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Exalted with Undercity	By : RotSeele Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 6899 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft. I do not make any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Exalted with Undercity
- 1
Exalted with Undercity

She hadn’t set foot in this place since Arthas had destroyed it. Jaina stared at half-crumbling statues, weeds and vines growing unrestrained on the stone walls, and the lonely throne where a great king once sat. Her guard was uncomfortable. It was understandable. The living were unwelcome here – more so if you weren’t affiliated with the Horde. Since Jaina had been invited here by the Dark Lady herself, she had nothing to fear. Jaina looked toward the openings in the throne room walls and heard the faint sounds of the elevators, she knew which way to go to reach the lower levels. Jaina turned to her guard.
“Wait here. I go on alone.”
“Lady, do you think that’s wise?” said her captain. The man glanced about him, as if the very stones had ears.
Jaina held out her hand. In her palm rested a silver medallion impressed with the seal of Sylvanas Windrunner, Queen of the Forsaken. “I was invited here, Captain. And believe me, King Wrynn is ready to raze this place to the ground should something happen to me.”
The Captain didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. Jaina flipped her hood over her head to cover her blonde hair, then took a deep breath and started forward.
When the missive had arrived at Theramoore, Jaina hadn’t known how to respond. Her contact with the Horde had been limited to Thrall, then Baine. She’d talked to Vol’jin all of twice, mostly him giving her news as to Garrosh’s movements and anything related to Thrall. Which was why she answered this summons. Not because Thrall would be there – which he wouldn’t – but because it would take her mind off him and away from the seething rage she felt just hearing Aggra’s name.
The Kor’kron guards at the elevator gave her a passing glance. Jaina was wearing the same leather and mail armour Sylvanas’ dark rangers wore, and a thick, voluminous cloak made of black wool that hid her features. It had been her idea to mask her identity, what with Garrosh and Sylvanas practically at each other’s throats, and Garrosh finding out Sylvanas was having a private meeting with an Alliance leader would be bad for all of them – Garrosh especially. Jaina wasn’t a complete fool to believe the orcs couldn’t tell from her scent she was human, but they couldn’t tell who she was exactly. She let out her held breath when the elevator doors closed behind her. She sucked in a breath when only seconds later, the elevator doors opened. Jaina stepped out onto the second level and Undercity proper, passing the Kor’kron guards with barely a glance. She rounded the corner, out of their sight, the paused as she took in the bowels of Lordaeron Keep for perhaps the first time in her life.
“Lady Proudmoore?” asked a ghostly voice on her left. Jaina clutched the medallion in her fist and turned to look at the Forsaken female beside her.
The woman was dressed head to toe in black leather. Her face was half-covered, revealing only milky eyes and a cloud of white hair. She crossed her arms over her chest in the Forsaken salute as an orc strode by them.
“The Dark Lady has been expecting you.” The Forsaken woman whispered. “Follow me and keep close.”
Jaina quickly fell into step with the Forsaken and quietly followed her from the main hub of the Undercity through the twisting waterways lit by green sludge. A thrill went through the sorceress, memories of her childhood surfacing. She remembered the time she and Arthas had snuck away from their chaperons to look upon an internment camp – or the time she’d accidentally set the library at Dalaran on fire. She couldn’t help a smile. What would Thrall say when he learned of this? What would Anduin say? The boy was already well on his way to establishing peace between the Alliance and the Tauren, after all. She already knew what Varian would say, though she hoped he could keep his more civil tongue when he yelled at her.
Jaina glanced at the Deathstalkers guarding the throne room’s entrance and noted that they saluted as she and her escort passed by.
When they arrived in the throne room, Sylvanas was nowhere to be seen. Only Sharlindra, Sylvanas’ banshee companion, waited for the procession of Jaina and her Forsaken guard. Sharlindra floated calmly toward them, as if this sort of thing happened all the time. Jaina realized it was all a show for the Kor’kron guards in the room as well as their commander. Sharlindra halted just before Jaina and her companion.
“Lady,” came Sharlindra’s ghostly voice, “please, this way. The Dark Lady has been expecting you.”
Jaina caught a subtle nod from Sharlindra to her Forsaken companion. Sharlindra gestured to Jaina. “Follow, please.”
Jaina exhaled slowly and fell into step behind the banshee. They traveled across the throne room in silence. Jaina was ever aware of the eyes of the orcs, as if they could see through her simple disguise and knew who she was.
You’re becoming paranoid, Jaina told herself. You were invited here; you accepted said invitation. You’re under Sylvanas’ protection, whatever that’s worth. Besides, you’ve got Vol’jin and Thrall and Baine on your side. Add them to your own considerable arsenal and Garrosh would be a fool to go against you. The logic made her feel just slightly better.
Sharlindra led Jaina through a hidden hallway, then through a series of twists and turns that made Jaina glad she could just teleport back to her guard – the live one – when whatever business Sylvanas had with her was finished.
Sharlindra at last paused before a door that was slightly ajar. “In there,” Sharlindra whispered. She ushered Jaina within, then closed the door, sealing the sorceress in with the Banshee Queen.
The room was sparsely furnished. There was a bed covered with black silk sheets and cobwebs; a rug that looked of Thalassian origin; a sturdy oak desk with inkwells, quills, and parchment neatly arranged upon it; one wall had a bookcase set against it, filled with books Jaina had seen perhaps once before in her lifetime, and some not at all; and lastly a chair set beside the bookcase, covered in plush velvet cushions. In that chair sat Sylvanas, sans armour, one leg crossed over the other at the knee. Her fingers were laced together, index fingers steepled against blood-red lips. Jaina stepped further within the sanctum and removed her cloak.
“So why did you invite me here, Sylvanas?” Jaina asked when the silence grew too much.
Sylvanas uncoiled and rose. “For the same reason you offered Theramoore as a haven for Baine Bloodhoof in his time of need.”
Jaina canted her head to the side. “I wasn’t aware the Forsaken needed a haven.”
Sylvanas’ elegant brow rose. “Really? Don’t tell me the great Lady Proudmoore doesn’t know about the plight of Silverpine and Arathi.”
Jaina’s eyes narrowed. “I know. But those events are squarely on your side of the field. I won’t be held responsible for them.”
Sylvanas chuckled and slowly approached Jaina. “I forget how young you really are. Or how willing you are to be blind.” She brushed a finger over Jaina’s cheek.
Jaina recoiled. “If I’m blind, then so are you,” she countered. “You talk of fighting against those trying to take the homes of your people, and yet you’re doing the same to those still living.”
“And the living are killing my people!” Sylvanas spat. “You beloved Alliance continues to try and invalidate my people’s claim on Lordaeron, and do you know why? Because the dead cannot claim anything!”
“That’s not true!” Jaina said. “If you were willing to come to a treaty with Varian and the others, something could be done. But all you – all of you – want to do is fight and continue this cycle of enmity. And for the sake of Baine – and only Baine – I opened Theramoore to him and those who were loyal to him. As for the peace, I did nothing but play mediator – Anduin Wrynn was the one to broker a relationship!”
Sylvanas gazed at Jaina, her crimson eyes showing she was clearly unimpressed. Jaina took a slow, steadying breath. “I don’t care what claims you have on Lordaeron or not,” she continued, “but if you ever harm my people, there won’t be an Undercity. I will bury you.”
Again, Sylvanas’ brow rose. “And what makes you think you can do such a thing, Proudmoore? Do you think your spell-casting is faster than my archery?”
“My spell-casting doesn’t need to be faster.” Jaina replied confidently. “All it has to do is take effect.”
Sylvanas stepped closer to Jaina. Jaina took a step back, until her back met a solid stone wall. Sylvanas’ hands slammed against the stone on either side of Jaina’s head.
“And when you do,” Sylvanas purred, her lips almost touching Jaina’s, “the might of the Horde would come crashing down on your precious Alliance. Thrall, whom I know you care deeply for, would be so disillusioned by your actions, he would no doubt turn from the path of peace and bring Theramoore down as he brought Durnholde down. Could you live with that on your conscience, girl? Or would you perish, so as to give your Varian Wrynn a martyr to fight for?”
The sound of the slap echoed in the chamber, soon followed by Sylvanas’ laughter. Jaina pressed back against the wall, her teleportation spell on the tip of her tongue. Sylvanas grabbed her by the throat suddenly, cutting off her air and driving that spell from her mind. Jaina grasped at Sylvanas’ wrist, trying in vain to remove her hand. Then Sylvanas’ lips touched Jaina’s – in surprise, the sorceress stopped struggling. The hand around her throat released its grip and slid down to the clasp of the cloak. It pooled at their feet. Jaina gasped softly as Sylvanas cupped her breast through her tunic, then inhaled sharply as Sylvanas’ tongue slipped into her mouth. Slowly, Sylvanas drew back, her face a blank porcelain mask as she took in Jaina’s flushed countenance. The Banshee Queen smirked, but said nothing. Her head bent forward and her mouth pressed against Jaina’s fluttering pulse. An involuntary moan escaped Jaina as Sylvanas pushed a thigh between her legs and rubbed upwards. Jaina’s hands clutched onto Sylvanas’ biceps as the Banshee Queen’s hands were making themselves busy. One hand was settled on Jaina’s hip while the other squeezed and teased her nipples through her tunic, turning them into hard little pebbles.
Finally, Jaina summoned all of her strength to shove Sylvanas back. Sylvanas took only one step backwards, then slowly started laughing. “Now, Proudmoore,” Sylvanas said between chuckles, “you were so enjoying yourself.”
Jaina opened her mouth to reply, but Sylvanas was on her, spinning her around fast enough to make her dizzy. Jaina tumbled into the bed and stared into Sylvanas’ visage as the Banshee Queen straddled her. “Get away from me,” Jaina growled.
Sylvanas quirked an eyebrow at her. “No.” she said at last. Then her fingers gripped Jaina’s tunic and she tore it apart, revealing Jaina’s breasts to the cool air. Jaina struggled as Sylvanas did this, then gasped as Sylvanas’ hands gripped her breasts and slowly started kneading them. “Your body wants otherwise.”
“This is practically rape!”
“This is two grown women on opposite sides of an unending war having a peace talk.”
Jaina couldn’t help the shiver that coursed down her spine and caused heat to pool between her legs when Sylvanas started using her teeth on one hard pebble. “Bitch,” Jaina panted.
Sylvanas slipped one hand low, between Jaina’s thighs, and rubbed at her growing wetness. “So I’ve been called.”
Jaina’s fist tangled in Sylvanas’ hair and she pulled hard to get the Forsaken close enough to crush their mouths together. Sylvanas purred and forced her tongue into Jaina’s mouth, her hands moving to open and remove the pants the sorceress wore. She drew back suddenly and used a dagger to slice through the flimsy material of Jaina’s underwear, growling intelligibly until Jaina’s hand groped her breast. Sylvanas’ fingers slowly plied the moist flesh between Jaina’s legs apart and ran only her index finger up against the softer lips within. Jaina arched against Sylvanas with a stifled cry, then tried to shove her away. Sylvanas only pressed her digit deeper, then it was joined by a second and third finger. Jaina’s hand fisted in Sylvanas’ hair and pulled hard enough that Sylvanas’ eyes would have watered had they still been capable. Sylvanas only bit Jaina’s shoulder in retaliation, then flipped the younger woman onto her knees. In that position, Sylvanas was able to elicit cries of utter pleasure from Jaina.
The human’s thighs were wet with sweat and other fluids. Sylvanas’ fingers were coated with Proudmoore’s readiness. Sylvanas withdrew her fingers and slapped Jaina’s ass hard enough to leave a mark when the girl whimpered.
“Hush,” Sylvanas crooned as she stripped off what clothing she still had on and retrieved a small contraption from the desk.
Jaina watched Sylvanas fit the artificial phallus around her hips and adjusted it just so. She tensed as Sylvanas approached her once more, but she didn’t move as the Banshee Queen settled behind her. Then Jaina felt familiar pressure. Her fingers curled in the blankets beneath her and her eyes closed tight as Sylvanas slid into her.
Then the Forsaken leader began to move. The sharp, deep thrusts caused Jaina to cry out and whimper despite her effort to keep quiet. Sylvanas’ teeth left bruises on Jaina’s hips and her nails dug crescents into her skin. Sylvanas rolled her hips forward, driving Jaina deeper down into the blankets Sylvanas rolled Jaina onto her back and continued to slam into the sorceress, watching Jaina’s flushed fast as she drove her to the point of utter bliss and beyond.
Sylvanas slowly eased from Jaina’s abused hole and removed the phallus before she rose from the bed. Jaina slowly pushed herself up to sit, wincing as her weight settled on bruises and shallow cuts. The Banshee Queen retrieved a washcloth to clean herself up, then casually tossed it and Jaina’s clothes toward the sorceress.
As Jaina cleaned herself up and dressed, she looked toward Sylvanas, who stood naked and watching her. Jaina drew the hood of her cloak over her head.
“Come to Theramoore.” Jaina said with a smirk. “I’ll show you some real hospitality.”
Before Sylvanas could reply, Jaina was gone in a snap of power and a shimmer of air.
Sylvanas slowly rubbed her lips. “Sharlindra!” She called.
If the banshee was phased by Sylvanas’ lack of dress, she said nothing about it. “Lady?”
“See to it that Thrall is informed that he lost the bet, and Proudmoore is now mine.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
Sylvanas allowed herself a brief smile and stretched languidly. She could almost imagine the look on Thrall’s face when he was told, and it made her feel good inside. And Jaina never knew that she’d been a pawn in the game – nor the prize for the one who succeeded.
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Exalted with Undercity