Low groans and creaks, the sounds familiar and comfortable. The giant ship coasted high above the clouds now passing through the borders and into the Eastern kingdoms. It's sails hung useless, flapping in the cool breeze as the arcane magics took hold, embedded, easing it along it's journey, pushing forward. Water still seeped from its cracks and seaweed clung, and dripped, a mass of green coating the bowels of the ship.

The journey so far had been somewhat pleasant, but that was soon to be over when the tell tale signs of turbulence shook Jaina along with all the belongings in her cabin. She held herself steady, gripping onto the bed spread.

For months she had travelled seeking something of importance, something that could alleviate all the anger and sorrow that had so quickly fogged her mind all that time ago. The Legion. The Horde. The audacity! Those three combined caused a flurry of hatred that spread through her veins. That being the cause for her abrupt departure from the Kirin Tor.

Sleeping in countless inns, or resting under the green-lit stars, a constant reminder of what she'd left behind, and a niggling feeling of dread and guilt. Throughout her time she met and travelled with strangers, a mindful distraction under a magical guise to hide who she truly was, for she didn't want to be noticed and she didn't want to be seen. She just wanted to be. Something, anything than what she was then.

A body full of regrets.

Months she had wandered, and months she had been free, let loose and released to go out and vent all of her anger. This, over time, allowed her to heal, and to forgive, if only slightly, and the she began to miss.

Her heart ached.

Jaina clutched at the sheets a little more, memories of her lover blinking in her mind. God, she missed her. She missed the way she would talk to her. Missed the way that she would joke and tease and the worst of all was that she missed the way that she held her, how every touch made her feel protected, and loved, and so deliciously sore that she was always left begging for much, much more.

"Sylvanas…" Jaina sighed, falling back onto the bed with her arms outstretched beside her.

How was she? She wondered.

Sylvanas had let her go off in her fit of rage with no questions asked. From the brief glimpse of her understanding eyes it was almost enough to turn Jaina back, but Sylvanas had just as quickly looked away, telling her that Jaina needed this. She needed time to get her head straight, and the relieve that large metaphorical weight from her shoulders.

Sylvanas knew that Jaina was not mad at her, but at the Horde, and she knew that the only way to heal this pain was stay away and be done with it. This allowed Jaina to be a woman who wasn't expected to lead and to be constantly at eachothers throats with the opposing faction. No, this allowed Jaina to be just her, a human wandering the landscape with no title, nothing, but her thoughts, and her her magics and to be just Jaina.

Jaina Proudmoore.

It was nice. Just like the good old days when she would lock herself up in her study, nose deep in a book, her thirst for knowledge insatiable. And that's why she loved Sylvanas. She always knew what was best for her, and she always had her best interests at heart.

Her thoughts spiralled back to when she felt lost, and hollow in her chest. The feelings of emptiness and being alone. She didn't want this anymore. She had done her soul searching and now it was time head back. There she could enjoy the little things. Those little things that Sylvanas did that made Jaina smile.

Like how after a night of passion, Jaina would sleep utterly exhausted, but then wake a few hours later to see her lover awake, sat up bedside her, her naked back pressed to the headboard and her face aglow with a soft orange hue from the candlelight.

She was breathtaking to behold, and it made Jaina's heart ache even more. She sorely missed how she used to wake up to that wondrous sight of Sylvanas bare, naked from the waist up as she carefully thumbed through missives and scrolls, the bed sheets tucked at her the hips and covering her legs.

Not many people knew that their Dark Lady was a terrible workaholic. She often worked long and hard into the nights when Jaina lay there softly snoring, her body curled into Sylvanas' side.

One night Sylvanas made an offhand comment that being forsaken was actually a blessing and not a curse. A joke, of course, but still horrible to think about much to Jaina's horror, wide-eyed in shock she had promptly punched her in the arm. This earned a playful scowl from Sylvanas, but Jaina guessed, now thinking about it, that the words did have meaning.

With no need to sleep or eat as an undead, there was no such thing as time wasted. Each waking moment could be filled with bountiful tasks that could help, in the long run, improve their races quality of life, or, perhaps, bring peace about the two factions. Unlikely, but people continued to try. So why not embrace that misfortune? Use all the time in the world and put it to good use.

That's what Sylvanas had said, and sometimes days like those when she was buried with work and meetings, Jaina felt frustrated, and so she had to quickly learn to adapt. To be creative and mischievous about her ways in grabbing Sylvanas' attentions. A bunch of delightfully dirty thoughts had popped up into her mind and all of her frustrations vanished, quickly replaced with eager anticipated excitement.

Those memories made Jaina happy, butterflies swirlling inside her stomach. She chuckled to herself, silly really, and then gasped as the captains quarters shook once again to the growing storm outside.

Closing her eyes she recalled the last bits of her memory of when she was successful in her games of alluring Sylvanas'... The result: A scene with a very hot and sweaty body writhing on the floor, with a very cold, arrogant Queen between her thighs making her moan and cry, eyes rolling into the back of her head.

Jaina shivered, pressing her thighs close together, exhaling a breathy moan.

She ached to be touched.

She ached for Sylvanas.

Thunder boomed loudly outside the ship and rain soon followed starting to pour. Another tremor, this time much harder shaking loose books off the shelves and causing a chair to go sliding, clattering clumsily over the floorboards.

The vibrations did little to deter the swelling heat between Jaina's thighs, and she trembled dropping a hand between her legs cupping herself tight.

She had to go back now, she just couldn't wait.

She had to see her Sylvanas.

More thoughts, like dreams flitted behind her eyelids of what her lover could do to her. So dark and full of filth it sent her face into a flush and her heart rate to quicken. She pushed herself up on the bed steadying herself by gripping onto the sheets, eyes squeezed shut.

A moment later she was gone, the ship left to weather the storm, while Jaina Proudmoore teleported to the one and only place her lover most likely resided.

The Undercity.