“Curses! How do you do it, Chieftain? How do you make it look so easy?”

Looking as bewildered as she’s ever seen him, Rognak just shrugs his broad shoulders at his clansman.

“… I do not know. The shifting has always come easily to me. Do not worry. Keep working at it and I believe in time that you will master the ability, just as I have!”

From afar, Jaina watches as Rognak trains some of his fellow orcs in druidism. She’s been doing that a lot recently if she’s being honest. If anyone were to ask, the young Mage would simply say that she was keeping an eye on their strange new allies. She certainly wasn’t spying on anyone! They knew she was there, or at least they would if they made any move to look up at the ridge she was currently stood upon.

Said ridge also overlooked much of the encampment, so it wasn’t like she was just watching Rognak and his neophytes train either. She could see everything from up here. From the trolls and tauren and orcs camped out in one area, to her own people camped out in another, and even these strange Night Elves with their much smaller camp in one section.

Of course, said camp was occupied by the Lord of the Forest, Cenarius. Described as a Demigod, he was an interesting creature… and apparently very powerful. He gave lessons to Rognak and his neophytes as well, but when Cenarius wasn’t available, it fell to the Chieftain of the Warsong Clan to do the teaching. Jaina hated to admit it but watching him try to teach was… a little amusing.

It had become increasingly obvious that Rognak wasn’t really made to be a teacher. No, he was like her. A natural born prodigy. For Jaina, her prodigal talent had been in arcane magic. From a young age, it had come easily to her and it was that same talent that she had then leveraged into an Apprenticeship with the Grand Magus himself.

For Rognak, his prodigal talent lay in nature magic. Jaina didn’t have too deep of an understanding of such magic if she was being honest. They didn’t have druids back in Lordaeron, or if they did, Jaina had never gotten the chance to meet one. Although… the Prophet that had led both her and Thrall to this continent had the ability to shapeshift, didn’t he? Perhaps that mysterious man was in fact a druid as well.

Regardless, while Rognak’s natural born abilities for nature magic made it easy for him to accomplish spectacular feats… it did not make it easy for him to explain HOW he could do such things to his brethren. In turn, while his brethren were making leaps and strides, they were nowhere near his level yet. That much was abundantly clear.

From the sound of what Jaina had been overhearing these past few days, Rognak had had no actual teacher before Cenarius. Given what she’d seen him do back on Lordaeron, that in and of itself was astounding. Originally, Jaina had assumed that nature magic just came more… well, naturally. But no, now she knew better.

After watching the orcs of the Warsong Clan struggle with their lessons since her arrival, she knows that Rognak is just that good. Probably even more naturally gifted than Jaina herself, for even she had needed twelve years of tutelage at the Mage City of Dalaran to get to where she was today.

Hm, some people just had all the luck, though of course she didn’t begrudge Rognak for it. After all-

“Lady Proudmoore.”

Startled from her inner thoughts, Jaina very nearly jumps but at the last second manages to control herself and maintain at least some semblance of decorum. Flaring her nostrils instead, she exhales and then breathes in deeply before half-turning to the man now standing beside her on the ridge.

“Duke Lionheart. How are things among the troops? How is morale?”

She had led her people across the sea to escape the apocalypse. She had brought not just an army, but also any civilians who would listen to her. A fleet of refugees fleeing a broken and dead Lordaeron. They’d left undeath and the end of their previous lives in their wake and put their eyes forward towards a new land and a new, brighter future.

There was just a couple of problems with that. For one, some of Jaina’s people had not fled across the sea to escape just the undead. They’d also fled to escape the orcs. Never mind that Thrall and his New Horde had left before them. Jaina could acknowledge that Thrall had had little choice, but that didn’t change the fact that his people’s desperate escape from Lordaeron had come at the expense of many. Quite a few of her refugees had their homes and families destroyed before the Scourge even swept across the northern end of the continent.

Now here she was, asking them to forget that. Asking them to accept the New Horde as their allies, when even those who had not been harmed by Thrall’s Horde still remembered and could likely say they were harmed by the Old Horde of the First and Second Wars. Jaina knew it was a tall order. She knew it was a heavy ask… but the Prophet’s words weighed heavily on her mind. Without this alliance, without the Horde as their allies, they had traded one apocalypse for another. Their new home was not safe or secure. Not yet.

“… There were more deserters in the night, Lady Proudmoore. But less than the day before.”

Jaina grimaces in pain, her eyes drifting shut for a moment before she lets out a low breath.

“I see.”

Duke Lionheart reaches over and places a gauntleted hand on her shoulder, a gesture of comfort that Jaina is most grateful for. She gives the old Paladin a smile as she reaches up and places her hand on his in turn.

“Thank you for understanding what we’re trying to do here, Sir Lionheart. I don’t know how many would have left if not for your stalwart support.”

Indeed, the man beside her might be old, his hair and beard completely grey… but he was still a Paladin. A veteran of the First and Second Wars, Duke Lionheart had fought against the Old Horde in both conflicts. He also fought the undead and the Cult as it spread its corrupt, evil influence across Lordaeron. And in the end, he had answered the call when Jaina had begged people to leave Lordaeron behind and travel across the sea with her.

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To have him still at her side after all they had been through… he was a rock that Jaina hadn’t known she needed until she found herself clinging to him for fear of being swept away in the storm.

“Heh, there is no need to thank me, Lady Proudmoore. Every day I pray to the Light for guidance. It continues to tell me that my faith in you is not misplaced. Neither you nor it have led me wrong yet. Indeed, I believe you have made the right choice and so do any of our people who are smart enough to see the forest for the trees, pardon the pun.”

Jaina smiles softly at the joke, even as Duke Lionheart removes his hand from her shoulder and turns his gaze to the sprawling encampment down below. His eyes do not go to where hers had been with Rognak and his druids, but instead sweep back and forth, across all four sections of the encampment. From their own forces to the New Horde, to the Night Elf Sentinels, to the Warsong Clan. He hums and after a moment shakes his head.

“The reports of demons and undead in these woods grow by the day. Those who have deserted best hope that they’ve gone south, because the north is apparently covered in more and more of such creatures. The threat is real Lady Proudmoore… and running away isn’t going to save us from it. Not this time.”

Jaina grimaces at that, her hands coming together as she wrings them for a moment.

“And yet running away is all I’ve had you all do so far… fleeing from your homes, only to bring you here…”

Duke Lionheart scoffs at that.

“Leaving Lordaeron was the right choice, Lady Proudmoore. If we hadn’t left when we did, we would all be mindless slaves to the Scourge by now. However… at some point you have to make a stand. I am proud that this is the stand you’ve chosen. I am proud to make it at your side. Heh, honestly… with our enemies not just being undead, but also demons… I’m actually glad that the greenskins are on our side for once. Never thought I’d be saying that.”

Jaina flushes and reaches out, lightly smacking the Paladin’s shoulder.

“Please Sir Lionheart… don’t call them that. If we are to be allies, we must let go of such terminology. And you and I must lead by example.”

It is a light reprimand, but then to be fair, Jaina herself still sometimes thinks of the orcs as ‘greenskins’ in the privacy of her own thoughts. To his credit, Duke Lionheart just bows his head in acknowledgment of the chastisement. A somewhat companionable silence falls between them at that, the two of them continuing to watch what’s happening down below.

Before their conversation can pick back up again, however, a commotion down in the camp draws Jaina’s eye. She blinks, watching as a Night Elf woman enters the camp from the West, making her way first to the Sentinels’ camp where she talks to Cenarius and several of her sisters… and then onward further, to where Rognak and his neophytes are working together.

Jaina finds herself staring at the Night Elf in question enters the lesson… and races up to Rognak, taking a running leap at him. At first it looks like a tackle, an attack, and she tenses up… but then Rognak catches the Night Elf with a laugh, easily holding her aloft as she gives him a full body hug for a moment before hopping back down.

Smacking his broad chest with the back of her hand, the Night Elf grins wickedly, revealing small fangs as she does so.

“Lord Cenarius needs to speak to you really quick. C’mon.”

“Alright… you lot, keep working on it. Just… meditate on the animal or something I guess. Maybe Cenarius can help with more instruction later.”

Rognak’s students grumble at that, but it’s more good-natured than it was before. There’s amusement in their eyes and they chuckle and nudge one another as they watch their teacher and the Night Elf Sentinel walk away side by side with one another. Jaina has to admit… the Night Elf cuts a certain figure, doesn’t she? But then, so do the rest of her kin. There isn’t a single Night Elf Sentinel that looks soft or weak. They’re all quite… athletic and strong. And she knows full well from some of the interactions she’s seen that the orcs like that about them. The Warsong Clan especially.

Jaina only has eyes for one orc in particular, however. And though she knows its ridiculous… she can’t help but feel a smidge of jealousy as the newcomer takes Rognak to Cenarius, too far away for Jaina to listen in anymore. Logically, she knows she has no claim to Rognak. And yet, ever since he’d saved her life, she’s always thought of him fondly.

Once upon a time, Jaina had thought she was going to marry Arthas Menethil. It didn’t matter to her that he was a Prince, even though her own status as the Lord Admiral’s daughter made their pairing politically advantageous as well. She’d truly loved him, and she’d thought he loved her. But then, out of the blue… Arthas had ended it. He’d ended their relationship, making excuses for why they both needed to focus on themselves and their studies for the time being, instead of each other.

To say Jaina had been hurt would be the understatement of the century. She’d been devastated. And during that time away from him… she’d run into Rognak for that second time, out in the woods. Jaina wouldn’t deny it. She was a growing young woman of twenty years of age at the time, and she had… fantasized about Rognak for a few nights after here and there. Her savior, for all that she hadn’t truly needed saving.

And then the years had continued to go by, and the Plague had started up and Jaina had found herself at Arthas’ side once again. As awful as everything had seemed, for a moment there it had looked like they might be able to claw back what they once had. That… when all was said and done and the Plague was dealt with, they might be able to be together after all.

Needless to say, that had not come to pass. Arthas had turned into something dark and sinister. He had become someone that she could not follow any longer.

There was a stark contrast between Arthas and Rognak. Not just that they were of different species, but also of completely different backgrounds. Rognak, as someone who had grown up as nothing more than a captive in one of the internment camps, stood in stark contrast to Arthas Menethil. Rognak had gone from nothing and made something amazing of himself, while Arthas had taken every advantage given to him and fallen to darkness all the same.

Down below, the conversation between Rognak, Cenarius, and this new Night Elf comes to an end… and Jaina watches as the Night Elf drags Rognak away, off a little bit into the woods. Suddenly… suddenly, Jaina has the urge to do something she knows she shouldn’t. And yet…

“Duke Lionheart. I must take my leave of you for now… please, keep me informed of any further issues with our men.”

The aged Paladin, having no clue exactly where Jaina had been watching or of what sort of thoughts were going through her head, simply nods.

“Of course, my Lady. I shall keep the men in line, of that you have nothing to fear.”

With that, Jaina takes her leave and after getting out of sight, casts a basic Invisibility Spell on herself. Then, she follows after Rognak and the Night Elf. She tells herself that she’s only doing it to make sure the non-human female doesn’t have any dastardly plans for Rognak. To make sure she’s not luring the orc away to harm him in any way.

… But even before she stumbles across them, Jaina knows deep down inside that she’s lying to herself. And when she does finally find them, catching them in the middle of the act, she doesn’t leave like she should. Instead, she watches. That is, until she gets caught herself. Then, she flees as fast as her magic will carry her.