Chapter Text
Lady Jaina Proudmoore, Archmage and Ruler of Theramore, was perhaps not in the best of moods. It had been a year and a half since she established her city of refugees, and whilst she had loved every second of it and cared for her people immensely, it could get incredibly tiring.
She sighed and gazed out of her office window. Her tower, located in the heart of Theramore, was not only a beacon to her people but also a place of solace and security for the mage. She spent her days dedicating every waking minute to ensuring that her home not only survived, but thrived.
It also allowed her to escape the memories, if only for a brief while. The ghosts of Stratholme and Daelin Proudmoore were not always so easily silenced, though. She grimaced. Not now.
With a flick of her braid, she refocused on the task at hand. Early trade agreements with Darnassus. Tyrande Whisperwind had approached her recently, and Jaina had jumped at the possibility of opening a flight path, and setting up a trade route via the coast. While a fantastic idea, and an excellent way to access sustainably harvested lumber, it came with its own problems. Primarily, keeping the trade route and flight path safe from the ever growing conflicts with the Horde. Conflicts she herself was (so far unsuccessfully) trying to bring an end to, and all from her little isle.
Tyrande was skeptical of peace, but willing to negotiate. An equal exchange of merchants and guardians - but Jaina wanted to apply some more magical means of protection, and the Kaldorei were suspicious of the arcane by nature.
What a headache. There was only one thing for it.
Esteemed High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind,
I understand and hear your concerns on the use of magic. I do however believe it will be essential in avoiding unnecessary conflict and keeping both of our people safe. If it will soothe you, I am willing to make a compromise.
I will create and maintain the magical protections myself; only those directly trained by me will be allowed to help me in this endeavour. That currently applies to only one other, my apprentice, Kinndy Sparkshine.
Additionally, if it is agreeable, you could send a small group of Kaldorei, be they Sentinels or Priestesses, to watch over this process. This could help ensure that there is no abuse or overuse of the Arcane. Perhaps, in time, they could become something of a Kaldorei Embassy here in Theramore.
I look forward to future correspondence, and the benefits this trade agreement will bring both our peoples.
Kind Regards,
Lady Jaina Proudmoore, Ruler of Theramore.
J.Proudmoore
With a hopeful feeling, she signed off and sealed the letter, the sigil of Theramore pressed firmly into the gold and white wax. With a wave of her hand, she teleported the letter to the post office, and settled back in her chair.
The weather was fair enough today, and in the soft evening light she had a lovely view of the harbour. She gazed towards the small piece of the mainland they had claimed, the lively village that was slowly growing to be a bustling town. The isle itself, whilst an excellent bulwark against attacks and strategic center of operations, was simply not large enough to host a fully accommodated city. But the many bridges connecting them to the smaller outcrops and the mainland allowed for traffic to flow freely, and for people to settle comfortably.
Unbidden, her mind drifted again to Stratholme and even more painfully, Quel’Thalas. At her mother’s behest, and after things had ended with Arthas, Jaina had entered into an engagement with the Ranger General of Quel’Thalas.
Sylvanas Windrunner.
It was to signify what would hopefully be an exchange of military knowledge and power. Jaina hadn’t minded too much, but had chafed when she had not even been able to meet her intended for a full year. It was only when Jaina was twenty-one that they had first met, and she had fully intended to corner her fiance for her evasiveness. She was not some simpering maiden to be ignored. She was her wife to be. A small measure of consideration could be expected.
Only, the fiance in question had appeared both beautiful, wise, and increasingly tired when they finally met. The constant threat of both the Amani and the Horde was taking its toll, and she was still mourning the loss of her mother and youngest brother years prior. There had been an edge in her eyes that had suggested an even greater loss, but Jaina hadn’t dared to question it.
So Jaina had swallowed her anger, and taken the sun-kissed elf on a tour of Kul Tiras that had ended with a particularly bawdy scene in a pub after one two many ales. Ever the gentlewoman, Sylvanas had escorted her safely home and made plans to visit with her in just two weeks.
Jaina had been smitten, and that was before the letters began. Sylvanas was reserved and a seasoned general and warrior, but there was a softness that crept into her correspondence with her young bride to be. The mage knew it was unlikely the High Elf had fallen for her in the same way she herself had, but she was determined to prove herself worthy of the love she knew Sylvanas was capable of.
Jaina’s heart had ached whenever Sylvanas described her life, a thousand years of fighting a war with no end in sight. So when she wrote back, she included snippets of home, pieces of flimsy that might bring comfort. Sometimes it was a poorly embroidered handkerchief, other times a few scribbled lines of the latest poetry she was reading.
Sylvanas had received these with warm affection, and often responded in kind with small tokens of Quel’Thalas, and once a handwritten piece of poetry. Jaina had felt like a foolish court girl, not the esteemed daughter of the Lord Admiral. It had been a surprisingly welcome change.
The pang in her chest was familiar but most unwelcome. Feeling like a mouse in a maze, destined to repeat its path again and again, Jaina wandered to her chambers. Pained followed one step behind, quiet as she always was when she sensed the mood her charge sometimes succumbed to. Pained took up residence in her sitting chambers whilst Jaina moved to her bedroom, forlorn. She pulled an all too familiar box from her wardrobe.
Inside, carefully bound with twine, was every letter Sylvanas Windrunner had ever sent her. She set these aside, and gazed at the small items that remained within. A golden brooch fashioned after a hawkstrider’s tailfeather, a hand carved stag, a pressed peace-blossom and a small scrap of paper.
As always, it was the paper that she drew out. So worn from being handled and read, time and time again, many of the words had faded. Yet snippets remained.
...golden rays could not compare… Belore kissed… the stem beneath the rose...
She swallowed roughly and put the paper carefully back in its place, alongside the letters. She did not dare touch the stag, knowing its familiar craftsmanship would bring even more pain than her intended’s looping, scrawling lettermenship would.
As if to mock her, the light caught the edge of the ring she still wore, drawing her gaze. Jaina let out a soft sound, not unlike a wounded animal, and traced the edge with her free hand. Elvish made and set with gems of soft gold and green, the colours of the Eversong forest, she had yet to remove it. She claimed to those who asked it was a good way to ward off future suitors, but the truth was when she had learned of her fiance’s death just over two years ago, she had been unable to fathom marrying someone else.
Twenty four years old, and she was certain she’d had more than enough of love and all its trappings.
Jaina had only felt more and more for Sylvanas Windrunner as their courtship had progressed. Sylvanas had been a warmth she hadn’t known she needed, especially when she spent so much time holed up in the halls and libraries of Dalaran. She wanted to believe the feeling had been reciprocated, or at least was beginning to be when everything had fallen to dust and ruin.
And then she had turned her back on Arthas at Stratholme, and signed the Ranger General’s execution order with her own foolish inaction. The part of her that had wished the hopeful boy in Arthas lived on had doomed the woman she loved, and her people. She hadn’t even considered he would become the creature he had, that he would slaughter the elves for the Sunwell. For that, Sylvanas had paid the ultimate price.
And now the Scourge roamed the world whilst the Lich King commanded them from his icy throne. Even if she had survived, Jaina was certain Sylvanas would not be able to look at her without disgust. Without hatred.
Mostimes, Jaina couldn’t even look at herself without feeling it.
Gently replacing the box in the wardrobe, she returned to the sitting room and sat down next to Pained, leaning heavily on her friend, guard, and confidant. Neither spoke, but Jaina found herself deeply grateful for her solid presence.
Pained had never quite understood her feelings, mainly due to her own prejudices against the Quel’Dorei. And yet she had never failed to comfort Jaina, because a warrior as old as she was could understand the pain of losing a loved one.
Eventually, a maid came in to deliver their dinner. Pained refused to eat until Jaina did, an age-old trick to force the weary mage into taking care of herself. When Jaina was finished, Pained ate before bidding her goodnight and traded off with a nightguard at the door.
She’d always wondered how difficult it had been for the Kaldorei to adapt to a daylight routine, but the steadfast woman had assured her it caused her no stress.
Tired but pleased with the day’s work, Jaina curled up in her favourite armchair and lit the fire with a lazy spell. Picking up her book from the side table, she fell back into a book on the history of the arcane. She’d used to love fiction novels that were full of adventure and romance, and it was a love she had shared with Sylvanas. In that last year when they had been actively courting, they had shared many beloved books with each other.
Jaina simply couldn’t bring herself to enjoy them anymore.
As the fire slowly burned down, Jaina’s mind finally ground to a halt, and she welcomed the brief reprieve the darkness offered. Perhaps the fire would help ward off the nightmares.
♦♦♦
Jaina woke with a familiar pounding in her skull and an ache in her spine that spoke of one too many nights in her armchair.
She resolved to spend tonight on the chaise lounge instead. As long as Pained didn’t find out, she likely wouldn’t face any reprimand for it.
It's not that her bed wasn’t comfortable, but rather that she could never truly rest in it. Something about letting herself sleep peacefully didn’t sit right. Not whilst knowing her father’s spirit and her homeland were baying for her blood, restless and vengeful. Not whilst knowing that the woman she had adored would never rest comfortably again, all thanks to Jaina. On the nights she did lay there the guilt would eat her alive, and when sleep finally claimed her so too did the dreams.
So the couch it was.
Jaina stood up and stretched out like a languid cat; her bones gave a satisfying crack. She looked out the window and knew it was only just dawn. Soon, Pained would be awake to pester her into eating breakfast, and Kinndy would be along for her morning lesson. Then all the joys of ruling a country on your own would catch up with her, and she would bemoan her lack of assistants once again.
The mailbox by her door chimed, and she hummed as she moved towards it. It was rare that correspondence was sent directly to her chambers; it must have been rather urgent. Knowing who delivered the letter or package would already be gone, Jaina didn’t bother to fix her rumpled robes.
She withdrew the rather small letter and moved into her sitting room, opening it as she went. Jaina frowned at the contents as she sat.
The letter was from one of her few intelligence agents, and spoke of Scourge individuals allegedly advancing on Alliance cities.Once they had been close enough to be discerned as dead men walking, had been shot down by archers.
She sighed. Another complication. Another bitter reminder of what Arthas had taken from her, and what she herself had failed to do. She could never forget that she was not innocent in all of this, and that the blame for the death of so many would always fall back to her.
She burnt the letter in her hand with a touch of arcane energy, and watched as it curled into ash and smoke. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there before Pained let herself in, breakfast tray in hand. It was enough to startle her back to the world of the waking.
“You know we have servants who could do this,” Jaina mumbled, knowing it was useless.
Pained was having none of it. “Yes, but none of them would ensure you eat it.”
She glared at the tall Kaldorei but nonetheless began to eat. “I sent off yet another letter to Tyrande. We may end up with a Kaldorei embassy in Theramore.”
Pained hummed. “I cannot tell you more of Tyrande Whisperwind than I already have. She is smart, and will make her decisions with careful calculation, and she is fair, but her wrath is not to be underestimated.”
Jaina smiled dryly. “Good thing I’ve done nothing to incite her wrath then.”
Pained let the corner of her lip curl, before looking pointedly at the tray and taking a pastry for herself.
Jaina rolled her eyes but took a croissant and a glass of juice, already knowing it would be her favourite. The kitchens here spoiled her, and she knew it.
Despite her earlier reluctance, the taste of apple-berry did wonders for her mood. Feeling sufficiently perked up, she left her ever ravenous guard to demolish the remains of the spread and meandered over to her bedroom and wardrobe.
“You slept in the living area, didn’t you?” Pained questioned, a hint of accusation in her voice.
Jaina barely withheld a wince. Primly, she replied, “You have no evidence of that fact, Pained.”
The woman in question huffed. “Except for the Lady Proudmoore shaped impression in the armchair and the fact you are still wearing yesterday's robes?”
This time she did wince. Lady Proudmoore meant she was in trouble. She was usually ‘Lady Jaina’, or on miraculously good and rare occasions, ‘Jaina’.
“I fell asleep reading,” she called back.
“You can read in your bed, if you intend to fall asleep.”
Shrugging off her heavy robes and trading them in for something fractionally lighter - it was a bit warm today - she stewed over her bodyguard's words. Pained both understood and didn’t, but Jaina knew it all came from a place of loyalty, if not affection.
“You’re not my nursemaid.” She reminded gently, walking back into the main rooms. “You needn’t fuss.”
“Yet I am your guard, and your safety is my concern.” There was a beat of silence before she continued, “And I am your friend, so your wellbeing is also my concern.”
This caught Jaina’s attention. She padded over barefoot, and didn’t hesitate to pull the taller woman into a hug. Pained was stiff at first, but eventually wrapped her arms tightly around the younger woman and rested her chin on her head.
Moments of affection were rare between them, and rarer all the more for Jaina herself. She had to remember that Pained was not just a friendly and devoted guard. She was also the woman who had offered her comfort and companionship in some of the mage’s darkest hours, and had asked nothing in return.
They stayed like that for just a moment longer, and Jaina willfully dashed her plans for the coming night's rest. She didn’t want to worry her friend.
“I’ll go to bed tonight, properly. I promise.”
She felt Pained smile for a second against her scalp, before the two parted. “Good.”
Looking for her shoes, she said, “I got a letter from one of your spies.”
Pained chuckled, wry. “I imagine I’ve already seen it, and had it sent on.”
“I’d imagine so.” Jaina agreed, hopping on one foot as she pulled on her first boot. “Odd that the Scourge is sending out such small forces, in plain daylight.”
Pained agreed with her. “I’m not certain of their tactics. I want to keep an eye on them for now.”
Jaina snorted. With Arthas wrecking havoc safely from within Northrend, it wasn’t hard to ‘keep an eye’ on the Scourge. They went where they pleased and destroyed as they will.
They left the room and the topic behind. The day would wait for no one, and she had lessons to teach and infrastructure to oversee.
Kinndy met her with the unbridled enthusiasm only she could harness. “Heya, teacher!”
It drew a small smile from Jaina. “Hello, Kinndy. I hope you read through the scrolls I left you. Today we will be looking at battle appropriate tactics of frost magic, and using precision in large spells.”
The lesson was a breeze, as it almost always was. Whilst Kinndy’s never ending supply of energy could be tiresome for the average person, Jaina often found herself feeling refreshed by it. It didn’t hurt that Kinndy reminded her of herself, ever eager to learn everything she could in the halls and libraries of Dalaran.
With only one incident requiring Jaina to defrost the training room, the lesson concluded with no grievous injuries. She considered that a success; her own time as an apprentice had left her black and blue more often than not.
The rest of her day was relatively mindless and monotone. She knew better than to expect an immediate reply from Tyrande, yet she couldn’t help the way her heart jolted when she realised she had a new letter awaiting her in her office.
Biting her lip, she turned it over only to feel a jolt of fear. The emblem of Kul Tiras was Kul Tiras was emblazoned upon it, and she broke the wax seal with a trembling hand.
She had almost forgotten that she’d sent off yet another letter to her mother a week ago. A piece of her would always ache for her mother’s embrace, and even more so in the wake of her father’s death. She knew she was guilty, knew that she didn’t deserve it… and yet she couldn’t help but long for it.
The faintest smell of smoke hit her first, followed only by a dull realisation that her mother had taken things a step further than usual. Typically, her letters were returned without being read, or she received no reply at all.
Today, she dipped her fingers into the envelope and withdrew only ash. Katherine Proudmoore could not have been clearer than if she had penned a scathing reply herself. Jaina truly was unwanted.
She bit her lip so fiercely she tasted iron, and willed her eyes to dry. It would do no good for the citizens of Theramore to see their leader so shaken. She dragged in a single, raggedy breath, and touched the anchor on her chest. It only served to deepen the pain.
She sighed and looked at the sun. Although the bodies of the Kul Tirans who had died on her shores fighting a senseless battle had been sent home, there was still a small monument for all the lives lost - on both sides.
Jaina had about an hour to spare. Casting the remains of her letter aside, she set off at a quick pace down the tower. She could surely teleport herself there, but it felt like the kind of day where a walk might soothe her.
Cutting through the back alleyways she knew by heart, she made her way down to the shoreline and the memorial it hosted. With a twitch of her fingers, a bouquet of icy flowers filled her hands.
Staring at all the names etched onto the stone, there was a moment where she was certain she would crack and fall apart. But she couldn’t; not with Pained two steps behind her, already far too worried for her wellbeing than she ought to be.
The Daughter of the Sea, indeed.
If only he had listened. But Jaina had to have gotten her stubbornness somewhere, she supposed.
With a soft sigh she lay the frozen blossoms in front of the already cracked stone. Her eyes traced countless Kul Tiran names, but her heart lurched when she saw all the dead that belonged to Theramore. Daelin Proudmoore had cost her so much, and yet here she sat, mourning him.
Was it not an affront to her people, her city, to do such a thing? How could she claim to love them, to only think of their safety, whilst mourning someone who had sought to bring them such harm?
A gull’s shrill cry broke her from her reverie. Her hour was up, and she was due on the mainland to oversee the newest housing district. She offered her services as a mage as much as possible, and did her best to use any tax and government revenue to help with construction. She was hoping to have the roads on the mainland paved soon, and a perimeter fence set up. It wasn’t ideal, but with tensions as high as they were, her people needed security. Especially those so far from her tower. She’d set the wards herself, if need be.
She’d teetered on a knife's edge claiming the small piece of the mainland she had; now it was her duty to protect it. Plus, it had been uninhabited before she had laid down roots there. She was no conqueror. She was no Arthas.
Jaina flinched back from the thought and opened a portal. There was work to be done.
♦♦♦
It was three exhausting days of renovations and expansions later that saw her slumped in her office chair, weary eyes gazing upon a letter in some of the neatest handwriting she’d ever seen. Granted, this was far blockier than the typical High Elves scrawling script, but it was still far more legible than the average mages scribble.
It must just be an Elvish thing, she thought, opening it. The discarded ashes from Kul Tiras lay untouched in their envelope where she had discarded them days ago. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to dispose of them, yet. She’d write again in a month or so.
Dear Lady Proudmoore, Ruler of Theramore,
It is with both pleasure and trepidation that I received your latest correspondence. So far, new arrivals to Kalimdoor have not been nearly so gracious. I must also say, it brings me far more pleasure to see previously unclaimed land in your hands, rather than the Horde’s. Despite our recent history, tensions once again are rising. Granted, one could argue it is all land taken from the Kaldorei, but for the sake of future alliances and brevity, I shall digress.
I am willing to allow for you, and only you, to apply arcane protections to the trade routes. In addition, I will send a small group of ambassadors to represent the Kaldorei in Theramore. It will be based upon their reports that I will decide if you may use mages trained by your own hand to aid you. I would counsel you to use patience in this matter; my people are old, and not likely to warm to the arcane.
I believe that this means the Trade Agreement can be officially set into motion. As such, I am expecting to welcome you to Teldrassil in one weeks time to sign the accords. My ambassadors will return home with you.
Regards,
High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind
T.Whisperwind
Jaina grumbled softly and rubbed her palm across her eyes, looking not unlike a petulant child. But tides, it was difficult to negotiate with someone presumably fourteen thousand years older than you.
At least Tyrande was willing to negotiate. So far her attempts to reach out to the Horde had been met with nothing short of violence and scorn.
She pursed her lips, considering. It was awfully presumptuous to demand her presence in a week's time, yet she also didn’t want to ignore the little remark about Kaldorei land. It sounded as if she was willing to let bygones be bygones, if Jaina was willing to play nice.
Well, she didn’t want to play nasty, anyway. She’d go to the meeting. Perhaps she could establish herself as a firmer presence in the meantime, so as to not let the Kaldorei walk all over her.
She penned a short response, indicating her pleasure at their strides forward and confirming her presence at the meeting in a week's time. She found herself curious as to who would be sent as ambassadors, and reminded herself to warn Pained. Not only would they be visiting her homeland, but they were now confirmed to be bringing some of it back with them.
She wasn’t overly worried; she had shared a small sense of camaraderie with Tyrande and the night elves during the battle for Mt Hyjal. She could only hope it carried over to the present day.
She stretched out her body, languid in the warm light, and began working through the mountain of paperwork that came alongside running a city. It was only two hours later that Pained moved into her office, setting down a tray of sandwiches and tea.
Jaina had missed lunch.
She took a tuna sandwich gracefully, shooting Pained a sheepish look. The other woman didn’t seem to be in a retributional mood; she smiled in return and placed a warm hand on Jaina’s shoulder. It was enough to let all the tension ooze out of her in a heartbeat. Jaina often felt she was lacking in friends these days, and yet Pained was always steadfast.
She had held her when she lost herself following her father’s death, had soothed her when news of Arthas’ latest atrocities reached her. She would not soon forget that. Giving her guardian's hand a squeeze, she swallowed her mouthful and began to brief her on the Whisperwind situation.
Pained listened quietly, never interrupting. Once she finished, the woman looked thoughtful but not concerned.
“Tyrande will always be aware of the power she holds, and she will not be afraid to show it or use it. However, this does not mean she intends to abuse it, or you.”
Jaina hummed in agreement. She had come to much the same conclusion, frustrating as it might be. Contending with someone who had danced the waltz that was politics for so many more years then she had was no easy task.
It was Pained’s turn to report.
“I have received yet more reports of individuals from the Scourge approaching Alliance cities. They have all been shot down before reaching the gates; there have been two such envoys to Stormwind. I’m hearing some… concerning whispers.” The woman admitted.
Jaina raised an eyebrow. “More concerning than a legion of the undead scouring the countryside Azeroth wide?”
Pained snorted. “Apparently, some of my sources claim they have been peaceful envoys.”
Jaina floundered for a second. Peaceful? For as long as the Lich King controlled them, there was simply no hope of it. Even then, they were only corpses, propped up like puppets.
At least, that's what she understood of them this far. She bit her lower lip in consternation. What a puzzle this presented.
“That… doesn’t seem possible.” She said, finally.
Pained agreed. “It doesn’t, and yet multiple sources have stated it. There must be a grain of truth to it. Perhaps the undead are more complex than we gave them credit for.”
“Perhaps.” Jaina murmured.
Her mind was whirring. If it was possible for the undead to exist outside of Arthas’s constraints, then the world would owe them a great deal. Afterall, they had been killed rather indiscriminately for some time now. Her mind flitted to the ongoing conflict in Lordaeron that Garithos had been reporting. She wasn’t technically privy to the information provided to the Alliance, but Varian hadn’t minded keeping a potential ally aware of the Scourge’s movements.
“We will need to keep a closer eye on that situation than I thought,” Jaina said.
“Indeed.” Pained swiped an apple off her tray and took a bite after she spoke.
She also took the opportunity to give Jaina a rather obvious look, which led to the mage taking another sandwich and a sip of tea that made her toes curl with warmth. Pained smuggled in her favourite Kul Tiran blend, and she was never not grateful for it.
It was the little things that made life bearable.
Her mind drifted back towards Arthas and Stratholme, and she flinched at the thought that those he raised were at all aware. What a cruel fate.
Their late lunch was finished in solemn silence, and Pained took up her place by the door again.
It was later that night, when Pained had hovered enough to make sure Jaina was actually getting into bed, that she called out.
“Can you stay? I - I can’t stop thinking about him.” She confessed, voice small.
She hated feeling like such a child, needy and useless, yet Pained had always understood.
“Of course, Jaina. I will watch over you.” The woman moved until she was lying next to Jaina, comfortably on top of the covers with a throw over her legs. “Your bed is nicer than mine anyways.”
Jaina frowned. “I can commission you a new bed, or mattress.”
Pained chuckled. “Don’t waste the money. It’s not bad at all.”
Another thing niggled at her. “Also, you don’t have to watch over me, as such. You can sleep, too. I just don’t want to be alone.”
Pained looked at her then, and caught her twisting the damned ring around her fingers. The Kaldoeri’s usually severe expression softened.
“For what it’s worth, I think you would have made her very happy.” Pained murmured.
Her heart ached with sorrow and regret; Sylvanas, Arthas, Daelin, Strathholme and Lordaeron. All of it swirled in her mind like a restless smog, one she couldn’t escape.
“I hope so,” She whispered, drifting off.
Tomorrow would come, and it would bring even more work with it. For now, she matched her breaths to that of her friends and prayed it would keep the nightmares at bay.