Saving Azeroth (By Stealing the Black Dragon Princess) - 30

Chapter 30: Respite

Inside Theramore's council hall, arguments threatened to lift the dome off its foundations.

"Thirty percent?! Why does Theramore get the lion's share?!" Baron Revilgaz stood with one foot planted on the meeting table, gold monocle chain slapping loudly against his chest. "Advertising, transport channels, market promotion—we goblins are burning money on everything! I demand forty percent!"

Jaina's fingertips lightly tapped her crystal orb, ice ripples spreading outward to freeze the goblin's boot solid. "Theramore provides the venue, political asylum, and technical patent protection—" Her blue eyes swept across everyone present with arctic authority. "Thirty percent. Not a copper less."

Thrall crossed his massive arms, veins bulging visibly on the orc chieftain's thick biceps. "Horde hunters are collecting animal fur and dung. Who can provide more raw materials than us? Twenty percent is our bottom line."

Nefarian, in high elf male form, spoke with aristocratic indifference, "Blackrock sulfur—currently in short supply—" He paused deliberately. "Fifteen percent. Non-negotiable."

"Impossible. We're investing critical technology for at least twenty percent." Onyxia insisted firmly on this share.

The meeting room descended into utter chaos within seconds.

"Ahem..." Deren had to cough several times loudly to attract attention.

All eyes turned toward Deren simultaneously.

He shrank deeper into his chair, cold sweat beading his forehead. He looked desperately at Jaina, then at the furious Revilgaz, finally settling on Onyxia—her eyes carried a certain dangerous warning.

"I... fifteen percent is fine for me. I'll concede first; otherwise this arguing will never end and we'll accomplish nothing."

The meeting room instantly quieted with shocked silence.

"What?!" The goblin shrieked, voice cracking. "Are you insane?! Technology investment only fifteen percent?!"

Deren wiped nervous sweat from his temple. "Prince Nefarian should also concede a bit, taking only ten percent. I can't take much more than my... than the Black Dragon Prince, right?"

Onyxia's gold coin slapped on the table with a sharp "snap," her lips curving with satisfaction.

Thrall frowned deeply but finally nodded with reluctant respect. "Alright. Orcs take ten percent, equal to Blackrock Mountain."

Revilgaz frantically pressed his enchanted calculator, numbers glowing and shifting across the surface. He suddenly looked up sharply. "Wait just one minute! Thirty plus thirty plus fifteen plus ten plus ten equals ninety-five percent! Where's the other five percent?!"

Deren took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Reserved for the Dragon Aspects as insurance."

"WHAT?!" The goblin practically exploded. "Why give free money to dragons with no connection to this enterprise?!"

Deren slammed the table—shocking even himself with the forcefulness. "Do you still want the 'Blackwing Fertilizer' brand to survive?!" His voice suddenly rose with unexpected authority. "If Deathwing comes to wreck everything again, will you handle it yourself or expect bronze dragons to save your miserable hide?!"

The meeting room fell into deathly, uncomfortable silence.

Revilgaz's ears twitched nervously, eyes rolling twice in rapid calculation, suddenly grinning to show his full set of gold teeth. "Makes perfect business sense! Five percent for continued existence—totally worth it!"

Jaina's crystal orb blazed with brilliant light, contract documents automatically materializing in the air before them, share distribution clearly listed in glowing script:

Theramore (Jaina Proudmoore) — 30%

Booty Bay Trade Baron (Revilgaz) — 30%

Deren Lawson (Technology Investment) — 15%

Blackrock Mountain (Nefarian) — 10%

Horde (Thrall) — 10%

Dragon Aspects (Chromie Proxy) — 5%

Onyxia's gold coin clinked as it flipped, spinning several elegant rotations in the air before landing steadily back in her palm.

"Deal."

Privately after the meeting, Jaina discreetly split an additional two percent to Nefarian to properly repay the favor of returning Derek. Nefarian nodded with satisfied approval. Jaina also gave Deren a personal one percent bonus, thanking him sincerely for his skilled mediation.

Theramore Isle - Secluded Beach - Dusk

The sunset sank gloriously into the horizon, final golden rays dancing like liquid fire on wave crests. The campfire crackled invitingly, grilled fish fragrance mixing with the island's salty breeze, all carried by the cool wind that whispered through the coastal reeds and palm trees dotting Theramore's quieter shoreline.

Deren lay back on the warm beach sand, pleasantly drunk, gazing up at the emerging starry sky with deep contentment.

Life is good—what more could anyone ask?

He raised his cup unsteadily, shaking it at the rising moon in salute.

"Cheers to peace!"

"Burp~"

Chromie belched loudly nearby, face flushed crimson, hugging an empty wine barrel while muttering incoherently, "Why... why is the timeline spinning in circles..."

Onyxia hummed lightly with amusement, slender fingers flicking with deliberate precision—snap!

The barrel suddenly tipped violently, the remaining mead splashing entirely on the bronze dragon's head in a fragrant cascade.

"Oops. Hand slipped." She narrowed her eyes dangerously, lips curving with obvious satisfaction.

Chromie bristled with indignation. "You did that on purpose!"

Onyxia languidly stretched, the silk gown's shoulder strap sliding down half an inch. "Do you have evidence?"

The small bronze dragon stomped furiously, temporal rift tearing open behind her with crackling golden energy. "I'm going back to write reports! You two enjoy yourselves!"

Whoosh!

She vanished without a trace, leaving only half a squid skewer stuck forlornly in the sand.

Night wind grew increasingly cool against bare skin.

Deren was about to pour another drink when he suddenly felt substantial weight pressing against his back—Onyxia leaned against him entirely, arms encircling his neck with surprising gentleness.

"I think... I'm somewhat drunk." Her breath brushed his ear, carrying the mead's lingering sweet fragrance mixed with something uniquely her own.

Deren froze completely.

The Black Dragon Princess's body temperature ran significantly higher than normal humans. Even through clothing he could distinctly feel that scorching heat radiating from her skin. She lightly nuzzled his back, dragon scale phantoms flickering briefly across her skin like ghost images.

"Does it hurt?" She suddenly asked, her voice uncharacteristically vulnerable.

Deren was confused. "What do you mean?"

Onyxia's fingertips traced his shoulder blade with feather-light touches—where an old scar remained from a Dustwallow Marsh experiment accident months ago.

"I'm a dragon; you're mortal." Her voice dropped so low it was barely audible above the waves. "The slightest miscalculated force could seriously hurt you."

Her arms unconsciously tightened possessively. Deren forcefully pushed back against the sand, reversing their positions to pin Onyxia beneath him with surprising strength—

"I'm no longer the weak, powerless person from before. Azeroth's blessing isn't just for show!"

Onyxia immediately released her grip, a flash of genuine chagrin crossing her features.

But Deren laughed warmly, reaching to cup her face with both hands. In the moonlight, this once tyrannical Black Dragon Princess now seemed somewhat... endearingly flustered.

"Listen carefully." His thumb rubbed her eye corner, where a tiny black scale resided like a beauty mark. "Titans can reshape entire stars, bronze dragons can manipulate time itself, Old Gods can corrupt whole worlds..."

He leaned close to her ear, whispering with absolute conviction:

"Do you genuinely think letting a dragon and mortal stay together is impossible? Immortality isn't unreachable for me. After all, I'm Azeroth's chosen champion."

Onyxia's pupils suddenly contracted to pinpoints.

Amid the rhythmic wave sounds, she suddenly bit Deren's earlobe, dragon fang piercing skin—the sharp sting made him grunt involuntarily—

"This is a binding contract." She licked away the blood drop with her tongue. "Renege and I'll devour you whole."

Chromie's abrupt return shattered the intimate moment.

She suddenly materialized in the room, sitting cross-legged on the wool carpet, hand grabbing roasted squid jerky, small face full of mischievous knowing.

"So—" She drew out the syllable playfully, wiggling her toes. "History's first mortal to truly bond with a dragon is about to be born?"

Onyxia pushed off Deren, who still lay on top of her. Hearing this impertinent comment, she grabbed a crystal cup, hurling it at Chromie with practiced aim.

"Bronze dragon, are you itching for a beating? What are you implying?" Her voice was terrifyingly gentle with barely controlled violence.

Chromie stuck out her tongue with exaggerated innocence. "You know exactly which kind I mean!"

Deren sat aside, facepalming with a deep sigh. "Can you two please settle down..."

Onyxia suddenly narrowed her eyes predatorily, focusing on Chromie. "You think you can escape unscathed?"

Her fingertips hooked with deliberate motion—the hourglass at Chromie's waist suddenly floated free, suspended between the three of them. As sand flowed through, it vaguely reflected a possible future scene—

—Chromie in human form, standing on tiptoes and leaning intimately against a certain black-haired man.

Chromie instantly bristled with panic, lunging desperately to grab the hourglass. "Impossible! Stop showing that; it'll break the timeline!!!"

Jaina's unexpected arrival cut through the playful chaos.

The campfire still crackled warmly on the beach, grilled squid fragrance mixed with mead sweetness carried by the sea wind toward the distant horizon. Deren lay back on the beach towel, still pleasantly drunk, gazing at distant stars. Chromie hugged her empty barrel, face flushed as she muttered incomprehensible timeline nonsense, while Onyxia languidly stretched, her skin gleaming pearl-like in moonlight.

Suddenly—

"You're all quite leisurely here."

A distinctly cold voice came from the palm tree forest shadows.

Deren jolted upright, straw hat falling forgotten into the sand. Jaina Proudmoore somehow stood at the shore's edge unnoticed, moonlight gilding her silver, staff tip still bearing undispersed arcane sparks—clearly the out-of-control flames from Onyxia's earlier squid roasting were her portal beacon.

"I just handled three complex trade agreements, five inquiry letters from Dalaran, and mediated a violent goblin-orc brawl at the docks." Her blue eyes swept over the grill, scattered wine bottles, and Chromie's wet footprints with obvious disapproval. "And you're having a beach barbecue party?"

Chromie burped loudly, temporal rift tearing open behind her. "I'm leaving first before this gets awkward!"

Whoosh!

The bronze dragon vanished without a trace, leaving only half a squid skewer stuck in the sand as evidence.

Deren laughed nervously, offering freshly grilled lobster as a peace offering. "The capable work harder... saving the world depends entirely on you!"

Jaina stared at the lobster for two long seconds, suddenly snatching it to bite. Oil stained her lips, hastily wiped away with her thumb—this slightly crude action made both Deren and Onyxia raise eyebrows simultaneously in surprise.

"It tastes good." She sat by the campfire, voice lowering with exhaustion. "I came to thank you personally."

Firelight reflected warmly on her profile, eyelash shadows trembling slightly.

"Father arrives at Theramore tomorrow morning to receive Derek..." Her fingertips unconsciously rubbed her staff with nervous energy. "I fear he'll immediately conflict with the Horde presence."

After Chromie vanished, the beach fell into brief contemplative silence.

Jaina's gaze shifted between Deren and Onyxia with obvious hesitation, finally settling on the gold coin spinning at the Black Dragon Princess's fingertips—that lucky coin gifted by Azeroth herself, now reflecting campfire light, spinning between Onyxia's fingers like a captured star.

"So," Jaina broke the silence carefully, "do you have any good suggestions for receiving my father diplomatically?"

Deren scratched his hair, most of his drunken haze returning to clarity. "Admiral Daelin... indeed a notoriously stubborn old sea dog with strong convictions."

Onyxia suddenly laughed darkly, coin clinking as it flipped in a graceful arc. "But black dragons specialize in treating stubbornness effectively." Her golden vertical pupils contracted dangerously in firelight. "Need me to 'visit' him personally?"

"No." Jaina shook her head firmly, fingertips unconsciously rubbing her staff. "I was thinking... Deren, could you possibly accompany me to meet Father?"

Deren's wine cup stopped mid-air.

Wave sounds suddenly became crystal clear, with the tide surging onto the beach, soaking Jaina's boot tips. She seemed completely unaware, only staring at Deren with unusual intensity, blue eyes harboring rare vulnerability.

Onyxia's coin suddenly stopped dead on her thumb.

"Ha!" Chromie's disembodied voice came from midair, temporal rift revealing her messy golden head. "Deren is so popular with powerful women! Onyxia, aren't you jealous?"

"Ow" Deren's ear was immediately pinched hard by Onyxia. "Hurts, hurts, hurts" He repeatedly begged for mercy.

"Want me to wrap Deren like a present and deliver him to your bedroom, human princess?" Onyxia asked with a dangerously dark expression.

"No need whatsoever." Jaina gripped her staff tightly, knuckles white with tension. "I just feel Deren gives me a very reliable, steady feeling. Thinking about Father coming, I honestly don't know how to face him properly." Her voice dropped vulnerably. "Facing such difficulties, I instinctively feel Deren can provide sound advice."

Deren sighed deeply, tilting his head back to drain the remaining wine. The mead's sweetness dissolved slowly on his tongue, yet he could distinctly taste underlying bitterness.

"Alright," he stood with resolve, dusting sand from his clothes. "For friendship—tomorrow I'll meet that legendary Admiral and see if I can persuade him to abandon his war against Kalimdor's orcs."

Onyxia's lips curved with dangerous amusement, the coin vanishing smoothly into her palm. "Remember to bring the lucky coin with you."