Anyway, this is a GREAT time to start reading

Reunification

Darnassus falls. In some timeline, in some version of the story, Nathanos Marris makes a mistake. In some timeline a word of kindness somewhere, a show of support somewhere else, a moment of humanity for lack of a better term, heads off a preemptive strike at the pass. In some timeline, Alliance intelligence is just a tiny bit more paranoid, a tiny bit more thorough, and the Horde stalls in Ashenvale. But today, Darnassus falls. Darnassus does not burn.

It's a single-point divergence AU of the War of Thorns--I was genuinely shocked that "AU where Sylvanas' original plan, to kill Malfurion and occupy Darnassus intact, succeeded" wasn't more prominent in the fandom. I was ALSO shocked to find so little Tyrande/Thalyssra anywhere, so I folded the two into a single project.

Some highlights:

Thalrande arranged marriage as a political-hostage bargaining chip

Sylvanas displaying both political and military competence while, crucially, still being a deeply obnoxious asshole (affectionate) the whole time

Valtrois TM

Anduin Wrynn, Living Embodiment Of Sunshine

Jaina, traumatized and angry and heartsick, dragged into overseeing the joint administration of Lordaeron and finding herself again in a city she's terrified to let herself love

All of my favorite minor NPCs/Hearthstone protagonists getting their day in the limelight (Rokara and Cariel Roame and Elise Starseeker my beloveds--)

The stark divide between high-level faction politics, and the lived reality of (what I hope you find to be) a rich cast of ordinary, sub-Champion citizens of Azeroth whose lives are a lot more complicated than killing people over a simple blue or red banner

(Seriously, if you like my OCs in general, the little folk of Azeroth are a major recurring thing here.)

Cannot emphasize how emphatically Valtrois is both Present and Extremely Herself.

We're currently right in the middle of a really interesting arc that's REALLY intertwining the parallel plotlines; I'm referring to them in my planning notes as the Ruby Dragonflight and Lordaeron Crisis arcs.

I'm having fun and I think there's some stuff here for a lot of people if y'all want to check it out! I have a much more sustainable approach to writing these days (and a partner who's ALSO writing warcraft longfic, and that's helping to keep the muse alive).

Chapter 18: Allegiance

I know, right?

Uh. Anyway so...hey, guys! I'm...back? I think helping Julis with TPTMB has finally shaken loose the muse. I've wanted DESPERATELY to be able to tell this next arc for, uh, YEARS now, but first I had to get through the connective tissue.

Let's try this one more time. This story clearly wants to be told, and I'm gonna try to write a little more sustainably this time. Maybe work on some concurrent projects, shuffle things around more. Less hyperfocus, more steady progress.

Tyrande strode out of the forest, wearing a white gown that glimmered and shone in the moonlight, scattering the light at her feet as she moved. Her arms and shoulders were bare, her skin painted with a luminescent paint that made her glow like her skin was made of stardust.

Power hummed through her, Elune’s blessing in her blood, a Goddess made flesh.

Set atop her head was a crown woven from a twig of the world tree. An arrangement of glittering white flowers adorned the crown and there were what looked like shining pearls set atop thorns. A contrasting sharp edge for the softness of the lilies.

Tyrande was not, and would never be a Queen, but Azshara did not understand that, she did not believe that, and Tyrande could sense pure rage radiating from the city. Tyrande was the usurper, and Tyrande was the one being Azshara loathed most.

She smiled, savoring that rage, despite the smoke that hung over her city.

Tyrande’s guards were doing their best to be unobtrusive.

Or: SURPRISE BITCH, I BET YOU THOUGHT YOU’D SEEN THE LAST OF ME.

Chapters: 27/32 Fandom: World of Warcraft, Warcraft - All Media Types, Warcraft III Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner, Thalyssra/Tyrande Whisperwind, Alleria Windrunner/Liadrin/Valeera Sanguinar, Liadrin/Alleria Windrunner, Liadrin/Valeera Sanguinar, Alleria Windrunner/Valeera Sanguinar Characters: Jaina Proudmoore, Sylvanas Windrunner, Tyrande Whisperwind, Thalyssra (Warcraft), Anduin Wrynn, Alleria Windrunner, Vereesa Windrunner, Valeera Sanguinar, Liadrin (Warcraft), Azshara (Warcraft), Genn Greymane, Valtrois (Warcraft), Baine Bloodhoof, Wrathion (Warcraft), The Lich King (Warcraft), Bolvar Fordragon, Assorted OCs, Horde Champions, Alliance Champions, Alliance Leadership, Horde Leadership, Elune (Warcraft) Additional Tags: Major Character Death and Resurrection, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Magic, Self-Hatred, Complicated Relationships, Established Relationship, OT3, polycule, Triad - Freeform, Polyamory, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Drama & Romance, Anger Management, anger issues, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Original Character(s), Femslash, Bisexual Female Character, Lesbian Character, Bisexual Character, jaina still needs a nap, Battle Couple, Side Quests, Power Dynamics, Women In Power, Morally Ambiguous Character, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Humor, Angst and Feels, Choking Kink, Mortality, no one is straight Series: Part 4 of Last Resort Summary:

An old threat looms in the north and yet another rises to the surface...

The Compact has stood for fifteen years. In that time, Jaina and Sylvanas’s relationship has transformed them from bitter enemies to stalwart lovers and the Horde and Alliance have closely followed suit.

And yet, a shadowy conspiracy, a few well-timed assassinations, and a rising tide of war threatens to tear the world apart.

Azshara had forced Tyrande to watch; but even if she hadn’t, Tyrande would not have looked away from the destruction of her people and her city. They deserved to have her bear witness, even if they couldn’t know that she was. They deserved that respect, and they deserved the compassion of her breaking heart.

She was right in the middle of the action, Azshara’s illusion spell putting her right into the middle of the fighting. Her eyes and throat burned from the smoke, and the sounds of her people dying too loud in her ears. Dark violet blood stained the streets and the temples, the markets and the homes.

But they fought. Goddess did they fight. Tooth and nail and claw, feral and vicious; and for every inch of Kaldrassil the Naga took they paid for it in blood and bone and sinew.  One priestess tore a Naga’s throat out with her teeth, and clawed at the next as though she were a Nightsaber in Kaldorei form, before an arrow struck her in the shoulder. She barely wavered, picking up a fallen trident and attacking in a blind rage. Another arrow slowed her down as she impaled an unfortunate Naga sorceress. The priestess staggered up the street, eyes flashing. Three more arrows to her chest, a third to her back.

And still she fought.

Ice cracked, the sound loud like thunder over the still water. Until, slowly, inexorably, an entire sheet started to slide off the glacier and crash into the bay.

Jaina stood on a rickety old fishing dock, staring out towards the sea and scarcely noticing the collapsing ice. Her eyes were closed, and her voice rose, and it rose and it rose, carried across the sea and the tundra, a song on the breeze.

She opened her eyes, the fierce blue shining brighter than ever.

And somewhere in the distance, a thousand thousand voices joined her song.