#sobs the forsaken care so much
kiss with a fist; Sylvaina
at some point, Jaina just has enough
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Jaina loved her wife. She loved her wife. Well and truly; no matter what the people around them said. She loved everything about her wife, no matter how infuriating her wife could be. If it was one thing the Lord Admiral was known for, it was the sheer magnitude of her patience.
…patience that had only known true limit at the hands of the Warchief.
It wasn’t any surprise to anyone that Sylvanas loved the sound of her own voice. Jaina liked her voice; loved its sibilant notes and crooning purrs and growls.
At least, she liked it when she wasn’t fuming with rage.
“I really don’t see what all the fuss is about,” Sylvanas sniffed. She trailed after the blazing path Jaina was cutting through the crowd of Lordaeron, her long-legged strides matching at an almost ambling pace to the Lord Admiral’s furious speed. “It needed to be said—”
“Do not. Start,” Jaina gritted out, casting a wicked glare over her shoulder. “The council meetings already drag on long enough and you had to open your mouth and say stupid fucking shit like that —”
Shrugging, Sylvanas set herself shoulder-to-shoulder with Jaina, arms folded primly at her back. “If they cannot control their tempers, that is no concern of mine. One would think such nobility would have learned to accept criticism by now.” She arched a brow then, peering at her wife mildly. “Don’t tell me you took offense as well?”
“I did not,” Jaina replied tightly, curling her hands into fists and flexing them repeatedly to remove the overwhelming urge to punch the smug little smirk off Sylvanas’ face. “I’m pissed that you even thought to bring that up. In a meeting, Sylvanas —”
Tides, she should’ve known better. Sylvanas was grinning at her now; fangs poking out beneath the curve of a sly mouth —
She loved her wife. She lovedherwife.
And it was because she loved her wife that she pulled back and swung.
Sylvanas’ head snapped back with a faint crunch, ichor spurting from her nose as she staggered with the momentum. Her hand rushed up to her face as she froze in place, eyes wide with bewilderment that was mirrored in Jaina’s frantic eyes.
“Oh, shit,” Jaina said. “Oh.”
“You punched me,” Sylvanas said, with breathless confusion.
Her knuckles throbbed dully; pulsing in time with the thunder of her heart that rose up into the back of her throat. “I didn’t mean to,” she floundered. “I-it was instinct —”
The Warchief’s voice rose to a pitch rarely heard. “You punchedme!”
“I’m sorry!” Jaina cried, scrambling forward to cup her wife’s face gently. She crooned and cooed, uncaring for the crowd gathering around them, murmuring worriedly as she fussed and fawned over Sylvanas. “Oh, darling, darling, let me see, let me see —”
Sylvanas batted her hands away with an indignant squawk, ears pinning back and coloring at the tips as she stared out at the crowd. “Unhand me, wife!” she sputtered. “A Queen does not need coddling—”
To their surprise, a fellow Forsaken stepped forward, bony fingers brushing respectfully at Sylvanas’ arm. “Dark Lady,” he rasped, glowing green eyes pinned to Jaina. His words were careful, almost delicate, despite the unnatural gutter of his voice. “Are you…safe? Do you require…assistance?”
A troll stepped forth as well, subtly insinuating himself between them. “Physical violence ain’t ever de solution in marriage, Lord Admiral,” he rumbled sagely, and in her confusion, Jaina allowed herself to be ushered aside as the flock of Horde gathered around their Warchief. “It ain’t ever right for ya ta be puttin’ ya hands on ya lady.”
“I don’t put my hands on her!” Jaina cried, twisting back around to watch as several members of their faction began…advising Sylvanas? Offering hands of comfort on her shoulder, darting looks that spoke of utter disapproval.
“This cannot stand, Warchief. This marriage isn’t worth the abuse.”
“Aye, Dark Lady. If she does once, she can do it again.”
Jaina’s brow furrowed in confusion, then rose high with horror. “Oh Tides, you think I —”
Sylvanas shouldered past them all, cheeks dark and eyes burning as she spat a flurry of hurried thanks and assurances. The punch had hardly left any lasting damage, though the smeared and drying ichor on her face certainly did not help. She took hold of Jaina’s arm, nodding once to the troll and all but hauled the mage away.
“They think I beat you,” Jaina said.
“You did,” Sylvanas drawled. Despite the blush tinting her cheeks, the banshee was grinning the same stupid grin. “Don’t fret. I’ve laid their concerns to rest. But it’s always nice to see that they care.”
Jaina huffed, thumping her (gently) on the arm, then hugging her tight. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
Sylvanas wrapped her arms around Jaina gently, fingers stroking through the tip of her wife’s braid as she always did. Patiently, kindly, she said, “I forgive you, little doe.” She pressed a kiss to Jaina’s crown. “…You have to admit, that was funny.”
“That was not.”
“Come now; little old me? Beaten and battered by my —”
“Now you’re just asking for it.”
