Warning: Written in present tense.

"Milady, we have received word that the Argent Dawn is considering an expedition to Northrend."

Jaina nods. The sorceress is sitting at her desk in her office, and takes the papers handed to her.

"I understand. Thank you."

The messenger executes a short bow and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

A contemplative silence fills the room.

"To Northrend…"

Jaina gazes out the window in the direction of the dread continent.

The battlegrounds are shifting yet again.

Will this be the one to bring lasting peace?

Or will more blood be split, more poisonous vengeance kindled in grieving hearts?

Jaina tugs at the desk drawers' bronze latch. Inside are a stack of tattered Orc missives, an extra inkwell, three spare fountain pens, a cleaning cloth, a straw doll, pieces of straw, and a tiny silver box.

She smiles when she sees the straw doll. It is a gift from a little girl, given to her on one of her rare trips into the streets of Theramore. Scraps of purplish cloth hold it together, and if you look at it the right way you just might be able to see something resembling a face.

It is still shedding straw all over her drawer. Jaina carefully picks out fallen pieces and with barely a thought, they are instantly incinerated.

The pile of documents seems to taunt her. Some of them are peace treaties, carefully crafted by Thrall and herself. Brokered, and broken. Their peoples might never accept each other, not in her lifetime, but Jaina has to keep trying.

After a moment of hesitation she takes out the small silver box and places it on the desk. The somewhat sloppy quality of the metalwork and embellishment marks it out as one of those things you might find in a tourist shop, back in the times when the world was peaceful enough to have such things as tourists.

Jaina places one finger on the latch of the box and whispers a spell. The enchantments she'd laid on the box long ago respond, and it clicks open.

Inside the velvet lined interior are a multitude of tiny gemstones, each fitting snugly into ruts in the fabric. Sapphires, emeralds, rubies, topaz – all made into small polished orbs the size of millet seeds.

Picture rocks.

They'd been the latest fad among the children of the rich, before the beginning of the war and the end of frivolity. Pay the picture-maker. Stand in the spell circle. Be very, very still for a minute. Get little mementos of yourself to send to all your friends and family - and maybe a girl or boy you liked.

Jaina runs a finger across the rows of gems, brushing each one lightly. Each time her finger passes a stone, a hazy figure forms in the air above it before dissipating.

It's good that these picture rocks were made of gems, and not the cheaper option of stone. They'd have been caressed to a dust be now.

A drop of opal becomes dislodged by her finger, rolling around the bottom of the box.

The sorceress picks it up.

A hazy picture of a family springs into being above her fingertips. Seconds pass before the image focuses into clarity, but Jaina already knows its contents by heart. There is herself in the middle; Tandred, on her left; Derek, to her right; Daelin towering behind them. Her younger self is obviously the instigator of the picture, grinning hugely. Her older brothers look like they want to be doing more interesting things, but are smiling for her sake anyways. Daelin, one hand on each son's shoulders, is also trying to smile but manages something more like a grimace.

Jaina puts the opal back, and picks up another gem. An amethyst, with a tiny rune etched into it.

The picture forms into massive group of violet-robed figures, standing around the fountain at Dalaran, a popular attraction. Antonidas stands at the forefront of the group, wearing an indulgent expression. The others in the picture are her friends, looking a little intimidated by the archmage in their midst. Jaina herself isn't in the picture; this is the one she'd made herself. It had taken days of pestering to get her mentor to be part of it. "It wouldn't be the same without you!"

The next one is a ruby. Kael'thas Sunstrider solidifies into existence, looking distinctively haughty. Knowing him, he'd probably thought the frivolity of picture rocks far below his nobility. Not so far below as to prevent him from sending one to the object of his affections, though.

A pause, then - a diamond now glitters on her palm. "Because it's like the Holy Light", Arthas had said as he picked it out. In it are him and Jaina, from the time before the dual pressures of publicity and her studies had split them apart. His arm is over her shoulder, her arm curled around his waist, and they are both smiling with genuine joy-

Jaina puts the gem back into its slot, closes and latches the box, and shuts the desk drawer.

None of them will ever smile for a picture again.

Derek is dead, slain by the Orcs.

So is her father, sacrificed for peace. She watched him die.

Tandred fights a losing battle as the leader of the survivors of Kul Tiras.

Antonidas and her friends from Dalaran were murdered by the Scourge, bodies left to rot in a ruined city.

Kael'thas has been driven to insanity by his all-consuming addiction to magic. This, too, was caused by the Scourge, for they destroyed the Sunwell that had sustained his people for millennia.

Arthas... Arthas leads the Scourge. He lost his mind, and then his soul, fighting for the people of Lordaeron. Now he aims to murder every living being on the face of Azeroth.

And as for Jaina?

She prepares for another day as the ruler of the last bastion of humanity, and tries to leave the past behind.

A/N: Comments and especially constructive crit appreciated, as this is my first fanfiction and I need to learn better writing skillz. Thanks!