I don't own Warcraft. I wish I did though.

Soot

This night is for embers and sleeping, Thrall thought morosely, his eyes scanning the receding sunset. An uneasy sigh parted his lips, drifting away with the wind. For any other situation, he would not submit to such weakness, but there weren't any intruders to speak of. Only one presence lingered at the back of his skull, but Garona meant no harm to him. Rather, she was his protector of sorts, deemed fit to ambush those Warchief Thrall could not see.

"You dote on this human as if you cared for her," Garona's voice came from somewhere behind him, baiting him. Thrall grunted, his impatience growing.

"Jaina is a viable asset to the Horde, Garona," he reminded her gruffly, "And I will see to it that she and I are properly acquainted in matters of an alliance between us. Is that so hard to accept? You, like my advisers, simply cannot comprehend such a legitimate pact? I must be attracted to her for my reasoning to make sense?"

Garona's muffled laughter ebbed away at Thrall's potent temper, but he steeled himself, retuning his eyes from his side glare to look atop the cliffs.

"If you did not care for her, then you would not sound as defensive as you happened to." She paused, her form visible in the shadows. "I think it's cute."

Thrall barked. "Cute? That word is filthy coming from your mouth." He heard Garona's consent, and smiled when she replied; "I cannot even fool myself these days..."

They remained silent for a few beats, each looking at the sky, waiting. Thrall's unhindered hand stroked the pommel of the Doomhammer quaintly as his eyes continued to search. He reckoned that he was merely being a lovesick fool about this entire locality, and yet he honestly did not mind it at all. The responsibility of being the Warchief alone was staggering, terribly so, and it oftentimes confounded and burdened him, but he would be damned if he let anyone see. Besides Garona and Jaina, he did not open up to anyone, though with Garona it was admittedly more widespread than with Jaina for obvious purposes.

"You may release your breath, Warchief," Garona purred, "As your princess has arrived."

Thrall tried not to show it, but he perked up immediately, fueling Garona's teasing manner.

The wind kicked up with the taste of unruly magic, factually the opposite of Durotar's shamanistic qualms. Arcane wisps touched Thrall's large lips, leaving a familiar tang upon them. The draft caressed his hair, blowing the braids back easily with contented bliss. He twisted one braid around two fingers, tugging gently in annoyance. A thrill swept through him when the air crackled with unbound energy.

Before him, the fabric of air creaked and ripped, splitting open before him beautifully. Jaina stepped out cautiously, though Thrall knew it was only because of the Horde's unruly nature. It had not been the first time when she was suddenly attacked by murderous rogues, and Thrall doubted that the last would come swiftly.

"Jaina," Her name slipped off his lips like a dream, flowing effortlessly. Somewhere, Garona laughed, though faintly.

"Thrall," she smiled, greeting him in stumbling orcish. He praised her fondly for her improvements in the language. For humans, all they heard were grumbled snorts and complicated spews of pronunciation. Common was a simple language to learn, as Thrall had done it flawlessly. Orcish, however, was something entirely different.

Distracted, Jaina brushed off dust from her worn skirts, opting for pleasant chatter before diving into the politics. Thrall was grateful, and happily agreed to talk with her, probably more amiably than he should have.

Jaina raised her head to observe her surroundings, a slight frown sitting delicately on her soft lips. Thrall's eyes were drawn to those lips, but he was reminded of his pointed tusks and banished any urge of touching her lips with his own.

"This night is eerily calm," she stated, drawing her bottom lip to her teeth to bite down.

Thrall nodded, sympathetic of her observations. "I feel as if something recalcitrant will occur. It settles suspiciously in my bones, Jaina. Though, this morn the day felt as if it were any other. It was only upon coming here that I was disquieted."

Jaina turned her gaze to him, crystal eyes boring into his equally blue ones. "Is it coincidence, or something that holds more meaning?"

A rare blush spread up Thrall's neck, dabbing at his chin. Jaina remained nonplussed at his obvious discomfort and embarrassment. Those eyes just continued looking at him, demanding hidden answers to elaborate questions.

"Perchance, hypothetically, that it held more meaning. What would that hold, Jaina?" His voice gave a weak tremor, and he hated it dispassionately.

"Kingdoms and kingdoms before us have had instances where they come upon something with troublesome consequences. It all depends on the people, Go'el. It depends... on us."

Thrall smiled, partially because of Jaina's use of his true name, and the other due to the meaning of her words. "And of Arthas?" he growled, "Is he a factor in this conversation?"

Jaina slowly shook her head, though it dropped slightly with the movement. "Flames have to burn out eventually, Thrall."

He tightened his grip on the Doomhammer's hilt. "Then what is this, Jaina? A simple flame destined to sputter out, unattended?"

Jaina stepped forward, her boots scuffing glowing embers, leaving soot on the leather, and Thrall vowed that he hadn't ever seen anything so exquisite and intimidating mixed so effortlessly. Her hands touched his armored forearms, and he swore he could feel heat radiating from her touch.

"That, Thrall, is for you to decide." she whispered, and smiled.

A breath touched his left ear, and he swore it was grinning. "A legitimate pact, aye? I suppose it is a little too in depth for my taste."

Thrall didn't pay any heed to her, as Jaina's face was pleasantly close to his own.

Tada! First Warcraft fic. I'm pissed though, 'cause I just attempted EoE 10 and it failed miserably. Seriously, how do you FAIL EoE 10? OMFG, rotation! This isn't ICC people. :( ._.