quotes as she speaks.

As they go around Gorrum, they see a silhouette of a military complex, where weapons for the army get forged. Barracks that go several stories high and they can hear military drills being enhanced with thaumaturgy. Shit’s whack, yo.

No one really wants to talk with Luctan about the baby. They all kinda look weirdly at the party, except for Luctan.

Whack.

As vengeance for the way the guy treats the party, Belli has Orion, in seagull form, shit on the guy’s head. Then in the eye. And then, through Thaumaturgy, thanks to Mournimar, ruin the man’s reputation by having Orion say, in the guy’s voice “Oh, shit! I have chlamydia!”

The chaos trio have a good laugh on the way back to the cart, before they continue on their way with the rest of the party. “Don’t Frick with the Clique”, as Belli puts it.

As the party travel up the road, Burk, Amelia and Mournimar notice a kind of, unmoving large shape tucked into a corner. Mournimar gets a bit closer and sees a human woman, lying against a tree with an arrow straight through her chest, pinning her to the tree.

Mournimar checks the woman to see if she’s alive. She doesn’t seem to be breathing. Way less blood comes out of the wound, once Mournimar removes it. Cure Wounds don’t work.

In her hand is a small folded envelope. Belli takes the envelope, there’s a wax seal and only Belli can make a check on  it (Ficus would have recognized is as well, but he rolled a Nat 1, so it didn’t matter).

Her parents mentioned The Triad, back in the day, a group of really high class exclusive bards, but they were never allowed in, which was strange, since they were always allowed places. Hoity-Toity elven bards.

The name and address on the paper is N. Braville, Shadowspire Manor, Platinum District, Crystalgate.

This is a letter for Nelatha! The words “Quick and Urgent” quite evident on the paper!    (congrats, guys! We got a dellivery quest!)

With her base perception,  Amelia finds a coinpurse with 15 gold and 2 platinum, while Luctan’s eyes fall on a dagger (that boy loves him some pointy weapons). 

It, the coin purse, has the emblem of the Messenger’s guild, but it’s embroidered in golden silk and based on the badges she has, she’s a high ranking messenger of the guild.

The dagger itself is fairly normal, but it does hold the name  “ leliana “ in Elven, which Mournimar translates for him.

Seeng as the kill is quite fresh and a pursuer is surely nearby, the party decide to burry the body and make their way to Crystalgate, warn the Messenger guild of their fallen comrade and also deliver the letter to Nel. 

On the way, Belli sends a message to Nel, regarding what happened.

With the knowledge that the Narah girl can cast Message, Nel “can’t wait” to get more messages from Belli. She will wait for their arrival. She’s with her mom for the next few days. She’ll see them then.

Belli mimics Nel’s voice to the party. Amelia’s eye twitches during this bit.

The party head north a bit, up the stream, after this. The sun is setting earlier than expected, so we camp, before reaching the Narah mansion.

Deciding on Turns, Mournimar takes the first, with nothing eventful occuring. Luctan follows, with Ficus and Belli to be after him.

...

DURING LUCTAN’S TURN!

During Luctan’s watch, he notices that there’s a slight shake, from the brush nearby. There seems to be disturbed earth.  From walking around the rocky alcove, what seems to initially be a weirdly shaped dog, with a weird, bulbous head, turns out to be a canine with 2 heads. (Yeah, given Luctan’s Human/Tiefling personas, that is oddly apt for him to find).

One head growls at Luctan, the other carries a piece of parchment, staring at him.  It walks towards him as he wonders, to no aveil, what this being is, exactly. 

It comes towards him, slowly. It drops the scroll 10ft from where they’ré camped and then backs up.

Luctan approaches, takes the scroll and-

On the inside, in very neat letters, it says (DEEZ NUTS!!! Nah, nah, just kidding. It says:) “Give me the letter and have it be over with.”

Luctan writes a message back, drops the scroll at the dog, the dog clearly isn’t happy. It waits a few seconds, expecting something. Luctan just smiles. The dog eventually rises to it’s feet and howls from both heads.

Dex saves time-

Out of nowhere, a powerful fireball strikes upon the sleeping party.  Amelia, Mournimar and Belli each take 30 points of fire damage. A small spark flies from behind a rock from the south and encompasses the whole camp.

Pained, from the blast, which equally hurts him and Burk, for 15 damage, Luctan delivers his Hellish Rebuke in the direction of the caster. “CASTIGARE DI INFERNALIS!”. And causes some damage to the wily green dressed mage.

Enraged, Burk charges the wizard and swings with his axe. Recklessly, he slashes and strikes, adding on his pint sized fury onto the blow. The initial attack succeeds, but as a reaction, Burk’s second attack is blocked by the guy.

Panicking over the damage Belli,  Amelia and Mournimar took, Luctan’s body begins to glow. He reaches a hand out towards his friends as strange patterns of golden light appear over him, his disguised eyes flashing purple as he casts, for the first time ever, “Healing Word” with a powerful “No”, directed at Belli.

Confused over what had just happened, he quickly re-focuses on the sudden combat that’s begun and, with Burk handling the wizard, he charges the dog, putting it in a grapple, catching each of it’s heads. He brings the two headed dog down and commands it to “Sit”.

Rimefang, not liking the fire, makes distance between himself and the party, taking Archie the Cat along with him to safety. 

The mage, on his turn, terrified by the raging barbarian, slams his hand against the ground and brings up huge chunks of hale and Burk takes half the damage of the blast. 4 bludgeoning damage and 22 cold damage.

(Yeah, ok, so this is my bad, but I misremembered the events and initially thought the Cone of Cold was what came first?!) 

He winks at Burk and disappears into mist. And reappears on top of the rock, 20ft high.

(After out of character we agree that The Monk Dunk is the in-universe version of the fastball special), a wounded Amelia approaches Burk and offers to throw him at the wizard. Burk agrees, but the throw isn’t very productive. Burk is too beefy, ok?!

Instead, Amelia takes to her darts and strikes the man.

He looks signifigantly hurt, while Amelia wades through the difficult terrain of the Cone of Cold’s radius.

- Belli, on her turn, casts her Trademark "Sleep” on the man. This attempts reveals to the party that the man bust be elven or half-elf in race, as he shrugs it off with ease. Elves really only needing meditation to pass their time.

On her turn, Belli gives Burk one of her inspirational kazoo songs, while Ficus rises to his feet and charges the hound that Luctan grapples. With a miss, however, he takes the expedius action to make distance between himself and a very disappointed Luctan, who appears to have some pity for the two headed animal.

Mournimar’s turn. He fires his bow, shooting a sneaky arrow at the mage, piercing his body. With a second arrow, he strikes again, arrowing the magic man in the chest.

In the meanwhile of all this, a winded, wounded Morgan takes to stand before Belli. The dire wolf seems to barely keep himself vertical as he growls at the elven magic user.

(And for those wondering, according to the DM, the baby is tite, nestled between Luctan’s back and his shield. I guess you could say Luctan has a constant backpack for the little one.

On Burk’s turn, the little green man climbs like a beast up the rocks that the wizard had climbed up to and shoves said wizard off the 20ft rock. With a thud, he drops. 

Feeling inspired by Belli’s music, and using his spiked elbows, Burk takes a dive.

SMASHING on top of the winded and prone mage, thus giving us the debut of The Cragreaver People’s Elbow!

Due to the imact, the man’s head bounces sideways and he avoids what could very well have been a mortal strike by the goblin.

Asking if Morgan’s ok, Luctan heals him with another Healing Word. Then glares at the dog, trying to wrestle free from his grip and, glaring, he shouts, using thaumaturgy. “HEEL!”

The Dog of Janus promptly whimpers at the command of the tiefling as Rimefang joins at Luctan’s side, hissing and  threatening with his wings.

Panicking, the mage brings a crystal out of his pocket, holds it to his mouth, wreathes through it and fires a 60ft cone of yet again!

The cone strikes Burk and Amelia, with the latter taking 32 damage, while the former reduces said damage to 16. The blow was too strong for the monk, however and she drops, her body amidst the ice.

Amelia’s will keeps her in just enough to succeed on a death saving throw...

She’s down, but not out completely and as we get to this part.

We end on this cliffhanger.

Previous Episode / Next Episode

[roman-writing]

Increments of Longing (2/4)

Fandom: Warcraft III / World of Warcraft

Pairing: Sylvanas Windrunner / Jaina Proudmoore

Rating: T

Wordcount: 26,980

Summary: The Zandalari trolls have joined forces with the Amani trolls, 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 a champ and reading over this for me

read it below or read it here on AO3

The estate, Jaina discovered a few days after the wedding ceremony, was called Goldenbough Manor. She could faintly recall being told that before, but the last few weeks had been reduced to a blur in her mind. Now, she was standing before the manor, gazing up at its many ruby-studded spires and minarets in the lilac glow of the setting sun, which cast the earth in warm honeyed tones. All high elven architecture, as far as she could tell, involved spires and minarets, though Jaina could not understand the fascination personally.

It was a far cry from the staunch bulk of Proudmoore Keep. In comparison to impassive grey stone and walls fit for an invasion, Goldenbough Manor appeared lofty and delicate. It sat upon a hilltop overlooking its estate grounds and inland village, branching up towards the sky, each tower connected by a magically-sustained bridge around the fluted main belfry. The heat here was no less unbearable than it had been in Silvermoon City, but when Jaina closed her eyes she could hear the sea beyond battering the white cliffs facing west, salting the air with a familiar tang.

It was just enough for an aching tug of homesickness to wrench at her gut. Close enough to home, and yet far far away.

“Enjoying the cool evening air?” a voice said behind her.

Opening her eyes, Jaina turned. Sylvanas stood not far behind her, dressed in casual leathers and a half-cloak that hung rakishly off one shoulder. Further beyond, a group of liveried servants in Windrunner colours were being directed by Ithedis as they unloaded a carriage filled with Jaina’s personal belongings.

“This is supposed to be ‘cool’?” Jaina asked.

Sylvanas hummed and stepped closer. “We’ve had a temperate spring this year. I can feel the rains coming. Won’t be a few months now.”

She nodded towards the horizon far across the sea. Glancing over her shoulder, Jaina saw what she was referring to; storm clouds gathered, tall billowing pillars of black that were lanced through with lightning. They drifted distantly enough that Jaina had disregarded them, thinking they would pass by the mainland, just another set of offcasts from the Maelstrom.

Jaina shuddered. “If this was temperate, I don’t want to know what hot feels like.”

“Quite lovely, actually.”

“Says the elf.”

Sylvanas flashed her a grin that lacked any real warmth. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Hmm,” was Jaina’s reply.

Jaina did not say that she very much doubted that fact. Already she had spent nearly three whole months in Quel’Thalas, and still she had trouble sleeping at night and woke up every morning groggy and ill-rested. The days seemed to sap her of energy, until it was all she could do to drag her sorry carcass out of her quarters in Sunfury Spire, and sit in the bazaar clutching a warm drink -- because Tides forbid she actually enjoy a cold beverage. The one time she had tried chilling a glass of water, the frost had shot from the palm of her hand so viciously, it had shattered the crystal goblet. She had been left apologising to the shop owner, using Ithedis as a translator to convey her deepest regrets.

A few of the servants bustled past, bearing trunks full of Jaina’s things. Ithedis barked at them in Thalassian when one of them dropped a case, and Jaina winced in sympathy.

“I believe dinner has been prepared for us,” Sylvanas said as she drew up beside Jaina, and then stepped by her, striding towards the manor. “Shall we?”

Jaina followed. She trotted to catch up and walk at Sylvanas’ side. “It’s a bit later than I usually have dinner,” she mentioned as they passed together through the elaborately carved front gates and into the sweeping ground floor.

Sylvanas’ stride paused ever so slightly, before she continued walking. “And what time do you usually eat dinner?”

“About two or three hours earlier.”

Making a face, Sylvanas hummed a contemplative note under her breath. “Can I propose a compromise? Dinner an hour earlier?”

Jaina stuck out her hand. “It’s a deal.”

With a low chuckle, Sylvanas clasped her hand and shook it. Her fingers were warm and calloused, and she dropped Jaina’s hand quickly in order to usher her into a dining area off the main hall.

The dining area itself was large enough to host generous events, but the servants had assembled a smaller section of the room for everyday use. Two couches had been pushed parallel to one another, and between them a low table was piled with platters of what appeared to be a variety of hors d’oeuvres. Jaina had long since learned that this would be the entirety of the meal. She still wasn’t very good at handling her food without utensils however, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw a small stack of cloth serviettes that had been folded along one corner of the table.

Sylvanas leaned her knee atop one of the low-slung couches, before gracefully lowering herself onto her side, propped up on one elbow. Jaina hesitated to do the same on the other couch. She didn’t think she would ever get used to eating while half lying down.

Sylvanas watched her, studious and expressionless. “Would you prefer a chair?”

“Oh, I would,” Jaina breathed. “I really would.”

Sylvanas said something in Thalassian, a series of words that Jaina only partially understood. A few moments later, and a servant appeared from behind a door, carrying a high-backed chair. He placed it down, pushed the couch to one side, and situated the chair in its place.

“Thank you,” Jaina said, and received a bow in return. When she sat however, the chair was far too high for such a low table.

“We can order in a Kul Tiran dining set,” Sylvanas assured her.

With a sigh, Jaina draped one of the cloth napkins across her lap. “No, it’s fine. I should really get used to this anyway.”

Sylvanas reached for a dish and began to eat without preamble. “If it’s any consolation,” she said around a small bite of food, “I will be just as lost in Kul Tiras as you are here.”

“That’s not what I want either.”

“But you would tell me what you want?” Sylvanas asked in a voice that was far too controlled to be truly nonchalant.

Jaina had been trying to balance a bit of meat and sauce upon a flat piece of bread, when she fumbled and dropped the meat on the ground, where it fell with a splat. She grimaced at Sylvanas and conceded, “Cutlery? And plates? At this point, I would kill a man for an honest plate.”

“No need to go that far,” Sylvanas drawled. “Though I’m sure Ithedis would jump at the honour.”

She said it right as Ithedis was entering the dining hall, and though there could be no doubt that he had heard, his expression never faltered. Sylvanas must have known he was coming, for she aimed a sidelong smile over her shoulder at him. “I never would have thought it true if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, but I believe he’s taken a liking to you, Lady Proudmoore.”

Ithedis said nothing as he took his post at the entrance. Jaina smiled at him, and could have sworn she saw his eyes flicker towards her in a silent greeting.

“Ithedis is safe from my wrath,” Jaina said, leaning down to clean up her mess with the napkin before a servant could come scurrying out to do it for her.

Sylvanas continued eating as she watched, lounging upon her couch, while Jaina struggled to bring a morsel to her mouth without dumping it either on the floor or herself. “You should familiarise yourself with the manor after dinner. Explore a bit.”

“I remember you showing me around last time.” With a small sense of triumph, Jaina managed a bite, even if her fingers did get a little smeared with richly spiced sauce.

“I’ve made a few changes since then. You may have noticed.”

That, Jaina could not deny. Even her brief walk through the foyer and main hall had revealed that much. The last time they’d been here, the manor was still dusty with disuse, its shades drawn, its stables empty, and all of its furnishings shrouded in white cloth. Now, the halls were lit with yellowish magelight, and the patterned marble floors all but sparkled.  

Jaina tore apart another section of flatbread that she and Sylvanas were sharing. “Anything in particular you think I should see?”

Breezily, Sylvanas said, “For starters, there’s a halfway decent private library in my brother’s old quarters, now.”

Jaina’s eyes widened, and she nearly choked. Chewing her food quickly, she swallowed. “You got me a library?”

“Oh?” Sylvanas said, all sweetness and innocence. “Should I not have? I thought you liked libraries? I heard you frequented Silvermoon’s finest these last few weeks.”

“I did! I mean -- I do! I just -” Jaina wiped her hands clean on another serviette. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Like I don’t have to buy a Kul Tiran dining set?”

“But I haven’t done anything for you,” Jaina said, wringing the serviette between her hands.

Sylvanas waved her concern aside. “You gave me a lovely gift already.”

“Yes, but - wait.” Jaina blinked. “You have a brother?”

Sylvanas hesitated, a momentary pause as she reached for another piece of bread. “Had,” she murmured. “I had a brother. I had many siblings, in fact. Now, there’s just Vereesa.”

Jaina could have kicked herself. Instead she settled for squirming in her seat at her complete lack of tact, and saying lamely, “I’m sorry.”

Another one of those inscrutable elven shrugs, though this time Sylvanas’ usual air of calm detachment was sullied by the way she would not meet Jaina’s eye. “It’s in the past.”

A long silence stretched between them. A servant emerged through a door to offer wine and -- Jaina blinked in surprise -- Kul Tiran tripel. Warm, she noticed, scrunching up her nose and shaking her head. Sylvanas declined as well, requesting water instead, which was brought out in a steaming glass teapot. Jaina’s heart sank at the sight of it, but she sighed and nodded when Sylvanas asked with a gesture if she wanted a drink.

Jaina set the drink aside and waited for it to cool somewhat. Sylvanas was sipping at her own glass. While Jaina watched her, she had to stop her leg from bouncing. She straightened her back, and said, “I had brothers as well. Two of them.”

Sylvanas’ eyebrows rose, but she said nothing.

“To be honest,” Jaina continued, smoothing the serviette out across her lap and fiddling with its edges. “I was never the first choice for Heir to the Admiralty. After my father and brothers all died though, there really wasn’t any choice. If even one of my brothers had lived, you probably would’ve married him instead of me.”

To her surprise, Sylvanas let out a huff of laughter and said in a dry tone, “I very much doubt that.”

Brow furrowing, Jaina asked, “Why’s that? If the threat of trolls was still prevalent, then surely Kul Tiras and Quel’Thalas would have been pushed towards an alliance.”

Sylvanas sipped delicately at her water, steam drifting from the little glass between her fingers. “Because everyone knows that my preferences run solely towards women. Well,” she tipped her glass towards Jaina, “Most everyone, that is.”

Jaina could feel a flush rising to her cheeks. She could recall the conversation between herself and Kael’thas in the bazaar, cutting him off just as he’d been about to tell her something along those lines -- though, she hadn’t realised it at the time. Now, she snatched up her own glass of water and drank, coughing at the stinging heat. Meanwhile, Sylvanas hid her amusement by continuing to graze at the table.

Clearing her throat, Jaina admitted, “It hadn’t occurred to me that might be the case. I just thought that -- you know -- this was the product of a lack of any alternatives. Not that you - uhm -”

A bemused frown creased the space between Sylvanas’ brows. “And what about you?”

“Me?” Jaina all but squeaked.

“Yes. Didn’t anyone take into account your preferences?”

“Oh, I don’t know about -- that is to say --” Jaina cut herself off before she could ramble, and said weakly, “I haven’t given it much thought.”

For a moment, Sylvanas stared at her. Then she snorted with laughter. “You married me without question, and you didn’t pause to think if you were even attracted to women?”

“I didn’t think attraction was a key requirement of this marriage,” Jaina countered. Straightening in her seat, she reached for another piece of food, studiously avoiding the way Sylvanas was grinning at her, and her own burning face.

A wry chuckle was her reply. “I suppose that’s true. I would have noticed a clause like that in the paperwork. And here I thought you were lamenting the missed opportunity of marrying Kael’thas himself.”

Jaina rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.”

Sylvanas continued, "He did seem quite upset when I agreed to replace him. I'm surprised he hadn't walked up to you and formally apologised for marrying you off to someone lesser than he."

Rather than answer and confirm her suspicion, Jaina stuffed another bite into her mouth. As it turned out, that was answer enough. Sylvanas seemed utterly delighted. "Of course he did. And yet you turned him down?” Sylvanas’ grin widened. “What a shame. I wish I could have been there to see his face.”

Reaching for another bite, Jaina shook her head. “No, you really don’t.”

Sylvanas had leaned forward, propping her chin upon her hand and smirking at Jaina like a leopard lounging atop a high branch. “I must admit I’m surprised. I hear he’s quite the catch. For some people.”

“Desperate people, maybe,” Jaina grumbled around a bulging mouthful of food.

At that, Sylvanas laughed. She pressed her forehead to the couch and laughed into one of the cushions, the noise stifled by the crook her arm. By the time she stopped, she had to wipe carefully at the kohl lining of one eye. “At least there’s no chance the next few months will be dull with you around.”

Frowning, Jaina asked, “Why? What’s happening in the next few months?”

Sylvanas rolled her eyes. “My prince, in all his infinite wisdom, ‘suggested’ that I take a leave of absence from the field. Vereesa will be in charge of the Rangers in my stead, and I am to be seen with you around Quel'Thalas doing -” she waved her hand in a vague gesture. “- whatever it is married couples of our station are expected to do. Go riding through the countryside. Attend banquets. Argue about things of little consequence.”

Jaina gave a mock shudder. “I'll pass on the last two, thanks.”

Sylvanas pretended to look taken aback. “You don't want to start a fight with me at an insufferable nobleman's classy banquet? But think of the fun we could have.”

Tearing off a piece of bread, Jaina threw it at her. “You're going to be a bad influence on me, I can tell.”

Sylvanas caught the bread in a fluid motion, and popped it into her mouth. “Only if I do my job right.”

Jaina had not spent much time dreaming about what married life would be like. In fact, she had hardly given it a passing thought until a year ago, when the negotiations had first been opened and the proposal extended. This though -- the easy banter, the warmth of the moment, the glint of Sylvanas’ sharp-edged grin -- she could get used to this.

Draining the last of her water, Sylvanas set her glass on the low table and rose smoothly to her feet. Puzzled at the sudden turn of events, Jaina folded her napkin and started to stand, but Sylvanas waved her away.

“Stay. Finish.” She plucked at her half-cape so that it fell properly across one shoulder after she’d been sitting. “I have to be up early tomorrow to initiate some new recruits at Farstrider Square, so I’m going to bed. Don’t feel obligated to come with, if you’re not tired.”

Jaina slowly sat back down in her chair. “Oh. Of course. Um -?”

Sylvanas cocked her head. “Yes?”

Lacing her fingers in her lap, Jaina said, “In the marriage contract, they said I could supplement my training in Silvermoon, but I don’t know where I should go for that.”

“That’s because Falthrien Academy is technically on Sunstrider Isle and not in Silvermoon City itself. Ithedis can escort you there whenever you like.” She pointed to Ithedis when she mentioned his name, and he bowed slightly in confirmation.

Jaina relaxed somewhat. “Thank you. Do I need some sort of introduction?”

Walking towards the door, Sylvanas flashed Jaina a signature impish smile over her shoulder. “Lady Proudmoore, you are now well known enough that you require no introduction anywhere in Quel’Thalas.”

She didn’t know if she should take that as a compliment, or a warning. Instead, all she said was a very pointed, “Jaina.”

In the doorway, Sylvanas offered her a mock bow. “My deepest apologies, Jaina.”

And with that, she was gone. The moment she left, Jaina could have sworn she heard Ithedis give a faint sniff.

Picking at the food, Jaina said to him, “You don’t approve of her?”

“It is not my place to approve or disapprove, Lady Proudmoore,” was his stock reply.

“But you think she’s too waggish.”

He blinked, turning his head to look at her. “‘Waggish’, my Lady?”

“Mischievous,” Jaina explained. “Irreverent. A bit of an ass.”

“Ah, I see.” After a pause, he admitted, “Yes.”

With a small smile, Jaina took another bite and hummed around it. “So do I.” She smiled. “I think I like that.”

--

After dinner, Jaina did indeed wander the halls of Goldenbough Manor. She peered into parlours and private studies. She walked the bridges between spires, kneeling down to poke her head over the edges and read the magical runes that scrolled along the bottom of the walkways. She found the library, a broad open space with its own balcony that faced the sea, and immediately began tilting her head to read titles upon the shelves that stretched to the ceiling. She could not resist the urge to pull a few tomes down and flip through them.

Books on transmutation. Books on glyphs. Rare elven histories that never crossed the borders. Jaina made a stack upon one of the tables to read later, already vibrating at the thought of pouring over this collection for many an hour.

And of course Ithedis followed wherever she went. He stood, silent and stalwart, as she muttered under her breath and frowned down at dusty tomes. When she stood up on her toes to try to reach for a particularly high shelf, he pushed a wheeled ladder in her direction.

Night had long since fallen, washing the earth in dark jeweled tones, by the time Jaina rubbed at her eyes. She marked her page, and rose from a comfortable armchair near the balcony doors. She closed the glass doors and murmured goodnight to Ithedis as she left the library. He nodded respectfully as she passed by, and did not follow as she made her way towards the stairs that led to her private quarters.

Well. Their private quarters, more appropriately. Jaina had lit the way with a bluish ball of magelight over her palm, but she extinguished it with a whisper when she stood before the doors leading to their private quarters. She stood out in the hallway for a few long seconds, staring at the scrolled handles, before finally plucking up the courage to open the doors and slip inside.

It was dark. She faintly remembered touring this section of the main tower before, but with so many new changes, she waited a moment to let her eyes adjust before moving around. The furniture loomed, black shapes against grey stone. Twin armoires. A door leading to the ablutions. Paintings hung along the walls. A length of carpet like a streak of darkness along the ground. Two trunks at the foot of the four poster bed. And a figure curled up among the sheets on one side.

All but holding her breath, Jaina cross to the other side of the room. As quietly as she could, she creaked open the armoire’s various compartments, and felt around for a suitable nightgown. With relief, she found something. Stripping out of her Admiralty garb, which she left in a pile on the floor, she stepped into the nightgown, pulling the arms into place over her shoulders.

Turning, she tip-toed towards the bed, lifted a sheet, and slipped underneath. The sheets were blissfully cool against her warm skin, almost silky, though they had the feel of fine cotton beneath her hand. Sighing, Jaina burrowed deeper into the bed, dragging one of the many pillows into just the right angle.

A shuffling at the other side of the bed. Jaina held her breath. Sylvanas stirred, but did not wake. The mattress was large enough that Jaina could stretch out her arms and still not touch the curve of Sylvanas’ turned back. That pale golden hair was a spill of silvery ink against the pillows. One long ear flicked, before settling into drooping inaction once more.

All the while, Jaina’s heart beat rapidly in her chest. Until tonight, she had never shared a bed before with anyone but her brothers. Proudmoore Keep had always been vast enough that they had each been assigned their own rooms, but that didn’t stop Jaina, the youngest, from pestering her older siblings into letting her into their beds when she’d suffered a nightmare. She tried to tell herself that this was no different, but her heart refused to agree.

It took her an age to fall asleep. Jaina closed her eyes, but sleep seemed to evade her despite the slant of moonlight through a distant window, sliding towards the edge of their bed as the night went on.

At one point during the night, she awoke to find that she had discarded the sheets entirely, and instead curled up to the curve of Sylvanas’ back, her forehead lingering at the nape of Sylvanas’ neck. Blinking one bleary eye, sleepy Jaina merely tucked her knees up and fell back into a dreamless slumber.

When Jaina awoke to late morning sunlight streaming through the window on the far wall, she was still on Sylvanas’ side of the bed, and Sylvanas had long since departed.  

--

Craning her neck, Jaina shielded her eyes with the flat of her hand. Falthrien Academy’s multiple platforms hovered over a brackish lake, which sparkled in the light. The bronze-capped main building glanced in the sun, bright enough that Jaina winced and had to look away.

“It’s certainly -” Jaina blinked past purple spots in her vision, “- impressive.”

Ithedis grunted in reply. Hordes of Novices and Apprentices trailed by the two of them in packs, and it was a toss up which of them received more attention. A Spellbreaker was hardly a common sight in a mage academy, and a human was hardly a common sight in Quel’Thalas at all. Especially when Jaina still walked around in her casual Kul Tiran clothing, which set her apart from the crowd like a sore thumb.

“I suppose we just go inside?” Jaina asked, pointing to the main building. They would have to climb multiple platforms to get there, and already Jaina was dreading that much exposure to the heat. Perhaps she should invest in a parasol.

Ithedis nodded. “You should be able to find a Magister without issue, my Lady.”

Steeling herself, Jaina took a moment to roll up the sleeves of her white button down shirt, preparing herself for the climb. “Alright, let’s -”

A group of Apprentices stopped nearby. They whispered behind their hands, giggling and pointing. Jaina should have been used to such reactions after she had spent so many weeks in Silvermoon being gawked at, but it still made her hesitate and flounder for what to do. She cleared her throat, ducked her head, and made a start towards the nearest walkway.

As she passed by the group however, one of their members -- a willowy elven girl with auburn hair -- stepped forward. “Excuse me, Lady Proudmoore?” Her voice was lilting, heavily accented, but her Common was perfectly understandable.

Startled at being approached at all, Jaina faltered. “Y-Yes?”

The Apprentice smiled, and Jaina did not like her smile. “We were just wondering, the others and I -- you’re wearing such a high collar today, but don’t your people prefer the cold? You shouldn’t feel afraid to unbutton your shirt a little.”

At her side, Ithedis went stiff.

“Um - I - I guess -?” Jaina reached up to pull the top button of her shirt free. It slipped loose, just revealing her collarbone, and every Apprentice in the group seemed to lean forward with bated breath, their eyes fixing on her neck.

Suddenly, Ithedis was standing before her, shielding her from the others. He loomed, imposing in his scarlet armour and tower shield. His free hand had drawn the double-bladed polearm that normally hid in the underside of his shield, and he gripped its handle so tightly his gauntlets creaked. In a voice dark and threatening, he snapped in Thalassian a short phrase that Jaina could only catch a few words of, before the girl and the group of Apprentices scampered away, cowed.

Utterly bewildered, Jaina watched them go. “Ithedis?”

“Yes, my Lady?”

“What the fuck was that about?”

Beneath his helm, his jaw tightened, but he did not answer.

Glowering, Jaina said, “If I ordered you to tell me, would you do it?”

Without hesitation, he answered, “Anything you ordered, I would do, my Lady.”

She pursed her lips, watching the way he shifted his grip upon the polearm. If it had been anyone else, Jaina would have been tempted to say he was fidgeting.

Finally, Jaina sighed and shook her head. “Thank you, anyway. Can we just go, now?”

“Of course, Lady Proudmoore.”

Nobody else dared approach as Jaina walked up the winding walkways, arching from platform to platform. The sun rose overhead, growing stronger as the day grew long. By the time they finally reached the grand entrance of the main building, Jaina was wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, and wiping it dry on her breeches with a grimace.

Inside, the temperature dropped almost instantly. Jaina could feel a cool wave of air wash over her like a kiss. She stopped to close her eyes and sigh with pleasure. No matter how much high elves preferred the heat of their beloved Sunwell, they could not stifle the natural cold that radiated from intensely clustered arcane energies. When she opened her eyes again, she smiled and breathed in deeply.

“It must be the crystals holding this place up,” Jaina mused.

She looked down at the floor and began to pace the patterns carved into the ground like leylines. A few people stared at her as she walked with her head down, scowling at the floor, but she took no notice of them. When she’d made it a quarter of the way around the ground floor, she stopped, and her face lit up in a smile.

She pointed down at the ground, and looked at Ithedis in triumph. “I knew it! It’s a rune! See? Is it in High Thalassian? I don’t know this figure here.”

He tilted his head, and his long pale hair brushed along his pauldrons; he had removed his helm upon entering the premises. “My apologies, Lady Proudmoore, but I could not say. I am only able to sense the presence of magic and counter it, when the need arises.”

Jaina opened her mouth, but before she could speak she was interrupted by a mild, cultured voice to one side. “Noral’arkhana falor. It is, indeed, a rune that uses the lake beneath us as a source to keep us afloat, so to speak.”

An elf in black robes with fine gold needlework had approached them while Jaina was excitedly studying the floor. He held a tall spindly staff with a wicked scarlet tip, and he watched Jaina with cold eyes that glinted the colour of burnished steel. He seemed to take pleasure in startling her, for his mouth curled up on one side when she jumped and turned to face him.

Still, he bowed. “Magister Duskwither. At your service. How may I help you, Lady Proudmoore?”

Quickly, Jaina returned the bow and straightened. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. You have a fine school here.”

His answering smile looked more like a sneer than anything else. “Why, thank you. You’re too kind.”

Flustered, Jaina nevertheless forged on. “I was hoping to continue my studies during my stay in Quel’Thalas, and Sylv -- I mean -- my wife -” she stumbled over the phrase; it would take some getting used to “- told me that this was the best place to do so.”

“Of course, Lady Proudmoore. We would be honoured to enroll you here,” Magister Duskwither said. “We simply require a few simple tests to ensure you’re placed at the correct level for training.”

With a frown of confusion, Jaina said slowly, “But -- I have already been apprenticed by Archmage Antonidas? Shouldn’t that give some indication of my skill?”

“The Archmage, while brilliant, is a human. And we have very exacting standards here at Falthrien Academy. I’m sure you understand.” That was definitely a sneer this time. No doubt about it.

Beside her, Ithedis took an abortive step forward, but Jaina held out her hand. She smiled at the Magister and said brightly, “That won’t be a problem. When do we begin?”

“Now, if you wish.” He traced a rune in the air, and a portal winked into life. With a mock little deferential nod, Magister Duskwither said, “After you, my Lady.”

Jaina hesitated only a moment before stepping through the portal. She emerged on the other side, followed quickly by Ithedis, into a circular room lined with identical doors. The domed ceiling arched overhead, engraved with a map of the stars set out in constellations she had never heard of before, though she recognised some of the patterns.

The sound of a staff clicking against the dark marble floor announced the Magister’s presence. The portal shut behind him. He stretched out his hand towards one of the many doors and said, “Open it.”

“This is the test?” Jaina asked in utter bewilderment.

Magister Duskwither nodded serenely. “Yes.”

“To open that door?” She pointed to the one he had referred to.

The tip of one of his ears twitched like an irritated cat’s that had been grasped by a child. “Do I really need to repeat myself? Yes, that door.”

“It just seems a bit silly for a test, is all.”

His teeth clenched, yet he gave her a forced smile. “That’s because you haven’t opened it yet.”

“No. Because it’s an illusion. See?”

Jaina flung her hand out, and a bolt of ice careened from her open palm. It struck the door, dead centre, and the door swirled into mist, leaving behind a frost-scorched crater in the wall behind it.

Wincing, Jaina said, “Oh. Whoops. Sorry.”

Magister Duskwither glared at the crater, then at Jaina. “Very good. Now, the next door, if you please.”

Jaina pointed to the door just to the right of the one she had just evaporated, “This one -?”

“Yes, that one,” he snapped.

Holding up her hands as if in surrender, she approached the door. Her footsteps echoed faintly around the circular room. Ithedis remained standing near the Magister; he had put his helm back on and glowered at Duskwither from beneath the flanged plates.

Hands behind her back now, Jaina stopped in front of the door. She rocked back on her heels and hummed, thoughtful. She leaned to one side. Then to the other.

Turning back towards Magister Duskwither, she smiled triumphantly and pointed to the handle, careful to not actually touch it. “This one has an electricity glyph etched on the interior of the metal. It’s very small. Just enough to give someone a fright and a bit of a shock when they tried to open it.”

To make her point, Jaina grasped the handle. The glyph inside flared to life, but from the wrist down her skin was sheathed in a glimmer of arcane energy. A small current of electricity fizzled out of existence, and Jaina opened the door to reveal the wall behind it.

Duskwither looked like he had bitten into a lemon. “Next door.”

The next door was enchanted to turn into a lynx that tried to bite her hand, only to find that both its upper and lower jaws had been replaced by pillows. Jaina let it gnaw on her wrist for a moment, before dispelling the enchantment and turning the creature back into a door.

The next began to branch in every direction, growing along the walls and sprouting leaves. Jaina murmured to it, urging it back to a seed that she then picked up and tossed over her shoulder before moving on.

The next released a flood of water that spilled out onto the ground. Or at least, it would have had Jaina not held it in place with a shield that shimmered with purple sparks. She turned the water into a flash of steam with a wave of her hand, then closed the door.

The next bristled with a fear spell that she overcame with a countercharm.

The next actually had a room behind it, that tried to transport her back downstairs, but which she altered to instead transport her to a door directly across from it.

One by one, she worked her way around the room, thwarting puzzles of increasing complexity. Near the end, Jaina had to take her time, stopping to inspect each door carefully and mull over its hidden secrets before she could crack the puzzle. The second to last door, an Infernal minion that towered above her breathing gouts of green flame, had her panting and gasping for breath after banishing it back to its own demonic realm. It shrieked as it fell into a great gaping chasm on the floor that burned with black and sickly fire, the noise grating enough to make Jaina’s bones itch.

She stopped before the last door to catch her breath. Behind her, she could hear Ithedis arguing with the Magister.

“Dangerous -!” was one of the words she caught in Thalassian, along with a few choice curses that Jaina had been taught by Vereesa when they’d been exchanging tips on how to swear in their own languages.

She ignored them and leaned on her knees. Then, pushing herself upright, Jaina approached the final door. She squinted. By all appearances, it looked exactly like the other identical doors, but for the fact that Jaina could sense nothing odd about it whatsoever. She checked its hinges, its handle, the painted woodgrain and handsomely arched frame. She even got down on her hands and knees and peered beneath the gap along the floor, seeing only darkness within.

With a grunt, she clambered to her feet once more. Tentatively, suspiciously, Jaina reached out and opened the door.

An inky nothingness existed inside. Jaina frowned. She shot a bolt of ice inside, but it disappeared, swallowed by shadow. She skimmed her palms along it, and all she felt was air. No shimmer. No sound. No light.

Glancing over her shoulder at Ithedis and the Magister, who were still arguing, Jaina took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The darkness extended in all directions, blank and all-consuming. She could hear no whisper of the Void, nor feel the chill of Death. Just a barren black. She did not even know the door had shut behind her until she turned around, only to find that it was gone.

“Shit.”

She could feel herself vocalise the word, but no sound came out. Reaching blindly in the direction of the door, Jaina walked a few paces -

-and kept walking.

She should have touched the door by now. She should have heard something, sensed something. She tried to speak again, but only silence answered. She inhaled and exhaled, and though she could feel no air filling her lungs she did not strain for breath. When she looked down at herself, it was to find that she still wore the exact same clothes, but that everything appeared dim and wan, as if viewed through a curved lens or a slant of water.

“Huh,” she did not say, and sat down on the non-existent floor.

Crossing her legs, Jaina leaned her elbows on her knees and rested her chin on her knuckles. She thought. And thought. She tried to summon up a spell, a tiny flame in the palm of her hand, but even the barest spark would not ignite. She clapped her hands together once, but no sound issued forth. She tried to blow against her fingers, but could feel no passage of air.

Finally, she reached around her neck and took off the pendant Sylvanas had given her as a wedding gift. The stone glinted like pale blue glass between Jaina’s fingers. Holding it up before her, Jaina dropped it, and the necklace remained suspended in midair, its gold chain drifting as if floating in water. Gently, she prodded it with one finger, watching in fascination as it hovered further from her before stopping in mid-air.

Jaina’s face lit up with realisation. “Oh! I get it! Clever!”

She snapped her fingers, and time moved again.

The pendant dropped to the floor, clattering there, solid and noisy. Triumphant, Jaina snatched it up off the ground and pushed herself upright. When she turned around, it was to see that the door had reappeared behind her. Clasping the necklace back into place, Jaina walked forward. She opened the door and stepped outside.

Back in the circular room, she froze and stared. Ithedis had one of the bladed ends of his polearm pressed against the Magister’s throat. A line of blood trickled from the edge, and the Magister’s nose was broken. Magister Duskwither tried to slam one of his hands into the side of Ithedis’ helm, his fist pulsing with arcane energy, but Ithedis grabbed his wrist with a free hand. Eyes flaring with the magic he absorbed, Ithedis tightened his grip until the Magister cried out in pain.

“Where is she?” Ithedis snarled.

The door shut behind Jaina with a click, and both of them looked around to see Jaina standing there, unscathed.

Smiling awkwardly, Jaina raised her hand in a little wave. “Hello!”

Immediately, Ithedis released the Magister and moved to stand before her. His eyes had returned to their usual soft glow, and he took inventory of her appearance. “Are you hurt, my Lady?”

She waved his concern aside. “I’m fine, thank you. How long was I gone?”

His face hardened. “Three quarters of an hour.”

“Oh, that’s not too bad!” Jaina mused. “I was sure I’d been in there longer.”

Behind Ithedis, Magister Duskwither was rubbing at the cut on his neck. He reached up to touch his nose, and hissed in pain. The sound drew Ithedis’ attention back to him, and the Magister flinched back a step. Fury burned in his eyes, and he bared his fangs.

Jaina shot Ithedis a reproachful look at the damage he had done, but Ithedis appeared entirely unapologetic. Shaking her head, Jaina clasped her hands together and stepped forward. “Magister Duskwither, unless I’m very much mistaken, I have passed your tests.”

Wiping his bloodied hand on the front of his robes, Magister Duskwither snapped, “So, it would seem.”

“Great! When do I start my lessons?”

He gave her an extremely ugly smile, his teeth slicked with blood. “Three times a week in the afternoons. Classes take place on the second floor with the other third year Novices. I’m sure you’ll find yourself right at home.”

“Third year Novices -!” Ithedis started to growl, but Jaina shook her head at him. He stood down, fuming silently at her side.

Returning the Magister’s smile, Jaina said, “Thank you for your time. I look forward to starting right away.”

This time, she opened her own portal back to the main floor beneath them. Before she could step through it, Duskwither sneered, “Don’t forget to take your hound with you.”

If Ithedis’ glare could be any more murderous, the Magister would have died on the spot. Jaina touched a hand lightly to Ithedis’ armoured shoulder. Stiffly, Ithedis turned away from Magister Duskwither and followed her through the portal.

Downstairs once more, Ithedis clipped his polearm to a shorter length with a flourish of his wrist, and tucked it back into a slot of his shield. Jaina waited until he had done so before starting towards the stairs that winded upwards. “I’m sorry about him,” she said.

Ithedis’ jaw tightened. “You have nothing to apologise for, Lady Proudmoore.”

“Yeah, but I feel like I should anyway.” Jaina shrugged, at a loss for what to say. “Well, we might as well scope out where these classes are being held.”

Sighing, she climbed the steps. Everywhere she went, she and Ithedis seemed to walk in an invisible bubble through which nobody else passed. The Academy was no exception. Novices and Apprentices would rather squeeze along the walls, single-file, rather than venture too close. Soon enough, they reached the second floor, and Jaina wandered down one of the hallways that circled around the perimeter of the main building.

She poked her head into the first room they came across, and blinked in surprise. A class full of what seemed to be children were chattering away inside. They sat at their desks, or atop them, eyes bright, long ears crooked yet alert. If Jaina had to guess, she would have said they were aged twelve, though she had no idea how fast or slow elves aged when they were young.

The moment they noticed they had a newcomer in their midst, all excited jabbering stopped. All of the kids turned to stare at her, not in alarm but with mild curiosity, as though she were a stray and exotic bird that had somehow managed to wander into their midst through an open window.

“Um - Hello -?” Jaina said.

“Are you the Apprentice standing in for the Magister?” One of the children asked.

“Why are your ears funny?” Another piped up from the back, followed by a chorus of resounding nods and accompanying questions about her appearance.

“Uh -” Jaina repeated eloquently. Then, finding her voice, she managed to say, “Is this the class for third year Novices?”

That earned her a few nods as well as a number of rolled eyes, as though she had asked something very silly.

“And how old does that make you?” Jaina asked.

“Sixteen!” a few voices from the back answered, while others answered “Seventeen!” and one raised his hand with a desultory, “Eighteen.”

Jaina’s mouth went dry. She stared at their youthful faces in creeping horror.

“I - uh - excuse me.”

Turning and pushing past Ithedis in the doorway, Jaina fled.

--

When Jaina and Ithedis arrived back at Goldenbough Manor two and a half hours later, Sylvanas’ horse was in the stables. Dread had settled in the pit of Jaina’s stomach during the ride back from Falthrien Academy, and it only seemed to drill a hole deeper into her gut as she dismounted from her own horse.

She started to lead her mount into the stables, but beside her Ithedis held out his hand and said, “Allow me, my Lady.”

Reluctant, Jaina nevertheless passed the reins to him. She went into the manor alone and tense, expecting Sylvanas to be around every corner. The fact that Sylvanas was nowhere in sight only seemed to make it worse.

At first, Jaina snuck up to the library, hoping to find solace in a good book, but she soon found herself turning pages without reading them. That, or she felt herself feeling sick when she came across a spell that reminded her of the trials she performed today, which of course, were varied and all-encompassing enough that no magical subject seemed safe. After a daring attempt at boring herself with ancient elven history -- the elves sure did love cataloguing long lists of noble family trees -- Jaina gave up. She dropped the book onto the stack beside the armchair that she had claimed the night before, and leaned her head back, closing her eyes.

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the glass balcony doors. Heat pricked at her skin. After the long ride to and from the Academy, Jaina could feel a fine layer of sweat and grime sticking to her skin. With a groan, she pushed herself to her feet and left the library.

A truding walk down three flights of stairs to a floor beneath the main belfry found Jaina in the Manor’s bathing complex. The first time she had been brought down here, the three different temperature pools had been empty and filled with cobwebs and more than one rat. Even elven household wards grew old and struggled to keep the vermin out, it seemed.

Now however, the atrium was fully renovated. There were no doors, but the doorways were draped with long lengths of cloth, and the space warmly lit with magelight. Stone cubby holes cut into the walls had been filled with an assortment of towels, robes, slippers, oils, soaps, scrubbers, and a host of other instruments that Jaina did not recognise. Peeling her clothes off, she tossed them into a woven basket by the entrance without looking until all she wore was the pendant. She did not bother with slippers, and instead simply wrapped herself in a towel before entering the first set of baths.

Had Jaina been in the right mindset to be paying attention, she would have noticed that the basket had already contained a set of Ranger leathers, and that one of the cubby holes was missing a few items. As it was, she was rubbing at a growing ache behind her eyes, when she pushed aside the cloth barrier between the atrium and the hot pool. She had even taken a few steps inside before she heard a gentle splash.

Brows knitting in bewilderment, Jaina looked up only to go stock-still. In the long pool, sunk deeply into the floor and trailing with tendrils of steam, Sylvanas sat. Various ledges were tiered along the pool’s walls, and she occupied one at a level so that the water reached her waist. On the floor behind her was an assortment of towels and vials and what seemed to be a flat wooden stick. Her hair was wet and slicked back from her face, and her skin was faintly pink from the heat. It was the first time Jaina had seen her without the carefully applied kohl around her eyes, and it made her appear bare-faced, younger. Without it, her gaze was less severe, but no less keen-edged.

Sylvanas tilted her head. “You’re back earlier than I expected. How was the Academy?”

“Fine,” Jaina croaked, looking quickly away. She clutched the towel more tightly to herself. Clearing her throat, she asked, “How - uh - how was your -” she struggled to think of the word and ended up just saying, “- thing?”

A soft chuckle, and Sylvanas replied, “My ‘thing’ was fine. I swear the new recruits look greener and greener with every passing year, but what else are we supposed to do in times of war?”

“Mmm,” Jaina hummed behind clenched teeth.

Another soft rippling of water, and Sylvanas asked, “Well? Aren’t you going to get in so we can have a proper chat?”

“Just -” Jaina’s voice squeaked, and she had to swallow thickly before she could continue, “Just a chat?”

The pause that followed was long. When Sylvanas spoke, her voice had gentled, “Of course. Forgive me, I forgot that humans tend to be a bit prudish about these things. If you want me to leave, I can -”

Jaina shook her head, “No, no. It’s alright. I’ll just -”

Approaching the exact opposite side of the pool to Sylvanas, she waited until she was by the water’s edge before letting the towel slide to her feet. Then, Jaina slipped into the water as quickly as she could, hissing at the scalding temperature. On any other occasion she would have worked her way from ledge to ledge, slowly lowering herself into the heated pool until she could barely stand it and had to make a dash for the tepid bath in the room beyond. This time however, Jaina sank down as far as she could manage, wrapping her arms around herself.

With a curious tilt of her head, Sylvanas watched the way Jaina ducked down until her chin almost touched the water. She made no comment, though. Instead she asked, “So, tell me.”

“About what?” Jaina asked slowly. The pendant Sylvanas had given her pressed against her skin, remaining preternaturally cool despite the heat of the water.

“Your visit to the Academy,” Sylvanas said, and though Jaina kept her eyes firmly on the rippling effects of light at the bottom of the pool, she could see movement from the corner of her vision as Sylvanas lifted herself up to a slightly higher ledge. “Did you find a Magister to take you under their wing?”

“Not exactly,” Jaina grumbled. Her words made the surface of the water waver. The tips of her fingers and toes still felt like they were on fire, but the sting of heat was slowly fading. Finally she admitted, “I saw a group of young Novices. They were all sixteen or so.”

The clink of glass on stone, as Sylvanas picked up a vial. “Ah, yes. You can imagine my initial surprise during the signing, then.”

Scowling at the way her legs dangled in the water, Jaina said, “You don’t still think I’m that young, do you?”

“No. It just took me some time to adjust, is all. And Vereesa is hardly one to point fingers, especially after I found out her husband is only thirty-five.”

“And what’s that in elf years? A teenager?”

“I think comparing the two is like comparing dates to pomegranates. Ultimately fruitless.”

Jaina rolled her eyes. “Was that a pun?”

“Only if it made you relax enough to be annoyed with me, instead of trying to drown yourself in the bath.”

Jaina huffed with laughter, then realised she had indeed glanced up. Sylvanas was smiling at her, and the small creases at the corners of her eyes were more apparent like this. The next thing Jaina noticed was that Sylvanas was running a hand down her own arm, and that her skin glistened in its wake.

Oil. She was oiling herself.

Jaina just about sank right to the bottom of the pool.

“Are you alright?” Sylvanas’ voice sounded hesitantly concerned. “You probably shouldn’t have jumped straight in like you did.”

Jaina started to say ‘I’m fine,’ but stopped when the words wouldn’t form. Her throat worked, and finally she admitted, “I lied. Earlier, I mean. I lied about the Academy. It wasn’t fine. It was terrible. I think I may have done something incredibly foolish.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” Sylvanas said, her tone soft. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Inhaling deeply, Jaina did just that. She detailed everything that Magister Duskwither had done and said, and how she had reacted in turn. How she had proven herself, but only done so by rubbing her talent in his face, and not stopping to think of the consequences. Sylvanas listened, letting Jaina ramble and detail all of the spells she had managed to pull off, and how tired she was now that it was over.

When Jaina told her about the last door, Sylvanas sniffed, dismissive. “If anyone did anything foolish, it was this Magister. What happened next?”

Splashing a bit at the water with one hand, Jaina said, “I escaped the room, and found Ithedis trying to rough up Duskwither. I put a stop to it, naturally -”

“Did you?” Sylvanas hummed. “What a shame.”

“Sylvanas!”

Rather than be chagrined, Sylvanas reached behind herself and picked up the long wooden stick from the ground, using it to scrape the oil and grime from her skin. “Perhaps the old nag isn’t so bad, after all.”

“Be nice to him!”

Sylvanas’ eyes sparkled. “Oh? Should I be jealous?”

Jaina rolled her eyes. “Please, don’t even go there.”

“It’s none of my business what you do, you know. This can be as amenable a marriage as you wish.”

Jaina could feel her face flame, and this time it had nothing to do with the bath. “That’s -!” she stammered, “That’s not what I -! I don’t -! That is to say that I would never -!”

With amusement, Sylvanas scraped herself clean and watched Jaina twist in the breeze. “No?”

“Definitely not.” Jaina was adamant.

Though that grin lingered on Sylvanas’ face, her eyes remained steady, unblinking, and piercing. “As you like, Lady Proudmoore.”

Jaina shot her a mock glare. “No titles. And what about you?”

“What about me?” Sylvanas asked with faux innocence.

“You know -! Are you going to -?” Jaina waved her hand at Sylvanas, casting a series of drips from her arms and fingers into the pool. “-with anyone else? If that’s what you want?”

The façade of amusement faded from Sylvanas’ face, and she studied Jaina with a serious expression. “No, I will not. It would not be fair to you.”

“Please don’t make yourself unhappy because of some fucked up sense of gallantry.”

Sylvanas brandished the stick at her, admonishing. “What language!”

“There’s nobody else here! And you already know I don’t exactly have the cleanest vocabulary.”

Sylvanas hummed a laugh. “You needn’t worry yourself. I have no interest in pursuing anyone else while married to you.”

“Oh. Well. That’s -” Jaina’s eyes widened. “Wait - you don't expect us to -” She gestured between the two of them, “- do you?”

At that, Sylvanas’ ears shot straight up, and she tensed. “No! No, that’s not what I was implying. At all. I would never intentionally do anything that might make you uncomfortable.”

“You haven’t,” Jaina assured her, and Sylvanas seemed to relax somewhat, though the line of her shoulders remained stiff. “I only bring it up because -”

She cut herself off then, and Sylvanas’ eyes narrowed. “Because -- what?”

“Nothing. It’s not important.”

“Has Vereesa been telling tales again?” Sylvanas asked, her brow darkening. She dragged the stick over her oiled skin with a particularly vicious flick.

“No!” Jaina insisted. “Nothing like that! I just heard -- I mean -- I heard a few whispers at the Academy.”

Gaze flashing, Sylvanas lowered the wooden tool and asked in a level tone, “What whispers?”

With a sigh, Jaina pinched the bridge of her nose before answering. A drop of water slid down her nose, and she wiped it away. “Some of the younger Apprentices were -- uhm -- making some comments to me. Not all of which I understood, granted. I didn’t want you to get angry, but whatever it was they were asking seemed to really set Ithedis off, so I figured it wasn’t anything good -”

“Jaina,” Sylvanas said in a warning tone. “Tell me.”

Wincing, Jaina confessed in a rush, “I was wearing a high collar, and they wanted to see my neck.”

Sylvanas’ nostrils flared as she drew in a deep breath, and her voice was a deadly hiss, “They what?”

“It’s not -- It’s not a problem. I can handle it. I can handle all of this! The Magister, the students, the kids’ classes. Just please -” Jaina closed her eyes and leaned her head back so that she stared up at the steam-fogged ceiling. “- please let me do this on my own.”

Silence, followed by a dull clatter as Sylvanas tossed the wooden stick onto the floor behind her. “Don’t you want to know what they were asking?”

With a snort, Jaina said, “I may not understand all the cultural undertones, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that what they meant was sexual in nature.”

Sylvanas smiled an unpleasant smile, it had a dangerous quality as her fangs glinted in the low light. “Are you sure you don’t want my help? I can have words with this Magister, at least?”

“Just words, though, right?” Jaina asked. When Sylvanas lifted one bare shoulder in a distinctly elven shrug, Jaina said, exasperated, “Sylvanas, please. Don’t do something rash on my account.”

“I’ve done far more rash things for far less. And what kind of spouse would I be if I did not stand up for my wife?”

“I can stand up for myself,” Jaina grumbled.

“I think you’ve already proven that.” Sylvanas grinned at her, teasing and a touch affectionate -- though that may have been Jaina’s imagination.

That smile was as infectious as ever. Jaina laughed softly and shook her head. “How was I so lucky?”

At that, Sylvanas tilted her head to one side. A drop of oil rolled to the dip of her collarbone, and Jaina had to study the ceiling again. “What do you mean?”

“Well, think of it from my perspective. I was expecting to marry some stuffy old elven general, and instead I got -” without looking, she gestured weakly to Sylvanas, who sat, partially submerged in water from the legs down, slick with oil, and golden in the amber magelight.

“Appearances can be deceiving.” Sylvanas’ grin widened. “You just haven’t uncovered my humourless arrogant side yet. Give it time.”

“I’ll be old and grey by then,” Jaina drawled.

Chuckling, Sylvanas stood. Jaina kept her gaze fixed firmly upwards, listening to the sounds of Sylvanas wrapping herself in a towel and gathering her things. She began to walk towards the exit, but paused as she lifted the draped cloth.

“A time anomaly?” Sylvanas asked over her shoulder. “Really?”

“And an Infernal minion,” Jaina confirmed.

“Huh.”

Sylvanas left, and Jaina couldn’t help but think that she almost sounded impressed.

--

After Sylvanas left, Jaina languished in the cold pool long enough that her fingers became wrinkled as prunes. And still, she soaked, enjoying a rare moment where she did not feel at all overly warm. Even after she had stepped out of the pool and wrapped herself in one of the robes provided, Jaina’s skin remained pleasantly cool. In a surprisingly relaxed daze, considering how the rest of her day had went, she climbed the stairs to the main floor.

There, Ithedis greeted her with a stiff bow, and an added murmur that the Lady Windrunner was waiting for Jaina to join her for dinner in the banquet hall, whensoever she was ready. Sparing a glance at her robes, Jaina relented. She walked into the banquet hall and sat across from Sylvanas at the same table as last night.

While Sylvanas had taken the time to dress in casual wear, Jaina had to keep rearranging the hems of her bathrobes to keep her bare knees from poking through the fabric. Sylvanas made no comment, and their meal passed in much the same way as it had the day before. Easily. With plenty of conversation and banter. If the long soak hadn’t made Jaina relax, then good food and good company certainly did the trick.

Whereas yesterday, Jaina had been filled with a nervous energy, today she felt drained down to her bones. She yawned at the dinner table, and Sylvanas made an off-handed comment about the two of them both heading to bed early that night. Jaina did not protest.

Soon, they were climbing the steps together, still chatting aimlessly about their days and any other topic that happened to crop up during the conversation. The moment they reached the doors to their personal chambers however, Jaina’s mouth glued shut.

After sharing a communal bath together, changing in front of her spouse should not have seemed so daunting. And yet -

She faced her side of her room and slipped the robe down her shoulders, listening to the sound of cloth and stone not far behind her. The chill that had been trapped by her skin from the bath had long since faded, and Jaina pulled her thin cotton nightgown on with relief. The pendant remained a cool presence against her chest, the gold chain glinting as the moon began to peek through the windows.

By the time Jaina turned around, Sylvanas was already pulling back the sheets and sliding into her side of the bed. Jaina did the same, careful that they did not touch while she rearranged her pillows just so. To her surprise, Sylvanas rolled over to face her.

Reaching out, Sylvanas touched the short sleeve of Jaina’s nightgown. “Remind me to buy you something silk.”

Face burning, Jaina said, “I can buy myself silk, you know.”

Sylvanas offered a crooked grin. “Then remind me to take you shopping for silk.”

And with that, she rolled back over, showing Jaina her back. Jaina waited a few heartbeats, then reached out to tap her shoulder.

“Sylvanas?”

“Hmm?”

“Remember to take me shopping.”

A snort of laughter, and Sylvanas swatted Jaina’s hand away. For the first time in weeks, Jaina went to bed feeling oddly content.

--

Over the next few weeks, Jaina fell into a rhythm at her new home in Quel’Thalas. Most mornings she would ride with Ithedis to the Academy. There, she would skip the Novice classes that had been assigned to her by Magister Duskwither, and instead sneak into the Academy library for a few hours of self-tutelage. Usually, she could find a minor Magister to explain a particular incantation, or failing that she could get Ithedis to translate a few phrases for her from the books she would pull down from the shelves. Her Thalassian was slowly improving, but never quickly enough for her tastes.

Then one blessed day a week, Jaina would portal directly from Sunfury Spire to Dalaran. Archmage Antonidas and Modera were always eager to continue her training. Every time she left, they would laden her arms -- and usually Ithedis’ as well -- with books and scrolls and instructions on what she was to practice for her next visit. Brimming with energy from those brief visits, Jaina would cart the new material back to the manor, where she would ensconce herself in the private library Sylvanas had procured for her, a library that was slowly yet steadily growing in size with every trip she took.

And of course, most evenings she and Sylvanas would share dinner together. Not every evening, but often enough. Some days Sylvanas would travel east for a day, only to promptly return with some trinket or tale of her latest visit to the troops on the home front. For someone on forced leave, she certainly worked a lot.

Though, Jaina was hardly one to talk. After dinner, she would hurry back to the library and bury herself in her studies until she blinked wearily at the height of the moon in the sky. Only then would she drag herself to bed and clamber in beside Sylvanas, who was already fast asleep. A Thalassian half-phrase would sigh from Sylvanas’ lips, and some nights Jaina would hold her breath for fear of waking her fully.

It only happened once. A particularly riveting dissertation on interdimensional portals had seen Jaina burning the midnight oil, and she was less than graceful when falling into bed that night. Sylvanas had started awake, and she had squinted blearily, her eyes cutting slits of bluish light through the darkness.

“Shh,” Jaina had clumsily patted her shoulder, half asleep herself.

With reflexes faster than Jaina could follow, Sylvanas had snatched her wrist. Her lips pulled back and she bared her sharp teeth, before she blinked and furrowed her brow at Jaina. Her grip had slackened and she mumbled, “Oh. It’s just you. Sorry.”

She had not rolled back over, though. Nor did she let go of Jaina’s wrist. Instead, Sylvanas’ hand remained a warm weight over her own, and Jaina did not dare rouse her again. Counting the steady thrum of Sylvanas’ heartbeat through her fingers, Jaina waited to move for so long that when she blinked, it was morning, and Sylvanas was gone.

--

Months passed. Her routine shifted abruptly, when she went to the Academy one morning only to find that she was barred entry to the library. Jaina didn’t know how Magister Duskwither had found out she was sneaking around when she had been so carefully keeping out of his way. She had even compiled a timesheet of his schedule at the Academy so as to avoid him. For all he knew, she was attending kid’s classes on the second floor. One of the Apprentices must have ratted her out.

Jaina had to start employing the kids of her class -- the class she was supposed to be attending, but which she usually skipped, unless one of the children saw her and dragged her over by the hand -- to steal books from the library for her. She would give them a list of titles that they would fetch for her, in exchange for help with their homework. After a patient hour or two teaching them whatever it is they were struggling with -- one day it was a minor polymorph spell that soon saw them transforming their quills into tiny red-breasted sparrows that hopped across the table, the next it was an enchantment that made their notes flutter through the air on an invisible breeze -- Jaina would wait in a corner outside the library and they would bring her stacks of scrolls and books. The kids would complain at the weight and tease her for her taste in reading, but they would always look for her on the ground floor in the mornings.

One such afternoon, Jaina was waiting in the hallway outside the library, trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible and avoid any nosy Apprentices. She fiddled with the pendant around her neck, savouring the coolness of the stone’s smooth surface. Turning it over in the light, Jaina furrowed her brow.

There, in the stone. Some sort of flaw. Or -- not a flaw. An odd clouding, like a chimney that had been blackened with soot and gone uncleaned for years.

Jaina wiped her thumb over it, but the clouding remained. It refracted the magelight that shone along the walls, creating a distortion that seemed to gather beneath the surface of the stone, pressing up against its facets, blooming outwards like a trapped storm.

Glancing around the hallway to ensure she was alone, save for Ithedis, Jaina turned her attention back to the stone around her neck. With her free hand, she sketched a simple glyph in the air, and touched the tip of her finger to the pendant. A burst of arcane energy rippled through the stone, and for a brief moment the cloudiness seemed to dim. It shrank, then slowly reformed.

“Hmm,” she hummed, puzzled.

“Miss Jaina!”

She tucked the stone back beneath the collar of her button down shirt, and straightened. Three young elven boys had emerged from the library and were approaching her with arms laden with books. One of them scrunched up his nose and said, “Why do you want to read the ‘Codex Dracono- Dracanomono -’” He stumbled with the title.

“Codex Draconomicus Rubicus’,” Jaina said helpfully, bending down to take the books from him, while the other two gave their haul to Ithedis. “And because I’m boring, that’s why.”

All three of the kids nodded sagely at her self-awareness.

“Will you be here tomorrow? Are you going to Dalaran again?” one of them asked.

Another swatted his friend on the shoulder. “No, that’s in three days, kahlba.”

Ithedis scowled. “No swearing.”

“Sorry, guys,” Jaina answered, “I can’t make it tomorrow. I’ll be with my wife all afternoon.”

That earned her three bewildered looks. “You’re married?”

“To who?”

Jaina was so used to everyone knowing, that she hadn’t thought there was a single person left in Silvermoon who didn’t. “Sylvanas Windrunner.”

All three of them stared at her. Their ears had shot straight up in surprise.  

“No way,” one of them breathed.

“The Ranger-General?”

“Have you seen her shoot her bow?” another one asked, his eyes shining.

“Is she as tall as they say she is?”

“Is it true she killed a thousand trolls in a single day when she pushed them back to Zul’Aman?”

“Like this! Pew! Pew pew pew!”

Blinking in bewilderment, Jaina stammered, “Uhm -? I mean, she is rather tall.”

“I knew it.”

Jaina cleared her throat, nodding towards the other end of the hall where the stairs descended back down to the second floor. “Don’t you three have a class you should be getting to?”

They rolled their eyes.

“Belore, you are boring.”

One of them elbowed the kid who had said that.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Don’t say that!”

“Why not? She said it!”

“Yeah, but we need her help for the exams.”

Jaina could feel her hands start to slip on the pile of books in her arms. She readjusted her grip. “Exams, huh? That sounds like its worth at least three loads of books.”

“Three?!”

Chuckling, Jaina turned to leave. “We’ll negotiate later. Now, shoo!”

They scampered off down the hall. Before rounding the corner, one of them waved over his shoulder and shouted, “Bye, Miss Jaina!”

Shaking her head with a wry smile, Jaina went in search of a secluded corner of the Academy to do her latest round of reading and note-taking.

--

“Apparently you’re some kind of war hero.”

“So I’ve been told,” Sylvanas said dryly.

The seamstress’ shop was cleverly subdivided by curtains. Sylvanas sat in a chair, watching while Jaina was fitted for a number of new outfits. When they had entered the shop in Silvermoon, it had been near empty, but through the drape of heavy cloth Jaina could hear the murmur of new clients coming in for a fitting or to browse the wares. Ithedis stood just outside, barring entry to any who tried to sneak a peek at the Ranger-General and her human wife.

Bolts of cloth lined the walls in every shade of the sunset. Even now Jaina was continually intrigued by the breadth of colour high elves wore -- void blacks and dusky lavenders, all the way to pale yellows and creamy ivories. And always the presence of delicate brocade and fine embroidery. Jaina admired how different they were to her own usual clothing even as one of the seamstresses pinned a length of silk around Jaina’s waist

“The kids at the Academy were very excited to hear I was married to you. They wanted to know if you’d killed a thousand trolls on the march to Zul’Aman,” Jaina said.

“Did they, now?” Sylvanas’ eyes gleamed with mischief. “Tell them it was two thousand.”

Jaina shot her an incredulous look. “You did not kill two thousand trolls.”

Raising her eyebrows, Sylvanas said, “Oh? That’s news to me.”

“Your quiver doesn’t even hold a hundred arrows!”

“I have an excellent supply chain division,” Sylvanas countered. “World class, really.”

Jaina snorted with laughter. “Oh, shut up.”

The corner of Sylvanas’ mouth quirked in a lopsided smile. Meanwhile, the seamstress pretended to not be eavesdropping on their conversation, though Jaina noticed the way her hands fumbled when Jaina told the Ranger-General of Silvermoon and all its armies to kindly shut her mouth. She did an admirable job of hiding it however.

Sylvanas lounged in her seat, leaning her elbow upon the armrest, and resting her cheek against her fist. “You’re still saddled with the Novice classes, then? I thought you said you wanted to take care of the problem yourself?”

“I am taking care of it,” Jaina grumbled. When the seamstress pressed lightly at her hip, silently urging her to turn around, Jaina did as instructed. “It’s just taking me a while, is all.”

“It’s taking you more than a few months, apparently.”

“Well, I - I don’t like to rush things,” Jaina insisted lamely.

“Mm hmm.”

“I’m being diplomatic.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

Glaring over her shoulder, exasperated, Jaina said, “And you’re being an ass.”

Sylvanas seemed utterly thrilled by the combination of Jaina’s crassness and the seamstress’ wide-eyed shock at their banter.

After the fitting, Jaina put in an order for a handful of new mage robes, a more traditional elven outfit should she ever need to attend a formal occasion, and of course a new silk nightgown.  While Jaina put her own clothes back on, Ithedis poked his head through the curtains.

“Lady Windrunner, Lady Proudmoore,” he said, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the floor, “I am sorry to disturb you, but there are a few more people here than when you first arrived.”

“Thank you, Ithedis.” Jaina nodded to him, and he retreated back behind the curtain.

Rising to her feet, Sylvanas tugged at her half cloak so that it hung rakishly from one shoulder, revealing her tight-fitting leathers beneath. Jaina found herself admiring the understated elegance of Sylvanas’ more casual attire, before she realised that she was staring, and glanced away with a cough.

When Jaina had tucked her shirt into her high-waisted Kul Tiran breeches, Sylvanas pushed back the curtain and held it open for her. “Shall we?”

Jaina gave Sylvanas an appreciative smile and ducked through the curtain. On the other side, she blinked in surprise. Word must have spread through the surrounding streets like wildfire. The seamstress’ shop was now bustling with people all pretending to browse. The moment she stepped out, Sylvanas hot on her heels, every set of eyes flicked in their direction, even as the other ‘customers’ continued to peruse bolts of cloth and walk around wooden mannequins.

Sylvanas tapped Jaina’s shoulder. “This way.”

The seamstress led them to a counter near the front. Everyone gave them a wide berth, most likely because of the sheer force of Ithedis’ glare. There, the seamstress pulled out a broad ledger and painstakingly wrote down their order. Meanwhile, Jaina tried not to fidget, resisting the urge to peer back at their sudden audience. If the attention bothered Sylvanas, she did not show it; she stood as straight-backed and unruffled as ever.

It took an age, but the seamstress passed over a copy of the order to Sylvanas, who immediately passed it to Jaina. That seemed to boggle the seamstress even more, though she merely bowed her head and thanked them for their generous patronage. When Jaina reached for the coinpurse at her belt however, Sylvanas shook her head and gently steered Jaina towards the exit.

Confused, Jaina looked back at the seamstress, then at Sylvanas. “Don’t I have to pay?” Jaina hissed.

“You will,” Sylvanas murmured, leaning in close to lower her voice so that Jaina could feel the brush of words against her ear. She tapped the paper in Jaina’s hand. “Give this to the bank, and they’ll oversee the transfer.”

“That seems like a very cumbersome way of paying for a few outfits.”

“Didn’t you know? Handling your own money is so dreadfully plebeian. That’s why you pay other people to do it for you.”

“Oh, I see. Elven snobbery at its finest, I assume?”

Taking Jaina’s hand and leading her from the shop, Sylvanas winked slyly. “Now, you’re getting the hang of it.”

--

The next few weeks drew a grim silence over Falthrien Academy as exam time came around. On the one hand, it meant that Jaina was pestered more than usual by her desperate young classmates, who were driven near to tears and sleeplessness with anxiety. Jaina, who had no exams to speak of, sighed and led a few impromptu study sessions in a spare room, which ended up attracting a large enough group that she feared being discovered by Magister Duskwither.

On the other hand, it also meant that everyone was so distracted by exams that Jaina could sneak into the library without notice. She found a shaded alcove and wove an illusion spell so that it looked like a group of students had fallen asleep while studying at the table, their faces pressed against the open pages of their books. Nobody spared her little alcove a second glance, and she could work in peace.

Jaina had taken off her pendant and set it upon the table beside stacks of books she had pulled from the stacks. On a blank scroll, she sketched out various spells and incantations. She took notes from a number of different open tomes, muttering to herself as she flipped through their pages and pausing to add an annotation here and there.

Leaning back in her seat, she read over her work. Then, she placed the pendant in the centre of the scroll. Her whispered incantation echoed. Tendrils of glowing arcane energy lifted the pendant above the page, rotating it in midair, imbuing the stone with light until it blazed like a star.

In a flash, the pendant clattered back to the table. Jaina flinched from the flare of magic, and rubbed at her eyes. She picked up the pendant, turning it over in her hands, only to find that the small smudge still darkened one facet of the stone.

With a grumble, Jaina crossed out a section of the scroll and crammed a few more notes into the margins. She searched through her stacks of books for a particular title. Sighing, she dropped her quill and fastened the pendant around her neck once more.

“I forgot one, Ithedis,” she said as she pushed her chair back.

Nobody answered.

Puzzled, Jaina looked around. She peered down a few nearby shelves, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Ithedis?” she hissed, reluctant to raise her voice and draw too much attention to herself.

When he did not reply, Jaina felt the stirrings of worry fester in her gut. She murmured a quick illusion spell, draping it over herself so that she appeared to be a young elven Apprentice in plain robes. While in the past she would have preferred using this to sneak into the library, illusions spells never worked on Ithedis, and everybody would know who she was if she was constantly shadowed by a stony-faced Spellbreaker.

She slipped out of the library and began searching for him floor by floor. By the time Jaina reached the higher floors, she was well and truly starting to grow worried. She ran over possible scenarios in her head. Perhaps he had returned to the manor? Perhaps he had stepped out for something to eat? Perhaps he had been cornered by a group of angry Magisters, and was fighting for his life? Or perhaps he had simply gotten something to eat, Jaina told herself again, pushing the last thought firmly from her mind.

The highest floors of the Academy were empty and eerily quiet. Even her footsteps were muffled by arcane energies. Pressing her ear to a closed door, Jaina could hear a dull buzzing sound, like a hornet’s nest. She continued on, wandering the circular hallways in her search.

As she rounded one pillar, she stopped. There, faint voices but voices all the same. Jaina ducked from pillar to pillar until she was close enough to hear, and close enough to peek around the column to see who it was that spoke.

First, Jaina breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Ithedis’ unmistakable silhouette. Then, her blood ran cold. Ithedis stood with his back to her hiding place. His shield was strapped to one of his forearms, and his free hand was lifting Magister Duskwither a foot off the ground by the front of the Magister’s robes. He had slammed the Magister’s back against the wall, holding him there while Duskwither’s feet kicked and dangled.

It was not Ithedis who was speaking however. It was the woman standing beside him.

Sylvanas’s stood with her back turned to Jaina and her face obscured by the drawn hood of her cloak, but there could be no mistaking that authoritative stance or that distinctive voice.

"It’s strange. I've been hearing the most interesting whispers lately," Sylvanas hummed. "I don't suppose someone of your status as Headmaster and Magister of this most illustrious Academy would know anything about such lies being spread about the Ranger-General's wife?"

"N-no, Lady Windrunner -" "Because I'd hate to have to take someone's tongue for it," Sylvanas continued as casually as though she were remarking on the weather. "Tedious, really. Gets everything all bloody."

"You wouldn't dare!” Duskwither snarled. He struggled against Ithedis’ iron-clad grip, but Ithedis remained unyielding. His crimson lacquered gauntlets creaked as he lifted Magister Duskwither up the wall fractionally higher.

"Oh, no. Not me. Can you imagine?" Sylvanas drawled. "But my friend here is far less domesticated than I." She gestured towards Ithedis’ thunderous expression beneath the winged helm. "Terribly skilled with a knife, this one. I've seen him gut deer in the Eversong Forest myself. He’s very thorough."

Jaina distinctly heard Ithedis' voice join the conversation. "An attack on the Lady is an attack on me."

"Now -" the Magister wheezed, "Now, see here -"

"Quiet now. Here's how it's going to play out," Sylvanas crooned. "You're going to assign her to another Magister, one worthy of her time, and you're going to give her full access to the Academy's archives. Are we clear?”

Choking, Magister Duskwither just nodded.

“Good.”

Sylvanas gestured to Ithedis, who dropped Magister Duskwither to the ground. There, Duskwither gasped and clutched at his chest. When Sylvanas crouched down in front of him, he jerked back as if she had struck him with an open blow.

This time when Sylvanas spoke it was almost too low for Jaina to hear, “And if I get word that you've so much as looked at her the wrong way, you'll be seeing us again."

She stood and jerked her head. “Go.”

The Magister didn’t need to be told twice. Scrambling to his feet, he fled.

Jaina held her breath as he passed by her hiding place, pulling her head back so as not to be spotted. She dared to peek around again, and spied Sylvanas and Ithedis walking back the way she had come. They strode side-by-side, Sylvanas with her hands behind her back and Ithedis with his shield. "I see now why my wife has taken a liking to you."

“It is an honour to serve, Lady Windrunner.”

“Somehow I knew you’d say that,” Sylvanas drawled, not unkindly.

A pause as he bowed his head. “I should return to the library. The Lady may have noticed my absence.”

“Did she have a book with her?”

“Several.”

Sylvanas laughed, a startlingly gentle sound after such a brutal display that faded the further they walked from Jaina’s hiding place. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

--

Storm clouds gathered, sweeping in from the sea, and Jaina did not speak to Ithedis the entire ride back to Goldenbough Manor. She had portalled back down to the library before he could beat her there, and curtly announced upon his arrival that she wanted to leave the Academy. Ithedis had seemed startled by her tone of voice, but made no comment. Once or twice on the ride home, he had tried to initiate conversation, only for Jaina to answer in blunt monosyllables or wordless noises. Eventually, he went silent. His eyes would dart to her, but she staunchly ignored him.

Flecks of rain started to fall from the sky by the time they arrived at the manor. Jaina dismounted, and Ithedis came forward to take the reins from her. She dropped them into his hand without a word, turning and walking towards the manor entrance.

“Lady Proudmoore -”

“Not now, Ithedis.”

“But -”

She whirled around, glaring, fists clenched at her side. “I noticed you were gone this afternoon. I was worried, so I went looking for you, thinking something bad had happened to you. Instead, I found you and my wife threatening to cut out a man’s tongue on my behalf!” When he opened his mouth to speak, Jaina snapped, “I don’t want to hear your excuses! I don’t want to hear anything you have say right now! In fact, you are relieved from duty for the day!”

It was the first time Jaina had raised her voice since arriving in Quel’Thalas. It didn’t make her feel any better, but it did stop Ithedis from following her when she stormed into the manor. She hadn’t gotten very far into the main hall, when she was approached by a servant, who bowed.

“My Lady -” he started in a heavily lilting accent.

“What?” Jaina sighed, rubbing at the prick of pain behind her eyes.

The servant hesitated before continuing. “Forgive me for intruding, but you have received a package from the Lord Admiral.”

Blinking in surprise, Jaina looked up. The servant was holding out a small package, wrapped in brown waxed paper and tied with twine. She took the package, and the servant left with another bow before she could speak again.

Jaina didn’t bother waiting to take it somewhere private. She walked over to the nearest table lining a wall. Her fingers were already trembling when she pulled at the strings and tore open the brown paper wrapping. Beneath she revealed a plain wooden box stamped with a familiar sigil scorched into the surface. Jaina traced the motif. It was the company logo for her favourite brand of Kul Tiran tea.

The first thing she felt was a rush of homesickness so biting, it boiled her stomach with acidity. It was followed swiftly by disbelief and a growing impotent anger, anger that she could be so pleased, so relieved at something as small as a box of tea that was no longer than her forearm.

When Jaina opened the box, she found a letter inside, written in her mother’s loopy scrawl. Her eyes skimmed over the three lines wishing her a happy birthday and all the best. A birthday gift that had arrived a week early.

Outside it had begun to rain in earnest. A swell of thunder rolled in the distance. Mutely, Jaina put down the gift in favour of gazing out the tall narrow windows that arched towards the ceiling. Leaving the box behind, she walked across the main hall, passing beneath the winding staircase and striding past the many side-rooms, heading straight for the back patio.

When Jaina pushed open the doors, she had been expecting a surge of cold air. What she got instead was more heat. Heat poured upon heat. And beyond that, a rain so stifling, she could no longer see the sea. The horizon was hidden by thick sheets of rain that poured from the sky.

Slowly, she stepped from the manor, walking out from beneath the shade of the balcony above her. The first touch of rain hit her skin like an electric shock. The water warmed against her skin, saturating her clothes in an instant. Jaina took a few more staggering steps until her feet squelched, and she came to a halt.

She stood there, her breathing growing quick and shallow, when she heard a voice behind her.

“What are you doing?”

Jaina did not turn around. The rain drummed into her skin; it plastered her hair to her cheeks and neck. She wrapped her arms around herself and wished she were cold enough to shiver, but the rain did nothing to combat the humidity that pressed down around her. The very air in Quel’Thalas seemed to work its way into her throat, down to her lungs until she choked in the heat, until she drowned in it.

“This rain is all wrong,” Jaina mumbled.

Behind her, Sylvanas lingered beneath the shelter of the balcony. “What? What are you talking about?”

Jaina stared down at her feet, at the mud pooling up around her ankles, the earth pounded to life by the pouring rain. “I hate it here.”

The announcement came like a horrible realisation. It fell from her lips in a gasp, and she had to swallow back the raw feeling that welled up in her mouth when she said it.

“I fucking hate it here,” she repeated, louder this time, speaking to nobody. “Ever since I arrived, I hated it. I hate the way everyone stares at me. I hate that I don’t know anybody. I hate that I can’t understand the language. I hate that I’m here instead of in Dalaran. I hate the Academy. I hate the hot water everyone serves me. I hate the tea. I hate how useless I feel, and that I need my centuries old wife and centuries older guardsman to fight my battles for me. I hate that the only people who are nice to me are people who feel like they have to be nice to me. I hate the weather. I hate this rain. I hate -”

This must have been what seasickness felt like. The earth pitching beneath her feet. The disorientation. Never knowing which way was up, which direction was which. Jaina closed her eyes. She grit her teeth. Her fingers dug into her sides and her shoulders hunched. Maybe, if she were lucky, the rain would sink into her skin and she would dissolve into nothing. Better that than staying here.

She didn’t hear Sylvanas walking to her until she felt a gentle touch at her shoulder. Recoiling, Jaina whirled around and stumbled back a step. Sylvanas raised both her hands, as if showing Jaina that she was unarmed. She watched Jaina carefully, and Jaina couldn’t stand the pity in her eyes. She could only have been in the rain for a moment, but already Sylvanas appeared soaked through.

“What can I do?” Sylvanas asked, taking a small step forward, looking like she wanted to reach out, but stopping herself from doing so.

“There’s nothing to be done.”

Sylvanas shook her head, as if not believing the words she was hearing. “There has to be something. Whatever it is, I can help; you just need to tell me what you want.”

“Nothing!” Jaina shouted. “I don’t want anything from you!”

Her words rang out, and the silence that followed was broken only by the uneven bruit of rainfall and the distant rumble of thunder over the sea. Sylvanas looked stricken, like she’d been slapped, and an echo of that all too familiar helplessness crossed her face.

“How -” Sylvanas started to say, but she had to stop before she could continue. “How am I supposed to make this better, then? When you won’t tell me? When you refuse to let me do anything?”

Something dark and ugly roiled in Jaina’s chest, and she countered, “I suppose you’ll just do it anyway. Like you did with the Magister.”

Sylvanas’ mouth snapped shut. For the first time since Jaina had known her, she had been caught off guard and had to fumble for an excuse. “Because I had to. Because you weren’t doing anything about it.”

“I specifically asked you to let me handle it!”

“But you weren’t!”

“It wasn’t your choice to make!”

“You were unhappy! Sneaking into libraries and bribing children to bring you books! They had no right to treat you with such disrespect!”

“This isn’t about whether what you did to the Magister was right or wrong, Sylvanas! This is about -!” Jaina couldn’t keep from shouting now. “This was the one thing -- the only thing -- that was under my control, that I could do my way! And you took it!”

“I’m sorry! Is that what you want to hear?”

“Yes!”

Sylvanas stared at her. The kohl had begun to streak down her cheeks. The rain had drenched her through, her hair darkened to a honey gold, but her eyes were bright and incredulous. “That’s it? ‘I’m sorry’?”

“No! That’s -!” With a growl of frustration, Jaina snapped, “I want you to mean it! I want you to respect my decisions! I want you to treat me like an adult!”

“Then you need to tell me things! I am trying to understand, to do the best I can, but I can’t read your mind! I have to pry information from you and believe it or not, you are very difficult to read!”

“This isn’t my fault! Stop trying to make it my fault!”

“I’m not -!” Sylvanas stepped closer, and her eyes blazed. “You need to talk to me. Stop hiding. Stop trying to fend for yourself. You are not alone. I am here for you.”

Jaina shook her head, but refused to back down. She had been clenching her teeth so hard her jaw ached. “You have to say that. You have to act like you -- We’re married, so you have to say things like that.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do! You don’t -- You don’t care. This isn’t real. This a contract. We signed a contract.”

The anger and confusion on Sylvanas’ face had softened. Not to pity -- Jaina would have died on the spot if it were pity -- but to something bordering on tenderness.

“I care.”

When Sylvanas slowly reached up to brush a strand of hair that had stuck to Jaina’s cheek, Jaina flinched but did not pull back. Looking down at the space between their feet, Jaina bit her lower lip; it had begun to tremble. She hated the burning that stung her eyes.

Sylvanas cupped her cheek and said gently, “You can leave if you want. You can go home.”

Somehow that made it worse. Jaina shook her head against the first sob that rose in her throat. She ducked her head and tried to hide her face behind one of her hands, but Sylvanas took her wrist and tugged her that final step forward. Jaina instead hid her face in Sylvanas’ shoulder, her own shoulders starting to shake. Squeezing her eyes shut, she cried. She barely registered Sylvanas slowly putting her arms around her.

Jaina did not know for how long they stood like that in the rain, only that at some point she had reached around Sylvanas’ back and clutched handfuls of her cloak. Sylvanas murmured soothing noises in her ear, or otherwise remained silent. Eventually, the tremors faded, Jaina’s breathing evened out, and the tears slowed to a stop, until Jaina was simply standing there, eyes closed, forehead pressed against Sylvanas’ chest, enjoying the feeling of being held.

Thunder rumbled across the sea behind them. Closer this time.

“Come on. Let’s go inside. You’ll catch your death out here,” Sylvanas said.

Keeping an arm around Jaina’s shoulders, Sylvanas urged her back towards the manor. Jaina went without protest. She wiped at her eyes. Her entire face felt puffy, and her whole body felt drained. Both her and Sylvanas’ feet slipped in the mud as they trudged back to the manor.

Two servants were already waiting for them at the back entrance with fresh warm towels and robes. They had even spread out a canvas material on the ground of the rear foyer so that Sylvanas and Jaina did not muddy the floor. Numbly, Jaina stripped down to her underthings and toweled herself dry, her movements sluggish. She could hear Sylvanas beside her doing the same, though far more quickly and efficiently.

While Jaina was belting the robe shut around her waist, Sylvanas said, “I saw that your mother sent you an early birthday gift.”

Nodding without looking up, Jaina brushed her damp hair back from her face. “She sent me some tea from Kul Tiras.”

“Would you like some?”

“Yes, please.” Jaina sounded hollow to her own ears.

Sylvanas relayed a few short orders to the servants who had begun to pick up their sopping wet clothes from the canvas. As she did so, Jaina started off towards the stairs. Exhaustion had truly settled into her now, a bone-deep ache. She hadn’t eaten dinner yet, but the thought of food made her feel mildly ill. Food could wait until the morning.

Sylvanas followed a step behind all the way up to their private quarters, silent. She closed the doors behind them when Jaina entered the room. Without bothering to change into a nightgown, Jaina wandered over to the bed and flopped down onto her side, face-first. She felt a dip in the mattress; Sylvanas sat beside her rather than across from her.

“Do you want me to bring you anything?”

Jaina shook her head.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” Jaina’s voice was muffled by the sheets.

“Alright.”

Sylvanas leaned back, but stiffened with a quiet knock came at the door. Jaina lifted her head, but Sylvanas said, “I’ll get it.”

Standing, she crossed the room and opened the door. Through the gap, Jaina could just see the armoured figure of Ithedis bearing a tray.

“Is she -?”

“She’s fine.” Sylvanas reached out to take the tray. Her voice lowered when she said, “I received the latest field reports this morning. There were minimal casualties during a border skirmish. Your eldest’s name was not on the list.”

Ithedis bowed. “Thank you, Lady Windrunner.”

She nodded and closed the door with her hip. As she approached the bed, Jaina sat up. “I didn’t know he had kids.”

Sylvanas set the tray down on the end of the bed. “He has five. All daughters. I initiated his youngest into the Rangers not too long ago.”

For a moment, Jaina chewed at her lower lip, saying nothing. Then, swallowed thickly, she scooted forward to sit cross-legged in front of the tray. It held a steaming pot of water, a strainer, a box of the tea her mother had sent, a small pitcher of milk, slices of lemon, and a pot of honey. There were also two cups and two spoons.

Jaina tucked her rain-frizzy hair behind her ears, but it almost immediately fell into her face again. Ignoring it, she scooped black tea leaves directly into the pot. “Do you want a cup?”

Sylvanas moved to sit beside her on the bed. “I would. I’ve never had Kul Tiran tea before.”

Placing the glass lid back over the pot, Jaina waited for it to steep. Sylvanas peered at the tea, her long ears held at a curious angle that Jaina recognised far too well from the young Novices at the Academy.

“It’s red,” she remarked. “Is it supposed to be so dark?”

Jaina began to slowly turn the teapot clockwise, stirring the leaves. “They bake it. It gives the tea a smokey flavour.”

“Hmm,” Sylvanas sounded dubious.

After a few minutes, Jaina poured them each a cup. She put a splash of milk in her own, but Sylvanas shook her head and took her tea black. Cupping the ceramic mug between her hands, Jaina took a sip and sighed in pleasure. A rush of homesickness washed over her, but she cradled the cup to her chest and closed her eyes.

Beside her, Sylvanas took a sip, then made a noise in the back of her throat. “It’s -” she wrinkled her nose. “- earthy.”

“Do you not like it?” Jaina asked.

In answer Sylvanas took another sip. “I am undecided.”

They drank in silence. Rain lashed the windows, and the storm clouds darkened the sky until it felt like dusk already. At one point, Sylvanas added lemon to her tea. She took a sip, and added a dollop of honey as well.

When she reached for the milk after another drink, Jaina said, “I’ve never seen anyone add all three.”

“I’m experimenting.” Sylvanas stirred the milk in, and took another sip. She nodded gravely, as if coming to a conclusion, and placed her cup back on the tray. “Just as I thought. It’s terrible.”

An unexpected snort of laughter escaped Jaina at that. She shook her head, unable to keep a crooked half smile from her lips. Draining the last of her tea, Jaina refilled her cup. She held the spout of the teapot over Sylvanas’ cup in quiet question, but Sylvanas waved her away.

As Jaina added milk to her own tea and sighed blissfully into another cup, Sylvanas pointed to Jaina’s damp hair. “May I?”

Hesitant, Jaina nodded.

Even then, Sylvanas did not immediately touch her. “You don’t have to say ‘yes’ just because I ask something.”

“No, it’s - it’s fine.” Jaina inhaled a shaky breath and said, “I want you to.”

Jaina tensed as Sylvanas moved to sit directly behind her, but at the first gentle scrape of fingernails against her scalp she sighed. In long languid strokes, Sylvanas combed her fingers through Jaina’s hair, and Jaina could feel the tension slowly drain from her shoulders. Soon, she was holding the cup in her lap, tea forgotten, her eyes half-closed and heavy-lidded.

Working from the top of her head, Sylvanas began to part Jaina’s hair and weave it together. The braid curved down one shoulder, and Jaina’s tea had gone lukewarm by the time Sylvanas finished. Of all the things they'd done together -- sleeping in the same bed, sharing communal baths -- somehow this seemed the most intimate.

Sylvanas’ hand lingered at the nape of Jaina’s neck after finishing, before she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. “I’m going to find something to eat. Do you want me to bring anything back?”

Jaina shook her head. Without another word, Sylvanas strode from the room. In her absence, Jaina poured herself a fresh cup of tea and pushed herself back against the cushions. The tea itself did nothing to help with the heat or the homesickness or anything else that had been troubling her these last few months, but she could pretend it did.

Finishing her last cup, Jaina placed it and the tray atop one of the trunks at the foot of the bed. She didn’t bother getting changed. She simply curled up atop the sheets and closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

She was still awake when the room had dimmed in the evening light, when the door creaked open, then shut again, and Sylvanas padded around the room with silent footfalls. Jaina feigned sleep, wishing she had the courage to roll over and ask Sylvanas to put her arms around her again. Instead, she tucked her knees up higher, kept her eyes closed, and waited for sleep to claim her.

--

It continued to rain, and did not stop. The roads of Quel’Thalas ran like rivers across the land, a deluge of mud that carved off chunks of earth. One afternoon, Jaina heard a great crack and crash, thinking it was lightning only to be told by Ithedis that it was a piece of the cliffside sliding into the ocean. At least the rainy season explained why the manor wasn’t built closer to the sea.

Four days later, Jaina received a letter from Falthrien Academy. She left it on a table in the main hall, unable to open it without feeling sick to her stomach. It wasn’t until the next morning that Jaina plucked up the courage to crack the wax seal on the back and read what it said. Her brow furrowed in confusion, and she read it again.

It was, quite simply, a request for a visit to the Goldenbough Manor from a Magistrix Elosai.

“What do I do with this?” Jaina waved the letter at Sylvanas.

Raising her eyebrows, Sylvanas read the letter over Jaina’s shoulder. “Either invite her over, or decline her request.”

“And what does she want?”

Sylvanas shrugged. “I guess you’ll have to just find out.”

“But who is she?”

“I have no idea. I’m not a mage. I don’t go to the Academy that often. And by that I mean, I’ve been there all of three times.”

“Including the last one?” Jaina said dryly.

Looking suitably chagrined, Sylvanas murmured, “I stand corrected. Four times.”

Jaina folded the letter back up. “Duskwither is only sending her because of you. You know that, right?”

Sylvanas met her eye. “Then you should decline.” When Jaina pursed her lips, Sylvanas cocked her head. “Or not?”

Jaina chewed at the inside of her cheek before saying, “I still want a teacher here. I just don’t like the way I’ve gotten one.”

“There’s nothing I can do about that now, apart from apologise again. If that’s what you want -?”

Sighing, Jaina shook her head. “No. It’s fine. Well -” She glared at Sylvanas. “It’s not fine, but it’s fine.”

Sylvanas gave a huff of laughter. She tapped Jaina lightly on the shoulder. “You see? Difficult to read.”

Jaina sent a letter back, and the next morning a slender elven woman in mage robes the colour of deep turquoise arrived at Goldenbough Manor. She had not a speck of mud on her, despite the deluge outside.

She bowed to Jaina upon being shown into a sitting room off the main hall. “Thank you for receiving me, Lady Proudmoore.”

Warily, Jaina nodded in return. “Magistrix Elosai, I presume?”

“That’s correct.” The Magistrix waved away a silent offer to sit on one of the couches. “Oh, no. Thank you. I couldn’t possibly impose.”

She remained standing, and Jaina, feeling awkward, cleared her throat as she sat down herself. Magistrix Elosai was by no stretch of the imagination a tall woman, but she held herself with such calm assurance she made Jaina feel gangly in comparison.

“I would like to start out by apologising on behalf of the Academy, Lady Proudmoore,” Magistrix Elosai began. “My superior severely overstepped. His disregard for your skill and his disrespect towards you were unacceptable.”

Another bow. Jaina was starting to feel weird about all the bowing. “Thank you, Magistrix. And I apologise for anything my wife did on my behalf.”

At that, Elosai seemed taken aback. Her ears pinned back, as though Jaina had said something offensive. Perhaps she should not have mentioned it at all? Elosai tried to smile, a somewhat nervous smile.

“Secondly, I have requested an audience to offer you two proposals,” Elosai continued as though Jaina had not mentioned Duskwither at all. “The first: I would be honoured if you would agree to let me teach you personally. The second: I’d like to ask if you want to make your tutoring of the Novices a more official position at the Academy.”

“In what capacity?” Jaina asked slowly.

“Seminars. They won’t be much different from what you currently do, apart from the fact that with official sanctions comes Academy support. You’ll be given more materials, a room to hold the seminars, and an office of your own.”

Jaina flushed. She could feel her ears burning in embarrassment. “That’s - That’s far too generous. I can’t accept that.”

“It is the least I can do, Lady Proudmoore.” Elosai bowed again. Jaina really wished she would stop bowing.

“But I’m -! I’m still an Apprentice! I shouldn’t have office space! Or students!” Jaina insisted. Of all the luxuries she had been given upon her arrival in Quel’Thalas, private office space in Falthrien Academy seemed like extravagance. She didn’t even know what she would do with an office, apart from sit in it and feel like an imposter who had lied and cheated her way through the system.

“Yet you have been tutoring the Novices regardless, and doing an admirable job of it too from what I understand.” Magistrix Elosai clasped her hands and said calmly, “If your station bothers you, we can expedite your status at the Academy when your Apprenticeship finishes in Dalaran. It shouldn’t be long. I checked with Modera myself -- she and I are old friends -- and she reckons you’re well on your way to becoming a fully fledged member of the Kirin Tor.”

Well, that was news to Jaina. She gaped like a fish, then snapped her mouth shut. Rising abruptly to her feet, Jaina said, “Can I think about it?”

Another bow. “Of course, Lady Proudmoore. Take all the time you need. You know where to find me.”

Jaina escorted Elosai from the Manor. On the front steps Elosai teleported directly back to the Academy, leaving Jaina holding one of the front doors open dumbly. Closing the door, Jaina wandered back into the sitting room in a daze. She collapsed onto one of the couches, her legs dangling over an armrest, and stared up at the ceiling. She only heard Sylvanas’ footsteps entering the room because Sylvanas wanted her presence to be known.

“It went poorly, did it?” Sylvanas asked, standing over the couch and peering down at Jaina so that her long hair fell down around her face.

“You mean you and Ithedis weren’t eavesdropping?” Jaina quipped.

“No. We were not. And you realise Ithedis never tells me anything unless he knows you told me about it first?”

Sighing, Jaina rubbed at her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry.” She raised her voice and said again for Ithedis who stood at his post outside the room, “I’m sorry.”

Sylvanas cocked her head. “So?”

“So -- what?”

Sylvanas rolled her eyes. “How did your meeting go?”

“Oh! Right.” Jaina grimaced, letting her arms fall back onto the couch cushions. “Apparently I’m both a student and teacher now. They’re giving me an office.”

Sylvanas’ eyebrows rose and she straightened. “Are they now? Huh.”

Jaina narrowed her eyes. “Don’t look so smug.”

“Me? I’m not smug.”

Jaina pointed at Sylvanas’ face. “You are! Look at that stupid smirk. I hate it.”

Even though Sylvanas schooled her features, her eyes gleamed. “It’s because you’re lying down and seeing my face from an odd angle. Hardly my fault.”

Jaina stuck her tongue out at Sylvanas, who laughed.

“What was it you said about being an adult?” Sylvanas grinned.

“Oh, shut up.”

--

The rains let up the evening before Jaina’s birthday. When she awoke the morning of, the sky remained a foreboding iron grey, but that didn’t stop Sylvanas from pulling her away from breakfast and dragging her to the stables for a ride through the countryside. Jaina only had enough time to dress in riding leathers and forego the more comfortable mage robes she was going to wear that day.

The mugginess doused her as soon as she stepped outside. Tugging at her collar, Jaina gave up and flicked open the first few buttons. It didn’t help much, but it made her feel a little better. She coated her palm in ice and placed it on the back of her neck, groaning. Still morning -- albeit late in the morning -- and already she was dying in the heat.

Sylvanas on the other hand, still wore a half cloak this time of a heavier material than she had a few months ago.

“How on earth can you stand to wear that?” Jaina asked.

With a shrug, Sylvanas led her towards the stables. “It’s the rainy season. It’s cold. Plus we’re heading south for the day.”

Jaina stared at her, aghast. “This is not cold! This is - wait. We’re going where?”

“I thought I might show you my family home. It will just be a quick day trip.”

“But -” Jaina trotted to catch up and walk beside her. “Isn’t Windrunner Village a three days ride from here?”

Sylvanas turned her head just enough to shoot a mischievous grin over her shoulder. “Not the way we’re travelling.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Sylvanas. Sylvanas!”

Jaina got her answer when they rounded the corner and happened upon a massive sunset-coloured dragonhawk. Upon seeing them, it balked at the rope that tethered it to one of the reinforced sides of the stables. A crack appeared in the wall around the bolt that held the rope in place, and Jaina took a wary step back.

Before she could get very far, Sylvanas grabbed her hand. “Come on,” she murmured, giving Jaina’s hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s going to be fine. I promise.”

Taking a deep breath, Jaina allowed herself to be led forward. The dragonhawk’s serpentine head swung round, and it glared at her with one molten eye. Slowly, Sylvanas drew her up to the beast, moving around its wings so that she could bring Jaina to its narrow flank. There, a long saddle had been attached. Leather straps looped around the dragonhawk’s sinuous body, buckled into place.

“I’ll give you a leg up,” Sylvanas said.

“You can’t be serious,” Jaina replied breathlessly. The dragonhawk was glaring at her over its wing, its body tense as if ready to strike at the first wrong move. “Shouldn’t you go first? Or maybe we should just portal down there. I can summon a perfectly good portal, you know!”

Chuckling, Sylvanas went down on one knee and laced her fingers together. “No portals. We’re doing it the fun way.”

“I’ll have you know portals are very fun,” Jaina said, even as she stepped carefully onto Sylvanas’ hands and was boosted up into the saddle. Despite the boost, she still struggled to get her leg over the dragonhawk’s back, afraid that she might slip down the other side and fall on its wing.

“Says the mage.”

With her usual dash of grace, Sylvanas leapt up behind her. There was only one set of stirrups, which Sylvanas slipped her booted feet into, gently guiding Jaina’s legs forward with a nudge of her toe at Jaina’s calves. Jaina tried not to seem too stiff at the sudden substantial amount of contact, but it was difficult when her back was pressed against Sylvanas’ front. It was even more difficult when Sylvanas murmured an apology and reached both arms around Jaina to grab the reins.

When she had the reins firmly in her grasp, Sylvanas said, “Alright, I’m going to need you to do something for me.”

“What?” Jaina told herself that she definitely did not squeak.

She could feel the warm huff of Sylvanas’ laughter against the back of her neck. Suddenly, Jaina wished she hadn’t taken to tying her hair in a braid after that night.

“Nothing dangerous, don’t worry. You see that leather strap there?” Sylvanas pointed without dropping the reins. When Jaina nodded, she said, “Unhook it, and then hold on tight.”

“Ok.” Jaina breathed in and out a few times. “Ok. I can do that.”

Reaching down, Jaina tugged at the buckle on the strap. It wouldn’t give, and then, finally, she managed to pull it free. The moment she had done so, Jaina grabbed hold of the saddle horn between her legs and held on for dear life.

Nothing happened.

With a light cluck of her tongue, Sylvanas nudged the dragonhawk with her heels and pulled its head to the right. The dragonhawk shook its head against the reins, but turned its body away from the manor. Jaina held her breath and closed her eyes when it stretched out its wings, which glimmered like the dawn. She could feel Sylvanas squeeze her knees together and heard the snap of reins.

The world lurched. Then a rush of air like a torrent. It whipped at them, a furious upwards wind that faded into a downdraft as they swooped so severely Jaina could have sworn her stomach was left behind on the ground. The dragonhawk struggled to gain height in the air, flapping its wings before it had risen high enough that it could fly without bobbing up and down like a buoy.

After a few minutes of Jaina hunched over the saddlehorn, she felt a nudge at her side.

“You can open your eyes now,” Sylvanas teased over the whistle of the wind.

Jain did so. They were gliding just beneath the thick cover of cloud. Quel’Thalas drifted below them, far enough that Jaina felt dizzy when she looked down, and she immediately jerked her head up again. Already she could see that they were going to soon pass over a port lined with elven ships.

“You have a navy?” she asked, not daring to remove one of her hands from the saddlehorn to point.

Sylvanas snorted. “Yes. A shit one.” When Jaina craned her neck to keep studying the port as they flew over, Sylvanas said, “I can take you there another day, if you’d like.”

Jaina nodded. “Yes, please.”

She couldn’t see Sylvanas’ face from this angle, but she could feel Sylvanas shake her head. The wind was too loud to hear much, but she could have sworn she heard Sylvanas mutter affectionately, “Kul Tirans.”

By horse, it would have taken them ages to travel what was in essence the length of Quel’Thalas. By dragonhawk however, it took mere hours. Three quarters of the way through the flight, Jaina finally found the confidence to relax. Plus, her hands ached from gripping the saddlehorn so tightly. When she leaned back a bit however, she tensed again, realising that the motion made her rest fully against Sylvanas.

If Sylvanas noticed, she did not say anything. In fact at one point, Sylvanas said, “Take these for a second,” and pushed the reins into Jaina’s hands.

“Wait -! What?”

But Sylvanas was already leaning back and casually rummaging through one of the saddlebags strapped behind her. “You’re doing great. Just keep him steady. And don’t let him go swooping after anything deer-shaped.”

“That’s not funny!”

A low chuckle, and the clink of whatever Sylvanas was rummaging through. “Oh, I know. I wasn’t being funny that time.”

Which meant Jaina was studiously staring at the back of the dragonhawk’s crested head in the event that it might see something and decide to spin them into a dive so that it could snatch up a meal. When Sylvanas took the reins back, Jaina breathed a sigh of relief.

By the time they landed at Windrunner Spire, it was just past midday. Jaina slid from the dragonhawk’s back and onto blessed solid earth once more. Sylvanas hopped down beside her with one of the saddlebags slung over her shoulder. The dragonhawk gamely accepted a pat on its long neck, and even nudged its beak at the saddlebag over Sylvanas’ shoulder.

“That’s not for you.” Sylvanas pushed its head away. The dragonhawk butted against her arm, and she grunted, staggering back a step from the strength of the impact.

They had landed near the stables, and two attendants had come rushing out upon their arrival. With a wave in their direction, Sylvanas turned back to Jaina and jerked her head towards the Spire, “This way.”

The dragonhawk had begun to snap at the attendants, who were making shooing motions with their hands and trying to get a hold of the long lead that trailed from its neck. Jaina hurried after Sylvanas, glancing over her shoulder towards the attendants as she went.

“Are they going to be alright?” she asked.

Sylvanas made a dismissive gesture without looking around. “They’ll be fine. Welcome to my ancestral home, by the way.” She did not pause, continuing her long-legged strides, as she pointed to various things in their path. “That way is the village. Those over there are actually anchors for the leylines that act like ramparts, or so I’m told. We’ve never had to use them. Not since I’ve been alive, anyway. Those are the three spires. I used to have my rooms in that one over there, but I was always sneaking over into Alleria’s room in that tower because bothering her was my favourite hobby.”

“That sounds familiar,” Jaina quipped.

Sylvanas grinned over at her as they walked. “Youngest sister, yes? Even more annoying.”

Jaina nudged Sylvanas’ shoulder with her own. “I’m telling Vereesa you said that.”

“Good!”

Jaina tried to take in everything as they went, but Sylvanas’ clipped pace meant she didn’t have the time to pause and admire everything Sylvanas pointed out. A circular raised platform was connected to all three spires by a a bridge. Sylvanas strode up onto the platform and promptly sat down at the edge, one leg dangling over the long fall beneath her with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times in the past and who would do it a thousand times in the future.

Jaina hesitated to sit too near that edge herself. The open-aired platform made her feel a bit uneasy even when standing in the centre. She felt like one stiff breeze could knock her right off.

Sylvanas was pulling items from the saddlebag and arranging them on the floor next to her. A meal packaged in waxed paper, and a bottle of wine accompanied by two glasses carefully wrapped in cloth. Jaina sat, cross-legged, beside her so that lunch was spread between them. Carefully, she leaned forward somewhat to peer down over the edge.

“As much as I admire the beauty of elven architecture, I’ll never get over how spindly it looks,” Jaina remarked, sitting immediately back.

With a huff of laughter, Sylvanas uncorked the bottle of wine, its label so aged Jaina couldn’t read it. “And I’ll always think human architecture looks like a giant sat on it.”

Jaina opened her mouth to protest, but paused and thought about it. “Well, yes. That’s fair.”

In a wordless question, Sylvanas held the bottle over Jaina’s glass. Jaina nodded. “Thank you.”

While Sylvanas poured them each a glass, Jaina pulled open the paper that held their food. She blinked in surprise upon seeing a series of glyphs drawn onto the wax paper, tilting her head to one side in order to read them. They were preservation runes mixed with a very minor flame spell, cleverly designed to maintain the heat and freshness of whatever it had been used to package. She froze when she saw what was wrapped inside.

“Sylvanas?”

“Hmm?” Sylvanas set down the bottle.

Jaina pointed. “Are we having fancy elven wine with fish n’ chips for lunch?”

Reaching out, Sylvanas snagged a strip of fried potato and popped it into her mouth. “We are.”

With an incredulous laugh, Jaina pushed the paper down more so that they could both reach it better. Three golden fillets of crumbed fish left grease stains on the paper. Jaina tore off a wide section of the paper and used it to handle a fillet so as to not dirty her hands too much. Before she took a bite however, she glanced around.

“I don’t suppose we have any -?”

Immediately, Sylvanas pulled out a vial of malted vinegar from the saddlebag and tossed it to her. Jaina caught it, startled, then blinked in surprise. “How did you -?”

“I know it may shock you, but I am capable of reading a book,” Sylvanas said with one of her tell-tale grins. “I am also capable of taking full advantage of the newly established trade routes between Quel’Thalas and Kul Tiras.”

Jaina uncorked the vial and splashed a bit of vinegar onto her fillet. When she took that first bite, she closed her eyes and groaned in pleasure. Looking up at Sylvanas, she sighed around a mouthful, “You’re wonderful.”

At that, Sylvanas’ smile faltered. She hid it well, picking up another chip and proceeding to eat in earnest, but Jaina could recognise the slip all the same.

Wait. When had that happened? Jaina’s chewing slowed. She stared down at the pile of fish n’ chips. When had she grown so adept at reading Sylvanas’ micro expressions? Had she always been able to notice them? When had Sylvanas’ cool solemnity become a veneer that could Jaina could peek past, like pulling aside a curtain to see the stage props behind an actor?

Sylvanas recovered quickly, making light of Jaina’s off-handed comment, steering their conversation to safer harbours. Jaina tagged along, more than happy to be amused by her wife’s puckish chatter. Together, they finished lunch until only a few chips remained, having gone soggy now that the glyphs on the wax paper had been broken.

“Thank you,” Jaina said when their talk had slowed. “This was a lovely surprise for my birthday.”

Around the stem of her wine glass, Sylvanas held up one finger. “I do have one more thing. Though I’m not sure it can be considered a gift.”

Curious, Jaina craned her neck while Sylvanas used her free hand to pull something from a pouch at her belt. She put down her own glass -- her second, and mostly drained. Sylvanas turned and held out a letter.

Or -- not a letter. An invitation. Jaina took it. She flipped it over, running her hand along the thick card stock. It hadn’t been sealed yet. Opening it, she slid the invitation out to read its contents. She inhaled sharply through her nose. Not just any old invitation. An invitation to their own wedding anniversary, due to be held in Boralus in a mere five months.

“This a draft of the ones that are set to be delivered in two weeks,” Sylvanas said, sipping at her wine and watching Jaina’s reaction carefully. “We can change the styling on it, if you want.”

“No, this is fine. This is -” Feeling swept, Jaina ran her fingertips over the embossed script. “Has it really been that long already? It feels like I just arrived here.”

Sylvanas hummed. “I know the feeling. When you live as long as we do, time has a way of slowing to a crawl. It can be maddening, but sometimes with the right person a lifetime can feel like an instant.”

Her voice softened while she spoke, and a wistful expression crossed her face. She did not look at Jaina, instead thoughtfully studying the contents of her glass before lifting it to her lips.

Without thinking, Jaina wondered aloud, “Do high elves have divorce?”

Sylvanas choked, coughing on her drink. “What?”

Realising how that must have sounded, Jaina’s eyes widened. “Not like that!” she insisted. “No! No no no! I was just -- you know -- you said all of that as if you’d experienced it before, and I was wondering if this was the first time you’d ever -” she gestured between the two of them, “But then I realised I didn’t know if elves even got divorced, or had laws for divorce, or precedence or whatever. How does your legal system work, anyway? Is it a system of common law or -?”

Putting down her glass, Sylvanas rubbed at her forehead. “One of these days, you’re going to give me a heart attack,” she sighed. “To answer your questions: it’s a civil law system; elves can get a divorce; it’s not technically called ‘divorce’ and it works a bit differently, though I understand the comparison; and no, I have never been married before.”

“And why not?” Jaina asked. “Was marriage something you never wanted?”

Sylvanas laughed, a low chuckle with a wry edge. She shook her head and took another sip of her wine before saying, “When I was young I had a very clear idea of what my wedding would be like, what kind of person I would marry, and how my life would be with them. Needless to say, life has a way of diverting one’s expectations.” She tilted her glass to Jaina as if in a mock toast. “I never expected to marry a human, or to marry for politics instead of love. I certainly never expected to make my spouse unhappy.”

“I’m not -” Jaina almost lied, then cut herself off with a grimace. “I mean -- it’s getting better. Things are looking up. And it’s not you. I swear it’s not. You don’t make me unhappy.”

“What a ringing endorsement,” Sylvanas drawled with that flair of self-deprecating humour she preferred.

“Please. You are the only thing making this situation bearable,” Jaina said with as much earnestness as she could muster. After a moment, she added, “Ithedis helps, too.”

“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know.”

Sylvanas was refusing to meet her eye, and Jaina’s blood ran cold. Swallowing thickly, Jaina started to ask, “Are you -? Um -?” Her hands were trembling. She had to fight the urge to squeeze them together in her lap for fear of crumpling the anniversary invitation. “Are you unhappy?”

Before this moment, Jaina had never thought to ask that. The idea had never struck her that Sylvanas was anything but perfectly content to sail through their marriage for the good of her people and no other reason. Now, the mere notion that she may have been just as unhappy sent a jolt of fear racing down Jaina's spine.

Rather than answer immediately -- Tides, but Jaina wished Sylvanas had just answered immediately, that she denied it, that she flashed one of her signature roguish grins, made everything better, and put Jaina's mind at ease, like she was so good at doing -- Sylvanas gazed contemplatively into the distance. The sun was sinking towards the horizon, sweeping the world in bright lilac hues; it would be evening before long. She idly swirled the dregs of her glass before setting it down.

“It’s getting better.”

Without further explanation, Sylvanas pushed herself to her feet. She offered her hand to Jaina. “We should start heading back. It’s getting dark.”

--

The weeks passed. Jaina found a new rhythm. She accepted Elosai's proposal. She started personal lessons three days a week at the Academy, and led seminars with the Novices on another day, giving her a day in Dalaran and two days of time for rest, which of course she used to lock herself away in her personal library at Goldenbough for more study. Just as Elosai had predicted, within a month Jaina was promoted to a full member of the Kirin Tor, and presented with a new set of robes at a small ceremony in Dalaran.

Jaina had sent an excited letter to her mother with the news, hoping Katherine could attend the ceremony. In return she received a long glowing letter, complete with an apology at the end saying that her mother was detained at sea and could not pull herself away from her duties. In the end, only Sylvanas and Ithedis attended. Afterwards, Sylvanas insisted on taking Jaina out and being seen at a restaurant in Dalaran.

These days, it was rare for the two of them to see one another outside of the occasional meal at the manor. She still reserved dinners with Sylvanas, but the they were both busy enough that dinner and bed were the only times they reliably saw one another.

If it bothered Sylvanas, she did not complain. Though after their visit to Windrunner Spire, Jaina had grown far more suspicious of Sylvanas’ silences. Her wife seemed to speak as much with silence as she did with words, perhaps more so. Often Jaina found herself studying Sylvanas across the dinner table -- Sylvanas had purchased a Kul Tiran dining set to go on another side of the banquet hall, though she herself continued to eat with her hands rather than use the utensils that Jaina preferred -- but Sylvanas was as adept as ever at deflecting scrutiny with an easy laugh and a terrible joke.

Had her humour grown more self-deprecating over the last few months? Jaina couldn’t tell. Maybe Sylvanas had always held herself in such low esteem, and simply hid it well.

“Lady Proudmoore, are you paying attention?”

Jaina jerked. Elosai was frowning at her, not unkindly but curiously. “Yes!” Jaina said, straightening her shoulders. “Sorry, Magistrix.”

They were standing in Elosai’s office space, far larger than Jaina’s own office space, which -- Jaina had noted with intense relief when she’d first been assigned it -- was little more than a glorified broom cupboard with a single window. Meanwhile, the Magistrix’s circular office had enough space for magical baubles and statues and even an open second floor library connected to the ground floor by a floating spiral staircase.  She had been forced to beg Elosai to give her the worst office in the building, which the Magistrix had granted with great reluctance and no small amount of confusion.

Elosai lowered the scroll she had been reading aloud. Her usual expression of calm had been marred with genuine concern; she had a knack for earnestness that Jaina always appreciated. “It’s unlike you to be so distracted. Is there something on your mind?”

Opening her mouth, Jaina scrambled for a lie and decided instead to settle for a half-truth -- she had never been very good at lying, anyway. “Some of the Novices have been asking me questions that I’m not sure how best to answer.”

“I’m assuming these questions are of a personal nature?” Elosai asked. When Jaina nodded, the Magistrix hummed. “That’s not unusual, especially when the younger ones take a liking to you. I wouldn’t concern yourself too much over it. Answer what you can, and don’t be afraid to tell them they’re crossing a line if they pry too much.”

“Of course,” Jaina cleared her throat. “I just don’t want to anger the institution or any parents with my answers about humans and -- things.”

“You have a level head on your shoulders, Lady Proudmoore. I trust you to not say anything of an inflammatory nature.” Elosai’s voice gentled. “Is there anything else?”

For a brief wild moment, Jaina almost blurted out everything, as if the first friendly face were a repository for all her woes. Her worries that other Apprentices and Magisters were starting to resent her for how quickly she rose through the ranks. Her worries that her pride was over-inflating her actual abilities. Her worries that she wasn’t a good teacher to an ever growing group of Novices that seemed to trail around the Academy after her like a gaggle of excited geese. Her worries that Sylvanas was only ever concerned about Jaina and never about herself. Her concerns that Sylvanas wasn’t talking to her about anything of substance, that their relationship was already starting to stagnate so early in their marriage, that she herself had no idea how to stop it from happening, so that she felt she was standing on a cliff and watching the chasm between them widen beyond her control.

Instead, Jaina swallowed it all down. Maybe Elosai could have helped her with a few of those anxieties, but it wouldn’t do for Jaina to go blabbing about strains in her incredibly politically important marriage. So, she plastered on a smile, shook her head, and said, “No! Nothing at all! You were saying something about arcane constructs?”

--

While intellectually Jaina had always understood Sylvanas’ forced leave would come to and end, she had never quite gotten around to preparing for it. The day came when Sylvanas was reading her latest field report after dinner, and she announced casually at the table that she would be leaving for the border the next morning.

Jaina almost dropped her cup of tea. “I’m sorry -- what?”

Not looking up from the report, Sylvanas repeated herself with the same air of calm assurance, “I need to go early tomorrow. There’s been an increase of activity along our eastern border. Probing attacks and other reconnaissance. Vereesa thinks it’s a tactic to divert our attention from the south and split our forces, but I’m not so convinced. The Amani wouldn’t leave Zul’Aman so poorly defended and push all their resources into a full-on assault from the south. It would leave their capital at our mercy. And if their capital falls, they fall.”

“Oh,” Jaina breathed.

“Mmm.”

Jaina sipped at her tea in an attempt to steel herself; a good strong cup of tea always helped. Then, still cupping her mug, she said, “I think I should go with you.”

Sylvanas blinked, then stared at her over the top of the field report. A thousand questions seemed to run through her mind, before she settled on an incredulous, “Why?”

Clearing her throat, Jaina set her tea down on the table. “Ithedis, could you give us some privacy, please?”

Without question, Ithedis left his post at the entrance and closed the door behind them so that they were alone in their corner of the banquet hall.

Sylvanas watched him go, her face blank with shock, then looked back at Jaina. “Are you feeling sick?”

“What?” Jaina was taken aback. “No! Why is that your first question?”

Folding up the field report, Sylvanas used it to gesture at Jaina. “Because from the looks of it you’re actually initiating a serious conversation.”

Despite herself, Jaina could not help but fiddle with her teacup, running her finger along its rim. “I suppose I am.”

She paused for a moment, but Sylvanas had leaned back and was waiting for Jaina to continue. Straightening in her seat, Jaina drew in a deep breath before starting. “I don’t think having that much distance between us would be good right now.”

“And I think that your studies at the Academy are more important than endangering your life,” Sylvanas countered calmly.

“Technically speaking, I’m a Magistrix now -- low ranking, I’ll grant you -- but I only teach Novice seminars, so I have no real obligations at the Academy. Plus, I won’t be in danger. I’m more than capable of handling myself, thank you.”

At that, Sylvanas’ eyebrows rose. She turned the field report over between her hands, but never took her gaze off Jaina. “Let me see if I understand what you’re saying: you want to go onto the front lines of a warzone, because you’re afraid of us growing distant.”

“I -” Jaina grabbed her tea and took another sip, mumbling around the lip of her cup, “I don’t want to not see you.”

Sylvanas snorted. “Is that your way of saying you’ll miss me?”

“Sylvanas, please. I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

Jaina lowered her teacup. A few months ago, she would have said that Sylvanas’ expression was inscrutable. Now, Sylvanas looked like she was holding her breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It was Jaina’s turn to soften her voice. “I enjoy your company. You know that, right? You always find a way to make me laugh.”

Sylvanas’ ears twitched ever so slightly, and she leaned her head back as if drawing in a sharp breath that Jaina could not hear. Looking contemplative, she murmured, “And apparently you always find a way to surprise me.”

Jaina shrugged and offered an apologetic little smile.

Deep in thought, Sylvanas tapped the field report against her cheek. “I suppose we can find a good way to spin this,” she mused aloud. “We can say I’m giving you a tour of the troops. Involving you on the front lines can be a show of good faith between our militaries.” Then, she chuckled darkly. “If you die, your mother will probably have me assassinated.”

“Oh, no. Definitely not.” Jaina shook her head. “If I died, she’d kill you herself.”

Sylvanas’ grin widened and her eyes brightened. “Now wouldn’t that be a scandal.”

As usual, Jaina couldn’t help but return the smile. “In all seriousness though, let’s not have a troll kill me.”

“You won’t start fights at fancy balls with me. You won’t let yourself be impaled by a troll.” Sylvanas tsked and shook her head. “The list grows longer everyday. And everyday I am disappointed.”

Jaina wadded up one of the napkins from the table and threw it at her. “And you’ll keep on being disappointed.”

Rather than bat the napkin aside, Sylvanas let it hit her square in the face.

--

If Jaina had thought the heat was bad before, it was nothing compared to travelling in the field and living without a proper bath for weeks on end.

“You should have warned me about this.”

Sylvanas rolled her eyes. “I did warn you. You just weren’t listening.”

Fighting back a smile, Jaina schooled her features. “When? I don’t specifically remember you saying ‘Jaina, conditions in the field will be horrible and by week three you’ll wish you got impaled by a troll.’”

“I had assumed that exact phrase was implied every time I said ‘Jaina, we’re going out into an active warzone,’” Sylvanas drawled.

They were riding at the head of a long column of Rangers. Their mounts trudged, side-by-side, as they had since disembarking from Goldenbough. Back in Quel’Thalas, Jaina had been able to employ various magical means to cool herself off while they travelled, but ever since they had crossed into dangerous territory four days ago, she’d had to abandon those tactics. Sylvanas had warned that any superfluous magic use might alert enemy shamans, and Jaina had stopped using magic since then unless otherwise instructed.

Thickly forested mountains rose up on either side of them, raking against the overcast sky. In the past, Jaina had always loved the rain. The smell of it, how it seemed to bring the earth to life, how cool and gentle. It had only taken her one rainy season in Quel’Thalas to come to the conclusion that rain was something to be avoided like the plague. She looked up towards the sky, which bore heavy black patches of cloud, and hoped beyond hope they could make it to the next camp before the downpour began.

“It’s odd, isn’t it?” Jaina said, lowering her gaze and guiding her horse along the narrow path that wound through the mountains. “In all my readings, historians tend to gloss over this kind of stuff.”

“I imagine suffering doesn’t make for good propaganda.” Sylvanas tugged up the hood of her cloak, obviously taking note of the clouds just as Jaina had.

Jaina glanced at her. “A few centuries tarnishes the romance, does it?”

She could just see the edge of a wry smile around the edge of Sylvanas’ hood. “Something like that.”

They continued along the road, quiet but for the march of feet behind them as the battalion of Rangers followed in their wake. Jaina looked over her shoulder at the long line of troops extending along the road. Roughly six or seven hundred soldiers by Jaina’s count. Large enough for limited independent operations. Small enough to slip from camp to camp towards the front lines and reattach itself to a larger regiment. The lieutenant colonel in charge of the battalion itself rode beside Ithedis, and the two of them were conversing in low tones. Apparently, the colonel knew his eldest daughter and held her in high regard.

“Do you remember when we went to the seamstress’ shop? You asked me about the march on Zul’Aman.”

The sound of Sylvanas’ voice dragged Jaina’s attention back around. She turned to look at her, but Sylvanas’ face was still largely obscured by her hood now. “I remember. Why do you mention it?”

Sylvanas adjusted her grip on the reins of her mount before answering. “You thought it was funny -- the idea that I could have killed a thousand people.”

“I -” Jaina tried to say something, but her mouth had gone dry. She swallowed. “Yes. I mean, on your own -?”

“Forty two thousand casualties,” Sylvanas said. Her words lacked any inflection; she sounded far too aloof. “And that was just the enemy losses. In one battle, I might add. Not to mention -” she waved her hand in an all encompassing gesture, “- everything else.”

Frowning, Jaina tried to lean forward in her stirrups a bit to get a better look at Sylvanas’ expression. “I know what you do, Sylvanas. I know that the titles you hold aren’t just for show.”

Sylvanas hummed, a thoughtful hum, as though she were unconvinced. She tilted her head to meet Jaina’s eye, and while her face was not implacable, it was not soft either. “Of course, you do. And I don’t intend this to be some sob story of tortured self-reflection. Only that -- yes. The romance of what I do has died. It died long before I ever reached this rank. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think there are things worth fighting and dying for. If I had the choice, I would kill those forty two thousand trolls again. Except next time I would do it with more artillery.”

Jaina blinked. Whatever she had been expecting, it had not been that. “And what prompted you to bring this up?”

Sylvanas shrugged. “In all likelihood, you will see battle. Possibly on this trip. Most definitely in your lifetime.”

“I’m guessing there’s a moral to this story, right?” Jaina tried to make light of the situation as best she could.

“Oh, yes. There are three, in fact.” To her relief, Sylvanas smiled, but it had a cold steely edge. “A good general is a general who wins. There is no nobility in suffering. And you can never have too much artillery.”

And with that, Sylvanas turned her attention back to the road ahead of them, leaving Jaina mystified. They did not speak again for a while; Sylvanas seemed content riding in silence, while Jaina watched the treeline above them, letting her horse do all the work and not paying much attention to where they were headed. Two birds flew overhead, one darting after the other before they vanished beyond the canopy.

After a moment, the exact same two birds flew overhead, one darting after the other before they vanished beyond the canopy in the same direction as before.

Jaina frowned. “Well, that was -” she made a face. “- odd.”

“Hmm?” Sylvanas hummed beside her, only mildly curious.

Pointing towards the sky, Jaina said, “I thought I just saw -”

Two birds flew overhead. The same two birds in the same direction and in the exact same pattern. Dip and dart and a flash of red-tipped wings.

“Sylvanas,” Jaina said slowly, moving her gaze around to study their surroundings. “When was the last time the lieutenant colonel sent out a scouting group?”

That caught Sylvanas’ attention. She stiffened and pulled sharply at her reins. Jaina did the same, her heat beginning to race in her chest. While Sylvanas said something to the lieutenant colonel behind them in Thalassian, Jaina stared at the treeline. It was so faint, the wrongness of everything in that moment. Tiny details leapt out at her. Not inconsistencies, but rather the absolute consistency of foliage and branches. Even the sounds were too regular, as if everything were repeating a script.

Without looking over, Jaina reached out and grabbed Sylvanas arm. “We need to leave. Now.”

Sylvanas finished what she was saying to the lieutenant colonel, and lowered her voice to speak to Jaina. “We are stretched in a line to fit on the road. If we run, there will be a slaughter.”

“There’s going to be a slaughter if we don’t,” Jaina hissed.

Eyes narrowing, Sylvanas pulled her arm from Jaina’s grasp. “Ithedis,” she snapped.

He rode up beside them. The road barely allowed for them to ride three abreast.

Sylvanas jerked her head back the way they had come. “Take her and go.”

“What?!” Jaina said, aghast, but Ithedis was already snatching up Jaina’s reins and pulling her horse around. “Sylvanas, you can’t just -!”

Ignoring her, Sylvanas barked over her shoulder, “Colonel, are they ready?”

“As ready as they’ll ever be.”

“Then let’s go.”

Jaina tried to pull the reins away from Ithedis, but his grip was iron. He urged her mount as fast as it could go behind his. As they cantered along, the lines of soldiers they passed had picked up their pace until they were running as fast as they could without scrambling over one another.

“What is going on?” Jaina yelled to Ithedis over the pounding of hooves and the stamp of booted feet.

He did not spare her a glance back. “The only way out of the killing zone, my Lady, is forward. Except for you. The ambushers will focus on the main force. They won’t bother coming after us.”

The first sounds of an attack bellowed through the air: the call of horns and answering shouts. Swearing loudly, she twisted her body around to try to catch a glimpse of what was going on behind them. An arrow streaked towards her. She ducked, and the arrow went skittering away through the trees.

With grit teeth, Jaina lunged forward, grabbing Ithedis by the wrist. The first flicker of magic was absorbed, then a jolt raced up his arm, a streak like white lightning that left her blinking smears of purple from her vision. Ithedis grunted, but did not loosen his hold as he took in the magic, his eyes flaring white.

“Let me go!” Jaina sent another bolt of arcane energy careening up his arm. “I have to go back! I can help them!”

“I am sworn to -!”

Whatever he had been about to say was cut off by a sudden cry of pain as she released a focused torrent of magic into his wrist. His armour had begun to trail smoke and the stench of burnt flesh, and his hand spasmed. It was just enough for Jaina to grab the reins and pull back.

Her horse skidding to a halt, rearing back on its hind legs and snorting with a toss of its head. Jaina half fell, half jumped from the saddle, landing on the muddy ground and scrambling upright. She whirled around and raced back the way they came.

“My Lady, don’t -! Stop! Jaina!”

Before he could come after her, she had reached out her arm, a portal spell upon her lips. She fell into it with a gasp, tumbling out the other side. More mud. Jaina slipped trying to stand, barely catching herself. Panting, she glanced around, but found only calm empty road.

Too far. She’d gone too far.

Behind her, a cohort of trolls were firing back along the road, harassing the Ranger battalion, which had turned into the main body of the ambush and were engaging the enemy. She could not understand the glottal language they were speaking, but she didn’t need to. Two ballistas, lines of archers, and a single masked shaman leading them all. All Jaina had was a chance to take them by surprise before she would be discovered and overwhelmed.

Fire? No. She’d have to take them down all at once. Ice? No. Not ice. Even if she did manage to freeze them all, the shaman would find a way to break free. Or maybe -?

Her eyes widened. “Oh! I know!”

She snapped her fingers, and time stopped.

The ballistas froze, coiled back and ready to be launched. Several of the archers were caught mid-fire, their arrows stopped just as they’d been shot. A ball of potent lightning continued to crackle eerily in the shaman’s grasp, though the shaman himself had been rendered immobile.

“Thank you,” Jaina gasped to an absent Magister Duskwither. “Oh, thank you thank you thank you.”

She had mere moments. The rest of the battle below was continuing, her sphere of influence contained around the smaller cohort of trolls that were blocking the road. Rushing forward, Jaina sprinted towards the ballistas first.

They were constructs of wood and rope, but when she placed her hand on one she could feel the glyphs carved into the wood grain, warding them from enemy spellfire. It would take her too long to completely unravel the glyphs and destroy the ballistas. Already she could feel time starting to slip around her, like grains of sand slowly gaining speed as they fell to the bottom of a glass. She couldn’t unravel the glyphs in time, but she could rewrite them.

With a shaking fingertip, Jaina scorched new lines into the major glyphs. The world around her was filling with colour and sound, like a cup being filled as time washed about her ankles. The shaman was slowly turning his head towards her, the eyes of his mask burning with pale fire.

Drawing her arm back, Jaina slammed her open palm into the centre of the glyphs, and the ballistas shattered. Great splinters of wood were flung in all directions like shrapnel. With her free hand summoning an arcane barrier, Jaina warded herself from the bulk of the blow, but the burst of magic flung her back and time started again.

Jaina’s ears rang. Her vision had gone a dull grey. Or -- oh no, that was the sky. She was lying on her back, staring up at the clouds. Shaking the ringing from her ears, Jaina pushed herself into a seated position on the ground, but stopped with a hiss. One of her shoulders ached. A stab of pain pierced when she moved. Cautiously, she reached around and pulled a chunk of wood from the back of her shoulder, tossing it to the ground.

The side of her face stung as well, and an exploring hand discovered smaller splinters all along one cheek and jaw. She winced, but otherwise felt no other injuries. A deep-throated growl snapped her attention back up, and her eyes widened.

The archers were all dead, their bodies sprawled across the gore-streaked ground amidst the twisted remains of the ballistas. A lone figure struggled upright, the shaman’s broad-shouldered form rising above the others to stand. One of his long curved tusks had been cleaved in two from the blow, but his own shield of arcane energy shimmered as it faded from view.

He turned towards her, and Jaina tensed. His mask had been knocked off, but his long narrow face was painted beneath in the pattern of a black-inked skull. His expression was contorted in fury, and he bared long wickedly sharp teeth as he began to advance upon her.

Jaina scrambled back. She tried to stand, but a vine lashed out from the ground at the shaman’s command, chaining her in place. The counterspell was on the tip of Jaina’s tongue, but she stumbled over the phrasing as the troll sprinted towards her with long-legged strides, his fists brimming with the snap of lightning. He snarled, leaping forward, and Jaina squeezed her eyes shut, flinging out her hand in a blind upward strike.

She heard a sickening, wet and crunching sound, then felt cool air gently caressing the side of her face. Slowly, Jaina opened her eyes, her hand still raised. The shaman was impaled through his chest by a glacial spike, his body speared and suspended over her. With a gasp, she shuffled back, but her boots and breeches were already splattered with his blood and other matter that she didn’t care to identify right at this moment. For a moment Jaina thought she was going to be sick, but she swallowed the bile down and struggled to her feet.

She didn’t wait to catch her breath. Staggering forward, Jaina hurried down the road. Without the support of their archers and ballistas, the main body of the ambush had buckled under the chaos of an assault from a disciplined Ranger battalion. The trolls were fleeing, outnumbered and outmatched despite their position, leaving behind a battered but very much living battalion of elves.

Or, at least, mostly living.

A host of Rangers led by the lieutenant colonel were pursuing the trolls that were in fast retreat, firing arrows and tracking their movements to ensure they would not return and attempt to flank them. Others were dragging the bodies of the dead to one side of the road and stacking them up. Others still were helping the wounded to their feet or assessing the severity of the damage done while a pair of healers worked steadily through their ranks.

Some of them glanced up at Jaina’s approach. Most ignored her to focus on their individual tasks, working to get the battalion up and moving again as quickly as possible so that they could make it to the forward camp. Jaina searched among them for a familiar face, walking quickly, her heart sinking with every step.

“Lady Proudmoore!”

Jaina’s head jerked, and she looked up to find Ithedis heading right for her. His damaged arm hung limply at his side, and her stomach seared with guilt. A jagged cut ran along his helm, cleaving one of the flanged plates that protected his cheek, but beneath he was unharmed.

He stopped before her and with his good hand cupped her chin, tilting her face to one side to appraise her wounds. “Superficial, anar’alah. Are you alright? What happened?”

Biting her lower lip, Jaina pulled away slightly. “I’m fine. I just -”

She jerked her thumb over her shoulder to the wreckage behind her. The ballistas still smouldered, and the glacial spike had yet to melt, leaving the shaman’s body behind like a grim effigy. Ithedis’ eyes widened. He stared at the carnage she had caused, then at her.

“You did this?”

Jaina sucked in a deep breath and nodded. She waited for the scolding, the sharply spoken words, but they never came. Instead, his shoulders drooped and he sighed in relief, “Thank the Light.”

“Have you seen Sylvanas?” Jaina asked, already glancing beneath the hoods of passing Rangers. “I looked but I can’t find her, and I’m worried that she -”

Jaina bit back whatever she had been about to say. Vocalising the fear gave it more substance, made it more real. The concern in Ithedis’ eyes certainly didn’t help.

He pointed down the road from the way he had come, where Rangers bustled about. “She’s that way. The healer is seeing to her now.”

“Healer?” she repeated, but she didn’t wait for his reply.

Stepping past him, Jaina strode in the direction he had pointed. Her steps quickened. She dodged around Rangers and upended carts and horses and other beasts of burden. She searched for that distinctive armour, listened for that familiar voice. When she finally found her, Jaina was breathing hard and her hands shook.

Two Rangers had propped Sylvanas’ back up against the trunk of a tree, and a healer knelt over her. They had removed her armour from the waist up, revealing her dark-washed leathers beneath. She was awash with cuts. Cuts along her face. Cuts along her arms and shoulders. And worst of all a throwing spear imbedded low in her abdomen.

“Just do it,” Sylvanas snapped. “We don’t have all day.”

With a murmured apology, the healer broke the spear in two and pushed it all the way through. Sylvanas did not scream, but she flung her head back against the tree, eyes squeezed shut, and groaned through gritted teeth.

“Fuck you,” she gasped when the healer had finished.

“You always say that,” the healer replied, tossing the broken spear aside, her hands already aglow with light. With a single touch, the healer staunched the flow of blood, and Sylvanas’ wounds began to knit themselves shut.

Before the healer could finish her work however, Sylvanas waved her away. “That’s enough.”

“General, you should really let me -”

“Save your energy and attend to the others? I couldn’t agree more.” Sylvanas opened her eyes to glare at the healer and growl, “Go.”

The healer shook her head and muttered something low and scathing in Thalassian as she strode off to do as she was ordered.

“I heard that,” Sylvanas said after her. When she saw Jaina lingering nearby, her eyebrows rose. “Oh, good. You’re not dead. For a moment there, I really thought I was going to be locked in a knife-fight with your mother, but this is much better.”

The Rangers had taken their leave of their General, as casually as though they had done this a hundred times before. The very thought made Jaina’s stomach swoop unpleasantly. She stepped closer. She opened her mouth to say something, but had to clear her throat before she could speak. “No, I’m not dead. I’m -”

She almost said ‘fine’, but stopped. The words refused to come. Jaina knelt on the ground before her, close enough that their thighs brushed. The hard jut of Sylvanas’ armour was cold against Jaina’s knee, but she did not move away. Rangers continued milling along the road, but Jaina ignored them. They might as well have not existed.

The half-healed scars still bloomed across Sylvanas’ face and abdomen. Intellectually Jaina understood they would fade in a few hours time, but the sight of those pale marks made her blood run cold. The punctured armour had been discarded nearby, and now stood as evidence to the very narrow death Sylvanas had evaded. A pang of fear and something else -- distress? desperation? -- clutched at Jaina's chest, seizing her neck until she could scarcely breathe.

Sylvanas was wincing as she pushed herself into a seated position, gritting her teeth and swearing under her breath. Before she could stop herself, Jaina reached out to brush a smear of blood from Sylvanas’ jaw. Sylvanas went very still and looked up at where Jaina was kneeling over her.

It pounded in her chest, the thought that Sylvanas could have been snatched from her life so quickly, so easily, snuffed out like a dim candle by a merciless breeze. Over nine months they’d been married. Two years since Jaina had first learned of the Ranger-General of Silvermoon. No time at all, in the grand scheme of things. Barely a flicker. Jaina had to swallow past the clenched fist caught in her throat.

She stroked her thumb across Sylvanas’ cheek, across her jaw, across the bridge of her nose, tracing old scars and new. Sylvanas did not move. She watched Jaina’s face. She hissed a sharp inhalation when Jaina’s thumb brushed the corner of her mouth.

Without pausing to think, Jaina leaned down and kissed her. The kiss lingered. It was just a simple meeting of lips, but it made her fingers tremble all the same. Her hand continued cupping Sylvanas’ cheek, even as she closed her eyes, even as she broke the kiss and pulled away, just far enough to lean their foreheads together.

“You’re alright,” Jaina breathed. She did not dare open her eyes; she was too cowardly. She did not want to see Sylvanas’ expression, did not want to know if her actions were going to be rejected or rebuked. “You’re alright.”

After what felt like an age, there followed the gentle scrape of Sylvanas’ gloved hand against the nape of Jaina’s neck, holding her steadily in place. She felt the warm exhalation of Sylvanas’ words when she spoke.

“I’m alright.”

[manifestoonmoralmanlove]

Gormless Ch. 9 -  Maccon’s into violence, hypocrisy, raceplay, but worst of all progressive politics.

A well-meaning friend gave me a book series that is hilariously bad. The first book was Souless and my riffs were entitled brainless. This second book is entitled Changless and these riff are then gormless.

I mean to say I have entitled them gormless! Not that my riffs are dumb, and the effort I spend on them stupid since I’m the only one who enjoys them. HAHA!

The story is SUPPOSED TO be about how a badass lady wearing a rad-looking carriage dress hits baddies with her umbrella and bangs her hot werewolf husband.  In reality it’s mostly poor attempts at being witty, flirty, and superior.

For the last book check out the brainless tag.

If you want the TL;DR version but want to read these new riffs anyway?

This story is set in supernatural Victorian steampunk England.  Alexia is our NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS protag.  She is a soulless, which means she’s able to negate the abilities of vampires and werewolves by touching them. She’s recently married a big oaf, named Lord Connel Maccon.  He’s the manchild in charge of the supernatural police with a zillion dollars and he’s totes super hot too ok.  Their relationship is mostly arguments about how Maccon can’t tell her fucking anything.  Alexia has also recently become head of ~Soulless affairs~ in Queen Victoria’s government.  She has a dumb friend named Ivy, a gay vampire friend named Akeldama, a family who’s evil because they do the same shit as her but while being blonde, and most importantly Alexia is better than everyone cause…cause.

Last time on Gormless:

There’s some mysterious force that’s turning the Vampires and werewolves into humans. Alexia is in charge of figuring out that deal, and she is doing a bad job at it.  They are at her husband’s old pack castle about it.  Are they hiding something?????

Chapter 9 – Maccon’s into violence, hypocrisy, raceplay, but worst of all progressive politics.

So off to dinner we go!  They talk about what a FRIGHTFUL sight it was that Alexia didn’t style and unfrizz her hair before going down to dinner with such dramatic terms that make me wanna gag. But I went from that to barfing myself inside out when I read the following line about Alexia’s frizzy hair:

“Lord Maccon adored it.  He thought she looked like some exotic gypsy and wondered if she might be amendable to donning gold earrings and dancing topless about their room in a loose red skirt…”

GOD DAMN AUTHOR!  We went from some poor choices but plausible deniability to straight up…

Like a lot of my racism complaints are subjective and nit-picky I will give you that.  But the author done goofed good and fucking proper with that line jesus fucking Christ.

GY*SIES IS A SLUR, AND ROMANI WOMEN ARE NOT ~EXOTIC~ SEXUAL OBJECTS! GOOOOOOOOOOOOO FUCK YOURSELF!

I could fume about that fucking egregious shit the rest of the day but let’s try to distract myself with the parts of this story that aren’t openly racist.

At dinner, LeFoux is talking to some nerd about nerd shit.  Ivy is trying to talk about fish to some dude even though both of them don’t know anything about fish.  There’s a bit of drama when Lady Kingair (aka Sidheag) allows Maccon to sit in the Alpha seat, which TO BE FAIR is kinda bullshit, but the drama dissipates with a harmless distraction.  There is a brief interaction between Alexia and Maccon on the subject of the Tunstell/Ivy drama.  Maccon says they’re a bad match and Alexia agrees DESPITE THE FACT SHE LEGIT TRIED TO HOOK UP THE TWO AT THE END OF THE LAST BOOK BUT THAT’S FINE! Maccon ends the conversation about this slipshod ship-fest by sighing out a perplexed…

“Women”

Maccon you’re literally agreeing with a woman right now!  Boy howdy am I getting increasingly sick of how Maccon uses that word. If a male partner of mine used that word (woman) the way Maccon uses it (as this bullshit signifier that #yesallwomen are so hard to understand and difficult to deal with) I would uppercut him in the fucking taint.

CAN YOU BE ANGRY ABOUT THE ACTUAL CONTENT OF THE STORY FAPS INSTEAD OF THESE THROW-AWAY LINES THAT YOU’RE OVERANALYZING!

BLATANT RACISM AND SEXISM AREN’T THROW-AWAY LINES, BUT YOU BET YOUR ASS I CAN BE MAD AT MORE STUFF! I AM ALWAYS HUNKERING TO ANGRY IT UP!

There’s a point where they call Alexia curse-breaker multiple times (cause she’s a soulless that can negate the powers of the supernatural.)  Ivy and Felicity have no idea what that means and don’t know Alexia is a soulless but nobody bothers to inform them.  I don’t know if this is going to be a conflict at some point or not.

Alexia then has to ~make a fuss~ by asking them about the humanization problem. They act like she is breaking some taboo, but honestly I don’t understand why.  They’re having a problem; it’s her and Maccon’s job to solve the problem, so they should ask about it so they can solve it right? Also these Scottish folks seem much more down to earth and don’t subscribe to the stuffy social mores of British society. So it’s dumb that they act as if Alexia is rudely asking why cousin Larry has two weeping pussies where his ears should be, while jabbing at them with a pencil, and making sexist jokes about it.

But she doesn’t ask questions that are going to be useful until a few pages into this conversation which means just in time for the author to avoid it with a distraction.  I have a feeling the author is going to do the same thing in this book that she did last book.  Started with a mystery, dances around it for the vast majority of the book without adding much to it, and just ¾ the way in the book SUDDENLY SHIT HITS THE FAN ALL AT ONCE AND IT’S REAL DUMB!

So it’s now after dinner and the men and women are separated to chit-chat. Alexia starts quizzing Lady Kingair. Lady Kingair says she wishes she could be a full blooded werewolf.  The only werewolf within a zillion miles who is powerful enough to turn someone into a werewolf is Lord Maccon, cause of course it is.    But Maccon doesn’t want to try to turn her because she’s his last heir and women very rarely survive the transformation.  

Which like, there’s no reason so far why the werewolf club has to be vast majority male.  No ALL MEN orgies, and no SINCE YOU’RE THE ONLY GIRL WE’VE SEEN IN 80 YEARS ALL OUR ERECTIONS POINT TO YOU FEMALE PROTAG!  Perhaps there is some plot point later on.  But honestly? I suspect it comes down to the bias that simply werewolfism is considered a male phenomenon. You can read all sorts of analyses of this but basically it comes down to that men are supposed to have a violent, animalistic nature that they try to suppress.  But women aren’t supposed to be angry, powerful, uncontrollable, or like worst of all HAIRY!  So I don’t want them even as no-name background characters yuck!

Also, oddly enough, last book they said that werewolves sought out actors, and arty types cause they seemed more likely to survive the transformation. Creativity is tied to ~extra soul~ or whatever.  So I want to know why all these werewolves are dim-witted, gruff, military philistines instead of sweet, sensitive, arty twinks, smooching each other?  Is it cause her type is gruff meathead and like an idiot she outright contradicted her own story for no particular reason?

SEEMS SO! GOD I WANT A CASTLE FULL OF HAIRY BESTIAL WOMEN AND/OR CUTE SENSITIVE TWINKS! IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK FOR?

Nothing else really comes out of the conversation with Lady Sidhaeg Kingair and thankfully we’re saved from that conversation by the sounds of the men folk fighting.

Maccon is fighting with the current beta.  Maccon wins, cause of course he does.  They both grumble bitterly at each other for BETRAYAL and nothing is revealed. Like I am glad there was action, but this was so limp and tepid.  It could have easily been dramatic and they should have revealed something, especially considering they dump the whole story at the end of this chapter.

So Alexia takes him upstairs for fade to black SEX, cause of course she does. Like I won’t kink-shame much, but getting all hot that your husband beat up another dude who is clearly weaker than him for no real reason is bogus yo. A thousand kink-shames upon you.

Afterwards Maccon FINALLY fucking explains something.  He says the reason why he left the Kingair pack is because everybody in the pack was planning to kill the queen of England and didn’t tell him about it.  They’re Scottish and Supernaturals and APPARENTLY the crown hates both of those things.  She appoints Scottish and Supernatural people to the highest places on her court and we have not seen any oppression but just trust us okay.  They kept it from Maccon, because Maccon is a ~progressive~ and thought killing the queen would be a bad idea.  He believes this because the Queen is giving Supernaturals more rights and that if they kill her that it would make Supernaturals look real bad and innocent Supernaturals would be targeted.

That’s a reasonable fear, and honestly since we’re supposed to be on Maccon’s side she doesn’t really try to explain the other side.  Like was it supposed to be a military Coup so that werewolves would be in charge of Britain, since the military is made up of werewolves? Cause that’s honestly pretty fucking interesting.  I know the author says there are a lot more humans than werewolves…but I don’t know why they would fear much of a backlash if they all have superpowers, lots of the money, and are the ENTIRE military.  The fucking Spartans quelled every slave uprising even though slaves vastly outnumbered their military cause their military was trained as hell. Those masc 4 macs thug bros weren’t even able to turn their faces into dog faces.

Also Maccon’s feelings were really hurt when they were going to kill the queen with poison.

“Poison is for bitches amirite?” Maccon laughs misogynistically.  Alexia chuckled in kind and sprinkled something in Maccon’s 5th glass of Scotch.  As he dies in agony Alexia licks her fingertips in triumph. Oops they still had poison on them and she dies.  LeFoux travels to reality and she has the good sex with me. The End!

Okay that exchange didn’t happen, I just wish it did.

So anyway due to the ~betrayal~ Maccon left his pack and it really fucked his pack a big one because nobody was powerful enough to turn other people into werewolves so their pack couldn’t grow and outsiders were disinterested in serving them.  (BTW humans who serve werewolf packs in exchange for being turned into werewolves are called Clavigers in this book.) But this was their punishment for betraying him.  Not punishment for the high treason of attempting to murder a queen and thus throwing the entire country into violent chaos which could have resulted in millions of deaths. The focus for the punishment is highlighted as Maccon’s feelings were hurt.

I have a million questions about this situation but I can forgive the author for not going into more detail. This is a fluff story and doesn’t need to be bogged down with politics.  I can’t help but be  frustrated because the author doesn’t give anything of substance, so when something mildly interesting happens I want to latch onto it but it’s just plywood stuck to a cliff with bubblegum, it ain’t gonna hold my weight.

Thus I plummet back into the pit of frivolousness, hoping futilely there maybe something enjoyable I can grab in order to save my sanity from this stack of bullshit.

PS – I’m way into the fact that the thing they did reveal is not relevant to the actual conflict at the center of this book.

LOVE THAT!

PPS – The fight should have had the Beta forcefully removed from the fight. That he thrashes against another werewolf about how ineffectual Maccon is.  That he has all sorts of strength, power, and money but he’s just a complacent lapdog.  Since he has been dubbed ‘one of the good ones’ he’ll let the less fortunate ones of his race rot while he nibbles pheasant in his castle.  Maccon fires back how hypocritical it is to say you want what’s best for werewolves/Scottish folks while picking fights and putting the less fortunate on the line.  That he’s proving to the kingdom that werewolves are valuable by being a good example and working within the power structure to help his own kind. Afterwards Maccon goes back to his room physically and emotionally exhausted, and cuddles with his wife while he explains the backstory. He cries over his guilt of hurting his pack, and wonders if what he is doing is the right thing.

Problem with that is it doesn’t make the conflict easy to understand and cut and dry.  It also makes Maccon emotionally vulnerable…which like I’M INTO but seems as if it’s not the author or this set of reader’s fetish.

Say something nice Faps:

After pulling teeth for a book and a half we learn something about Maccon.  And it’s actually potentially interesting.

Ivy’s back and forth about her lack of knowledge about fish was genuinely cute and funny.

[roguzomu-blog]

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| If Russian visa is issued as part of a tour voucher, its cost is going to be included in the purchase price of tourist services.  Healthcare volunteer work in Russia is a remarkable approach to produce meaningful contributions and learn more about fields you're interested in.  In the past few years, it has made attempts to enhance the nation's own vehicle market.

The program is just one of the initiatives targeted at boosting the economy in the area.  Depending on the number of individuals are disembarking at when the procedure can take up to 45 minutes, so make certain to factor that in to make sure you make it through in time.  One of the absolute most well-known purposes is tourism.

The populace of the city is almost 592,034.  Moscow and Saint Petersburg provide a wide variety of museums, and you are able to see different cities as nicely with a luxurious cruise of the Volga River.  Two decades later, Vladivostok became a port and started to develop.

The Ko Samui islands are ideal for romantic escapades. It was only in 1974 that foreigners were allowed to join the city.  Steer clear of skinheads.

Once you pass chinese customs, the bus drives a quick quantity of time to the russian border at which you will get your bags again and need to move through russian customs.  After a quick break for coffee you take a walk during the beautiful Red Square, go in the colorful St. Basil's Cathedral and learn more about the famous GUM department shop.  Weather doesn't have any memory and supplies no guaranties.

Top Vladivostok Visa Secrets You don't need to be a Member to come to a HU meeting, access the site, the HUBB or maybe to obtain the e-zine.  In order to acquire our assistance, you must fill in the feedback form on the web indicating foreigner's individual data.  For those who have information about an orphanage or photos which we can increase the website than please don't hesitate to get in touch with us to put it to the website.

In order to acquire a visa, a foreign citizen is going to be asked to submit an application on a particular online site for a minimum of three days before the expected date of entry.  A smooth Chinese visa application procedure demands clear comprehension of the step-by-step lodging procedure in addition to the required set of the documents.  A smooth Russian visa application procedure calls for a very clear knowledge of the step-by-step lodging procedure in addition to the crucial set of the documents.

All we need to do is to provide us with your data and arrive at the consulate with total document collection.  Always check the most recent visa info, as it changes from time to time.  Its museum houses various historic military objects.

The Basics of Vladivostok Visa In summary, it's not a visa waiver but an absolutely free electronic visa granting system, and to pay a visit to Vladivostok.  Visa requirements aren't as strict as other Russian ports and you're totally free to venture around all on your own.  Migration cards have to be carried in any way times while in Russia.

Chennai formally called Madras is called the Gateway to the South.  The last stop at stake, or the first if you're traveling westwards, is in Vladivostok.

Failure to create your passport when asked can result in a fine.  If you're in this region, then don't miss the opportunity to delight in the festive season.  Alternatively there's an option to remain in the city as a portion of our Freedom of Choice touring.

To know about the most recent visa news, it is better to confirm the government website of the Kaliningrad region.  In 2019, citizens from eligible countries who intend to come to Russia will have the ability to find an electronic entry visa by completing a web-based application.  China also gives an obvious example.

[purewhitepages]

The Last Time I Saw Enid

[Originally posted on Ao3 in 2017]

Summary: Before he was Nemo, he was Donald. And before she was Miss Debenham, she was Enid. The last exchange between them was short, sweet even, and not nearly satisfactory.

A/N: this fic is pure selfservice and I don’t care. If you like it, please scream with me.

“Why do you read such novels?” Enid asked, she was reclining against a sofa, watching Donald from across the room.

“Whatever do you mean?” Donald asked. He pretended to keep reading, but instead used the book to hide his smirk.

Enid stood and crossed the room to take the book from his hands. Donald reclined further on his own sofa, looking up at the girl through his eyelashes. Enid gave a small smile and a side glance at him then read the cover of the book aloud.

“King Solomon’s Mines, good gad, Donald,” she said. “What on earth could be endearing about that?”

Donald shrugged. “I enjoy them.”

She sat next to him as she opened the book and began reading the first few pages. “How can you gain anything of value from this?”

Donald sat up and slid closer to her so that his leg brushed her skirt. Enid glanced down at the contact, but did not say anything. Donald, evidently, did not seem to notice how indecently close to her he was, otherwise he would have moved.

“This man, Allan Quatermain, is hunting in Durban when he is approached by Sir Henry Curtis to find his long lost brother, who has gone to find the lost mines of King Solomon,” explained Donald enthusiastically.

“Sounds rather fantastical to me.”

Donald looked up from the book, and realized how close they were. He seemed at a loss for words for a moment before looking and moving away. Enid herself looked to the other side of the library where they were sitting rather than at Donald, and scolded herself for not moving away sooner.

“Um, your locket is very nice, is it new?” said Donald, who was now getting off the couch to sit on the bench by the desk near the window.

Enid’s hand flew to her neck, and her cheeks colored a bright red. She had forgotten to stuff the necklace in her blouse before she visited the house. She felt very self-conscious right then and hoped to goodness he would not ask her whose picture she kept inside.

“Oh, um, no, I found it among my mother’s belongings. It- it has a picture of my father inside,” she lied.

“How sentimental,” said Donald. “How lovely.”

Silence fell over the two of them. Enid passed her hands over the cover of the book in her hands.

“Donald,” she said suddenly, and the young man turned to face her. Enid could not help but stare for a moment. With the sunlight streaming in through the window and catching off his copper colored hair, he looked like a painting of the angel Gabriel.

“Yes, Enid?” he said.

Enid swallowed at the sound of her name passing from his lips. The fact that he called her “Enid” just now, and not “Miss Debenham” gave her hope that she barely wished to have. “When did you say you were leaving?”

“For training? Soon, a month from now.”

“Do write, will you? If they allow you to do so in the military.”

Donald let out a chuckled. “I’m sure they do. They could scarcely stop me.”

“And we will all be eagerly waiting your return.”

“I’m sure it will be just you ‘eagerly waiting.’ I highly doubt Ronald will even notice I am away.”

“Nevertheless, I will be waiting for you to come home safe.” Enid felt her ears bloom with heat, and scolded herself for her own impertinent tongue. “Please promise me you will come home safe, Donald.”

Donald strode forwards and held out his hand for her to take. She did so. “I doubt there will be anything stopping me from having a long and successful career. We are not at war, and I doubt we intend to be so anytime soon.”

“Promise me.”

“I cannot, Enid. Tragedies do occur.”

“To other people, but not you.”

“This isn’t a Haggard novel, Enid.” Donald smiled, and Enid did too despite the tears blossoming in her eyes.

A knock on the door caused Donald to drop her hand and clear his throat. Enid let the appendage fall into her lap. Donald bade the newcomer welcome, and the butler walked in. Enid took this moment to dab her eyes with a handkerchief.

“An urgent telegram from Master Ronald, sir,” he said, and extended the note on a tray.

Donald took it and opened it, moving over to his desk.

“Would you like refreshment, Miss Debenham?” asked the butler.

“Oh, no thank you, I’m just fine,” said Enid.

“Please leave us,” said Donald, and the butler did.

Enid crossed the room as she spoke: “What is it Donald?”

“Ronald has apparently got himself into a jam.” Donald rubbed at his temples as he set the letter down.

Enid made a face at this. She knew she shouldn't press the issue, and yet- “You mean of course, ‘Ronald has gotten himself into a jam again.’”

“Perhaps you should go, Enid. I must go up to London.”

“Of course you will go to him. Heaven forbid Ronald should scuff his shoe without crying, and you run to him with an extra pair.”

“Leave it alone, Enid.” Donald’s voice was calm, but his eyes flashed.

“I will not. I know you-“

“Confound it, Enid! I am not in the mood to argue!” Donald slumped into his chair, his hand covering his eyes. Her blood was hot, but she also knew it was a mistake to questions his actions towards his brother.

“I’m sorry, D- Mr. Fraser,” said Enid. “It was wrong of me to speak out of turn.”

“Please do not call me Mr. Fraser, Enid. You make me sound like an old man.” Donald’s lips twisted into a small, sad smile as he spoke.

“We are not children anymore.”

Donald eyed her up and down. “You especially so. I expect we shall hear wedding bells anyway now.”

Enid let out a laugh. “Not for a few more years, hopefully.”

“Any man would be lucky to have you. A nobleman, a tradesman, a merchant even.”

“Or a military officer?” Enid could barely keep the words to herself. She had to look away before he answered.

“Y- yes, I suppose they would be worthy of you as well.”

Silence once again fell between them.

"I apologize, Miss Debenham, for shouting, it was- unbecoming," Donald said, smoothing out his hair and checking his watch.

"It's quite alright, I have no right to question your actions. You know best." She also checked her watch, just for an excuse to leave. “I will be going, Donald. Write to me once you get to London?”

“I shall.”

Enid remembered hurrying out and waiting awkwardly for her carriage. She remembered hoping for a day when Ronald would not be first in his brother's affections. She should have stayed. She should have convinced Donald that Ronald needed to face consequences. Then maybe, maybe he would still be alive to her, maybe even hers. But not anymore.

[life-love-lifting-blog]

Moving To Naples Florida 

Once numbering as many as 10,000 people, the Calusa were ruled by a single chief, supported a nobility and strong military force, dug canals, built huge mounds of shell and earth for their temples and important buildings, and collected tribute from towns and villages reaching all the way across southern Florida to the Atlantic.

Known as the Paradise Coast, Collier County has more than 30 miles of sandy white beaches. Once, the only people to stroll Naples' seven miles of white, sandy beaches, were the Caloosa Indians. Collier County had grown from 85,971 residents in 1980 to 251,377 residents in 2000—and to 322,739 by 2010.

The Naples area is home to several major land reserves, including the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary, Everglades National Park , Big Cypress National Preserve , Florida Panther National Wildlife Refuge, Ten Thousand Islands National Wildlife Refuge, and Picayune Strand State Forest The Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary is known not only for its 11,000 acres (45 km2) of landscape and wildlife, but for a two and a half-mile long boardwalk winding through the sanctuary.

Because of its vast areas of undeveloped preserve lands, Collier County is the primary habitat for the severely endangered Florida panther(Florida's state animal), which roams through the Florida Panther National Wildlife Refuge, Big Cypress National Preserve, Everglades National Park, the Fakahatchee Strand Preserve State Park, Ten Thousand Islands National Wildlife Refuge and Collier-Seminole State Park.

The Gulf Coast portion of the Everglades is the only place on earth where alligators and crocodiles cohabitate and is also home to North America's largest continuous mangrove forest. According to Smart-Zip, there are 78 golf courses in Collier County—one for every 4,418 residents.

Choose from charming beach cottages, towering beachfront condominiums, custom architectural masterpieces, contemporary single-family homes, condos, villas, carriage and town homes in gated, master-planned communities; expansive horse farms, and manufactured homes.

The 729,000 acre preserve allows more recreational activities than a National Park, such as hunting and off road vehicle use. When considering living in Naples you may be wavering between the Gulf Coast and the East Coast of Florida. The Second List: Here's a typical Pro Con list from someone who's lived in Florida a few years or longer and the honeymoon is over because they know what living in Florida is really like (for them).

The area's unrivaled sport fishing, hunting, boating, sun bathing, and beach combing attract people today just as it did a century ago. Hikers taking ranger-guided swamp walks in Big Cypress National Preserve and Fakahatchee Strand Preserve State Park are often surprised by the relatively pleasant conditions in the area's cypress swamps.

Naples (as well as much of Florida) is made up of retirees who don't have kids in school and don't support politically the schools, especially issues that impact taxes. Naples along with the Everglades and Marco Island are known as the Paradise Coast. College choices include Hodges University and Florida South-Western State College (formerly Edison State College), which are in town, as well as Florida Gulf Coast University, which is just a 30-minute drive away.

Several cottages were built by Haldeman and a lot of his early guests were his employees or friends. Some of the best beaches in the county include Naples beach with its iconic pier stretching 1,000 feet into the Gulf of Mexico and Barefoot Beach Preserve which was ranked #2 on Dr. Beach's Top Ten USA Beaches for 2015.

There are approximately 100 art galleries in the greater Naples area, extending from Gallery Row in downtown Naples all the way out to the Big Cypress Gallery in the Everglades - the studio of famed black and white nature photographer Clyde Butcher, known as the Ansel Adams of the Everglades” for his stunning, large format black & white Everglades landscapes.

The world class Artis-Naples, home to the Naples Philharmonic Orchestra and concert hall and the Baker Museum of Art, has helped put Naples on the map as a premiere cultural destination, as have the area's many nationally recognized art festivals. Specific schools, yes, but the school system in general has a poor reputation-especially comparing it to the NE or MW. No one moves to Florida for the schools.

And housing … $350,000 will buy you a spacious three-bedroom, two-bath, pool home with a lake or golf course view in Naples, but it will barely afford you a one-room, closet-sized apartment in Manhattan, a cozy two-bedroom condo in Chicago , plus you'd have to shell out an additional $30,000 for a parking spot, or a 1960s, two-bedroom ranch with about 1,000 square feet of living in Napa, California.

Naples Florida is a tropical paradise with its sugar sand beaches fine dinning and fine art scene. This makes Naples a magnet no many seeking that tropical sun soaked lifestyle. Many Florida Moving Companies offer their biggest discount during off peak season which is October - March so plan accordingly.    

[n333rdypirate]

FSYY 1 001 - King Zhou and the Goddess Nu Wa

The Shang Dynasty replaced the Xia Dynasty and ruled China for nearly 650 years. The Shang court produced twenty-eight kings of whom King Zhou was the last.

Before King Zhou ascended the throne, he and his father, King Di Yi, and many civil and military officials were walking in the royal garden one day, viewing the blooming peonies, when suddenly the Flying Cloud Pavilion collapsed and a beam flew towards them. Rushing forward, King Zhou or then Prince Shou, caught the beam and replaced it in a display of miraculous strength. Deeply impressed, Prime Minister Shang Rong and Supreme Mei Bo advised King Di Yi to name him Crown Prince.

When King Di Yi passed away after thirty years on the throne, Crown Prince Shou was immediately crowned king to rule the country in his father's place. King Zhou established his capital at Zhaoge, a metropolis on the Yellow River. The king appointed Grand Tutor Wen Zhong to be in charge of civil affairs and Huang Feihu, Prince for National Pacification and of Military Prowess, to supervise military affairs. In this way, the king hoped the nation would live in peace under a civil administration backed up by the military. The king placed Queen Jiang in the Central Palace; Concubine Huang in the West Palace and Concubine Yang in the Fragrant Palace. They were all virtuous and chaste in their behavior and mild and gentle in manner.

King Zhou ruled his country in peace, and was respected by the neighboring states. His people worked happily in their different professions, and his peasants were especially blessed by favorable winds and rains. There were 800 marquises in the country who offered their allegiance to four dukes, each of whom ruled over 200 of these marquises on behalf of King Zhou. There four dukes were: the East Grand Duke Jiang Huanchu, the South Grand Duke E Chongyu, the West Grand Duke Ji Chang and the North Grand Duke Chong Houhu.

In the second month of the seventh year of the reign of King Zhou, a report reached Zhaoge of a rebellion of seventy-two marquises in the North Sea district, and the grand Tutor Wen Zhong was immediately ordered to lead a strong army to suppress the rebels. One day when King Zhou was holding court, Shang Rong stepped out from the right row, knelt and said, “Your humble Prime Minister Shang Rong begs to report something urgent to Your Majesty. Tomorrow is the 15th day of the third month, the birthday of the Goddess Nu Wa, and Your Majesty should honor her and hold a ceremony at her temple.”

“What has Goddess Nu Wa done that a great king such as myself is obliged to go to her temple and worship her?” King Zhou asked.

“Goddess Nu Wa's been a great goddess since ancient time and possesses saintly virtues. When the enraged demon Gong Gong knocked his head against Buzhou Mountain, the northwest section of Heaven collapsed and the earth sunk down in the southeast. At this critical moment, Nu Wa came to the rescue and mended Heaven with multi-colored stones she obtained and refined from a mountain,” Shang Rong explained. “She's performed this great service of the people, who've built temples to honor her in gratitude. Zhaoge in fortune to have the change to worship this kind goddess. She'll ensure peace and health tot he people and prosperity to the country; she'll bring us timely wind and rain and keep us free from famine and war. She's the proper guardian angel for both the people and the nation. So I make bold to suggest that Your Majesty honor her tomorrow.”

“You're right, Prime Minister. I'll do as you advise.”

Returning to his residential palace, King Zhou ordered a notion be issued that His Majesty, together with his civil and military officials, were to make a pilgrimage to worship Goddess Nu Wa at her temple the next day.

It would have been better if he hadn't gone at all, for it was this very pilgrimage that caused the fall of the Shang Dynasty, making it impossible for the people to live in peace. It was as if the king had tossed a fishing line in to a big river and unexpectedly caught numerous disaster leading to the loss of both his throne and his life.

The king and his entourage left the palace and made their way through the south gate of the capital. Every house they passes was decorated with bright silk, and the sheets were scented for ht eking by burning incense. The king was accompanied by 3,000 cavalrymen and 800 royal guards under the command of General Huang Feihu, Prince for National Pacification and of Military Prowess and followed by all the officials of the royal court.

Reaching the Temple of Goddess Nu Wa, King Zhou left his royal carriage and went to the main hall, where he burned incense sticks, bowed low with his ministers and offered prayers. King Zhou then wandered about the hall, finding it splendidly decorated in gold and other colors. Before the statue of the goddess stood golden lads holding pennants, and the jade lasses holding S-shaped jade ornaments which symbolized peace and happiness. The jade hooks on the curtain hung obliquely, like new crescent moons suspended in the air, and hundreds of fine phoenixes embroidered on the curtain appeared to be flying towards the North Pole. Beside the altar of the goddess, made of fragrant wood, cranes and dragons were dancing in the scented smoke rising from the gold incense burners and the sparkling flames of the silvery candles.

As King Zhou was admiring the splendors of the hall, a whirlwinds suddenly blew up, rolling back the curtain and exposing the image oft he goddess to all. She was extremely beautiful, much more than flowers, more than the fairy in the moon palace, and certainly more than any woman in the world. She looked quite alive, smiling sweetly at the king and staring at him with joy in her eyes.

Her utter beauty bewitched King Zhou, setting him on fire with lust. He desired to possess her, and thought to himself in frustration, “Through I'm wealthy and powerful and have concubines and maid servants filling my palace, there‘s none as beautiful land charming as this goddess." He ordered his attendants to bring brush and ink and wrote a poem on the wall near the image of the goddess to express his admiration and deep love for her. The poem ran like this:

The scene is gay with phoenixes and dragons,

But they are only clay and golden colors.

Brows like winding hills in jade green,

Sleeves like graceful clouds, you're

As pear blossoms soaked with raindrops,

Charming as peonies enveloped in mist.

I pray that you come alive,

With sweet voice and gentle movements,

And I'll bring you along to my palace.

When he finished writing, Prime Minister Shang Rong approached him. “Nu Wa's been a proper goddess and the guardian angel for Zhaoge, I only suggested that you worship her so that she would continue to bless the people with timely rains and favorable winds and ensure that they'll continue to live in peace. Bur with this poem, you've not only shown tour lack on sincerity on this trip but have insulted her as well.” He demanded, “This isn't the way a king should behave. I pray you wash this blasphemous poem off the wall, lest you be condemned by the people for your immortality.”

“I found Goddess Nu Wa so beautiful that I wrote a poem in praise of her, and that’s all. Hold your tongue. Don’t forget that I am the king. People will be only too glad to read the poem I wrote in my own hand, for it enables them to identify the true beauty of the goddess.”

King Zhou dismissed him lightly. The other civil and military officials remained silent, no one daring to utter a word. They then returned tot he capital. The king went directly to the Dragon Virtue Court, where he met his queens and con in a happy reunion.

On her birthday, Goddess Nu Wa had left her palace and paid her respects to the three emperors, Fu Xi, Shen Nong and Xuan Yuan. She then returned to her temple, seated herself in the main hall, and received greetings from the golden lads and jade lasses.

Looking up, she saw the poem on the wall. “That wicked king!” She flew in to a rage. “He doesn't think how to protect his country with virtue and mortality. On the contrary, he shows no fear of Heaven and insults me with this dirty poem. How vile he is! The Shang Dynasty's already ruled for over 600 years and is coming to an end. I must take my revenge on him if I'm to assuage my own conscience.”

She took action at once. She mounted a phoenix and headed for Zhaoge.

King Zhou had two sons. One was Yin Jiao, who later became the “Star God Presiding over the Year," and the other Xin Hong, who later became the "God of Grain." As the two gods paid their respects to their father, two red divine beams rose from the tops of their heads and soared high in the sky, blocking the way of the goddess. Looking down through the clouds, Nu Wa at once realized  realized King Zhou had still twenty-eight years  to go before his downfall. She also realized that she could do nothing about it at this moment. Since that would go against the will of Heaven.

The goddess returned to her temple, highly displeased. Back in her palace, Goddess Nu Wa ordered a young maidservant to fetch a golden gourd and put it on the Cinnabar Terrace outside her court. When its stopper was removed, Nu Wa pointed at the gourd with one finger and suddenly a thick beam of brilliant white light rose from the mouth of the gourd and shot up fifty feet into the air. Hanging  from the beam was a multi-colored flag called the Demon Summoning Pennant. As soon as this pennant made its appearance, glittering high up in the sky, all demons and evil sprites, no matter where they were, would gather round.

Moments later, dark winds began to bowl, eerie fogs enveloped the earth, and vicious-looking clouds gathered in the sky. All the demons in the world had arrived to receive her command Nu Wa gave orders that all the demons return home except the three sprites that dwelt in the grave of Emperor Xuan Yuan.

Who were these three sprites? The first was a thousand—year-old female fox sprite; the second was a female pheasant sprite with nine heads; and the third was a jade lute sprite.

“May you live eternally, dear goddess!” the three sprites greeted Nu Wa, kowtowing on the Cinnabar Terrace.

“Listen carefully to my secret orders. The Shang Dynasty's destined to end soon. The singing of the phoenix at Mount Qi augurs the birth of a new ruler in West Qi. This has all been determined by the will of Heaven, and no one has the power to change what must happen. You may transform yourselves into beauties, enter the palace, and distract King Zhou from state affairs. You’ll be richly rewarded forgiving the new dynasty an auspicious start and helping the old one to its downfall. However, you mustn‘t bring harm to the people.”

at the end of her order, the three spirits kowtowed, turned themselves into winds, and flew away.

Since his visit to the Temple of the Goddess Nu Wa, King Zhou had sunk into a deep depression. He ardently admired the beauty of the goddess and, yearning for her day and night, lost all desire to eat and drink. He had no passion for his queen, his concubines, or the numerous maids in his palace. They now all appeared to him like lumps of clay. He would not be bothered with state affairs.

One day, he remembered Fei Zhong and You Hun, two minion courtiers who would flatter and slander as he pleased. King Zhou sent for Fei Zhong, and the latter appeared in no time.

“I went to worship Goddess Nu Wa recently,” King Zhou began. “She’s so beautiful I believe she has no rival in the world, and none of my concubines is to be compared with her. I’m head over heels in love, and feel very sad as I cannot get her. Have you any ideas with which to comfort me?”

“Your Majesty! With all your honor and dignity, you're the most powerful and the richest man in the world. You possess all the wealth within the four seas, and are virtuous as the sage emperors Yao and Shun. You may have anything you wish for, and you should have no difficulty in satisfying your desires. You can issue an order tomorrow demanding 100 beauties from the grand dukes. You’ll then have no trouble finding one as beautiful as Goddess Nu Wa,” Fei Zhong suggested. King Zhou was delighted. He said, “Your suggestion appeals to me greatly. I’ll issue the order tomorrow. You may return home for the time being. ”He then left the throne hall and returned to his royal chambers to rest.

If you wish to know what happened thereafter, please read the following chapter.

[grither55]

The Princess and the Peasant - (An Azula Epic) - Chapter 98 - On the Other Side

The highborn girls gradually opened their eyes to find themselves gazing on in alarm to see that they were in the back of a vehicle.

One unlike the which that they have ever seen.

And most infuriating of all, was that they could barely move!

It was if their bodies had been…chi blocked!

And their wrists and ankles…were in shackles!

The princess spun around with her furious eyes sweeping about to find herself behind a steel cage in the corner of the armored car.

Across from her was her captain seated in a similar cage.

Zoe gazed back at her with alert hazel eyes while the angered noblewoman tried to sit up only to find that her body had been…numbed.

"I can't move…my body." Azula snarled with her teeth clenched together while her enraged eyes rapidly glanced about the car.

Before she stared out from the back of the car to find herself facing her three companions also in restraints sitting on benches outside of her cage.

Her golden eyes narrowed dangerously when she saw her young girlfriend passed out beside the seated acrobat.

With her frigid eyes already burning with fury as she silently scanned the sleeping girl's face for any sign of injury.

While both Mai and Ty Lee sat in their seats with looks of anger in their eyes as they quietly listened to the sound of the military vehicle driving through the snow.

"They disabled our chi." Zoe spoke with frustration lacing her stony voice while she gazed out at her companions faces.

And if the cages that they placed herself and the princess in were anything to go by.

The soldiers had correctly deduced who could and could not bend.

"I'm…I'm sorry Azula. This is all my fault." Ty Lee muttered as she gazed down into her lap while Azula sat glaring daggers out of her cage.

"Is the girl unharmed?" The princess asked in a hardened voice with her cold eyes staring back at the teenager's dozing face.

"She's okay Azula. Although I have a suspicion that none of us will be if we don't figure something out quickly." Mai remarked in a low voice with a scowl on her lips while Azula seethed with her lips pursed into a regal glower.

While they listened to the sound of the strange vehicle rolling through the cold ground.

All the while as they gazed back at one another with alerts looks in their eyes as they tried to think of a way to escape their bonds.

"When we get out of here…I don't want to hear one word about mercy!" Azula snapped with her cold eyes glaring ahead while her two childhood friends flinched as they quietly nodded in understanding.

And then in that very moment the older girls heard their young friend beginning to stir in her seat.

While they all turned to gaze in the teenager's direction with concern in their eyes while the handmaid came to.

"Are you alright Elle?" The brown-haired woman asked in a tender voice as she gazed down at the younger girl's face from where the serving girl sat beside her.

Only for Elle's amber eyes to immediately fill up with unhidden worry as she peered back up at the taller female.

"They…they took my backpack but otherwise I'm okay. They didn't hurt you did they oneesan?" Elle pondered in a fretful voice as her lip curled up while Ty Lee managed to crack a loving smile.

"Don't worry about me little sister. I'm fine!" Ty Lee assured in a sisterly voice while Elle bit her lip as she adorably nodded her head.

Despite the gravity of their situation, having the young girl seated next to her served to offer a small sense of comfort.

Although, judging by the cold stare that Azula was directing their way she had a feeling that her possessive friend was not pleased by the seating arrangement.

"This technology is unlike anything that I have ever seen before." The captain commented in a focused voice with her hazel gaze glancing about.

While the mighty princess's lips creased into a furious scowl as she glared out with frigid golden eyes.

All the while as Elle sat in her seat with her amber eyes gazing down in nervousness.

"W-we use automobiles…cars and trucks for most land travel in place of steed and carriage. Even the poorest of commoners have them." The blonde-haired girl spoke up while her four highborn friends listened in an astounded silence.

"Wow. Even commoners have them Elle?" The brown-haired woman pondered in a taken aback voice while the princess listened with an elegant brow arching upward.

"They do oneesan. Unlike in the Fire Nation, vehicles aren't restricted to only military use. My parents had one as well." Elle explained in a helpful voice while her highborn friends listened in growing intrigue.

While the princess's lips pulled into another scowl after hearing that peasants of all people are able to afford a faster means of travel than even the best of Fire Nation steeds.

Yet even still.

She couldn't quell her curiosity to learn more about the mechanical inventions of her serving girl's homeland.

"Servant." The princess stated in a stern voice with her callous eyes gazing back at her pet's adorably devoted face.

"Yes princess?" The blonde-haired girl answered in a faithful voice while the older girl stared back at her in boundless approval that sent a delightful shiver down her spine.

"As our servant it is your duty to act as our representative with these foreign officials. Is that understood Elle?" Azula ordered in a voice of absolute dominance with her controlling eyes gazing back at her little admirer's pretty face.

Only to gaze back with satisfaction in her cold eyes when the girl tried her hardest to bow her little head in reverence.

"As Her Highness commands! I will not let you down Azula-sama!" Elle cried out in a lovable voice while Azula's frigid eyes reflected a pleased gleam that made her heart speed up.

While Mai and Ty Lee just sighed as they rode on the bench in silence.

Even when chained up and stripped of her bending, Azula still took pleasure in dominating their little sister.

"Good. See to it that you don't Elle." The princess stated in a glacial voice with her cold eyes glaring ahead while a tight scowl graced her lips.

Before she turned her head with her golden eyes narrowing once more when she heard the vehicle begin to slow down.

"They're slowing down." Zoe remarked with an edge to her stony voice while she too glared at the closest wall.

"I know you don't know Elle. But if you had to guess. What country would you say we are in?" The markswoman inquired as she glanced down at her little sister's thoughtful face through the corner of her eye.

"Um. It's really hard to say. The nations here aren't divided up by elements, because of that there are more countries here than back home in the Fire Nation." The blonde-haired girl replied in a soft voice while her highborn friends listened in a fascinated silence.

And it had not failed to escape the notice of the four older girls that the teenager had referred to the Fire Nation as 'back home'.

It was a small detail. But it was oddly pleasing to the Fire Princess all the same.

"But…going by the frigid climate. It could be Russia…or Canada. Or perhaps a smaller northern country." Elle spoke in a worried voice as she shivered in her seat while older girls gazed back at her in captivation.

"Russia…or Canada…" Azula stated in a ruthless voice with her golden eyes gazing on in ire while her breath visibly formed in the air before her face.

All the while as she took carefully controlled intakes of air in the hopes of preventing her body from freezing over.

"I see. How many nations do you have here Elle?" The captain questioned in a curious voice with her hazel eyes never losing their guarded gleam.

While the other girls still gazed back at their young friend's timid face with both concern and curiosity in their eyes.

"W-well before the great war there were almost two hundred nations scattered across the globe…" The blonde-haired girl trailed off in an awkward voice while her friends stared back at her in disbelief.

While the sound of the military vehicles pulling into a building resonated into the girls stunned ears.

A tense pause filled the air while the princess gazed on with her golden eyes expressing her incredulity.

"Two hundred? Elle!" Ty Lee blurted out with apprehension in her shocked voice while her little sister tried to nod her head.

"How does your homeland have so many countries?" Mai asked in a bewildered voice with her tawny eyes taking on an even more wary stare.

Their situation was sounded all the worse by the minute.

"I…I think it's because here nations are not formed under the basis of fire, earth, water or air. I feel like that allows for the development of more nations than if it were otherwise." Elle explained in a mousy voice while her companions listened with a numbed look in their eyes.

All the while as Azula clenched her teeth together with even greater fury burning in her callous eyes.

'I must gain control of that gateway at all costs! I cannot allow so many nations to invade my domain!' The princess thought with her cold golden eyes glaring imperiously ahead while her cage shook as the transport drove into the base.

"By Agni…that gateway is an even greater security risk that I ever imagined." Zoe spoke in an alarmed voice with her hazel eyes gazing about in search of a way to break free.

While Mai and Ty Lee could only stare on with their eyes wide in great surprise as the gravity of their dilemma sank in.

"B-but that was before the Third World War. I don't know how many are left now…." The blonde-haired girl murmured while her highborn friends listened intently.

"What…happened during the Third World War Elle?" The brown-haired woman queried in a hesitant voice while the teenager gazed down with a saddened look in her eyes.

"A weapon was released into the air that killed off a large percentage of the worldwide population." Elle revealed in a barely perceivable voice with her amber eyes staring down in a depressed silence while the older girls' eyes grew wide in shock.

Not a single member of Team Azula said a word as the car shook once more while they gazed back at their young friend in a speechless quiet.

"Nothing was ever the same again after that. We ruined much of the world beyond repair." The blonde-haired girl muttered in a glum voice as the sound of engines still roared into her ears while her friends sat in a stunned silence.

"I…I am sorry Elle. That is horrible." Ty Lee stated in a solemn voice with new realization in her brown-gray eyes while her chains rattled as the vehicle drove inside.

While Mai gazed on with a newfound look of grimness in her tawny eyes as she processed the young girl's words.

It just made it all the more horrifying to her to know that the girl had lived through such a war-ravaged world.

And now she was once again being subjected to another war for their sake.

And she couldn't help but find that it left a highly unpleasant taste in her mouth.

"A-anyway. I am quite certain that they want the unspoiled resources that your land has to offer. And we can't let them do that." Elle stammered as she peered up back at her master's cold countenance while Azula's merciless eyes glared ahead.

"Your Crown Princess has heard your council servant. And worry not. They will not be attaining the resources of the Fire Nation." Azula declared in a tone of absolute authority while she gazed out at her loyal serving girl's emotional face.

Before her lips pursed into a scowl as she pondered what the girl had just told her.

'While these nonbending nations may possess a technological advantage…. from the sound of it their land is war-torn and their countries are in a state of disarray.' The princess thought with her intelligent golden eyes taking on another calculating gleam.

Perhaps there is a way that she can turn this situation to her advantage?

And then before the five girls could say another word at long last the vehicle began to roll to a stop.

While the sound of other vehicles slowing followed soon after.

Before the four highborn women exchanged a guarded look with one another as they listened to the sound of soldier's voices drawing nearer.

"Did the other squad come back yet?" A male voice questioned as footsteps drew closer while the sound of heavy equipment being unloaded echoed into the air.

"T-they're speaking English…so it's probably not Russia." The blonde-haired girl stated in a quiet voice while her friends listened warily.

"Not that I heard." The second voice said as he strode closer.

"Any word on what the commander wants done with the lot of them?" The first man asked while the princess glared out of her cage with murderous golden eyes.

"He said that he wanted the little blonde intact." The second man answered with his words causing Elle to whimper in her seat while her friends stared on with dangerously protective looks in their eyes.

"And the others?" Robert queried while the young girl sat shivering in both fear and from the horribly cold air.

While the acrobat and the markswoman swallowed as they exchanged another look with one another.

"Fuck if I know." David responded in a tone devoid of pity while the serving girl stared on with her amber eyes agape in worry for her friend's wellbeing.

All the while as the princess and the captain rapidly continued to scan their surroundings in search of a means to break free.

Only for the girls to find their eyes spinning around when the door of the military transport was opened up at long last.

And now Team Azula found themselves glaring furiously out at a large platoon of armored soldiers while Elle shook in fear.

"Just bring them in." The lieutenant ordered as he gazed out from underneath his helmet while the princess glared imposingly out at them from the inside of her cage.

"I demand to speak with your monarch." Azula announced in a naturally authoritative voice while her cold eyes stared hard at the soldiers as they moved to open her cage.

Only for her golden eyes to stare on in rising fury when she found that she was still unable to move her limbs even as they began to unlock the cage.

While the three noblewomen gazed on with wary looks in their eyes as several men wordlessly seized the now shouting princess by the arm.

"A-Azula-sama! Please don't hurt her!" Elle cried out in a fretful voice with her kind eyes growing wide in worry while her big sister's listened in anger beside her.

"I said you will take me to your monarch." The princess ordered in an indignant voice as she was pulled forward while her captain watched with a narrowed look in her eyes.

"Azula." The brown-haired woman stated with unhidden anxiety in her voice while she watched her childhood friend get dragged out of her cage.

After all of the years that she has spent fearing Azula.

There was something utterly frightening about watching someone as powerful as her get reduced this.

"Unhand me right now peasant! I am Princess Azula of the Fire Nation and you will treat me with respect! You should know that detaining me is an act of war!" Azula bellowed in an enraged voice while her body remained limp as she was raised into the air.

While she angrily made eye contact with her worried companions before her icy eyes settled on her serving girl's distraught face.

Only for her cheeks to turn red with bubbling fury when the soldiers broke out into raucous laughter.

The team gazed on with uneasy eyes while the proud princess seethed in the laughing soldiers' arms while they pulled her up by her shoulders.

"Do you hear that boys! We got a princess!" Another soldier howled in mocking laughter while the royal woman glowered with her callous eyes now burning through his skull.

All the while as the rest of the team sat there in an unsettled silence while they watched the soldiers all break out into uncaring laughter.

Before the princess began to shake in even greater rage when she felt a hand touch her hair.

While her eyes narrowed into slits as she stared imposingly back at their jeering helmet covered faces.

"Well, I guess we better give her the royal treatment then." David chuckled while his fingers lingered in Azula's dark hair while she glared at him through the corner of her eye.

"Take your filthy fucking hand out of my Crown Princess's hair right now. Or I will cut it off the moment I regain my mobility." The captain threatened with a dangerous edge to her hardened voice while she glared out at the laughing soldiers.

And for the briefest of moments the Fire Princess turned her eyes to gaze back at her warrior with a look of recognition in her cold stare.

Only for her approval to fade away into outrage when a gloved finger brushed against her cheek while she trembled in boiling fury.

"Your Majesty." The lieutenant stated in a voice that was laced with mockery while he performed a pretend bow before the princess's seething face.

While his fellows laughed as loud as can be behind him.

And then not a moment later the princess was sent hurtling face first into the damp ground of the garage.

'Those idiots won't be laughing when Azula gets free.' Mai thought with her tawny eyes grimly observing her childhood friend's rare moment of degradation.

Azula slammed into the concrete with her entire face agape in humiliation while she shook on the cold floor with her captors chortling above her.

While her breath continued to visibly pour into the air before her reddened face while her golden eyes grew wide with murderous intent.

'The moment I regain my mobility I am going to kill every last one of them!' The princess thought with pure rage boiling over in her eyes while she clenched her jaw in indignation.

Only for her young servant's angered voice to shout out into her ears while she swallowed as she attempted to turn her head to gaze in the young girl's direction.

"S-stop treating her like that! She's the first dignitary from her land to ever step foot beyond that gate! Her visit here is historical! You should be receiving her with honor! Not degrading her!" The blonde-haired girl shouted in a distressed voice with her amber eyes wide in panic.

While the princess listened with a rare appreciation in her eyes from where she lay with her face against the floor.

All the while as the three noblewomen gazed at their young friend with a sense of gratitude in their eyes.

Only for the foreign soldiers to pay the young girl no mind as they walked forward to collect the others.

"This isn't about history kid. And we don't give a shit how your friends feel. Get the others!" David commanded in a dismissive voice as he pulled Azula up by her shoulder plate while the princess's seethed as she hung in the air.

While the highborn women watched with tense looks in their eyes as the soldiers rushed in to apprehend them.

And not even a second later Mai was being pulled out by the arm while the noblewoman glared daggers at her captors.

"P-please don't harm them!" Elle pleaded in a frantic voice with her eyes agape in worry while the acrobat scowled beside her.

"Will someone shut this kid up?" Robert stated with annoyance in his voice while the princess's golden glare increased by tenfold.

And soon after that the noblewomen were staring on with fury in their eyes when the teenager was roughly dragged out of the transport.

"Leave her alone!" Ty Lee yelled with great anger in her voice as she was yanked forward while Elle's petite form was coldly shoved out of the vehicle.

"If…if you have to hurt someone…hurt me. Just don't hurt my friends." The blonde-haired girl spoke in a gentle hearted voice as she was shoved forward while her four friends listened with affected looks in their eyes.

While Zoe scowled as she was pulled out of the transport last by her elbows.

All the while as she glared at the soldiers with coldly narrowed hazel eyes as her breath blew into the frigid air.

And not a moment after that the Fire Nation women found themselves watching with their blood boiling when their young friend was pushed down onto the frigid pavement.

The teenager cried out as she hit the concrete while several of the soldiers chuckled in amusement above her.

While her four highborn friends now stared on with furiously narrowed eyes.

None more so than Azula herself.

In the very instant that Elle's face hit the floor.

The princess's golden eyes narrowed into predatory slits while her lips shook in a bloodthirsty glower.

While Naoki's words from their earlier meeting replayed in her mind.

 They don't deserve any mercy.

"I suggest you worry less about them. And more about yourself." The lieutenant stated in an uncaring voice with his eyes gazing down at the young girl's fearful face.

Before another soldier pulled the frightened teenager to her feet and then began to drag her across the cold garage.

"Bastards." The markswoman snapped under her breath with her teeth clenched as she was carried forward by the armed soldiers.

While the captain kept silent as she was hauled along by a soldier flanking her from each side.

All the while as her hazel eyes stared icily after the soldier's backs.

"You commoner…what's your name?" Azula hissed with the flames of purgatory burning in her golden eyes while she stared back at the would-be leader's helmet covered face.

Before the man turned to briefly glance back at her through his visor while he paid the highborn girl's glares little mind.

"David." David answered with a snort while Azula's monstrous golden eyes glared back at him.

"David. I am going to kill you." The princess declared in a matter of fact voice with her chilling words causing her two childhood friends to shudder as they were dragged along.

"You ladies won't be moving for quite some time. They gave you the same compound that they used to bring down Twenty-One. If it shut down her good. It'll do the same for you." The lieutenant replied in a scoff while the two firebenders stared furiously back at him.

While the princess was hauled along with her livid golden eyes glaring ahead of her.

All the while as she bared her teeth much like a wrathful dragon with her cold gaze keeping a close eye on her terrified girlfriend.

While all of Team Azula exchanged wary looks with one another as they were escorted through the depths of the frigid building.

And Elle was carried along at the forefront with her amber eyes staring ahead in unconcealed apprehension.

'No matter what it takes to save them…I will do it. Even if it costs me my life. I'll do it for Azula-sama…for my oneesans…for my friends.' Elle thought with her emotional eyes squeezing shut while she pulled along by the soldiers.

And then soon the four highborn women were dragged past many strange parked military vehicles.

While they gazed on with both anger and fascination in their eyes as they surveyed their foreign conditions.

All the while as countless alien light structures lit the entirety of the military garage as they gazed up at the bizarre beams in amazement.

Just before they all found themselves being guided through double doors that opened up automatically with a mechanical hiss.

And then soon enough they were being led down a long underground tunnel corridor with tube pipes running down the length of the overhead ceiling.

And bright lights shined above them while the team gazed up in grudging intrigue as they took in all of the sights and sounds around them.

'This is all…powered without bending?' Azula thought with her golden eyes sweeping about in fascination much like a predator taking notes on her surroundings.

While they passed by many turns and passageways that were filled to the brim with far too many armed soldiers to count.

Until finally at long last the team was shoved to a stop before an open doorway.

Just as they all turned their eyes to find themselves gazing back at a large stationary platoon of soldiers.

And standing at the front was the same scarred man that had taken the acrobat hostage from before!

While the Fire Nation women now narrowed their eyes as they glared at the uniformed man as he turned to smile coldly back at them.

"Welcome. I hope that you ladies are enjoying yourselves." The colonel greeted in a voice that was laced with mockery as he stepped forward while the princess's golden eyes burned through his forehead.

Before the princess pursed her lips into a haughty sneer while her subordinates mustered nasty glares of their own.

All the while as the teenager quivered with a fretful look in her amber eyes as the man sauntered towards them.

"I presume that you're the leader of this base?" The princess questioned in an ever-dignified voice with her callous eyes gazing at the approaching man much like a feline eying her prey.

"You presume correctly. I am Colonel Reynolds. Judging by your demeanor and uniform I take it that you are the commander of your group." Reynolds stated as he strode forward with his gloved hands folded behind his back.

While he stared back at the older girl's distrusting faces with harsh blue eyes before he turned his gaze to Elle's fearful face.

"Indeed. I am Princess Azula of the Fire Nation. And be assured that I am the master of everyone in this group. That and so much more." Azula spoke in a sanguine voice with her head held while she gazed coldly back into the man's seemingly amused blue eyes.

Before the commander came to a stop before the group with his gaze turning from one to the other.

While the captain too stared back at him with remarkably fearless hazel eyes.

All the while as the acrobat and the markswoman exchanged looks through the corner of their eyes.

While they too stared icily back at the scarred man's smirking face.

"Princess Azula…" The colonel trailed off with a gleam in his eyes as he gazed back into the princess's sadistic golden eyes while another soldier stepped up behind him.

"Sir. The holder girl aside. We performed a scan on these four, these two here…have an abnormally high-power reading." A soldier stated as gestured to the two firebenders while the two women's eyes flashed with an unmistakable look of great pride.

'Power reading…is that a measurement of our chi?' The princess thought with her golden eyes taking on a calculating stare while her lips almost curved into a proud smile.

"And the other two?" Reynolds asked in a cold voice while he turned his eyes to the other two noblewomen's scowling faces.

"Not so much. By their readings they don't seem to be aura users. But from what we've seen they are still highly dangerous and it could simply be that their power is untapped." The officer concluded as he gazed back at the two noblewomen's partly insulted faces.

"I see. The nation that you hail from…you say that it is called the Fire Nation." The colonel continued in an emotionless voice as he gazed from one female to the other while the captain met his gaze.

"That's right. And I am the Crown Princess's second in command." Zoe informed in a stony voice with her hazel gazing at the man's mildly curious face while two soldiers held her up from behind.

"How fascinating…you are from another land entirely…but your clothing resembles that of Imperial Japan." Reynolds stated with his blue eyes scrutinizing the group while the highborn women raised their brows in bewilderment.

Not only had their young friend disclosed that she was one fourth Japanese.

But on top of that they have since learned that it was a country ruled by the mysterious woman called Rieko.

And yet most baffling of all was the fact that this man was stating that their attire bore a similarity to that of this Japan!

Azula's golden eyes flickered with intrigue as she tried to gaze in her young servant's direction for guidance.

All the while as Elle chewed on her lip as she gazed back up at the imposing man.

'Where…. have I seen his face before? And why does he look so familiar?' The blonde-haired girl thought with her lips curling into an apprehensive frown while she quietly studied the commander's scarred countenance.

"And yet…all of you speak English." The colonel spoke in a curious voice while he gazed back at the Fire Nation women's increasingly puzzled faces.

"English? We call it the common tongue." The captain replied in a composed voice while the commander paused to glance her way once more.

"The common tongue…how curious. I would like to know more about your Fire Nation. That…if you care to enlighten me…princess." Reynolds remarked in a taunting voice as he turned to gaze back into Azula's ruthlessly glaring golden eyes.

"I would be glad to do so. We are a nation of proud conquerors that have no rival. And if you do not release us, your nation will be burned to ashes in retaliation." Azula announced in a tyrannical voice with her merciless eyes staring right back into the commander's unblinking blue eyes.

While her four subordinates remained silence as they gazed back at the uniformed man's emotionless face.

Only for many soldiers throughout the room to break out into a round of loud laughter.

All the while as the team stared on with angered looks in their eyes.

And the powerful Fire Princess still gazed ruthlessly back at the commander's laughing face with a scarily cold look in her golden eyes.

"Proud conquerors. And you bring an army of five, with swords and knives, absent an armada." The colonel commented in a tone devoid of respect as his chuckles died down while he stared back into the princess's seething golden eyes.

While the team remained silent as they silently shivered after they sensed their leader's palpable rage.

'Laugh while you can worm. Because I am going to make you scream.' The princess thought with her glacial eyes narrowing into an utterly monstrous death glare at the man's still smirking face.

"There is nothing to burn that we haven't already burned down ourselves." The colonel stated with sadistic amusement in his voice while the older girl's eyes briefly flickered in a flash of interest.

All the while as Elle turned her eyes away with a saddened look in her amber eyes that her highborn friends were quick to take note of.

Before the group suddenly found themselves gazing on in alarm when the commander waved his right hand in the air.

And not a second later the princess was struck from behind by the back of a rifle.

And then Azula was swiftly forced onto her knees while she still stared up with a furious golden gaze.

Only for her callous eyes to widen ever so marginally when Reynolds withdrew his pistol and aimed it directly between her eyes.

And now the team was staring on at the scene with unconcealed trepidation in their eyes.

While Elle's amber eyes were already growing wide in horror for the princess's wellbeing.

"In any event princess. I don't need you. And I wager that killing you will make your comrades…more pliable." Reynolds declared with a smirk on his cruel lips as he stared down into Azula's eyes while the princess clenched her jaw in humiliation.

While Mai and Ty Lee gazed on with their eyes quickly growing wide in worry for their friend's safety.

And Zoe herself watched while she gritted her teeth with anger over their helpless state in her hazel eyes.

Only for their young friend's panicked voice to ring out in protest once more while the princess knelt on the ground with her teeth bared in her fury.

"S-stop! Please no! I'll tell you anything you want! J-just please don't kill my princess!" Elle blurted out in a wildly emotional voice as she shook in the soldier's grip while her highborn friends listened in a heartfelt silence.

While Azula's frigid golden eyes now stared on with a grudgingly moved expression in her gaze.

All the while as she still glared up into Reynold's sadistic eyes while he gazed between her and her frantic girlfriend.

While the commander still had yet to lower his gun.

"The people of the Fire Nation are ruled by a Fire Lord and Azula-sama is the heir to the throne! They speak the same verbal language as us but their writing language seems to be similar to written Chinese!" The blonde-haired girl exclaimed in a frantic voice while she gazed on with a flustered look in her amber eyes.

While the four older girls listened with confusion and intrigue in their eyes as they gazed back at their clearly distraught companion.

'They have a similar written language to ours called Chinese?' Azula thought with her elegant brows furrowing in contemplation while she still glared up at the commander with boiling golden eyes.

"Interesting. And yet none of that information changes the fact that I have no use for her. Or any of them really." The colonel stated in a cruel voice with his pistol still pushing into the princess's furious forehead while the three noblewomen gazed on in surmounting anxiety.

"P-please. I'll do whatever you want if you just let my friends go." Elle begged in a hysterical voice with her golden bangs shadowing her eyes while her friends glanced at her in rising alarm.

"Elle no!" The brown-haired woman shouted with fury in her sisterly voice while she shook in dread over the thought of leaving the girl behind.

While the princess sunk forward with her teeth ground together as she snarled up at the commander's smirking visage.

'Foolish girl! Don't offer that!' The princess thought with her icy eyes narrowing in a bloodthirsty wrath while she glared into the man's arrogant blue eyes.

"Why would I ever agree to that when I already have half of what I want…that being you." Reynolds answered in a pitiless voice with his harsh eyes still gazing down into Azula's enraged golden eyes.

"I-I'm begging you! I can't stand the thought of her coming to any harm!" The blonde-haired girl cried out as she sunk forward in her captor's arms while her misty amber eyes gazed up in hysteria.

All the while as the highborn women of the Fire Nation listened in a speechlessly moved state of silence.

And for the most fleeting of moments Azula's merciless golden eyes flashed with a tiny sliver of long buried emotion.

Before the mighty princess once again pursed her seething lips into a glower as she defiantly glared up into her new enemy's sadistic blue gaze.

Until at long last to Elle's great relief Reynolds finally lowered his gun to his side.

While the group gazed on in a floored quiet as the man gazed coldly down into the princess's proudly livid golden eyes.

"For the time being I will leave them unharmed." The colonel agreed with his blue eyes staring mockingly down into the royal woman's humiliated eyes.

"T-thank you." Elle breathed in a barely perceivable voice while her highborn friends still stared hatefully at the commander's monstrous face.

"Don't thank me. I have no doubt that while I have no use for them. That they will be of great interest to the researcher." Reynolds announced with a small smile on his cruel lips while the team fell their stomachs drop.

And that was all the confirmation the Fire Nation women needed to know that the man was only playing a sick game with them.

"R-researcher?" The blonde-haired girl asked in a horrified voice with her amber eyes already growing wide in distress once more.

Before the commander turned to smirk at the three snarling noblewomen before turning his cold gaze down to the princess's simply murderous countenance.

"He is a scientist…with a fondness for human experimentation. And I am quite certain that he will be delighted to acquire such a beautiful royal test subject." The colonel remarked in a heartless voice as he took the princess's seething chin in hand while the group stared on in horror.

While the team gazed on with their eyes filled with dread as they recalled the old sage's words.

 He is a beast who is obsessed with knowledge…a deranged scientist.

"N-no! No! Please no!" Elle cried out with returning hysteria in her voice while she was hoisted up by the soldiers from behind.

And then not the princess was pulled up by the soldiers while she stared at her captor with her predatory golden eyes narrowed in bloodlust.

While the three noblewomen glowered as they found themselves being pulled back by the soldiers.

"Just you wait…Reynolds. I will destroy you!" Azula hissed with venomous fury lacing her refined voice while her callous eyes glared back at her enemy's smirking face.

"And that is a promise." Zoe spoke with frigid agreement in her stony voice while the commander let out a dismissive chuckle.

Just before a soldier rushed out from the crowd with an alert look about him.

"Sir! The senator has arrived!" The soldier yelled out in mid salute while the commander's blue eyes flickered in recognition.

While the highborn women exchanged an uneasy look with one another before they found themselves being hauled forward once more.

"In the meantime, put them in with our other guest." Reynolds commanded with a dark smirk on his lips while he gazed back into the princess's bubbling golden eyes.

And just like that the team was escorted out of the room while they gazed ahead with a shared apprehension in their eyes.

While Azula and Zoe exchanged guarded look as they glared at their captor's through the corner of their eyes.

"O-other guest?" The blonde-haired girl questioned in a fearful voice while her highborn friends stared hatefully at the soldiers that surrounded them.

And for reasons that she couldn't fathom.

The closer they got to their destination the more her spine began to tingle with a terror that she knew all too well.

"It's time that you attended a family reunion." David commented in an uncaring voice as Elle's amber eyes grew as wide as humanly possible.

"F-family…reunion?" Elle pondered in a terrified voice while her companions gazed with rapidly growing alarm in their narrowed eyes.

Just as she heard a frighteningly familiar voice call out from the other end of the hall.

And that was all it took for the color to drain from her aghast face.

Which did not go unnoticed by her four furious friends.

"I would like a cigarette…and a steak… rare." Felix called out in the distance in an eerily casual voice while the team listened with bewildered looks in their eyes.

Until they turned to their young friend's hauntingly petrified eyes while the girl noisily swallowed the lump that was in her throat.

"W-what…what is Felix doing here?" The blonde-haired girl asked in an apprehensive gasp while her princess's golden eyes widened in surprise.

"Same as you five. He was captured." The lieutenant stated in a dismissive voice while the highborn women stared on with stunned looks in their eyes.

Before they all turned to gaze at an approaching prison door with their eyes staring on in a rare state of shared hate.

The mere fact that the girl was more afraid of her own brother than an entire base of ruthless soldiers spoke volumes about the boy's cruelty!

"Captured? That…that is just what he wants you to think!" Elle insisted with her amber eyes now wide in paranoia while her heart began to beat rapidly in terror.

While Azula's golden eyes now stared violently at the door as she bared her fangs in dominant fury.

All the while as Mai and Ty Lee gazed with protectively narrowed eyes at the steel door.

And Zoe gazed on with a narrowed look in her stony hazel eyes while she quietly scanned the surroundings of metal fortress.

"Please. The boy is nothing more than a trigger-happy delinquent." David scoffed as he unlocked the door with a click while Elle trembled in her captor's arms.

"Please put us in another room!" The blonde-haired girl protested in a wildly anxious voice while the acrobat watched with a vigilant scowl on her usually kind lips.

Only to find herself being carried forward by the guards despite her protests.

And then the guarded team gazed on with loathing in their eyes as they observed the prison door open up before them.

While the four older girl's eyes grew wide with pure unadulterated wrath as they gazed back at the lone prisoner seated in the prison.

All the while as Elle's heart continued to violently pound in her chest as she now stared back in horror at her older brother's face.

Felix sat with his back against the wall with his hands cuffed behind his back.

Just as he turned to gaze back at their surprised faces with his amber eyes expressing a sense of delight at the sight of his little sister's paling face.

While his amused amber eyes momentarily swept over each of the highborn women's enraged faces before he settled on Azula's smoldering golden eyes.

Before he turned to smile back at his terrified sister as they gazed back into each other's eyes.

"Hey there, Sis." The brother spoke with his lips pulling into a smirk while he stared back into his little sister's horrified amber eyes.

And then the sound of the steel door slamming shut echoed throughout the halls of the military fortress.

And finally, in the control room.

Reynolds stood before a private monitor screen with his arms folded over his chest.

While his lips curved into a smug smile when a face appeared on the screen.

A woman of high military rank now stood on the other end of the connection.

Her coffee brown hair was tied in a bun and her sharp gray eyes were now staring back at the man on the other side.

Her body was adorned in shimmering combat armor and a long green cape flowed majestically behind her.

Her face was by all accounts lovely yet her facial expression conveyed an unparalleled arrogance that could put even a certain princess to shame.

"Air Commander Andromeda. It pleases me that you accepted my call." Reynolds greeted in a cautious voice while he gazed back at the woman's conceited visage.

"What is it that you want Colonel Reynolds? Moreover…why should I even care about what you have to say in the first place." The air commander spoke in a hubristic voice as she turned up her nose to the smirking man.

"Send a message to your Lord. I have several gifts for her. Gifts that I know she will be delighted to receive." The colonel announced in a scheming voice with a victorious smirk on his lips.

While Andromeda now gazed back with an intrigued look in her snake like eyes.

All the while as the man's lips still formed a gratified smile.

He couldn't have asked for a more fortunate turn of events.

Everything was going according to his plan.

All that was left was to capture Number Three.

And then everything would fall into place in his favor.