Chapter Text
Rocking on the sea.
Hear my melody.
Waves are whispering.
The Deep is listening.
Jaina shot straight up in bed, heart hammering, eyes straining against the darkness. The siren song echoed somewhere in her mind, already slipping away like water through her open fingers. Her skin burned, clammy with sweat, but inside, she felt unbearably cold. The sort of cold that burrowed into the bones and made its home there.
She summoned an orb of fire in her outstretched palm, peering around the darkened bedroom. Nothing. No suspicious shadows. No enemies attempting to sneak in through the window of Sylvanas’s bedchamber. No mysterious hum of arcane energy. There was only Sylvanas, resting rigid and corpse-like on her back in one of her meditative trances.
The sight of Sylvanas’s face illuminated by flame, pale purple with faint black tear-tracks upon her cheeks, brought Jaina some measure of comfort. Wrongness still stirred within her gut, but she was relieved to see her lover unharmed. And apparently ‘awake’, if the glowing red slits of her eyes were any indication.
“Another nightmare?” Sylvanas asked, her full upper lip peeling back to reveal the sharpened points of her fangs. Though her scowl might have appeared menacing to anyone else, Jaina noted the concerned furrow that creased her forehead.
“Yes,” Jaina admitted, grudgingly. She said no more, wrapping her arms around herself. The persistent chill struck her as strange in a place as warm as Durotar, even at nighttime. Unlike the misty Kul Tiran cold, this felt unnatural.
Sylvanas rolled sideways, bracing her weight on one elbow. Her ash blonde hair fell in shimmering curtains around her shoulders, and the tips of her ears drooped, another subtle indication of worry. “You should seek counsel,” she said in an unusually low voice.
Jaina hugged herself tighter. She longed to lie beside Sylvanas again, knowing it would make her feel warmer despite the alpha’s lack of body heat, but refused to allow herself the comfort. If she sought refuge in Sylvanas’s arms tonight, how would she manage alone tomorrow, back in Kul Tiras? War and the weight of leadership kept them apart more often than not.
“I don’t need counsel,” Jaina insisted when Sylvanas continued staring. “I need better sleeping potions. I’ll have to start brewing them myself again instead of using store bought—”
“You are in denial,” Sylvanas said, in a clipped and far less sympathetic tone. “Every night you have shared my bed these past two months, you wake like this. It is unnatural, even for someone who has survived the horrors we have. The fact that these dreams feature the sea so heavily…”
Jaina glared. “You do remember who you’re addressing, don’t you? Is it so surprising that the sea intrudes upon my dreams?”
“The Jaina I know would never view the sea as an ‘intrusion’, but a wild and lovely place that promises adventure. You know perfectly well what these dreams mean. A wise person would take precautions, lest you find yourself at the mercy of—”
“Azshara is not manipulating me,” Jaina snapped. “I would know.”
Sylvanas sat up, allowing the sheets to fall from her naked body. Her bruise-colored lips formed a narrow frown. “You know, but refuse to admit it. I understand how terrifying it is to have one’s own mind, the last bastion of safety, infiltrated. Violated. But denial will not save you.”
Jaina hugged her knees tighter and hung her head. She suddenly felt very small, like a child afraid of the dark. Longing to crawl into her parents’ bed in search of reassurance, but too frightened of the long walk down the pitch black hallway to leave her room. Few things frightened her these days, but Sylvanas was right. The thought of her mind being manipulated by someone more powerful than she was terrified her.
With considerable effort, she pulled herself together. It would not do to show weakness, even in front of Sylvanas. Especially in front of Sylvanas. They were lovers, but also leaders of opposing factions, even if relations between the Alliance and Horde had warmed recently. She could not afford to let a nightmare have such hold over her.
“Tomorrow, I’ll seek counsel,” she said, raising her head and regarding Sylvanas with weary eyes. “If these dreams are a message, I’ll find out what it means. Tonight…” She swallowed, running her tongue over her dry lower lip. “Tonight, put me to sleep.”
Sylvanas’s frown curled upward into a smirk. “That, I have the power to do.” Rising onto her knees, she slithered over Jaina like a serpent, urging her to uncurl from her protective ball and lie flat on the bed. Cold hands wrapped around Jaina’s wrists, pinning them to the mattress like iron shackles.
Jaina did not resist Sylvanas’s show of control. Instead, she welcomed it. The unyielding grip made her feel more in control of herself, something she desperately needed while suffering the frayed and frantic thoughts that raced through her mind. She felt those thoughts slip away as Sylvanas’s cold lips grazed her neck.
They were not cold for long. By the time they latched onto her pulse-point, they were lukewarm, and their pull caused the tense muscles along Jaina’s spine to soften. She sighed, sliding the sole of her foot along Sylvanas’s calf and hooking a knee around her waist. Heat blossomed between her legs, familiar and reassuring.
“Good girl,” Sylvanas muttered against Jaina’s neck.
Jaina bucked. A gasp caught in her throat as she found purchase against Sylvanas’s firm abdominal muscles, coating them in a trail of wetness. Having a surface to grind against sent small shockwaves through her core, but Sylvanas’s hands tightened around her wrists in warning.
“No. Hold still.”
On another night, Jaina might have disobeyed. The push and pull of their relationship, the battle for dominance, often fanned the flames of lust. But tonight, she only wanted relief. She melted in Sylvanas’s grip, fighting against instinct to still the motion of her hips. Her reward was a gentle nip against her neck, more pressure than pain, as Sylvanas’s mouth moved down to her collarbone, then her chest.
Jaina bit her lower lip, but a whimper escaped despite her best efforts. A stream of cool air caressed her right nipple as Sylvanas blew across the sensitive bud, causing it to swell and tighten. Her toes curled with the effort of remaining still as a long, wet tongue flicked the very tip, teasing but not sucking.
“Your mouth,” she panted, suddenly less certain of her decision to surrender control. “I need…”
Still, Sylvanas refused to suck. She moved to Jaina’s other nipple, blowing on that one as well before tugging it carefully between sharp fangs.
Jaina could no longer quell the urge to rock. She dragged herself along Sylvanas’s stomach, shuddering as her clit slid through the wetness she had already left there. Sylvanas growled and bit the top of her breast, leaving her nipple to strain against empty air as punishment.
“Be still,” she ordered, drawing tiny circles against Jaina’s wrists with her thumbs. “There are few pairs of breasts in this world as lovely as yours. I wish to enjoy them.”
Jaina took a shaky breath. The scent of Sylvanas’s pheromones, of aroused alpha, calmed her, lulling her into a deeper state of submission and trust. She closed her eyes and exhaled, deliberately relaxing her limbs and allowing Sylvanas to do as she wished.
As it turned out, what Sylvanas wished was to kiss and suck her breasts until both soft, pink nipples were thick and red and painfully sensitive. Slick heat continued leaking from between Jaina’s legs, but somehow, she managed to keep her hips still, even when each pull of Sylvanas’s lips and every flick of Sylvanas’s tongue sent pleasurable pulses directly to her clit. It too was unbearably swollen and sensitive, twitching against Sylvanas’s stomach.
“Good girl,” Sylvanas repeated, nuzzling the curve of Jaina’s left breast. “Soft, sweet, obedient omega.”
A smile pulled at the corners of Jaina’s mouth. She was rarely soft, sweet, nor obedient to anyone, but the compliments warmed her anyway.
When Sylvanas abandoned her breasts and released her wrists, turning her onto her stomach, she complied without hesitation. Sylvanas’s familiar weight settled over her back, pressing her forward into the mattress and causing her nipples to rub against the rumpled bedsheets.
More praise followed in a low purr. “Yes, that’s it. Spread your thighs. Show me that warm, tight cunt of yours, kim falo’ban.”
Jaina clenched. Those words! Sylvanas could unravel her with a mere sentence. Leave her open, dripping, wanting. She parted her thighs, whining softly as the broad head of Sylvanas’s cock slid through her wetness, seeking her entrance. The tip sank inside easily, though as always, the stretch stole Jaina’s breath. Tides, Sylvanas was thick.
Sylvanas groaned, seizing Jaina’s wrists and pinning them to the mattress once more. “So tight,” she hissed, though Jaina suspected the praise was less for her benefit this time and more of an uncontrolled utterance. She trembled as another inch of shaft sank forward, opening her even wider.
The rut that followed was slow, deep, and messy. Sylvanas smeared kisses across the backs of Jaina’s shoulders, nuzzling the top of her spine, occasionally snarling and nipping her throat to remind her of her place. And Jaina was happy to be reminded. It felt as though her body was made for this. Made to take each push of Sylvanas’s cock all the way inside, to grip and milk its length for the few, torturous seconds that it withdrew.
Soon, she was gripping the sheets in white-knuckled fists while Sylvanas fucked her. “Knot me,” she begged, too far gone to be ashamed of sounding desperate. Her fears and doubts were entirely forgotten. All she wanted, all she needed, was the girth of Sylvanas’s knot working her open and the warm rush of seed once it was sealed inside.
But Sylvanas was in no hurry. She continued her rut, urgent and primal, yet rhythmic and methodical in pace. The scent of sex swelled between them as Sylvanas pushed her growing knot past Jaina’s entrance, popping it in and out as it swelled to full size. Sylvanas’s control was infallible, even as her own will—her very sense of self—crumbled to ruins.
Jaina tossed her head, inhaling sharply through gritted teeth. She wasn’t too proud to plead for mercy this time, but Sylvanas clearly had no intention of providing any until she was ready. Jaina could only go limp beneath the shifting weight atop her and accept what was given as she rode the waves of pleasure toward their inevitable break.
“Tell me,” Sylvanas growled against Jaina’s ear, “who you belong to. Tell me, and I’ll fill you.”
Fill me.
Jaina’s body sang at the thought. Oh, she wanted to be filled. With Sylvanas’s knot. With her come. With…
But, no. That could never be more than an impossible dream.
“You, Sylvanas,” she cried, burying her face in the nearest pillow. “I belong to you.”
As soon as she spoke, her patience and obedience were rewarded. Sylvanas’s hips jolted as she buried herself to the hilt, knot and all. It finished swelling to full size in seconds, stretching Jaina’s walls almost to the point of pain—but not quite. Instead, the growing fullness was comforting.
The moment Sylvanas came, filling her in harsh spurts, Jaina found her peak as well. Her inner walls rippled wildly, gripping down on the wonderful thickness of Sylvanas’s knot in search of relief. And relief she found. Every muscle in her body melted as Sylvanas bit the back of her neck, a surprisingly gentle gesture that did not even break skin.
Sylvanas slid a hand beneath Jaina’s belly, working two fingers between her legs to massage the shaft of her clit. “Good,” she growled around her mouthful of flesh, likely the only word she could manage. But it was enough. Jaina sobbed into the pillow, twitching against Sylvanas’s fingertips, shuddering as the alpha continued spilling deep inside.
By the time they finished, tied and tangled in a heap upon the bed, Jaina was no longer cold. Sylvanas had leached enough of her body heat to give some back, much like a blanket. The knot created a pleasant sense of fullness, while Sylvanas’s come warmed her from within. She blinked away the last of her tears, smiling into her pillow.
“Sleep now, my Jaina,” Sylvanas said, brushing a sweaty strand of hair aside and kissing the nape of Jaina’s neck. “I have no choice but to watch over you while we remain tied.”
“Ha,” Jaina grunted, but couldn’t summon the energy to respond with a quip of her own. She allowed her eyes to drift shut, secure in the knowledge that Sylvanas—who never truly slept as the living did—would indeed watch over her.
Is that why the Forsaken say, ‘Dark Lady watch over you’? Does it comfort them to think of her driving away their own nightmares? I suppose it takes a nightmare to fight one…
Fog encroached upon the edges of her thoughts until they were no longer in words. All that remained was a sense of comfort and safety as Sylvanas’s breasts pressed into her back and thin, dextrous fingers combed through her hair, massaging her scalp.
***
“Ah, Lord Admiral. We meet at last.”
Jaina opens her eyes, turning toward the voice. It is lilting, seductive, but also strangely distorted, as though carried a great distance by the wind.
No, by water.
That much is made clear by her surroundings: dark, shadowy, and ever-shifting, as though stirred by an invisible current. She’s spent enough time submerged beneath the waves to recognize the sea. Her lungs, however, do not burn. She does not yearn for breath.
Another dream, then.
“Does intruding upon my dreams actually count as a meeting, Azshara?”
The shadows part, revealing a tall, graceful form floating amidst the murk. Jaina cannot make out all the details, but she sees long tendrils, the glint of metal, and shining yellow eyes. The red coals of Sylvanas’s eyes have become familiar and even reassuring to her recently, but that doesn’t prevent a shiver from racing down her spine as Azshara’s glowing, predatory gaze fixes upon her.
“I believe it qualifies,” says the lilting voice—less distant now, as the shadow before her floats closer, looming larger. “I have been waiting ever so patiently for you to enter a receptive enough state to hear my message.”
Jaina clenches her jaw. “I can be receptive, when I want. Just not to you.”
Azshara laughs, a light and bubbly sound. “I am aware. However, you may change your mind when you hear what I have to offer.”
“Nothing you have to offer is of any interest to me.”
Tentacles explode out of the darkness, wrapping around Jaina’s waist and dragging her through the water. Before she can scream or struggle, she is face to face with Azshara: a strangely beautiful face with blue-patterned scales and the same piercing, golden eyes. Another tentacle curls around her throat, squeezing lightly.
Suddenly, Jaina can’t breathe. She is trapped, paralyzed, dream or no.
“We shall have a chat now, you and I—omega to omega. I have heard whispers that a certain mysterious dagger has come into your possession. Is that true, Lord Admiral?”
The tentacle around her neck loosens. Jaina sucks in a gasping breath. Her first instinct is to thrash, but the hold on her waist remains firm and unbreakable. Her second instinct is to summon her magic, but—this is a dream. She cannot cast while asleep. She bares her teeth, glaring directly into Azshara’s eyes, refusing to show fear. “Let me go, or I’ll scour the bottom of the sea until I find and slay you. Not even your bones will remain.”
Azshara sighs, as though mildly annoyed. “In the interest of cooperation, I will tell you what I know. This charming little dagger of yours is an old god relic, one of the few items on Azeroth capable of slaying my master. And I know one more thing as well: the location of a prison beneath the waves where my master lies. It’s right underneath my palace, as a matter of fact.”
Jaina’s eyes widen as realization dawns. “You intend to betray him.”
Azshara’s pouting lips pull into a chilling smirk, showing fangs even sharper than Sylvanas’s. “How am I supposed to enjoy my queenship while bound in service to a god?”
To Jaina’s surprise, Azshara releases her, allowing her to float freely. They remain eye to eye, staring intently at each other.
“Consider this a formal invitation. Come to the Eternal Palace as my guest. Bring an escort of whichever Alliance champions you wish. You may even bring that intriguing alpha of yours. But also bring the dagger. I believe we may be able to help one another. That is one of your strong suits, is it not, Lord Admiral? Cooperation?”
Jaina frowns, touching her throat where Azshara’s tentacle was wrapped moments ago. “What happens after we end N’zoth?”
“I rule below the waves, while the ants scurry above as they will.”
“I don’t believe you for a moment.”
Azshara runs a purple tongue over the edges of her fangs. “You shouldn’t. Even so, is this an opportunity you can afford to dismiss?”
Jaina’s mind races. If Azshara is telling the truth about N’zoth’s prison being directly beneath her palace, there is no way anyone could breach it without alerting her. Surely it’s better to be guests of a megalomaniacal queen than invaders, forced to fight who knows how many naga in addition to slaying a god.
“Tell me how to find your palace.”
“You shall awaken with the knowledge. I will expect you soon, Lord Admiral. Do not keep me waiting.”
***
“Jaina? Jaina, open your eyes.”
Jaina woke with a start, gasping as though desperate for air. Her eyes darted about the room, but for a second time, nothing was amiss. Rays of early morning sunlight crept through the window, casting pale yellow beams upon the stone floor of Sylvanas’s chamber.
Sylvanas lay stretched out beside her, one hand upon her arm. A furrow of concern creased the alpha’s brow. “You spoke in your sleep this time,” she said, fixing Jaina with a searching stare.
Jaina took another deep breath, still feeling the imprint of Azshara’s tendril around the base of her throat. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough.”
“Then you know what we have to do.”
Sylvanas withdrew her hand, sitting up with the sheets pooled around her hips. “I dislike this plan of yours immensely.”
Jaina sat up as well, tucking the sheet beneath her arms to cover her breasts, more for security than unnecessary notions of modesty. “What choice do we have? N’zoth is imprisoned beneath Azshara’s palace. We have a weapon to kill him. We need each other.”
Sylvanas tilted her head, pursing her purple lips into a thin line. “Azshara is, and always has been, a liar. You humans are young, but the elves have not forgotten who she once was.”
“Who she once was is the reason I believe her,” Jaina said, feeling more sure of herself by the moment. Excitement gathered in her chest, lending energy to her tired body. “Don’t you see? Azshara is a narcissist who would never willingly remain anyone’s eternal slave. I’m not surprised at all that she wants her freedom.”
“The freedom to conquer Azeroth and force us all to worship her,” Sylvanas grumbled.
“We’ve defended ourselves against Azshara’s naga before,” Jaina insisted. “If she betrays us, we’ll fight them again. Right now, N’zoth is the bigger threat. We need her.”
Sylvanas sighed, but Jaina could tell from the way she averted her gaze that the alpha agreed, however begrudgingly. “We mustn’t be hasty about this,” she said, staring at an unobtrusive spot on the wall. “I suppose another tedious meeting between our factions is in order… and I want to be there when you inform Greymane. The look of horror on his face will sustain me for decades.”
Jaina smirked. “I think I can arrange that."