The Long Game (WoW Garrosh Hellscream x Jaina Proudmoore story) (Excerpt - Opening Scene)

Jaina Proudmoore was already regretting this decision. There had once been a time in which she would not have feared to pass through the tall gates of Orgrimmar. Despite being the enemy faction, she knew that she would have at least been allowed inside and afforded the dignity befitting a diplomat, back when Thrall was still the warchief. 

But Thrall no longer governed the Horde, and Orgrimmar itself no longer resembled the rustic yet homey city that she recognized. It had been built up into an ironclad, militaristic stronghold more akin to the old Horde that had first invaded Stormwind and Lordaeron all those years ago. Blackhand’s Horde. Gul’dan’s Horde. 

Garrosh Hellscream’s Horde. 

As she passed through the gates, eight orcs surrounded her with greataxes and spears, snarling at her. Despite their disdain for her, the feeling was mutual. Her city that she had worked so hard to build since arriving in Kalimdor was now in ruins. Many of its people were dead, and a great many more were now prisoners. She wanted nothing more than to incinerate all of Garrosh’s loyal soldiers. And anyone else who stood in her way. 

But she resisted that urge. She was not here to cause violence unless she had to. The former ruler of Theramore had a mission of an entirely different nature. 

Upon seeing that she was not making any attempt to attack them with her magic, the orc guard flanked her and led her through the city, keeping their weapons trained on her as she did. All of them were bigger and burlier than she was, and under different circumstances they might have scoffed at the physically unimposing blond-haired human woman. But her reputation as one of the world’s most powerful mages preceded her. 

As she was led through the dusty streets of Orgrimmar, many of its denizens stopped to gawk at her. She couldn’t help but note that there were fewer non-orcs compared to the last time she was in the city to meet with Thrall. This came as little surprise to her; Garrosh’s orc supremacy was not likely to inspire much confidence in the non-orc races of the Horde. She suspected that only opportunists and maniacs of those other races would continue to throw in their support when all was said and done. At least she hoped that would be the case. 

To her surprise, the orc guards escorting her did not lead her into the heavily-armored citadel in the center of Orgrimmar like she expected them to. Instead, they led her to a tunnel entrance that appeared to lead underground beneath the Citadel. The archmage was greatly surprised by this, as she was led into the proverbial belly of the beast. Garrosh had been hard at work fortifying and building up his stronghold, having evidently been preparing his war for a long time.

She had underestimated him. They had all underestimated him. 

Jaina was escorted past the Kor’kron barracks, where many of Garrosh’s more fanatical soldier ceased their training exercises to leer at her in a way that made her skin crawl. As if they knew something that she didn’t. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. She wouldn’t allow herself to be intimidated by these monsters or their thug of a warchief. 

When she arrived at Garrosh’s inner sanctum, one of the orc guard’s gripped her shoulder to shove her. A moment later, the orc let out a howl of pain as Jaina’s protective spell completely disintegrated his hand into nothing. He fell to his knees screaming and clutching the smoldering stub where his hand once  was as Jaina smirked with satisfaction. The other orc guards surrounded her with snarls, axes raised. 

“Try it, and you’ll end up far worse than your friend there,” Jaina confidently said, unfazed by their bluster. 

The display was interrupted by a slow clapping and a deep chuckle. She turned around and saw Garrosh Hellscream strutting down from the steps leading up to his throne. The burly orc’s unclothed copper-colored chest was covered in an array of tattoos and markings, his body rippling with muscle, Mannoroth’s demonic skull affixed onto his pauldron. 

“You put on a good show, sorceress,” Garrosh said, his voice dripping with mockery. 

He grinned at her in a way that accentuated his tusks poking out of the corners of his lips. All in all, she found him a hideous sight as far as orcs were concerned. She found a more noble orc like Thrall to be a far more…enticing sight. She shook her head before she grew distracted from more pleasant thoughts. She had a job to do. 

Garrosh looked past Jaina at his Kor’kron guards. “Take him to the infirmary, and shut up his whining,” he ordered, motioning to the one who was still groaning on the ground in a fetal position, clutching the hand that Jaina had mangled with her fire spell. 

The guards hoisted up their mewling injured comrade and dragged him out of the room, shooting Jaina a final dirty look before they departed. Now alone with the brute who had sacked her city, Jaina clenched her fists, struggling to rein in her hatred. It would be so simple. His axe, Gorehowl, was not even within reach. All it would take is one spell to end him for good. 

“Why are you here, human?” he spat at her, clearly not as intimidated by her magical potency as he should have been. 

Firming her posture and planting her staff into the ground, she said, “You took five hundred of my people prisoner after your cowardly, unprovoked attack on Theramore. I want them back. And I will also accept your surrender.” 

He sized her up for several moments, seemingly trying to determine if she was serious or not. He began boisterously laughing with amusement, raising her hackles. Her eyes glowed blue, flaring up with arcane power. 

“And why would I do any of that?”

She clenched her teeth. “Because I have the power to reduce your city to ash. And you with it. All your dreams of orcish supremacy up in smoke in an instant.” 

“Is that so?” he asked, crossing his big arms with bemusement. “Thrall always spoke very highly of you as a peacemaker, Jaina Proudmoore. Was he wrong?”

Jaina was losing patience by the moment. “Any option of peace was gone after your attack, Hellscream. Anything that happens now is on you.”

He stroked his chin. “You are powerful,” he admitted. “But not that powerful. Me, my Kor’kron, my foot soldiers, and my shamans. One of us would manage to strike the fatal blow. You cannot defeat all of Orgrimmar.” 

“Perhaps not,” she said with a manic smile. “But I would wreak havoc. Enough to cripple your army and destroy many of your best troops in the process. The Alliance would finish you off with ease, even if I did not survive.” 

“You might be right. But you won’t do any of that.”

She raised a brow. “Won’t I?”

“No. Because your five hundred people would also die.”