And so, as the siege of Orgrimmar was about to truly begin, the Banshee Queen was cracking a joke at the Lord Regent of Silvermoon. As if no time had passed. As if they were rangers together again. As if her heart still beat beneath her breast. She remembered her fellow Horde leaders making small speeches to encourage the heroes around them, but only one voice stood out from all of them. Sylvanas had already readied her bow, an arrow from her quiver poised and ready to be raised and fired. She had always loved the rush of battle, and the waiting game before each one was always horrendous. She was itchy with anticipation, her anger and frustration peeking through in her tight muscles and narrowed gaze. But then she heard Lor’Themar’s voice, and she was back in Silvermoon, training and laughing together. Her ears all but twitched in his direction as she zeroed in on his words of encouragement to those around them. And with that, her stance relaxed. She turned her head to his direction, her mouth quirked up in a smile.
“If you were to fall in battle,” she called to him, “- I could bring you back. You would make an attractive corpse.” The Banshee Queen could feel herself smiling lightly at her old friend and previous second-in-command. Lor’Themar was gazing at her with his one eye alight with humor -she knew if they had been standing closer together, he’d lean in to whisper ‘dont make me laugh on a battlefield, this is serious’ in her ear as he would attempt to contain his laughter (badly)- and his lips twitched the slightest bit to keep from smiling. She could almost see a light blush of embarrassment on his neck.
Overall Rating: +++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1834351
“I need the Keep bugged.”
“I’m surprised you’re asking me,” Edwin says, though not a flicker of the surprise he claims shows on his face or in his voice. He’s leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed loosely; a deliberately casual posture to match the plain workman’s clothes he’s wearing. If Edwin’s fingers fall a bit too low, too close to the imagined hilts of the swords he’s not wearing, well – he hasn’t worn them publicly for a while and most likely only he and Baros would recognize the stance from days past.
He might have made a spy after all, Mathias thinks, but says instead: “Are you really?”
“I am unless it’s worse than you’re letting on,” Edwin says. “Have you lost half your stable, or only half your mind?”
“Half my trust,” Mathias says. “I can’t let this get out.”
“No? And you don’t trust your own people for the job, and you’re calling in a very interesting old favor. If I didn’t know you better, Matty, I might start to suspect you of treason.”
It’s a dangerous, double-edged joke between the pair of them. “Then it’s a good thing we do know each other,” he returns blandly. “And it’s a good thing I have that favor to hold.”
Overall Rating: ++++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/762998
There was definitely an overabundance of pride in Stormwind Keep, Jaina had to admit, enough to make her suspect that no matter what Varian thought, Tiffin really was seeing something real and being ignored. It wouldn’t be the first time. “And now that you’ve brought it up…”
“…they’ll either do it and forget I suggested it, or refuse to consider it at all.” Tiffin leaned back, looking up at her, and Jaina slid her hands up to settle her arms around her, resting her chin on Tiffin’s shoulder. “And it’s easier to ignore it and imagine it will disappear on its own. I’d ignore them and pay the Guild myself, but I could pawn the crown jewels and it wouldn’t cover a fraction of what we owe.”
Jaina smiled at the image, then tilted her head as a thought struck her. “Wouldn’t that depend on who you were offering them to?”
“I’m serious about this, Jaina.”
“So am I,” Jaina said. “If the House won’t authorize a loan, Varian’s hands might be tied, and yours too, as far as making official approaches, but I’m already officially an outsider in Court politics. And–”
“–and you already have the connections,” Tiffin said with a disbelieving little laugh. “Jaina Proudmoore, are you offering to be my fence?”
A series of fix-its that never were.
Overall Rating: ++++
Read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/564835