Jaina Proudmoore

A/N: Once again, this story is a commissioned spin-off to Mutually Satisfactory Arrangements. If you have not read that, this opening might be a little confusing. Or maybe it stands on it's own, who knows?

There are, at the time of this posting, thirty-one chapters of this fic on HF and QQ. Feel free to go to those websites to read ahead, or follow along here if you want.

-x-X-x-

A frown spreads across Harry's face, as he steps into the Death Chamber. He can immediately sense it, the presence of so many concealed wizards, all under the disillusionment charm. The Veil itself stands in the center of the not-so-empty room, as it always does. Only one man is visible down there, a cloaked Unspeakable, one of the Department of Mysteries' grunt workers.

Though 'grunt' was a bit of a misnomer when it came to anyone who worked in the Department of Mysteries. Harry had grunts working beneath him in the Auror Office. Mysteries had nothing but the best of the best working for it.

"Thank you for coming, Head Auror."

Harry rolls his eyes as he plants his hands on his hips.

"Cut the crap Bill. You said there was news of Sirius, of course I came."

Even decades later, Harry was thoroughly attached to his long-gone Godfather. Perhaps unreasonably so, given the fact that the Veil of Death had never been known to do anything BUT kill. Still, without a body there was always a chance, and Sirius had been one of the few unequivocally GOOD things about his teenage years. So yes, when the message had come, he'd dropped everything.

Bill Weasley pulls back his hood, revealing his scarred face and the heavy set of his jaw. Harry reads the condemnation in the older man's gaze, but at this point, he could care less about it. That said, he's also no fool. He's quickly beginning to realize this is a trap, especially as the number of disillusioned beings on the outskirts of the Death Chamber outweighs the number of active Unspeakables that Harry knows work in the Department of Mysteries. This isn't a matter of a bunch of Department workers fawning over him, as has happened many times before.

No… there's something going on here. And Bill is at the center of it all. The Weasley in question nods, his hands moving to clasp together before him, disappearing into the long-sleeves of his robes.

"There's been a development, Harry."

Harry's lips turn down into a frown, his brow drawing together in confusion. Just what is this? Bill had been an Unspeakable for a decade now, ever since he decided he was too old to continue curse-breaking for Gringotts. The man was smart enough and canny enough and inquisitive enough to tick off most of the boxes the Department of Ministries looked for in an Unspeakable. Still though…

Letting out a sigh, Harry pulls his hands away from his hips. He spreads his arms wide and his eyes sweep over the disillusioned wizards surrounding the two of them, their magic visible to his senses, the charm doing nothing to keep them from being seen and identified.

"What is this? You gone Dark Lord on me Bill? Gathered up a bunch of sycophants and lured me here for an ambush so that you could begin your conquest of the Wizarding World unopposed?"

He could certainly see the hate and the anger in Bill's eyes. He could read the man's fury and disgust on his very soul at this point. It was surprising, and hurtful to imagine Bill had gone dark… but the evidence seemed to be right before his eyes, so Harry didn't let any of his shock show on his face, even as Bill glanced about the room as well. Eventually, the red head shakes his head and waves a hand.

"You've got it all wrong Harry."

The disillusionment charms fall and finally, Harry is able to identify each of Bill's co-conspirators. His confusion and surprise mount as he recognizes many of them. Ron stands among them, looking just as angry as his brother. Percy and George are there too. Even his godson, Teddy, is among the wizards arrayed before him.

And then there's the others. Draco is the only one that feels right, the blonde with a wild look in his eyes and a sneer on his face. But many of the wizards arrayed before him, surrounding him even, are men Harry knows to be good, upstanding citizens. Some aren't. Some are criminals… but the vast majority are people he would never peg as turning to the dark.

"What… what is this? What the hell is all this?"

"What the fuck do you think it is Harry?! Did you think we wouldn't find out? Or that we would, and we'd just let it happen? Did you think we were just fine with it?"

That's Ron, and Harry opens his mouth to respond but Draco beats him to it.

"You're going to pay, Potter! My wife! My mother!"

And finally, it hits him. It probably should have been more obvious before that moment. Malfoy really shouldn't have had to spell it out before he got it. But now it's all crystal clear. Harry looks around the room, and instead of matching faces to his own read of their morals and their personality… he matches faces to wives, mothers, and children.

Each and every wizard arrayed before him is a man he's inadvertently cucked in the process of getting his kicks off with over half of the witches in the Wizarding World. Harry opens his mouth, only for his jaw to click shut a moment later, as he finds himself speechless for once. Bill takes that opportunity to speak up again, stepping forward with his own arms spread wide now.

"You're the one who's gone dark on us, Harry. We aren't blind. And we aren't all so weak-willed that we'd let a man trample over our families, trample over our marriages, use and abuse our daughters. Not even if that man is you. You don't get free reign over our world, over our wives and children, just because you defeated Voldemort. No one is above justice."

"… And why not?"

Harry's words come out before he's even fully processed them himself. They slither through the air, spreading to every set of ears in the room. Suddenly, the temperature of the Death Chamber seems to drop low. Shivers run down more than one wizard's spine, as they stare at the one standing tall in their midst. Power emanates from Harry, even as he slowly turns in a circle, making eye contact with every single person in the room.

"Why not? Why shouldn't I have free reign? Why should I be allowed to do whatever the hell I want? Your wives, your daughters, your mothers… they are weak-willed, and you allow them to walk all over you anyways, showing just how much weaker you each are. I alone stand above all. I alone rest at the top of the food chain. Pecking order gentlemen, it all comes down to pecking order."

Harry's lips curl into a wide, wicked grin, and a shadow seems to fall over his face, despite the fact that he's not wearing a hood or anything to cover his features.

"I sit at the top. Your ladies rest at my feet. And you… all of you grovel in the dirt for my recognition, for a pat on the back. That's how it's been for decades, isn't it? The Boy-Who-Lived… the Man-Who-Won. You've worshipped me since I was an infant, and you've never stopped. Why ruin a good thing, hm? Why risk your lives against the likes of me, when we can all continue on, happy as can be."

"My wife is pregnant with YOUR CHILD POTTER! Avada Kedavra!"

Draco's killing curse is strong, a hissing, sizzling green bolt of energy as it lances through the air. Harry's reflexes are fast though, and he'd already been expecting an attack to come from somewhere. A silver platter conjured in half a second comes between him and the curse, rebounding it right back into Draco's face before the blonde or anyone else can react. Lord Malfoy falls to the ground, dead, as every wizard in the Death Chamber tenses up in wide-eyed horror.

Well, every wizard except for Harry. Smiling politely, the dark-haired man disappears the silver platter, and adopts a casual, but ready-to-fight stance. In one hand, his old and trusted holly wand sits. In the other, the Elder Wand rests. It's the latter that allowed him to conjure the reflective surface that he used to kill Draco so quickly, and it thrums with his power just as his very presence thrums with it, barely controlled, tightly leashed.

"We all knew he was never going to see reason. Poor man. His mother is too, but I'm not sure he knew. Probably best if he didn't, in the end. Now, what about all of you?"

There's a moment of heavy silence… and then magic is flying at him from all directions. Harry tsks to himself, even as he dodges, blocks, and reflects spell after spell after spell. His arms pinwheel about, extensions of his will as his wands concentrate his desires into the most powerful magic that the Wizarding World has ever seen.

Harry James Potter has long stood above both Voldemort and Dumbledore in terms of sheer magical might. And with decades of practice more, he's eclipsed both of them as the greatest wizard of not only his age, but every age since Merlin himself. He is a God among Men, and he proves it to them in those next few minutes, even as the fighting rages fiercely all across the Death Chamber.

He is no Dark Lord and he's certainly no Light Lord, if ever such a thing could have been said to exist. Harry Potter is the Master of the Deathly Hallows, the Descendant of the Peverell Brothers, and the most powerful wizard alive. But even if he stands as a God among Men… even if he's twice, thrice, or ten times any of the wizards now fighting him… he is still flesh and blood.

Ten wizards, Harry would have no trouble with. Twenty, it could very well end in his favor. Fifty? A hundred? He hadn't bothered to count just how many disgruntled husbands, fathers, and sons had packed themselves into the outer edges of the Death Chamber just to confront him. He couldn't even focus enough to count them as he brought each and every one of them down with his magic either. But even after dealing with a dozen, or two dozen, Harry is feeling the pressure.

He loses his holly wand first, unable to quite pull his hand out of the way in time. The reducto strikes directly in the center of the wand, and he ends up having to toss it away as it becomes a magical explosive in his grasp, pulsating unevenly with power as his magic tries to fill it, but ultimately fails due to the crack directly along its core.

The phoenix feather, super-charged by the magic pumped directly into it, explodes and takes the holly wand with it, splinters of magically charged wood flying in all directions, piercing the flesh of more than one of his enemies, even as Harry pulls his enchanted robes up to protect his face, ducking down for a moment. After that, all he has is the Elder Wand to his name… but that proves to not be enough as well, and while he's dealing with a concentrated attack from ten different wizards, an Expelliarmus of all things slips past his guard.

Harry's eyes go wide as the Elder Wand flies from his grasp. He's disarmed in a moment, and he can only stare in anger at Bill Weasley, as the smirking Unspeakable holds out a hand and catches his wand. A second later, he's being grabbed from both sides, and though Harry snarls and kicks and yells as he's wrestled to the floor, it's no use. His magic whips out in a frenzy, but there's multiple wizards grabbing at his body, holding him down, dragging him to his knees and across the floor.

In no time at all, Harry finds himself forced into a position of submission before the Veil of Death itself. He goes still, when he feels the tip of the Elder Wand, HIS wand, press against the back of his head. Gritting his teeth as Bill speaks, Harry clenches his hands into white-knuckled fists.

"You lose, Harry. I lured you here under false pretenses, admittedly. But I wasn't completely lying when I said there'd been a development regarding Sirius. We talked about it, you see. And we all decided that you were going to join him. That was the development. You're going through the Veil, and our world, our families… won't have to suffer your presence for a moment longer. Goodbye, Harry James Potter."

The finality of it all is what really pisses Harry off the most. He can feel Bill's magic gathering behind him, and in that moment, he finds the strength to act. Despite all of the power, all of the might he's already used up, Harry taps into a hidden well of energy, deep inside of himself in that moment. No. No, FUCK THIS! Letting out a roar of anger, the Man-Who-Won throws off those holding him down, both physically and magically. Their binding spells break, their grips are torn away from him as they're thrown across the room.

Bill flies back, his magic fizzling out, and Harry slowly stands, now unopposed as he rises from the kneeling position he'd been forced into, turning around and swaying a bit. Exhaustion is seeping into his every being, his magic depleted from the fight and everything else in a way it never had before. That doesn't stop him from reaching out towards the downed Unspeakable a dozen feet away.

He tugs with his mind as he tries to cast a silent accio at the Elder Wand held feebly in Bill's grasp. It's not the Weasley that's gripping it tightly though, even as it twitches, refusing to jump to his hand. Harry just can't quite muster the strength to pull it to him. He's that depleted. With a snarl, the powerful wizard takes a step forward, stumbling but managing to stay upright, even as he begins to make his way towards Bill Weasley and HIS wand.

The Unspeakable is just beginning to stir as Harry closes in on him, but the dark-haired wizard is confident he can snatch up the Deathly Hallow before Bill can stop him. Just as he's reaching for it however, a voice carries across the room from behind him.

"Accio Harry Potter."

Normally, the summoning charm didn't work on magical beings. And it was extremely illegal to use it on muggles. Harry was currently just about as weak as a muggle though, and just out of reach of the Elder Wand, he finds himself being pulled back, back, and back some more by the Accio charm. Looking behind himself, Harry stares through the fluttering veil at the one casting the spell.

Ron Weasley looks back at him, hatred in every line of his face and unshed tears in his eyes as he drags Harry closer and closer to him… and closer and closer to the veil that sits between them.

"Ron! Ron, you stop this right now! RON!!!"

"Fuck you Potter."

That's not Ron. No, in fact the man is completely silent as his eyes flicker past Harry to where the voice came from in the first place. Bill stands there, Elder Wand pointed directly at Harry's chest as the most powerful wizard in centuries struggles against a simple summoning charge, inches from being pulled through the Veil of Death.

"Depulso."

The single, simple word leaves Bill's lips, and a wave of force departs from the Elder Wand, slamming into Harry's exhausted body as the banishing charm, combined with Ron's summoning charm, throws their enemy right through the Veil. In an instant, Harry is gone. It's over. Those that remain of the wizards he cucked stare in disbelief, shocked that they actually managed it.

A general cheer begins to rise up from the exhausted fighters, but it's abruptly cut off by the sudden return of spell-fire, as a variety of furious, pregnant witches stream into the Death Chamber, wands drawn and magic flying through the air. The Elder Wand flies from Bill's grasp in the ensuing chaos, and minutes later, the Weasley Unspeakable finds himself forced to his knees before his own wife, even as Fleur looks down at him with rage in every line of her being, her belly full with Harry's child and the Elder Wand in her grasp.

"Bill. What did you DO?!"

The man looks up at his wife, mouth agape and anguish clear in his gaze. Their daughter stands at her mother's side, equally pregnant… and Fleur's mother is there as well, though she's not showing yet, if she is carrying Harry's child. Looking between Fleur and Victoire, even as the men he'd assembled are pinned down and beaten into unconsciousness by their female family members, Bill stutters out his reply, inadvertently proving Harry's earlier point about the pecking order with his reaction.

"I… I was getting rid of a threat to our f-family Fleur! He had to go!"

Fleur's nostrils flare and it's the only warning Bill gets before the part veela shrieks in pure unadulterated fury, raking a clawed hand across her already scarred husband's face. Bill falls to the ground, unconscious from the blow, and Fleur whirls away from him without a second thought, instead moving to stand before the Veil of Death.

Victoire stands at her side, and they're both soon joined by many of Harry's favorites. Hermione, Tonks, his daughter Lily, Angelina… Fleur stands in the center with them all arrayed at her back, each and every one of them visibly pregnant by this point. Eventually, the words that they're all thinking are spoken, coming from Victoire as she rests a hand on her mother's arm.

"Mom… what are we going to do?"

There's determination in Fleur's eyes as she grits her teeth. Determination and resolve. She clutches at the Elder Wand in her grasp, even as her desire to see it back in Harry's hands overwhelms any magic of ownership that disarming her husband might have given her. It's Harry's wand, and she WILL see it returned to him. No, better yet…

"We're going to get him back. We're going to bring Harry Potter BACK."

She'd see HIM returned to it, to their world, to ALL of them. The thought of never being filled with that big, hard, throbbing dick again, it made Fleur sick to her stomach. She wasn't going to let it all end this way. Not without a fight. Her child would not grow up without its father.

"How?"

Fleur grimaces as her daughter asks the obvious. She doesn't have an answer, not right now anyways. In the end, she has to settle for useless platitudes.

"… We'll find a way."

Turning to Victoire, the older blonde draws her daughter to her large bust, pulling the young woman in close and holding her tight. There are tears in the eyes of more than one of the witches arrayed around the Veil of Death. But there's also the same determination and resolve in all of them that Fleur herself feels now. And she knows… she KNOWS that they'll succeed, one way or another.

They WILL bring Harry back.

-x-X-x-

"Don't be foolish, Jaina! Go!"

"No! I can't let you do this! You have a family! You're the leader of the Kirin Tor!"

"And you're the future of it!"

A magical push had hit her and Jaina had found herself pulled towards the portal, just as Rhonin had used his magic to drag the mana bomb to himself, every ounce of the Archmage's arcane intellect working to lessen the blow of the massive explosion. The world had gone white, the tower had shattered and Jaina had fallen back into the portal, just like that.

It'd been hours before she woke. The first thing she'd felt upon returning to awareness was pain, every inch of her being seeming to be aflame with agony. It'd taken her a time to remember what had happened. She'd sat up, and the first person she'd seen after she stood up was Kalec. He'd caught her, just as he legs were about to give out on her. They'd exchanged words that felt like they held no meaning.

Then, determination had welled up inside the beautiful female mage.

"I have to go back. Someone might still be alive. They'll need my help."

"Jaina, no! It isn't safe."

The blue dragon's words had done little to convince her. Instead, they'd done far more to incense her as she spun on him, escaping his grasp and pulling back.

"Safe? SAFE?! How can you talk to me of safety, Kalec? Theramore is GONE! My people… I owe it to them to see if there's anything I can do!"

A grimace spreads across Kalec's handsome human disguise, even as he holds up his hands to indicate peace. After everything that's happened, Jaina can't see anything but surrender in the blue dragon's stance.

"Jaina… that place is blanketed in arcane energy from the mana bomb. You barely escaped with your life, but the blast has already…"

"Yes? What has it already done to me, Kalec?"

His grimace grows and Kalec hesitates, before speaking as calmly as he can, given the circumstances.

"Your hair has turned white, with but a streak of your blonde locks remaining… and your eyes… your eyes are glowing."

Jaina felt a pang of fear at that. If the blast's outwards effects were already so visible, it's inward effects could very well be disastrous.

"I know you feel like you have to act, but there are other things we can do Jaina. There's no one… nothing left there for you. All you'd be doing is risking yourself further. We can-"

"We? There is no we."

The hurt in Kalec's eyes as she cuts him off makes her heart ache, but in truth, Jaina welcomes the pain now. She shelters it, grows it, and suffers through it happily. Only in suffering can she ease the agony of all she's lost. In that moment, Jaina realizes that she's alone… and that's the way it has to be.

"I'm going Kalec. And I'm going alone. Don't follow me."

Despite the pain wracking every fiber of her being, it's honestly the easiest teleportation spell she's ever cast. Her name leaves Kalec's lips in a cry behind her, but Jaina doesn't look back, she doesn't hesitate. Instead, she steps through, cherishing the pain inside of her soul like a brand-new friend to remind her of the cruel, hard reality that she was alive when all others had fallen.

-x-X-x-

She'd thought she was prepared. But she wasn't. The sight of Theramore after the impact of the mana bomb… it's beyond anything Jaina had thought possible. Arcane Energy whips around her, but in truth, it's the least of the pain Jaina is feeling in that moment, as she stares out at the ruins around her. She'd teleported back to the center of the city, her magic immediately bringing her to ground level.

Only, ground level was now a crater over twenty feet deep. Her tower, the tower she'd helped design and craft with her magic, is gone. As is Rhonin. As is… everyone. A tear finally falls from Jaina's eye, as she accepts the loss of so many friends, so many people as close to her as blood. It's all too much… and the Horde WILL pay for what they've done.

That thought sparks a bit of fire in Jaina's heart. The female mage's fingers slowly curl up into a fist as her knuckles go as white as her newly transformed hair. She'll need the Focusing Iris. Which should be- a groan suddenly tears Jaina from her nascent thoughts of revenge. Her glowing eyes widen as she spins towards the very human, very alive sound. She watches, even as somebody pulls themselves out of the dirt at the middle of the crater, literally covered head to toe in the stuff.

"Fucking hell…"

It's a man, and he speaks common. More than that, he's entirely naked, from the looks of things. Jaina stares as unknown man pulls himself up onto his hands and knees… and then a glint catches her eye and the white-haired mage bursts into motion as her staff points at the man. She feels a small pang of regret as he groans in sudden pain from the abrupt forceful push away from the Focusing Iris, but as soon as she saw the thing buried in the earth beneath his body, she found herself acting.

As arcane energy chains the stranger to the ground, Jaina strides forward, the top of her held-out staff glowing, even as she zeroes in on the Focusing Iris. Her free hand comes up and she waves it in a specific pattern. If there's one thing about the arcane energy suffusing the area that's useful at the moment, it's how easily casting any spell is right now. Jaina is able to see the Focusing Iris to safety in moments, disappearing it away into a pocket dimension only accessible by herself.

"Hey! The fuck?!"

The man, the stranger that had been at ground zero of the mana bomb's explosion, is finally coming around fully. Jaina turns to look at him, and the first thing she notices is his vibrant, green eyes. She's reminded for a moment of a young paladin she'd known oh so long ago. The Prince of an entire Kingdom… who'd gone on to do so many terrible things before he'd finally been put down.

But no, this is not Arthas Menethil. This is not the man who became the Lich King, who died as the Lich King. She can see immediately that this one is different in all too many ways. Magic is strong with him, arcane magic especially, even if he's in no particular state to use it at this moment. His black hair sits atop his head like a mess, and his body is lanky, in a way, not broad-shouldered or muscular as Arthas had been.

This is a scholar, or at the very least a magic-user. Jaina can tell that even with him naked and covered in dirt and rubble. But… he's not one of her citizens. He's not of Theramore. Which begs the question, how did he come to be IN Theramore? How did he survive the blast? How did he somehow end up right on top of the Focusing Iris?

"Who are you?!"

Narrowing those bright green eyes at her, the stranger refrains from answering Jaina's shouted question, instead straining against the arcane shackles holding him down. It's an advanced form of the slow spell, and it has him completely locked in place… or so she thinks, until abruptly, the man is brute forcing his way through the magic, his own magic rising to combat hers in a way that has Jaina's eyes going wide in shock and panic.

"Sleep!"

As the arcane shackles abruptly break, Jaina focuses all of her might into another spell entirely. The sleep spell washes over the stranger like a wave, and thanks to all of the arcane energy in the air, it's probably her most powerful casting to date. It's the man's eyes that widen then, before suddenly rolling back in his skull as he collapses back onto the side of the crater, unconscious and forced into an induced, magical sleep right then and there.

Jaina lets out a breath of relief, even as a voice calls out to her.

"Lady Proudmoore! Lady Proudmoore!"

Spinning around, Jaina sees what looks to be Alliance adventurers cresting the edge of the crater, rushing down towards her. The first responders, she imagines. There were always brave men and women, ready to be there when it came time. A slight smile tries to tug at her somber visage and fails… and then her lips turn down when an orcish voice fills the air.

"KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL! BRING ME THAT PROUDMOORE WENCH SO I CAN RIP THE LOCATION OF THE FOCUSING IRIS FROM HER HEAD!"

On the other side of the crater, orcs led by what appears to be a Warlord begin to stream down the lip and towards her and her unconscious prisoner. Jaina presses her lips tightly together, even as her reinforcements rush past to provide her with coverage for her casting. She's not surprised that the orcs won't stop, even now. The Horde that she'd once known, that had she'd once considered redeemable… it's gone. There's only Garrosh's Horde now.

The new Warchief had started a war. And Jaina intended to make him pay for that, every step of the way. A smile does finally spread across the female mage's lips then. It's not a nice smile though. It's a very vindictive one, as she kills orc after orc. She doesn't imagine this sensation, this feeling of intense satisfaction as they die will go away for quite some time.

Meanwhile, Harry James Potter, unknown to anyone on this world and unaware of just how far he's flown across the multiverse, slumbers at Jaina Proudmoore's feet. He slumbers there, naked and covered in dirt. And no one… NO one knows just what sort of omen his arrival foretells.

-x-X-x-

"Wake up. I want a name, stranger."

Those are the first words Harry hears when he comes to again. The voice is familiar as well, barely so. When he opens his eyes, he finds himself in what appears to be a makeshift dungeon cell, complete with a wooden table between them, as the woman with white hair and a blonde streak, as well as ornate, extravagant robes, looks down at him with her arms crossed over her chest.

Back in the crater, in the dirt and grime, he'd been a bit… panicked, to be fair. But then, he'd been attacked within moments of dragging himself out of some rubble. It was probably fair that he be a little out of it, right? Now though, with actual chains shackling him to a chair, Harry was able to calm down a little, taking in the situation at hand.

Something was blocking his magic… some of it anyways. The powerful wizard's presence still flowed through the room, permeating every last inch of the place, but he couldn't guide it, or direct it. He couldn't cast a single spell, and he could feel that the blockage was centered around his wrists. Not just physical shackles, but runed shackles at that. Whoever he was up against, they knew how to handle magic users.

But then, this one, this beautiful, fine ass woman before him, WAS a magic user, now wasn't she? Harry could feel it coming off her in waves, the power that rested within her. She was strong… he was stronger and if she hadn't caught him off guard, if he hadn't been exhausted and tired and beat up, he could have proved it back in that damn crater.

But now wasn't the time to consider 'what if' scenarios and what he 'could have' accomplished. Now was the time to assess things, and possibly cooperate. Pressing his lips tightly together, Harry settles for answering the woman's question with another question.

"Is it not polite to introduce yourself first?"

He adds a roguish smile to the question for good measure, and he's pleased when the strange witch smiles back. It's not a nice smile, but at least it's a start.

"I'm not feeling very polite. But I'll ask nicely one more time. Who are you?"

Harry cocks his head to the side in acknowledgment of the female magic user's threat. Still, he's not one to cave, under any circumstances. And to be fair, the torture hasn't even started yet. Still, this woman doesn't strike him as particularly evil. Rather than being his normal caustic, antagonizing self, he tries for a mutual understanding of some sort.

"How about a question for a question. Tell me where I am, and I'll tell you my name. Answer my questions, and I'll answer yours. Tit-for-tat, as they say."

There's a long moment of silence, as the beautiful woman, her eyes actively glowing with some sort of ethereal energy, considers his proposal. Harry waits with baited breath, and he holds back the smile when her demeanor finally shifts to a bit more… opening and a bit less confrontational. She moves forward, a sway in her step and her hips as she circles the table. When she comes to the front of it, she leans back and crosses her arms back over her chest. They're closer now, just a couple feet apart as she nods in his direction.

"Fine. We'll try it your way. And if you lie to me, you won't like the consequences. We're in Dalaran, on the continent of Northrend."

Harry's brow furrows in confusion.

"Those words mean nothing to me."

That in turn causes the woman to lift her own brow.

"Have you been living under a rock? Regardless, I answered your question stranger. Now you will answer mine, or else things will get unpleasant."

While it was entirely possible he hadn't heard of a place called Dalaran where old cobblestone cellars like this one still existed, Harry had definitely learned all of Earth's continents. There were seven, and a place called 'Northrend' wasn't one of them. More than that… he'd been thrown through the Veil of Death. He hadn't come out the other side of it back in the Department of Ministries… which implied he had been transported somewhere else by the doorway, rather than outright killed.

This place… well, if his suspicions were correct, then answering her question would have no consequences.

"Harry. My name is Harry Potter."

It's the woman's turn to frown slightly at that.

"And just who is Harry Potter?"

Grinning roguishly (and is that a faint blush he sees on her face as their eyes meet?) Harry shakes his head back and forth.

"No, no. Remember, we both get to ask questions. Now that you have my name, I'd love to hear yours."

That gets a rather unladylike snort from the beautiful magic user.

"I suppose if you don't know what Northrend or Dalaran are, you wouldn't know recognize me either, now would you? I am Jaina Proudmoore. Now, who is Harry Potter?"

"A man. Perhaps a bit more. I've lived a life of service to my people. Saved countless souls. Fought evil where I could find it. Answer me this, Jaina Proudmoore… what is the name of your world?"

He's answering a bit more than just her question with his question in turn, but Harry doesn't mind too much. It's actually quite lovely, seeing her eyes widen in sudden understanding. The woman looks even prettier when she's having an epiphany.

"… Azeroth. Harry, where are you from?"

Letting out an exasperated chuckle, the dark-haired wizard shakes his head back and forth.

"Not from your world. I live on a planet called Earth. And I honestly have no idea where it is, or how exactly the circumstances of my departure from it led me to here."

Frowning again, Jaina cocks her head to the side.

"Your planet is named after dirt and rock?"

That startles a laugh out of Harry, causing him to shake his head again, this time ruefully.

"I suppose so. There were attempts to rename it to things like Terra and the like, but yes. Most people just call it Earth. Jaina… allow me to speak plainly. Let us just talk. Keep the bindings on if you like, but rather than going back and forth with question after question, can we not have a civil discourse? It becomes obvious that I am a stranger in a strange land. I will tell you all I know about my circumstances, if you can do the same for me."

He is as earnest as he can be as he presents his case to the beautiful magic user. Jaina seems to consider for a moment, before finally, she nods slowly. A slight smile spreads across Harry's face as they begin to talk. Just… talk. Setting aside his obvious attraction for the woman for now, the powerful wizard settles into the task of finding out just how far up shit creek without a paddle he really is.

-x-X-x-

It feels surprisingly hot, in the makeshift interrogation room Jaina had set up so she could pump her prisoner for information. Hours in, she now had a far better understanding of the man Harry Potter… and she hadn't done much interrogating, of any sort. It was hard to treat Harry as a prisoner or an enemy. The wizard, as he'd labelled himself, was certainly powerful… but he was no threat, not to her or Dalaran anyways.

From the sound of things, Harry had lived his life on the side of the good, even acting as a magical form of law enforcement in his world, after he'd spent much of his early life fighting against the darkness that plagued his society. Honestly, Jaina was beginning to feel like she'd found a kindred spirit in the man before her. The wounds were still fresh. She'd lost so much to Garrosh's insanity.

Harry's own wounds, his own losses, were decades old by comparison, but it put some of it into perspective for her. Jaina hadn't even realized how much she was blaming herself, until Harry set her on the right path and she redirected ALL of her anger towards the Horde and their Warchief, rather than just some. It felt good, hating the right people with all her heart, instead of loathing herself.

Harry Potter was a good man. More than that, he was an attractive man. She'd cleaned him up and clothed him while he'd slept off the magically induced slumber, and even in her grief, Jaina hadn't missed the sizable member that Harry was packing between his legs. Besides that, he was simply conventionally handsome, and his vibrant green eyes reminding her of another love certainly didn't help either.

It probably wasn't the place, or the time… but Jaina found herself lusting after the man she had chained up before him. Unbeknownst to her, Harry's magic had become a little twisted, a little corrupt since he'd started fucking the women in his home dimension. Because of who she was, and because of just how strong she was (made all the stronger by being exposed to a mana bomb explosion and living) Jaina could not simply be mind broken into a cock-hungry slut, needy for Harry's dick.

She could be slowly influenced towards a lowering of her inhibitions though, and with Harry chained up with the magical-controlling runed shackles, that was exactly what his magic inevitably did on auto-pilot, slightly twisting Jaina's morals, and slowly increasing her libido. It didn't help that he kept looking at her body as well, instead of into her eyes.

With any other man, Jaina might have slapped him for the presumption, turning their little civil discourse back into a potentially painful interrogation. With Harry Potter, the beautiful Archmage found herself outright teasing him whenever he looked at her, slowly revealing more and more of her creamy, smooth legs beneath her robe.

She purposefully drew his eye there again and again, and when Harry finally got down to telling her just WHY he'd been banished from his own world, Jaina was perfectly primed to be more aroused than disgusted by the powerful wizard's immoral behavior.

"Truly? Just how many men did you inadvertently anger with your behavior?"

Harry's eyes dart from her half-revealed leg up to her face, and he shoots her another of those smug, lopsided grins of his, even as he shrugs his shoulders, completely relaxed in his bindings, despite the very real ghost iron shackles.

"At least fifty? Maybe more. I didn't get a chance to count, before they were attacking me en masse. In the end, I imagine it was the impregnation that either went too far or ultimately gave me away. Knocking up that many witches in the span of a few months no doubt drew too many eyes. Such is life, I suppose."

Giggling in a rather uncharacteristic manner, Jaina finds herself leaning forward, her arms pressing her tits together as she shows off a bit of her cleavage. She almost wishes she'd worn a lower cut dress for this interrogation now, but she hadn't exactly come in here with anything close to amorous intentions. Harry was special though, the beautiful Archmage could see that.

"And what if… I said I didn't believe you?"

Harry pauses at that and looks at her with a raised eyebrow. Grinning wickedly, Jaina responds by sliding her foot out, her shoe slipped off minutes ago, placing it on the inside of one of his legs and slowly moving upwards. That gets a glance from the bound wizard, and then he answers her.

"Which part don't you believe?"

Jaina pretends to ponder for a moment, even as she continues to trace up Harry's leg with her foot.

"Mm, well, I believe everything before the end. I can tell that you're powerful, Harry. I can tell that you're the kind of man who fights for others, who guards against tyranny. But honestly, that last bit? It all sounds a little far-fetched. You know, if the truth is something more reasonable or embarrassing, you can tell me. Perhaps you were researching this death doorway, and you simply fell through it? Perhaps it sucked you in. I'd be more willing to believe that."

Her foot gets to the inside of Harry's thigh before he can answer, and Jaina presses her toes directly onto the bulge in his loaned pants, even as Harry lets out a grunt, staring at her with such an intense, piercing gaze. Jaina just grins back at him, a wicked, naughty sort of grin as she plays with his cock, teasing him with her foot for a moment. She's not surprised by his size, after all. She'd already dressed him while he slept. But it's still quite fun, playing with his massive cock, even as her lips part and she begins to pant, slightly breathless.

"I could show you."

Harry's voice is quiet, his tone silken, and Jaina pauses as she looks at him in silence for a moment, her foot simply resting against his crotch. Her mouth feels dry… but she gets out her response all the same.

"Show me?"

The wizard's answering grin is not a nice look, but it is filled with dark, deviant promise. A shudder runs down Jaina's spine as she finds herself caught in his inescapable gaze.

"That's right. Unbind me. Let me free, and I'll show you what I did to have so many beautiful witches in love with me, and so many small, insecure wizards enraged by my very existence."

The suggestion, the thinly veiled threat… it should unnerve Jaina. It doesn't. It should disgust her. It doesn't. She should be angered and upset by Harry's clear desire to bed her… but she isn't. In the end, Jaina Proudmoore is damaged. Harry Potter is there when no one else is, and he hasn't told her to ignore her feelings, or to wait and see like Kalec would. The blue dragon, while a good soul, simply doesn't understand her, can never understand her in the way another human could.

Licking her lips, Jaina slides off of the wooden table she'd all but ended up sitting on in the hours that they'd chatted. She closes the very small gap between the two of them, but rather than reaching for Harry's shackles, the beautiful Archmage descends to the floor instead, where she grabs hold of Harry's knees and forcibly spreads them apart.

The wizard grunts in return, even as he watches her with some consternation. Grinning ferally, Jaina looks up into those green eyes, clouded as they are with confusion and annoyance. Unlike the numerous weak-willed witches he'd dominated and made into his playthings back on his world, Jaina Proudmoore is a ruler. She is in no way, weak. Not even in her darkest moment.

"Perhaps I'll just see what you have to offer without unbinding you. Perhaps, if I like what I see, I'll simply take you for myself."

Harry grits his teeth, but seems to think better of answering her, even as Jaina undoes the drawstring of his pants, slowly pulling them down off his waist. He's wearing no underwear beneath those pants, and his massive schlong springs forth from its confines in short order, very nearly hitting her in the face as it does. Jaina pulls back at the last moment instead though, smiling pleasantly as she finally lays eyes on Harry's nice, thick prick… again.

She hadn't touched it before though. Neither had she studied it or enjoyed it in all of its robust glory. Licking her lips, the horny, lustful Archmage reaches out and grabs hold of Harry's cock with both hands. Her fingers wrap around his shaft, not quite managing to touch thanks to his girth, and her smooth palms slide up and down his pulsating length. A groan leaves Harry's lips and Jaina smiles all the wider as she strokes his cock right then and there, her nostrils flaring, taking in his delicious scent, his godly musk.

"F-Fuck, Jaina…"

"Shush now. I'm conducting research."

Opening her mouth wide, Jaina rises up as far as she can on her knees, and finally places her lips over Harry's cockhead. There's a fresh exhalation of air from the man, even as her still-covered breasts press against his cock as well. Swirling her tongue around the top bit of his member, Jaina can't help but worship Harry's prick. It's the biggest she's ever seen, and though intellectually, Jaina knows size isn't everything… she can also imagine how he might have conquered so many women with a cock like this.

Taking more and more of him into her mouth, Jaina eventually hits a wall in the form of the back of her throat, combined with her jaw stretching to near its breaking point. Not really interested in deep-throating him or dislocating her jaw in the process, Jaina settles for the combo of her hands on the lower half of his dick, and her mouth on the upper part. For a while, this seems to work… but it becomes clear that she's not going to get him off this way.

Frowning, Jaina ultimately pulls back and studies Harry's giant prick for a long moment. Then, she reaches up and grabs the collar of her dress. A harsh pull later, and the dress comes off her shoulders, not quite tearing, but unable to contain her breasts any longer when she's actively aiming to stop it from doing so. The former Lady of Theramore exposes her sizable tits right then and there, dragging them out of their confines and letting them bounce free.

Harry stares down at them with wide eyes, even as Jaina smiles wickedly and reaches up to grope and knead her tits.

"Do you like them?"

Choking a little on his own spit, Harry nods, still wide-eyed.

"Those things are the perkiest I've seen in a long time… possibly ever. Are all women on this world like you?"

Jaina scoffs at that, even as she puts her breasts to work around Harry's dick. The well-endowed wizard groans much louder when it's the valley of her impressive, soft mammaries wrapped around his dick rather than just her hands. Slipping her mouth back over his cockhead, Jaina returns to swirling her tongue along his tip, even as she slides her tits up and down his length at the same time.

"F-Fuck… getting close."

The warning doesn't stop Jaina, in fact it causes her to work all the harder. She's been tasting his precum for quite a while now, and if his seed tastes anything like that, Jaina is eager to have more. She worships his cock with every fiber of her being, until finally, a loud groan tears its way out of Harry's throat, and a moment later a copious amount of white, hot sticky cum is filling her mouth.

Jaina immediately begins to swallow, even as Harry's load threatens to overwhelm her. But she's no neophyte, even in matters such as this. She swallows, and then she swallows some more. In the end, with her lips suctioned down around his cockhead, and her breasts milking his pulsing shaft for all they were worth, Jaina manages to drink down every last drop of Harry's seed, filling her belly with his delicious cum.

It's certainly the tastiest she's ever had, even if that's not necessarily saying much. When Jaina pulls back, she does so with a gasp, smacking her lips and then licking them for good measure as well, just to make sure she hasn't missed anything. With her breasts hanging out and Jaina directs a smug smirk up towards Harry, pleased with having extracted a release from his cock.

That alone should have been a warning flag, but Jaina was too far gone for warning flags. The woman was still herself in plenty of ways… but her damaged mental state had allowed Harry's magic to worm its way into her essence, and her inhibitions were shot, right alongside her libido. When she smirks up at Harry, and he in turn smirks down at her, Jaina isn't just outraged, she's hopelessly aroused.

Then, the white-haired Archmage realizes that her 'prisoner' isn't looking only at her, and her gaze slides back down to find that his cock, his thick, throbbing, massive schlong… is still hard. Jaina's jaw drops open at the sight, and when she looks back up into Harry's bright green eyes, she finds a promise there… a desire to show her what he'd offered before.

Part of Jaina considers ignoring that silent request she sees in his gaze. She contemplates standing and climbing on board, fucking him… raping him even, while he sits there, bound and helpless to her will. But no… no that's not what she wants. That's not what her body wants with every fiber of its being. Licking her lips, Jaina stands up and steps back. She reaches up and runs a finger down the side of her dress, and the enchanted garment splits open along that line, sliding off of her body.

Jaina catches it before it can hit the ground, and primly folds it up before placing it over the wood table behind her, even as she stands there, completely and utterly naked before her 'prisoner'. Not her prisoner for much longer though, because the next thing the nude Archmage does is saunter back over, and run her fingers along Harry's shackles, unlocking them with her magic in the same way she undid her dress.

A moment later, he's free and she's drawing back. Before she can fully do so however, Harry's hand lashes out and closes around her wrist. He doesn't squeeze painfully, but he does hold onto her firmly, even as he forces her to look into his green gaze. Jaina stares at him fearlessly, seeing the desire in his eyes… and conveying a desire of her own right back at him.

After that, things pass in a bit of a blur, but before she knows it, the white-haired Archmage is bent over the wood table, her tits and her upper body pressed down into her own dress as Harry pins her there. His cock rubs against her from behind… and Jaina wiggles back in anticipation of what's to come.

-x-X-x-

She wasn't like all the rest. No matter how much he might wish he could say she was, Harry knew instinctively that Jaina Proudmoore, Archmage of the Kirin Tor and Heir Presumptive to an entire magical floating city, was in no way a weak-willed girl. That made it all the more arousing to have her bent over a table, his cockhead pushing against her dripping wet cunt from behind.

Harry grins as he runs his hands over her body, down to her ass. She has such a beautiful ass. Her tits were amazing, to be fair… but Lady Proudmoore's behind is the undoubtedly the finest part about herself. Gripping Jaina's big, fat badonkadonk with both hands, Harry makes sure he's nice and lined up with her cunt… and then he thrusts in, grunting as he finally, FINALLY penetrates the hot, ready-to-fuck woman before him.

Jaina had spent so damn long teasing him. She'd played with him, used him, and in the end, she'd worshipped him. But that didn't mean they were even. Harry was not the kind of man to simply let such things lie. Now that he had the chance to even the scales, he was going to take it. Growling, the unbound wizard reaches out and grabs a fist full of Jaina's white locks. Pulling back on her head, even as he thrusts further into her cunt, he listens as she moans loudly, wantonly. Her voice is music to her ears, her tits hanging out from under her now, temptation to his hands.

He reaches around her with his free hand and grabs at one of her tits, even as he fucks her harder and harder. Jaina's back is forced to arch from the grip he has on her hair, and her cries fill the air, even as Harry pounds into her cunt with the entirety of his fat cock. His member beats at the entrance of her womb, and in no time at all, Jaina is cumming, and she's cumming hard.

"O-Oh Haaaarrryyy!!!"

She orgasms around his pistoning prick, even as Harry grunts at the abrupt tightening of her cunt. Her pussy flexes along his entire length, and as her sexual juices flow down his shaft, making his passage in and out of her even slicker, Jaina's cervix gives up the ghost, and Harry thrusts into the beautiful magic user's womb, filling her most sacred of places with his man meat.

The orgasms don't stop there though, and soon Jaina's eyes are crossed as her tongue hangs out of her mouth. She climaxes time and time again around Harry's giant prick, and he in turn fucks her as hard and as thoroughly as he can, pounding away at her from behind, even as he gropes and kneads her tit. Eventually, he lets go of her hair, allowing Jaina's head to fall forward, even as his suddenly free hand finds its place on her other breast.

Holding her by her fat, perky mammaries, Harry mauls the voluptuous woman's chest as he rails into her faster and faster, slamming home into her womb time and time again. Jaina cries out, happily so, and Harry can't help but wonder what magic she's cast to keep their lovemaking from reaching others. After all, she's being VERY vocal, and Harry can't imagine there aren't guards waiting just down the hall.

The thought of people beholden to her, followers of the beautiful, intelligent woman currently beneath him just out of range, unaware of what he was doing to their ruler… well, it made the whole thing even hotter for Harry. Growling lustfully, the man feels his second release fast approaching, and he jackhammers in and out of Jaina all the harder, until finally her spasming, tightening, flexing cunt manages to milk another load of cum from his cock.

His seed pours into the white-haired Archmage, even as she experiences one last orgasm from the sensation. He paints her womb white with cum, and then fills it to the brim for good measure. Then he fills it some more, and by the time he's done, Jaina's belly is ever so slightly bulging from just how much hot, sticky seed Harry's pumped into it.

Still, even as he unloads inside of her, Harry pulls back his hands. Even as Jaina squirms beneath him, bent over the table and writhing atop her dress, Harry finds himself staring at her ass, rather than anything else. It really is the most perfect ass… and he's still quite horny, quite thoroughly aroused. His cock hard and erect, Harry sees no reason not to move onto the next obvious step.

Licking his lips, the dark-haired wizard pulls his cock out of Jaina, inch by inch. In response, Lady Proudmoore groans, and then she lets out a moan when he slaps his slick, lubed up prick between her butt cheeks, hot dogging her right then and there. Her ass is quite literally glistening with a faint sheen of sweat as Jaina recovers from their rather rough fuck session, and Harry can't help but play with it, massaging and kneading and smacking it in turn as he grins wickedly, sliding his dick back and forth between her slowly reddening but cheeks.

She really is a pale woman, especially under that dress of hers. Her skin colors quite nicely with his handprints in red, and Harry watches as the mixture of their sexual fluids drips down into Jaina's ass crack, spreading across her sphincter in preparation for what is to come. Eventually, he pulls back his cock and spreads apart Jaina's ass cheeks, gripping the soft, pliable buttocks harshly with both hands as he lines up with her back door.

And then he finds himself caught in the woman's magic as Jaina finally comes back to life.

"Oh no you don't~"

Harry blinks as he's abruptly pushed back by an invisible force. His hands leave that beautiful ass, and he watches as Jaina's butt cheeks slap together, back into place, even as the white-haired Archmage pushes herself up off the table and turns to face him, a wicked smile on her face. He frowns and steps forward again, easily breaking out of her magical hold, but Jaina simply responds by falling to her knees once more.

In moments, her hands are once again on his cock, and her lips are around his dick tip as she begins to blow him. Harry frowns, but slowly, she mollifies him as she suckles at his dick, until finally Jaina pulls back with a mischievous grin, explaining herself even as she licks her lips.

"Not just yet, Harry. You'll have to earn the right to have me in that way. Only one has ever fucked me in my ass… we'll have to see if you can live up to the man he used to be, hm?"

Harry lifts his brow at that, even as Jaina strokes his cock back and forth with both hands.

"Oh? Sounds like you're saying there's going to be a next time. Tell me, Lady Proudmoore… just what are your intentions for me?"

Jaina grins salaciously, and Harry can tell he's going to have fun with this one. She's unlike any woman he's ever had before now. But then, he's landed on a whole other world. The opportunity for women unlike anything he's ever had before… is absolutely limitless. Resolving to enjoy the fun and go with the flow, Harry reaches out and laces his fingers through Jaina's hair, one hand going through her white locks, while the other finds itself gripping the majority of her blonde streak.

After all, the first time she'd blown him, he'd been bound, unable to direct the encounter… now though, if she didn't want to give him her ass… well, Harry would simply have to enjoy her throat, wouldn't he?

-x-X-x-

Jaina knows she's still a bit flushed, still a bit disheveled from the brutal face-fucking Harry had given her before they'd finally gotten dressed and left the cell behind. As she leads the dark-haired wizard down the hall, she's a little surprised to find the guards gone, and Kalec waiting in their place. As she reaches the entrance of the hall where he awaits them, she lifts a hand and snaps her fingers, bringing down the privacy wards she'd erected upon entering the area.

She'd originally intended to use them to blot out the sounds of Harry's screams, if it turned out he had anything to do with the destruction of her city and her people. Needless to say, they'd ended up put to another use altogether.

"Jaina, finally… you released the prisoner?"

It's important to keep an air of confidence in times like this… especially when her hair is positively covered in Harry's cum. Her chin remains held high though as Jaina glances back at a slightly smiling Harry, and slowly nods her head.

"Kalec, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Kalecgos, a Blue Dragon."

Harry looks at the blue-haired man in surprise, even as Kalec frowns in response to Jaina's nonchalant words. Before either man can speak, she preempts them both with a smile on her face.

"Harry has proved himself to me Kalec. He had nothing to do with the mana bomb, and he has no ties to the Horde. In point of fact, he very well may be as much a victim of their atrocities as myself. I have decided to take him as my new apprentice. He will be inducted into the Kirin Tor, and he will serve directly under me from this point on."

Kalec seems taken aback by Jaina's calm and forthright demeanor for a moment. She supposes she can understand why. Perhaps if she wasn't trying to avoid him noticing the cum in her hair, or the wet spot already forming in the crotch, she might have been a bit testier. They hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms after all. Still, a nice, hard, thorough fucking from Harry had proven quite therapeutic. Beyond that, simply talking to him for as long as they did had helped put things in perspective. Harry's tales had given Jaina a chance to calm down and refocus herself.

She would not forgive the Horde. She would never forgive the Horde… but Harry had had some decent advice on biding one's time. His own actions as a teenager were a cautionary tale in that regard. He'd managed to save his people in spite of his many fuck ups, in spite of alienating most of them before he was done. She would not fall into that same trap. No, the good peoples of Azeroth, the Alliance and the Kirin Tor and those not affiliated with Garrosh's plans for conquest… they would need her, when the time came. Just as she would need them.

Speaking of which…

"Kalec, why did you need to talk to me? Where are the guards?"

The blue dragon seems startled from deep thought as she abruptly speaks to him, and with a blink, he clears his throat and gestures to the stairs.

"Right… it's time Jaina. Actually about a half hour past time now. You're to be sworn in, as the leader of the Kirin Tor."

Jaina's lips curl into a smile, and she glances to Harry, not even quite realizing herself that she's actively seeking his approval. The smile on his own face pleases her though, even if she doesn't truly understand why. Looking back to a concerned Kalec, the beautiful woman, cum secretly staining her white-hair, nods her head.

"Lead the way then."

And that's how she finds herself going before the people of Dalaran for the first time. With Harry's seed sticking in her hair, as well as dripping from between her legs, her cum-stuffed cunt slightly agape and slowly leaking as she walks her way out onto a terrace. The Council of Six vote her in in private, and then she's addressing all of Dalaran, her voice magically enhanced to be heard by everyone.

Harry stands beside her as she speaks, quiet, but radiating approval… and lust.

"Citizens of Dalaran! Rhonin… is no longer with us! Today, the Horde struck a grievous blow, an underhanded blow, at my heart! Theramore is no more, and with his final breath, Rhonin made sure the damage was not worse! The Archmage sacrificed his life with honor, so that I and many others might survive."

The temptation to try and galvanize the populace to war is strong, but Jaina already knows how that will go. Glancing to Harry, she shudders slightly, and closes her eyes for a moment. Then she continues.

"Rhonin believed in this city! And before he died, he chose me as his successor, because he believed in me as well. I know what he would want of me. I know what he would ask of me, if he were still here today. We moved Dalaran to Northrend in an effort to end the threat of the Lich King, once and for all! When that threat was vanquished, only to be replaced by the Destroyer, by Deathwing himself, the Kirin Tor did not act in a manner that befit our station! We sat and watched, rather than acting in defense of this world!"

There's a tremor in her voice, at the end there. Jaina calms it, before continuing.

"We are privileged, in many ways! We are blessed with knowledge and magic and power! It is up to us to not only use those gifts responsibly, but to protect the innocent, and defend the weak! Dalaran must be a beacon of light and hope in an ever-darkening world! THAT is what Rhonin would have wanted! THAT is what I shall strive to achieve, till my very last breath!"

Jaina's speech comes to an end, and Harry's hand slips into hers. They're alone, up here on this balcony, per her request. She knows Kalec found it strange that she would demand such a thing, but in this moment, she can't bring herself to care. Her fingers intertwine with Harry's, even as they both look out over the floating city below. A low roar slowly picks up as every single inhabitant cheers on Jaina's words. The deafening sounds of their support fill Jaina with a sense of pride and satisfaction, and she can't help but feel gratitude.

The Kirin Tor and Dalaran are behind her. And so long as she moves correctly, so long as she takes her time and plays the game… they'll stay behind her, right up until she drives an ice lance through Garrosh's throat. The thought of that brown-skinned orc choking on his own flash-frozen blood as he twitches and spasms on the ground beneath her, dying for his crimes…

Jaina's nostrils flare as she takes in a deep breath, and then she turns to Harry, pulling him in for a deep, tongue-filled kiss. Slowly, the two of them leave the balcony, retiring into the personal quarters assigned to the leader of the Kirin Tor. There is still plenty to do, of course. But now that she's taken up her position, there will ALWAYS be plenty to do.

It can wait. All of it can wait until tomorrow.

-x-X-x-

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