Chapter Text
Muscle to muscle and toe to toe
The fear has gripped me, but here I go
My heart sinks as I jump up
Your hand grips hand as my eyes shut
And I, ah-ah-ah-ah
Over the next few weeks, Jaina accidentally teleported into Sylvanas’ room no less than six times. Each of these resulted in Jaina being immediately threatened with bodily harm, but ended with her getting a story. She even told Sylvanas a few anecdotes about her time at university, and her job as a waitress. As Sylvanas’ ire faded, so did Jaina’s own caution – and guilt. Sylvanas seemed to understand, at least, that Jaina had nor formed this habit deliberately. Jaina also liked to think she was coming to, perhaps, enjoy her company.
She did not spend another night asleep in Sylvanas’ rooms, and she continued to forget to return the blankets she accidentally stole. Sylvanas didn’t mention them, and Jaina came to realise that the scent of the blankets matched Sylvanas’ own smell perfectly. Twice she’s stumbled across Sylvanas still damp from the shower; she’d tried to ask her about her soap, wondering if that was where the enticing scent came from, but had been promptly shut down. The woman was strange and prickly, but utterly fascinating.
So if Jaina continued to ‘forget’ to learn how to drop her attunement, then so be it. Sylvanas didn’t mention it despite her clear ire whenever Jaina showed up in her sitting room, so Jaina assumed it couldn’t be all that important. For all her sharp edges, Sylvanas didn’t seem to mind Jaina’s presence that much. Especially when Jaina said something particularly witty, and saw a smirk tease at the corners of Sylvanas’ lips.
The mage could admit she was hopelessly attracted to the older woman. Despite this, she did her best to keep her distance even when they were physically near each other. Sylvanas was her boss and a world power to boot; it would only end in heartache. That didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends, though.
Of course Jaina wouldn’t be telling Sylvanas that they were now friends any time soon. She couldn’t see that conversation going very well.
On the topic of friends, Jaina was greatly enjoying her time with the rangers now. When she didn’t visit the Warchief, she spent her nights curled up with them. She still had nightmares, sometimes, but there was always a soothing hand and sweet words to ease her back to sleep. She had woken up to various rangers involved in rather… illicit activities, but she’d known that was part of the deal from the get go, and hadn’t minded. They’d said they wouldn’t mind waking her so she could hide somewhere else if she wanted, but the truth was Jaina didn’t care; they very rarely woke her, and never made a huge fuss. Normally she just rolled over and snuggled into whoever was closest; this often ended up being Vorel or Areiel.
The increased rest meant that Jaina was much sharper for her lessons each day; this carried over to her work at the apothecary. In fact, her healing potion for the banshees was almost done. The one for the regular undead still needed some work, though.
Roughly a month ago she had successfully activated and powered the old telemancy pads; she had been drilled on them for two weeks for hours each day before Maliria reluctantly chucked an apple through one. They had muttered something about ‘insane human mages’ when it had exited the linked portal with no damage. The rapid pace at which Jaina was absorbing information meant that today she had been able to open her first portal; it was smaller than the palm of her hand and wobbled horrifically, but had successfully and safely transported a quill through one of the anchored portals outside of the academy. Despite the subsequent nosebleed and the nausea that had her losing her lunch afterwards, Jaina was thrilled – and even better, she was ahead of schedule, which meant that Sylvanas would be too. They were well into summer now, but Jaina still had so much to learn.
That night, Jaina did not visit the First Squad’s barracks. Instead, she headed to her own room. She’d had another small victory today when she visited the apothecary; mixing fine strands of her arcane magic with the barest touch of shadow magic had allowed for her to begin healing wounds on the Forsaken. She’d been horrified when one of the workers had cut their own finger to give her a chance to practise. She’d healed it almost on instinct, and had begged them never to do such a thing again. They’d been perplexed, but had agreed.
Oddly enough, when Jaina had tried doing the reverse with the Light it hadn’t yielded any results on the living. It seems, she mused, the Light is less forgiving than Shadow magic.
Either way, she was excited.
With that excitement overriding her good sense, Jaina focused on finding Sylvanas’ aura deliberately for the first time.For a moment, she paused – Jaina did not want to overstep Sylvanas’ boundaries on purpose. But then her mind wandered to the last few nights she’d spent there, the way Sylvanas had relaxed rather than tensed at her presence… With her traitorous heart fluttering, Jaina decided to take the gamble. If the woman was truly displeased, she’d dedicate the next few days to learning how to break the attunement, no matter how difficult.
Over the last few weeks, she had grown bolder in Sylvanas’ presence. Something about her magic just liked the woman. Sylvanas had given up assigning her scullery duty, and had finally seemed to relax in Jaina’s presence. Enough so that Jaina had been comfortable hanging around each time. She's not overstayed her welcome too severely since that first night – Sylavanas had a short meter for interaction, and Jaina didn’t want to push her too hard.
Finding Sylvanas’ unique energy in the Warchief’s rooms as per usual, Jaina grinned triumphantly and blinked to the location.
At this point, she was expecting a violent response to her intrusion. A knife thudded into the wooden beam next to Jaina with deadly precision and speed. Jaina blinked as a few strands of her hair fell to the ground, neatly severed. Sylvanas wasn’t even looking at her, instead sprawled out on her armchair with her legs crossed and a thick book on her lap. Today she wore suspenders and a blouse that was unbuttoned halfway down her chest. Sylvanas did not bother to cover up this time.
“Another accidental teleportation, kim Suri?” The warchief queried drolly.
“Not by accident, this time. I have exciting news!” Jaina said, tugging Sylvanas’ knife out of the wood.
It took her a few tries, and she could practically feel Sylvanas wincing as she watched her yank on it gracelessly. Jaina kindly decided to ignore this and instead trotted over to the woman, knife in hand.
Sitting across from her, she handed it back.
Sylvanas snorted. “You should hand a knife to someone handle first, Jaina.”
Jaina rolled her eyes. “Yes, well, sorry I don’t know knife etiquette. Maybe you shouldn’t be throwing them at people in the first place.”
Sylvanas flashed her fangs. “And perhaps you shouldn’t be invading my personal space; what was that you said, that it wasn’t an accident this time?”
Jaina smiled. “You got me there, I’ll admit. But first, what does kim mean? I know Suri is mouse, but not that one.”
Sylvanas smirked, ire forgotten now that she could tease Jaina. “It means ‘little’.”
Jaina frowned. “I’m not little, though.”
Sylvanas’ gaze turned predatory as she raked her eyes up and down the length of Jaina’s body. The blonde pressed her thighs together in response, her traitorous eyes slipping first to Sylvanas’ fangs and second to her hands.
“Compared to an elf, you’re positively tiny. Now, I answered your question, so you can answer mine. Why are you here?” Sylvanas’ dulcet voice was practically a purr, now.
Deciding not to argue, Jaina leant forward in anticipation.
“I,” she stared, grandiose, “Made my first stable and unanchored portal today.”
At this, Sylvanas finally gave Jaina her full attention. “Did you? It seems your magical prowess really will be a match for Proudmoore, at this rate. Perhaps you will even surpass her, if not in sheer power than in application; I know you’ve dedicated many hours to your studies.”
Jaina perked up a bit at the praise, smiling at Sylvanas warmly. The other woman blinked back at her, seemingly startled by something in Jaina’s expression. Jaina chose to ignore it, and barrelled on.
“Look!”
Very carefully, Jaina created a portal about half the size of the one she had made earlier in the day. She had filled up on mana potions, but she didn’t want to over exert herself now for no reason. Then, she created another portal just a few feet away – without an anchor, she didn’t dare push it further. She desperately hoped Sylvanas wouldn’t tell Maliria – her teacher would kill her for doing this, even on such a tiny scale.
Sylvanas’ eyes gleamed. “Well then. This is certainly a big step forward for you, Jaina.”
Jaina collapsed the now wobbling portals, feeling exhausted but rather content. “I’ve been training hard.”
“I know,” Sylvanas said.
Jaina leaned back in her chair before finally taking Sylvanas in beyond her clothing. The edge of a jagged, ghastly wound that glowed with blue light poked out from the deep ‘v’ her unbuttoned blouse had created. It looked painful, but partially healed – Jaina was a little more concerned by the bruises and small but deep cuts that littered her body, some still oozing ichor. Her white shirt was stained black in several places. Jaina was furious with herself for not noticing sooner.
“Sylvanas,” she cried, “You’re hurt!”
“Barely,” Sylvanas scoffed, unimpressed by Jaina’s worry.
She watched with sharp, intent eyes as Jaina rushed to her side. The elven woman’s muscles had tensed, and Jaina knew she was mere seconds away from knocking Jaina aside or fleeing. Still, reckless and stupid and far too bold, Jaina reached for her arm with hands that only shook a little bit.
For whatever reason, Sylvanas decided to let her. Jaina took the cool, muscle corded limb into her grasp, and marvelled at the way she could feel the ichor pulsing beneath the skin, the way each muscle still contracted and twitched as Sylvanas adjusted herself.
How had anyone ever thought the Forsaken, especially Sylvanas, were truly dead? Dead meant gone , to Jaina, and Sylvanas was so clearly here, vibrant and powerful.
Jaina looked over the injuries with a kind of desperate panic, her shoulders only releasing their tension when she realised Sylvanas truly wasn’t in any kind of mortal danger.
“Oh, you scared me,” she muttered, embarrassed.
Jaina looked up, and found herself caught in Sylvanas’ darkened gaze; there was something about her that made Jaina become very still, content to be watched. After a few moments, though, she gathered her nerve and spoke.
“I can heal you, if you wish?” Jaina asked, voice quivering.
The worst of the wounds decorated the arm Jaina now held, with relatively minor scrapes decorating the rest of her.
“You are no shadow priest, Jaina; and they have already done for me what they can. I will heal once I feed, and I do not intend to feed from you.”
Ignoring the rather ridiculous images that sentence conjured up, Jaina replied as evenly as she could. “No, I’m not. But I have figured out how to heal the Forsaken. So, please? Let me?”
Sylvanas let out a long suffering sigh. “Very well, you may make your attempt. Consider it a reward for your efforts with the portals.”
Jaina snorted. It was clear Sylvanas didn’t believe she was capable. “How magnanimous of you.”
Sylvanas’ lip quirked. “Quite. Now get on with it – and don’t go turning me into a frog or something equally hideous by mistake.”
Jaina froze for a second, before a laugh tore its way out of her. “My oh my, was that a joke, Sylvanas?”
The woman in question leaned back in her chair, muscles still tense and coiled to spring but otherwise appearing to be relaxed. “It’s Warchief, and you know it, mage. And yes, I have been known to indulge in humour on occasion.”
“Why, you shock me with your hidden depths, Warchief. I’d best be healing you now.”
Sylvanas said nothing, but watched her with curious eyes as she focused on the gash in the other woman’s arm.
It shouldn’t be too much work, even as tired as Jaina was; using the foundations that the wisp of shadow magic would lay, Jaina would be able to supercharge the healing process with a delicate weave of the arcane. Several formulations came to mind; Jaina selected two that seemed best suited to the wound and quickly did the mental calculations to apply them together. The mage breathed out slowly as she applied the spell matrix. Once it was in place, she pulled a silver of arcane out of it and stitched the wound together with painstakingly careful motions, her arcane thread placing invisible sutures into the skin. After a moment the spell matrix flared, and the sutures sunk into the skin, healing the wound as they did. From there it was easy enough to push the dregs outward, healing the minor wounds that littered Sylvanas’ muscular form. Finally, her magic quested towards the large wound on her chest; one that Jaina could now see was mostly healed, only it had healed badly. It was as if the wound was… wrong. The spell flared and waivered, her grasp on it failing. Jaina pushed on regardless.
Her magic shied away from it at the last moment, and Jaina was struck with a lance of cold so severe she flinched. Still, she wanted to help Sylvanas. Thoughtlessly she reached for the wound with one hand, the arcane rising to her fingertips.
A firm hand grasped hers before she could, and Jaina found herself poised precariously over Sylvanas. Sylvanas’ arm was still in Jaina’s grasp, but Jaina’s free hand was caught within Sylvanas’ own.
“Don’t,” the other woman warned. “I may stand corrected on my other injuries, but even you cannot heal this wound, Jaina.”
Jaina blinked, a little hurt, but nodded in understanding. Sylvanas released her and let Jaina settle back on her haunches, kneeling beside the woman's armchair in a moment of tense silence. Finally, the other woman’s eyes softened.
“Congratulations on your new skill set, kim Suri. Thank you for your care.” The response seemed oddly formal.
Compelled to reply, Jaina said, “Your thanks are unnecessary, but you are welcome nonetheless.”
Sylvanas’ eyes crinkled. “Being around elves all the time is wearing off on you, mage.”
Jaina smiled as the tense moment broke, finally releasing the other woman’s arm. “I’m sure the First Squad will be thrilled.”
“Oh, positively,” Sylvanas said.
“Now,” she continued, leaning forward. “I did detect a trace of shadow magic in that spell. Where did you learn it?”
Jaina rocked back on her heels, startled by the challenge in Sylvanas’ eyes. Tilting her head, she answered honestly. “I’ve been studying at the apothecary. I thought you knew?”
“I did,” Sylvanas confirmed, a satisfied expression on her face.
Jaina huffed. “You were testing me.”
“Of course I was, Jaina. But as always, I’m pleasantly surprised.” The woman answered.
Jaina glared up at her suspiciously. “That makes it sound like you’ve tested me before.”
Sylvanas smirked at her and tapped her nose. Jaina rolled her eyes and sat on the floor, ignoring Sylvanas’ curious glance. She made herself comfortable before leaning her head against the side of Sylvanas’ thigh. Her body slumped against the Warchiefs legs, her back pressed to the base of the couch the prickly woman was seated on. The coolness Sylvanas emanated was near intoxicating.
Jaina felt the Warchief tense, and could easily imagine the slight scowl that would mar her features as she decided whether or not to let Jaina stay. Finally, tense muscles relaxed next to Jaina, and the mage allowed herself a small smile before she tilted her head so she could watch Sylvanas once more. The woman’s face was smooth, and aside from a slightly arched brow, she acted as if she had not even noticed Jaina’s brazen move.
“This wound,” Sylvanas began, idly tracing it with one elegant hand. “It is unlike any other, Jaina. This is the wound that tore me asunder; the one that truly taught me the strength of the Lich King, Arthas.”
Jaina flinched. “Arthas?”
She knew the name, of course, knew the bare basics of what he had done to Sylvanas. The history books had taught her that much, at least. But still – the name startled her.
Sylvanas regarded her warily. “Yes, that was his name. I helped defeat him and his empire alongside several others; it was during a time where I had worked alongside the Alliance. Even Proudmoore was there, as attached as she was.”
Jaina took a deep breath. “My world had an Arthas too. He worked for a… company my parents were interested in. They wanted us to marry – I tried to give him a chance, but there was no joy between us. Ultimately, I left him, much to my family’s ire, but Arthas didn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer. He was… strange about us breaking up, and basically stalked me for years. Eventually, something inside him just – snapped. He killed several people before dying shortly after.”
Jaina looked away. “It’s not so shocking, in comparison to what the Arthas of this world did to you, but it at least seems like no matter what world he is in, he’s just… awful.”
Sylvanas smiled at her again, and this time it was surprisingly gentle. “Indeed he was. And while the crimes they committed may have different levels of magnitude, that does not mean what he did to you can be so easily forgotten. Nor what he did to those he killed. One pain does not discredit another.”
Sylvanas’ gaze drifted to the portraits of her sisters. “I suppose, however, it is one thing to know this and another to practise it.”
Jaina swallowed, saddened by the glimpse of grief in Sylvanas’ eyes.
“Would you tell me a story? Maybe one about your Minn’da?” Jaina stumbled over the Thalassian word, but it was worth it for the way Sylvanas’ ears pricked forwards in amusement, and even more so for the way her expression lost some of its tired edge.
“Bothersome mage. I am going to put a bell on you soon. Anyone else would have been killed for the transgressions' you’ve committed these past few weeks, barging into my personal rooms like this. Not to mention your incessant demands for stories of my life.”
Jaina shook off the chill that accompanied those words; she knew Sylvanas was deadly serious despite the teasing lilt in her voice. Instead of fixating on that, though, she counted her lucky stars that for some reason Sylvanas seemed to tolerate Jaina’s intrusions. After that first night, Sylvanas had not expressed any real displeasure at Jaina’s presence. She had to remember that.
Jaina shot the elf a cheeky smile and let her head drop firmly against the woman’s thigh, feeling a little thrill go through her as she did.
“Yes, well, I’m still here, so clearly I’ve at least kept you entertained.”
Sylvanas snorted in a decidedly ungentlemanly way.
“Very well, kim Suri. My mother was a proud woman; she was strong above all else, but she still held the warmth of a small sun in her heart for her family alone. I never doubted her love while she and I both lived. I lost her to an Amani raid, alongside my brother, Lirath. They died fighting, and were buried with one thousand peace blossoms in the woods by our home.
“When I was thirty, which would have been somewhat equivalent to fifteen years of age for a human, she took me for what would become my most memorable hunting trip. Alleria had left on patrol, and Vereesa had yet to be born. These were easy times, although none were as happy to welcome our new baby sister when she was born as I was.
“Still, Minn’da took me into the woods, and it was so rare to get my mother to myself for a day that I did not care if I caught anything at all. But, to my absolute glee, I bagged my first buck…”
Sylvanas’ voice took on a softer tone as she spoke, and Jaina devoured her words with a greedy intensity that unsettled her. She resolved to share a bigger piece of herself with Syvlanas next time they spoke.
Still, that night she fell asleep with her head against Sylvanas’ lap and woke to find she’d been manoeuvred onto the couch and into an oversized sweatshirt. It smelt of petrichor and moss, and it was no mistake when she teleported back to her own rooms that she took it with her.