Chapter Text
The flickering light of the candle made him look up; the wax was spilling in ribbons down the silver candelabrum into the wooden table. How many times had he written over and over the same letter? It was critical to find the right words. He looked down upon the many versions of the same message he had been crafting over the last few hours. It was well past midnight; he should be resting. He sighed leaning back on his seat, his neck was killing him; all that physical training was starting to weigh on him, his life had changed overnight and he was still digesting it.
He always believed he hadn’t inherited his father's body or strength. Varian was a gladiator, a fighter sculpted from stone and forged like iron with fire. He, on the other hand, had always been a lean boy, even when his shoulders broadened with puberty and he grew a few inches tall, he used to have what many would consider a ‘scholar's physique’. And that he was, but more so, he was a priest. Priesthood had defined him in many ways, and he considered that his best qualities, the things of most value he could offer, came from that religious upbringing. He had found the faith or rather the faith had found him early on, he couldn't remember a time where it wasn't present. It was, fundamentally, who he was. Light had always been there, no matter the circumstances.
He had to make space for other things now, violent things. The physical training he was going through under Genn's supervision was brutal, but it paid off in full; he had suffered an astonishing transformation over the past year and a half. He was now much more robust- muscular, growing into a physique that echoed that of his father. He could now wear full plate armor with ease, wield a greatsword for hours without his arm trembling. He ate twice the amount he used to, much to his dismay - to bulk for more muscle. All of this to prepare him. Prepare him to be king of his people, leader of the Alliance, prepare him to face her eye to eye and bridge the abysmal gap there was between them. That atrocious disparity.
It was never said to his face, but he knew what the others thought, what they might be saying to his back. When the news arrived that Sylvanas had been named Warchief of the Horde, he could feel the pity the other leaders felt for him immediately, even if for a second.
All of it because among them she was the worst.
The hatred between races was well fed over the years, for every step forward they accomplished, four steps back were unleashed upon them; a never ending reminder that peace, his ultimate goal, was the hardest of tasks to ever set upon himself. It was no secret, however, that The Forsaken were, by far, the most despised and rejected form of no-life in Azeroth. It was ‘easy’ to see why and at the same time, for Anduin, there was something inherently and profoundly wrong about it. Where was the commiseration? The forgiveness? The opportunity for redemption? They used to be members of the Alliance once after all, humans and elves at that.
He wanted to know who The Forsaken are, what are their ideals? What is their goal? There was very little for him to read, and most of it was quite biased to his eyes; a considerable amount focused on gruesome details that only ‘dehumanized’ them further. He was no fool, people had their agendas, their grudges, their prejudices. But he should be above that, shouldn’t he? He should be wiser, see the bigger picture, transcend the superficial layer of perception and find common ground in order to achieve the peace he so wanted.
Anduin had exceptional aspirations. The boy wanted something that had never been achieved in known history, not once. He wanted peace, unity, a world where races could co-exist with understanding, tolerance and compassion. That’s why he was writing this letter- this proposal. A daring thing to do as his first big act as the leader of the Alliance, a daring thing to do as his first direct contact with the Banshee Queen.
He stopped writing. He shouldn’t call her that, that title was only antagonizing her further. He should simply address her as he would any other leader. Lady Windrunner, or just Warchief. Anduin dropped his quill, his fingers ached. He needed to step away from this letter, let it rest, sleep, come back to it tomorrow.
To say that he was infuriated was an understatement. He had grown to love this boy almost as much as he had loved his son, and after Varian's death he felt they had grown closer. Genn was proud to be in charge of his training and to be by his side advising him to the best of his capacity. He thought the boy was beginning to turn into the man he needed to be, a man like his father. In time, he would have to recognize that, as a king, he needed to rein his people with more than faith.
So when he heard his idea of The gathering he felt back at square one. How could he even consider communing with the Banshee Queen in any way, shape or form? To be so naive as to believe something like that could be accomplished without traps, treasons and assassination attempts? He wanted to scream at him, remind him who was responsible for his father's death, his son's death. He wanted to smack the reason back to him and as he tried to contain his unrelenting rage, others spoke voicing these concerns in a measured manner he could never muster.
But this kid- he brushed them off, again with those same tiring words about peace and redemption and change . He pushed like he had never done before and as the High King, he made clear this would happen and he needed their support to conduct it successfully. Genn had to step away and recompose himself before losing to the unwavering rage he was feeling, unknowing this would only get worse. He hoped that the foul bitch would have the sense to reject Anduin's proposal and be done with it.
She held the scroll between her fingers. There was a faint scent of oak and amber to it. It reminded her of the incense the faithful accustomed to use during service. She had read the content twice already but her eyes fixated on a word. ‘Redemption’.
Back when she was Ranger General and not the Banshee Queen, she had never been particularly devoted to the light, she respected it immensely, but her life’s focus was elsewhere. After everything Arthas did, the faith of her kin was severely wounded, she knew because hers was completely decimated. She wished then to be back on Undercity, hidden in her chambers, inaccessible, as this wasn't meant to be digested before the eyes of others. Others that couldn’t possibly understand.
Over the years, she had experienced the peak of agonizing, tortuous emotions. She knew pain as if it had been carved into her bones forever branded. Oh, but she also knew the agonizing suffering awaiting for her beyond her final death. It was safe to say that few things managed to shake her now, and as her no-life existence became tasteless, colorless, unmoving, she had found a tempering calm to it. To not feel, or rather, feeling as little as possible. It had many advantages. So, imagine her surprise to find herself shaking with anger at a piece of paper. How could this bother her so much?
Well, how couldn’t it? That would be a more appropriate question.
She could vividly recall how only a few years before, she had reached out through emissaries to several capital cities asking for some sort of aid. None of her loyal Forsaken had returned from the Alliance capitals. She knew them butchered and cursed at her own ingenuity for sending them there. At that time she really thought there was a chance. She thought that maybe the sacrifice- the suffering would mean something to those who were, essentially, the fellow patriots to these undead beings. Once they had been comrades, neighbors, friends, even family. They shared a past, a lifetime of memories, a nation, a culture, a race.
She felt as if returning them to those core values might soothe their suffering, but just like she discovered she had been considered forever lost by her own kin, they had been rejected and slaughtered by the very same mortals that were quite possibly their only reason to exist, besides revenge that is. Soon, she came to understand that the Forsaken could only belong amongst each other. No other mortal being could ever hope to understand what it meant to be them. To live through a genocide, be forced to participate in the carnage of your own kin, be a slave to unholy forces and, finally, be despised by the very world who failed to aid you when you needed them the most. Abandoned, ostracized, rejected.
She now shared a bond with these undead humans she could never hope to share with living, breathing blood elves. It was tormenting, but she couldn't deny these were her people now and they had accepted her as their leader- as the undeniable symbol of their existence and their beliefs. They were Forsaken.
She grew into this new identity, the Banshee Queen. She had found an existence, even if repudiated by everyone else.
Now, they- No. This boy aspired to reshape and transform what it meant to be a Forsaken in the eyes of the world? Her hand clutched the paper.
‘ No. ’
He could never hope to understand through his own pathetic assumptions. If he intended to offer them the dignity, the respect and acknowledgement she had demanded from the very beginning, he would do so under her command, her way, her reasoning, not otherwise. He couldn't just waltz his way into their society like the caprice of a naive, privileged boy-king that wanted to play the hero he would never be. He couldn't save them, there was nothing to save, too late. She would show him- tear apart his pretentious beliefs and break his pathetic faith in the light and salvation.
How easy it is to be good and kind when all you know is comfort, love and adoration.
It was easy to believe in the light when it had been there throughout your life, unwavering. But where was the light for those who died screaming for help, for something, for anything, a speckle of mercy? The boy-king could never measure up to the Forsaken that had managed to cling to the faith and wielded the light with agony but unwavering fervor. Everything about this new High King was a frail, fake, pathetic attempt at fortitude before the harshness and suffering of the real world. And everybody knew it, but they chose to look the other way. If anything, they had served him on a silver platter for her.
Sylvanas found herself hungry for some cruel reckoning. She wanted to unveil the eyes of this pretentious child, bend him, break him, tear him apart and leave his shattered pieces to rule a nation with the scraps of who he used to be. Then, he might somewhat understand what it meant to be Forsaken.
She reached for paper and dipped her quill on ink.
Much to his surprise and all the others, the response didn’t delay to arrive. It was neatly tied and presented in a pristine manner that matched his own. His eyes fixated on the violet wax seal, a broken feminine mask branded on it. This detail; the color, the symbol. It felt personal, as if the one responding wasn’t Windrunner the Warchief, but Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, Queen of the Forsaken. He took it as a good sign.
His fingers trembled, as he undid the seal and opened the scroll. A sweet scent, dark berries, perhaps cherries and- flowery earthy tones filled his nostrils. He felt as if he had smelled this before but he couldn't place it in his memory. He tried to get past that first impression, never expecting Windrunner's scent would be something quite like this. He felt his cheek heat faintly, as he found himself pondering over the scent of the woman. It was an inappropriate observation, he chastised himself. His eyes laid on her hand writing, elongated and curved letters lacing one another in an elegant penmanship.
“ As I feel inclined to agree, my only condition is to discuss the details of this gathering in a gathering of our own.
Certainly a diplomatic affair, I wish only to speak personally to you, High King Anduin Wrynn. I will hold myself to the same standards by attending alone as well. Let's not bother other leaders with a matter of personal nature such as this; I believe if we intend this to succeed, the very conception of it should be achieved by the same sentiment we hope to accomplish, wouldn't you agree?
I expect your answer soon.
Yours truly,
Sylvanas Windrunner ”
His heart jumped, and he thought it would break free from his chest. He had spent weeks thinking about this, gathering the courage to bring it up before the other leaders of the Alliance, and later on trying to convey with precise words what he intended to achieve in a letter. All of this fearing deep down he would be rejected, quite frankly, he wasprepared to not even being acknowledged. But he was acknowledged, and to an extent that made him feel for the first time he was being taken seriously. So much so, she wanted to meet with him in person to go over the details and allow him her time to make it a successful affair. He was thrilled, he tried to suppress a smile, attempting to subdue the obvious excitement at the possibility for progress in his quest for peace.
The scent that the paper carried filled his lungs and made him indulge in a giddiness he didn’t want to outwardly express. So he schooled his expression back to a solemn one and shared the contents with the others present.
Immediately they were alarmed. Genn, who all this time had been quite opposed to the idea and had been trying to restrain himself, exploded in a fraction of second. He started to scream how this reeked of treason, that she was mocking him, that she would never take him seriously. And as the words poured from Genn's mouth he started to wonder how much of this discourse was reflecting his own thoughts about his weaknesses and his lack of experience. Anduin found himself in an unexpected scenario; he was prepared to face the insults of the Dark lady, but she met him with apparent grace. On the other hand, the people that should be uplifting him, supporting him, were the ones bringing him down. Even if only Genn was the one speaking, the silence and unwillingness of the others to interrupt him, told him everything he needed to know about their opinions.
“I will take the necessary precautions. I'm not as gullible as you believe me to be. I will prepare for the worst case scenario, choose the location of this gathering with a strategy in mind and a plan of contingency. If as a High King, as ruler of my people, I can’t conduct a diplomatic meeting, then we are already doomed, aren’t we? I'd appreciate a little bit more faith in my capabilities. Seemingly, the leader of the opposite faction takes me more seriously than you do.” He managed to keep his voice tempered and clutched his hands in fists afraid they'd notice they were trembling slightly. For the first time he was standing up for himself in the face of the others and he was shocked to discover how small and vulnerable he truly felt among them. He was always hiding behind them and hiding from the reality that he was unsure of his place in this world.
This task he had set upon himself was forcing him to face his insecurities in a manner he had never done before and this was only the beginning, he was sure. His words seemed to have the effect he wanted as he saw Genn physically retrieve his anger and calm himself. “We believe in you, boy. We want to do the best we can do for you and we hope you trust us with it. I know you want to believe in a better world, make it a reality, but- I'm afraid you are choosing to trust a-” The old man made a significant effort to choose another word. “…an individual who is incapable of goodness.”
Anduin remained silent, willing to listen.
“This apparent cease fire should be wiser spent in finding a proper match for you. A queen to secure your bloodline and to keep you grounded in the times ahead.” Anduin blinked a couple of times before even saying a word. He was caught off guard. “What?” Not an eloquent answer, but an honest one. “Do you believe finding a match for me is more important than, possibly, ensuring a prolonged peace so our children won't grow without their parents?” He was well aware of all of his duties as King, but surely, producing heirs could wait a few years if it meant he could secure stability between factions. Why would he want to have children only to throw them into a world drowned in chaos? To expose them to the same pain he had experienced?
“Ah- Boy, we just think it might be a good start to secure the kingdom and give the people a sense of safety in their leaders.” As much as Genn tried to steer his point into a positive note, it only managed to make Anduin resent the conversation further. “I don't expect to die so soon in my reign that I'd leave my kingdom without an heir. I'm confident I'll manage to live a few years before I can leave the crown to a stronger prospect.” At that he stood up from his seat, walked past them all and returned to his chambers, ignoring all calls hoping they would have the decency to leave him be.
His eyes followed the beautiful lines of the words. He wondered if she had worked on as many drafts as he did before sending her response. He exhaled shortly through his nose. Of course not, she most likely wrote this in less than a minute or two, surely confident in her words and in the movement of her hand. She sent her response without second thoughts, he felt.
In the privacy of his chambers, before the soft light of his candles, he took the letter near his face to smell the scent. He closed his eyes, frowning. What was it? What was that smell? It was fading, or maybe he had been smelling it for so long he couldn't perceive it as well anymore. It was obviously a flower, why couldn't he discern which one? He knew most undead folk were truly just corpses not fully attached to their souls. So, he didn’t expect a scent like this to come from her. Come to think of it, he had heard she was unlike the rest. Not much was known in the Alliance about the details of her nature and he had a feeling not even her own people had a clear understanding of what exactly happened to the Ranger General. He would see for himself soon, what people referred to as 'well preserved' when they described her.
He had only heard from others about the elven woman. On account of all the testaments, the word most usually used to describe her was ‘frightening’, but contrasting her to an Orc somehow made him feel more at ease, he wouldn't have to look up to face her, she would, most likely, be smaller than him in frame. In that sense, he felt he could project some confidence especially after the physique he had achieved. Besides, he rubbed the paper in his hands, she seemed to be a refined individual, well educated. After all, she had been part of the high society of Quel'thalas, right?
The big voids of information he had about her made him anxious, he was a man that relied on knowledge, on his wits. Understanding was the first step for empathy and connection, if he hoped to bridge the gargantuan distance between them, he needed to know more of her. He took a piece of paper and began to write, this time with more confidence than before.
“ Lady Windrunner,
I wholly appreciate your early response. I'm pleased to hear you are open to considering this proposal and reciprocating that sentiment, I'm willing to negotiate the terms in a meeting of our own. As a symbolic gesture of both our good disposition in this matter, I'd like us to meet in Arathi Highlands. I will honor your petition and attend on my own. No other leaders of my faction will be present. But I do believe we both know it's necessary to bring a minimum amount of escorts. It's only sensible, I'm sure you will agree.
As it is a diplomatic meeting I'll present myself dressed for the occasion. I don't intend to negotiate the terms of a peaceful gathering wearing full plate armor with a sword at my side and I do expect the same from you. It's an opportunity as leaders of our factions to prove, for the sake of our people, that not only we are capable of cooperating against external threats but also coexist in a respectful manner.
I eagerly await your answer. If you agree to my proposals in your next letter, I will send word to Dalaran city so the arrangements of our place of meeting are handled by a neutral party.
Best regards
High King Anduin Wrynn ”
Just as he finished signing the letter he set it aside to dry and took another piece of paper. He was feeling overly confident, he knew, but he didn’t want to lose the momentum and began to write yet another letter. This one directed to the officials of Dalaran city, requesting their intervention for a fair and neutral set up for the reunion. That could ensure neither side would be met with a dangerous or unfair situation. They could corroborate the terms of agreement as they would need at least a witness or two with them. His mind was racing as he wrote the words, settling down every detail, deeply hoping he would meet her expectation and maybe, just maybe, be impressed by his diplomatic savvy. He wanted to prove to her and his people he was more than ready and prepared to face the Horde on equal level. Only this time in a different setting. It was about time they changed the nature of the board where they moved their pieces.
As he sealed the scroll meant for the Dark lady, he found himself wondering suddenly: what did his scrolls smelled like? If there was a scent to it at all.
He tried to perceive if any, but he could only catch the smell of new parchment. He thought it was probably best, since he wasn't sure a scent coming from him would be pleasant at all. As he finished that train of thought he felt embarrassed once more. It was unlike him to care for such matters, but he supposed it was only natural to wonder after her scroll had such a distinct scent. As he lay on his bed, muttering a prayer under his breath, he found himself wondering, trying to place again what was that scent of hers.
The missive arrived not too long after. She had agreed and he felt somewhat dizzy reading the short response. He was thankful he had written the letter to Dalaran already because he was overwhelmed by the prospect of going through this. Sometimes in life you spend countless nights imagining scenarios in your head trying to figure out how you would navigate them, attempting to prepare for them, knowing that deep down, these scenarios will, most likely, never come to fruition, or that’s what we usually feel like. Then the day comes and all that thinking goes out the window for a good while, until you recompose yourself, calm your nerves and reassess all that planning again. Would it really work as he thought? He had always navigated life believing that the solution for most disagreements was communication, and in many situations it had worked for him. There was something inside him, something innate that allowed him to always find a path of understanding and he deeply believed it was the Light working through him, guiding him. It had always been there for him, and he would need it now more than ever to face her. He would finally discover, once for all, if Sylvanas Windrunner was someone he could get through.
He received confirmation from Dalaran that all preparations had been made. The region had been scouted by them, assessed and prepared. They had set up a meeting place far from both their settlements for their encounter. The logistics details had been defined down to the lesser things including refreshments. They weren’t sure how long it would take to reach an agreement, and they had made sure to communicate with both leaders about their needs and preferences for a possible prolonged stay. Though everyone hoped it wouldn’t take more than a couple of days, they had to be prepared for all scenarios.
He was to attend alone, as it was agreed upon, but they had chosen a mighty squadron of agents to prepare for the worst case scenario. Mathias Shaw would be at the head of said forces composed by various specialists including mages and priests. If it came to it, they had several means for a safe retrieval including a hearthstone he was to carry at all times. Anduin kept breathing in and out slowly, attempting to keep his nerves under control as there were still a few days of travel ahead. They needed to reach Arathi Highlands through a specific route and stay the first night in their settlement as the neutral party assessed everything was developing under the correct terms. He was unsure how Sylvanas would arrive, despite Undercity being fairly close, she was back in Kalimdor, on Orgrimmar. So the logistics for her would surely be different than his.
He was to take a ship from the Stormwind Harbor to Menethil Harbor and then travel on horseback to cross through the Wetlands to Arathi Highlands. With good weather he was expected to arrive in three to four days to his settlement and while it gave him some sense of serenity knowing there were still some days to prepare, the expectations were building up increasingly as the hours passed and he found himself often recurring to prayer to keep his nerves calmed. He had dealt with delicate and critical situations before but there was something deep in his guts that made him feel that this exchange with the Warchief was pivotal for the years to come. As if the result of this meeting would set in stone many events in the future. He knew not to underestimate these sentiments, as many times before, it had proved to guide him through the best possible path.
The sense of calm he had managed to gain through the trip and the beautiful landscapes his eyes got the chance to gaze upon quickly dissipated the moment he set a foot on Stromgarde keep. The busy environment around him, the introductions and formal greetings- getting reports from Shaw. It was overwhelming. Everyone was on edge, he could feel it. This would be the first time the new leaders of both factions would interact and the setting for it was a novelty, the reason for it even more rare. At the very least, everyone hoped this wouldn’t break into a fourth war. The expectations for success were very low, he knew, and he could feel a tinge of regret biting his heart when seeing the tense faces of his people. He knew he was making a huge bargain, based on a very idealistic desire. Besides, the person he had to reason with didn’t share the same values as him, on the contrary. The odds were not in his favor, clearly. But it was too late to back out now. He needed to do his very best to make this work, and ensure the safety of his people first and foremost.
By the time he reached his assigned quarters the sun was already setting on the horizon. He was tired and hungry and needed to prepare for tomorrow. His squire and attendants had brought up all his possessions. He would take a hot bath, eat and pray before laying on the bed that looked comfortable enough to provide a much needed rest.
He woke up a few hours too early, anxiety immediately seizing him. But he didn’t delay. He got up and started to groom himself, combing his blond mane into a ponytail. He washed his face and mouth, dressed with the undergarments he was to use that day and sat by the window to see the sun rising slowly in the horizon. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply mumbling a prayer to himself, a warm serenity washed over him as he focused on the reason he was doing this.
He took great care of the attire he was to wear that day. Fine clothes fit for a king, wearing proudly the colors and symbols of his house. He was not to use any plate today, nothing that could resemble armor in any way. And the sword of his father was to remain in his quarters. Anyone would believe he was attending a social event among friends, not a diplomatic negotiation with Sylvanas Windrunner. But that had been his choice, and he hoped she would commit to it as well and present herself only in cloth, leave her armor behind.
When he got off his steed, the Dalaran representative told him that the Warchief was already inside. He took a deep breath. He had hoped to arrive first and now he felt concerned about how much time she had been waiting.
They opened the curtains for him and he stepped in. The ambiance was reminiscent of the Dalaran aesthetic; the fabric of the tent a calming cream and the carpets covering the ground purple, there were magical lamps floating about illuminating the inside. In the center there was a low table and two chaise longue facing each other. As soon as he had observed the insides enough to understand the set up, his eyes went immediately to her. She was standing up next to her seat, her posture relaxed. She was leaning into one of her hips, which only emphasized her figure further. His breath got caught in his throat. What a picture she was. He had never seen her, never had an image to recall when he thought of her, and he knew this right here would be forever seared in his memory as her physicality caressed his eyes drawing him in a way he had never experienced before. She, like him, had dressed for the occasion, apparently taking to heart the fact that this was a place to prove there was no need for violence and therefore protection; only diplomacy and maybe even pleasantries judging by her choice of attire.
The gown left her shoulders bare and had a deep v neckline that left uncovered a great expanse of her chest. Her pale skin was a hue of pinkish periwinkle that looked like moonlit porcelain in this light, and the shape of her body was as if sculpted with adoration by an artist; the elegant curve of her shoulders, the delicate shape of her collarbones, the swell of her luscious breasts, her cinched waist followed by rounded inviting hips. All of it enveloped in a fabric that hugged and clinged to her form with unfair precision. He felt an immediate rush of adrenaline struck his body up his spin. Heat began to spread through his cheeks and ears- a natural reaction he could not control at the prospect of being in the presence of such a beautiful being.
Beyond the obvious appeal, her mere presence sucked the air out of his lungs. She stood as if she owned everything around her, including him. Effortless confidence and clear dominance. It was uncanny and exhilarating, like being close to a beautiful and dangerous feline. She cocked her head and her hair spilled like molten silver-gold; silky locks cascading on her shoulders down her back. Her eyes were a hungry red and her full lips a mauve hue.
He wasn't sure how long he had been staring, and only reacted at the questioning arch of her thin brow. “Lady Windrunner.” His voice came out awkward, he cleared his throat. “I hope you haven't waited for too long.” He added hoping to sound more grounded on the second try. She didn't say a word for what it felt like ages to him, her eyes were detailing his face, his hair, looking at him from head to toe. There was something behind her stare he could not decipher. His heart began to hammer hard against his chest, he wasn’t prepared to stand her intense assessment. “No need for apologies.” Her voice sultry and dark, like velvet, invited him to either run or melt in the spot.
He approached slowly to his seat as he saw her do the same. She sat, and took with her fingers a fold of her skirt to put it aside, uncovering her bare legs so she could cross them comfortably. She sat back with an air of elegant and unsatisfactory disdain. He hadn’t noticed the dress had a slit and now there was more naked flesh exposed for his eyes. He had to make a conscious effort to look away and fix his posture in his seat- to remember he was a king and so he should act accordingly.
He only now registered the presence of the four witnesses; two dalaran agents, a representative from the Alliance and one of the Horde. He felt the embarrassment claw at his chest at what he felt had been a pathetic display on his part. He just would never imagine she would be so-
“Let's begin discussing the terms.” Her eyes looked overly severe, clearly irritated. It certainly didn't help to soothe the feeling of inadequacy he had. It felt like a disproportionate reaction for his initial but brief shortcoming. Was she so disgusted by him already?
In truth Sylvanas was dealing with her own predicament the moment she saw him step in. She didn't remember meeting Varian's son before this occasion but the young man that crossed the threshold looked anything but his. She felt a second of panic the moment her eyes laid on him. He looked so much like Arthas she almost lunged to tear his face off with her nails. But his reaction alone to seeing her was enough to shut down her killing intent. He wasn't Arthas, far from it. He was only a boy dumbstruck by her presence.
She could see his pulse beating on his throat, the pink that dusted his cheeks and the point of his ears. She relaxed, he was only a boy. However, as she sat down and stared at him some more, her ire came back tenfold. What a cruel joke of the universe this was. Another insult from the great forces laughing at her. Her counterpart, her supposed equal , was a squirming boy-priest, barely of age and bafflingly inexperienced. He was barely in control of his hormones- all of that while looking like the spitting image of the man that had enslaved her, massacred her kin and tortured her with his mind games and abuse. What was this?
She was then recalling word by word his letter and his supposed intentions with this ridiculous proposal. She wanted to have his head on a silver platter. This was more than personal, this was a cosmic opportunity for twisted catharsis.
“Before we start, I want to thank you for being so open and cooperative throughout our communication so far.” The moment the words got out of his mouth, he felt marginally better about himself. “Don't be so eager to thank me, we are only starting.” Sylvanas leaned her head to the side, just slightly, the words came out her mouth as alluring threats.
And there it was, that pinkish hue adorning his cheeks again. So easy. She barely had to move to get a reaction from him. Just how sheltered had this boy been? She knew human society was different, they were prudes and had a very close minded view of ways of life, especially those religious; they had some ridiculous notion about purity and chastity that was not only sheer stupidity but also a falsity, since very few if any upheld those values to heart. She had lived in flesh just how degenerate a human paladin could be.
“The correct way to approach this, logistically, would be to make a careful selection of Forsaken individuals who are in the best conditions to attend such affairs and are willing to do so. Considering how susceptible and unstable most humans are, I know it would be for the best to present the… best preserved both physically and mentally among us.” Anduin listened to her attentively, trying to ignore her remarks about the human race and understand the insight she was offering. By the time she finished speaking, he noticed how he had been holding his breath. “That's a very sensible start, Lady windrunner. If you were to provide me with a list of individuals who are open to this and are also in a state that would make things more digestible for my people, I'd be very grateful. I appreciate that you consider details that may surpass me.” Sylvanas arched her brow, how gentle the boy was, it was sickening.
“I'm sure from there you could contact the family or whatever related humans and explain very clearly what they are agreeing to.” She continued, her eyes were detailing the blond fringes framing his face. He shifted in his seat and casted his eyes down, as if avoiding hers. “I believe we both must be present, accompanied by a sensible amount of soldiers. The safety of the participants is my top priority.” He declared.
“Agreed- I won't expose my people to harm by the hands of the very ones that had betrayed them already.” A snide remark, Anduin's lips parted, but he restrained himself. He couldn't fall into unproductive discussion now, he needed to seal the deal and avoid unnecessary confrontations. This was about understanding and togetherness. He cleared his voice. “I would also like priests to be among those in the gathering, as faith, hope and temperance are the very things both our people need to hold on to through this experience.” She smiled with her lips but not with her eyes at what he said.
“Of course you'd suggest a fallacy such as hope. There's none for a Forsaken. But alas, you may have those priests spread their frail gospel among them. It won’t make a difference.” Anduin closed his fits tightly. “You have my word that not me nor my agents will do any harm to your people. And I need you to promise me that as well.” He had made a smart move at last. She licked her lips, a mesmerizing gesture to him. “You have my word, little lion . I won't hurt a single Alliance soul, nor my rangers.” The mocking tone was there, but she had committed to the promise.
“Once we have a defined group for this gathering, we can set up the date. I think it would be fair to hold the event here in Arathi Highlands, seeing that it is equally close to our capitals. I also believe it would be good for other faction leaders to witness this.” He felt butterflies in his stomach as he said these words, slightly affected by the moniker. Despite her harsh remarks, everything was advancing considerably fast and reasonably. “I'm not particularly fond of having the whole parade present for something that only concerns us. But if you are so inclined to have your mutt by your side, fine. So long as he is properly leashed.” She looked down to her nails, inspecting them, she was losing interest already.
“Then we agree to these terms?” Anduin pushed. “What is exactly the purpose and end of this gathering?” One last question, he felt everything was on the line now. "W-well, I just wish to provide a chance for families to reunite and possibly- if we succeed, allow people to gather once in a while- prove there’s room for understanding.” He hoped his answer was good enough, she already knew why he wanted to do this. “Before we can consider further reunions, let's see exactly how this experiment of yours goes.” She gave him a piercing look. “This shall not last beyond dusk, and if there's any sign of danger or crossed boundaries. I will order an immediate retrieve.” She clarified.
“That's reasonable. I shall wait for your list, provide you with mine. And propose a date. Is that all?” His hand trembled a bit, he was so close. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and then she nodded.
Sylvanas stared at the witnesses, all of them writing down every single word said in the exchange. When they lifted their gazes of their scrolls, she turned to see Anduin once more. “Now that we have finished discussing the terms of the gathering and agree to them. I want to speak to you, privately.”
Anduin blinked several times, as if he didn't understand what she had said. He had seemingly succeeded, but this wasn't over. She wanted to speak to him, alone . He opened his mouth but she interrupted him. “Only personal matters little king. Nothing to be afraid of. I'm sure everyone here can agree I don’t have the upper hand as you are a very capable priest with no need for weapons to hurt me.” She knew that was false, her entire reasoning sounded more like a mockery than a good faith argument. The witnesses looked at each other, as they also assessed that that was not entirely true. Some of them knew, considering her banshee powers, she only had to open her mouth and wail to kill them all. But that could happen regardless if they were inside the tent or outside of it. They waited for some kind of objection on part of the young king but he seemed too stunned and confused to say anything.
“So?” She asked him, her tone subdued, like an amused feline willing to allow a little mouse a few more minutes of life if entertainment was provided.
“Yes.” He answered looking at the witnesses, nodding for reassurance. They would be just outside, the terms had been settled and she couldn’t go back on her word. If she wished to speak to him about other matters, he had no reason to object. If anything, this is exactly what he wanted- a chance to speak with her and get to understand her. “Let's sign the agreement, so we can talk.” He reaffirmed. The witnesses approached with their scrolls, they signed both copies quickly and in a matter of minutes, they were left alone. He felt his mouth go dry as his eyes settled on the woman sitting before him. Personal matters ? He felt heat spreading over his cheeks. He was suddenly very thirsty. His eyes lowered to the table, he spotted a crystal jug of water and served himself in a cup.
All of the things on this table had been managed by the neutral party with supervision of their own agents, there was no reason to suspect it. Before he could lift his cup he raised his face to her. “Would you like some water? Uh- Wine?” He asked, minding his manners, but then it dawned on him, did she even need water? He felt the tips of his ears burn once more.
“Wine.” She answered.
He felt himself breathe again as he reached for the bottle and poured her some wine on her cup. He was so relieved he hadn't made the mistake of offending her he felt slightly dizzy. He took the cup to his lips and drank water trying to pretend he wasn't gulping it down. “Easy, little lion. Don't drown now, they will accuse me of murder.” A little tug on her lips, almost made him choke, he needed to get it together. He saw her drink of her own cup, quite naturally, before leaving the recipient back on the table where there was an assortment of cheeses, fruits, curated meats, and bread. “I wasn't sure you were able to-” he cleared his throat.
“I'm quite capable of drinking, yes.” She laced her fingers on top of her lap. Although her posture was less severe, he realized he could be very well hurting sensibilities. “My apologies for my lack of manners, it's unbecoming of me. I'm just very invested in understanding Forsaken's experience of… l-life” He was walking on eggshells here, his curiosity getting the best of him. He couldn't seem to say something right.
She found she enjoyed seeing him squirm- failing miserably at keeping a conversation with her without embarrassing himself like a child. “There is no universal experience for the Forsaken, besides pain that is. Our backgrounds, our deaths, how stained our hands are with the blood of our own kin. Well, it certainly varies. Some still crave for flesh, some recur to concoctions and drugs to imitate a fraction of what we used to feel while alive. Some only feel when causing pain to others. All experience the no-life in their own unique, miserable way.” The nervousness he had experienced all morning died down, turning to pain in his chest. His expression fell into a deep look of concern. “Erase that pathetic look of pity off your face, Wrynn. We don't need or want your false concern.” There was that harsh demeanor again. “It’s not pity, it's compassion.” he corrected.
“Compassion?” Sylvanas scoffed. “Is that what you think this is? You really think the majority of humans are capable of your level of insufferable fragility and sensibility? Do not delude yourself, humans are, by far, the most deprived race to walk on Azeroth.”
“I take offense to that, my lady.” he reproached, somewhat surprised by the harsh assessment. “My people stand for light and all that is good.”
“Oh, please. Save yourself that tired discourse, priest. I know very well just how frail and fake your beliefs are. When it comes to it- all men are the same scum, easily corruptible, miserable beings.” Sylvanas found herself increasingly infuriated by the picture before her. That stupid pair of innocent blue eyes, looking at her with insufferable softness, the boy-king was undeniably handsome, just like he had been. Some of her most unsavory old feelings returned to her with painful vividness. She despised it. “Do not compare me to him .” And there it was- a crack in the severe mask she had been wearing all this time. If only for a second, he saw the endless well of pain and wrath there was behind those crimson suns. He couldn't help but detail the markings under them; those seared tears- the tears she had shed in her death.
His heart hurt on his chest with painful empathy. She was condemned to wear her deepest sorrows permanently on her delicate face. “Who is to say… you are not just as capable as he was to do the things he did to me?” The dangerous tone of her voice told him he was very close to exhausting her patience. She uncrossed her legs to exchange which one lay on top, a seemingly natural thing to do, but his eyes were inevitably drawn to the gesture, and just as she parted her thighs in the process, he spotted something he wasn't supposed to see. “After all, he was also the son of a king, devoted to the light. Blond, handsome and dashing, just like you. It's almost uncanny how much you resemble him- maybe mortals should fear you more than they fear me.” He could feel his heart pounding on his ears, barely capable of registering what she had said to him. He swallowed hard as the sight of her bared sex seared into his eyes. It had been just a second, but enough to see the pink slit hidden between those silky, seductive legs.
Had she called him handsome? He shifted uncomfortably on his seat as he noticed the embarrassing and involuntary reaction of his heated body. He had been struggling this whole time to keep his eyes on her face- his whole life he had never been a man to leer at women, or anyone for that matter, but there was something so enticing about her. Her every move seemed like a work of art and now he had gotten a glimpse at the flesh of her flower , bare just for him. He could barely form a coherent thought. “Just look at you, little lion.” She leaned in forward, her breasts pressing together giving him an exquisite sight. “You can barely resist your carnal urges, you are no better than him.” He snapped then, with great effort, blinking away the daze of arousal to frowned at her. “Do not insult me, I would never-”
“ Ah-ah. Do not say those words. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. It is clear to me that this whole charade is only a poor excuse to fill your ego and delude yourself with the false notion that humans are anything but a menace capable of the worst horrors imaginable.” She stood up then, apparently ready to end their conversation and leave. As she started to walk away, he stood up in a hasty impulse to stop her. He didn't want her to leave on bad terms, afraid of jeopardizing the entire operation when he had already achieved his goal to earn her agreement. He reached, not thinking things through, and grabbed her by the arm, tugging her with too much force towards him.
The Dark lady had sharp senses, unmatched balance and quite a strong body. But when she felt the warm touch of his liveness closing around her skin, she was caught off guard, tripping with a poorly placed carpet and crashing into his chest. He felt like a hearth, pulsating with hot blood and ragged breaths. She could feel his muscles contract with tension and smell his arousal. A delicious and exceptional specimen of a man he was. “ By the light - I'm sorry, I'm so sorry my lady.” He stuttered with nervousness.
He had lost control for one second and now he had her pressed against him. He could feel with clarity the way her breasts were flushed against his chest. Her soft hair tickling his nose- she smelt just like her letter; an intoxicating flowery scent. And then, there was something more, he could not identify it, but he felt it with certainty. A shift between them, between their presences - their souls. He was washed over a feeling of connection, a thread, a bond.
“You are so warm, little lion.” She whispered into his ear and his body lit up on fire, every single hair of his body standing on point. He could hear with crisp precision how her tongue moved inside her mouth to form the words. He almost leaned into her lips chasing to feel them kiss the lobe of his ear. What was wrong with him? He panted feeling his face burn. His hands found her bare shoulders, her skin cool under his ardent touch. He managed to step back from her, and retrieve to an acceptable distance. Still, she was so close, he had the luxury to detail her beauty in a way he knew he would never get the chance to experience ever again. He thought the look on her eyes was inviting and appraising. He must have lost his mind, whatever came over him, that shift he had felt, was messing with his common sense. Clearly.
She casted her eyes down for long seconds and looked up to him with a condescending smile. He blinked confused and lowered his eyes to see the obvious outline of an erection in his trousers. “Lady windrunner, I- my deepest apolo-” A cool finger rested on his lips, His heart would jump out of his chest at the gesture. “You apologize too much, high king .” What a time to address him properly by his title. She dragged her finger down, tracing a line down his chin with her sharp nail. He felt like a prey, seconds before being devoured and savored. His erection was pulsating and he had to repress a sound from coming out of his throat.
“I- I'm sorry. I've never- I'm so embarrassed.” He was tripping over his words, he swallowed hard. “By the light, I would never want to offend you in such a way- in any way.”
She laughed.
What a sound, even if a mocking one. It was electrifying. “Don't fright, cub. After all, you humans are too easy .” He wished he felt more offended than embarrassed at the insinuation that he was a promiscuous, lustful man. “Oh, don't look at me like that, I'm sure you are… untainted .” She looked him up and down. He wanted to run, how did the conversation turn Into this? Why were they discussing his-
“Would you please sit down with me to continue our conversation? I- I only wish to understand you better, I am clearly ignorant about many things and I would be honored to be given a chance to learn about your folk through your gaze." Despite his lack of confidence, it seemed he had been eloquent enough to salvage the situation as the Dark lady went back to her seat with an arched brow and amused look in her eyes. He walked awkwardly, painfully aware of the situation inside his trousers and sat trying to conceal his state. “Drink some water, cub. You must cool down.” At least she seemed entertained by it, even if humiliating. He followed her advice and drank more fresh water. It indeed helped with the persistent heat of his body. He watched her take a single grape from the table arrangement and bite into it. Why did he find everything she did enthralling?
“Do you enjoy eating?” He managed to ask. “Not particularly. Fresh fruits are among the things I find less offensive. Once the need for this kind of nourishment ceases, it becomes rather difficult for some of us to consume food. If anything, it is just an amusement if one is so inclined to indulge.” He could finally anchor his attention into something else than his arousal. Everything she said he found incredibly interesting. “What about sleep?”
“Not like other mortals, no. While our bodies do need some time to rest, it's not sleep we reach, but a deep state of meditation. At least for those that can reach such serenity.” She clarified as she reclined into her seat, she looked comfortable and calmed. “I can't help but notice that your body- uh. You are in remarkable shape. I mean-” he couldn't find the right words once more. “Yes, I am quite well preserved. I wasn't given the same treatment as other Forsaken. Which is why not even I could aspire to fully understand the extent of their pain. I wasn't forced into cannibalism, my punishments were of a different nature.” Anduin finally felt some clarity disperse the fog of desire that had clouded his mind. As the Dark lady indulged him with answers, he found himself deep in thought, cooling down his body and regaining some of his dignity. He could finally sit back comfortably now that he had softened. “I've met other undead folk before and I must admit, with all due respect, looking at you- sometimes forget you are one as well.”
‘You are practically… alive ’ It wasn't his mind that voiced that thought. It was as if an unknown voice had whispered into his ear, chilling his body in the act.
“Like I said… I received a different treatment.” Her cryptic words hid something he knew would never get the chance to know. The fact that she was still there answering his intrusive questions was a miracle in itself. But he didn't want this to end, he wanted to know more. He wanted to continue to hear the sound of her voice and be allowed to gaze upon her beauty. It then came to him suddenly, Broken shore. The death of his father. His face fell into a solemn expression and he knew he had to ask. “Did you betray him?” The words came out softly.
Sylvanas froze for a second, remembering how she had pressed cool steel against Arthas throat while he had been paralyzed by her arrow. Betrayal? Hardly. But no, that wasn't what this boy was asking. She felt irritated at how much he made her remember Arthas. When the boy mustered enough confidence to remain impassive and serious she couldn't unsee the reflection of him and consequently the emotions that came with it.
All of these years, she had done her best to focus solely on her wrath and desire for revenge and forget the other, more complex, and deranged emotions. He had permanently seared her with his corruption and lust. Gave her back a body that was as close to life one could be as an undead. He had been careless to do so, granting her a superior strength and constitution, even a capacity for things other undead could only dream of- all of it driven by his capriciousness and delusion, he really though she would eventually accept him. While she was under his dominance, yes, she had no choice but obey. Now that she was her own, she could push all those less than favorable feelings and memories of him, a product of his sadistic manipulations.
She looked at the boy before her, finding herself tempted to make him her plaything. Unwilling to allow his resemblance to him to affect her this way. She was the one in control now and would always come on top against him.
“What happened to your father was inevitable, whether the Horde stayed or left. He would find death that day.” She answered, allowing a shed of mercy upon him. The boy seemed to relax under her gaze, a sight she rarely got to see. He believed her, how very naive of him. She thought he would be much more disagreeable considering he had the mutt speaking into his ear at all times. But no, he wore his heart under his sleeve even before her and it seemed astonishing that Varian would produce such a soft soul. He was nothing like him, even if he seemed to be growing into a powerful physique. He was beautiful and tender, dangerously sensitive for a King. She could read his body with precision and know just how affected he was by her. It would be so easy to take away his innocence bit by bit. Drag him little by little into the harsh reality that hid behind the veil. Make him lust for pleasure and blood- to surrender himself to the lowest impulses and make his faith falter. Yes. He could fall, just like Arthas did, but before her heels.
“Thank you for answering me with honesty.” His tender voice stroke something inside her. She preferred him flustered, incapable of forming coherent sentences. “Do not thank me, little lion. Truth is rarely a source of peace. All mortals come to realize this, sooner or later.”
“Why did you want to speak to me privately?”
“Curiosity. Same as you, isn't it? Why are you still here, cub? Aren't you scared?” His cheeks tinted again with a tender pink, how pretty and impressionable he was. “Should I be?” He asked, with a hint of sassiness. She arched a brow, a smile tugging her lips. He had no idea what game he was playing, and with whom. Anduin could barely believe the words that came out his mouth, more precisely, his tone. Was he attempting to be flirtatious with her?
She leaned in, a dangerous smile on her lips. There was again that sight of her breasts, he felt heat coursing through him once more. “Are you enjoying yourself, little lion?” She murmured. He felt the heat spread on his face and his core like a rush. His heart accelerated.
Yes. He was enjoying this. “As intimidating you are, Warchief. You cannot erase your beauty.” The words left his lips and he was holding his breath awaiting her response to his compliment. “It's clear you have no semblance of common sense, boy-king. Only a fool would dare to attempt flattery with me.” She sat back, relaxing her posture, laying with confidence before him. He was like a moth flying directly into the fire. Too raptured to see he was willingly putting himself in danger; too eager to chase the heat of the light to care.
“I'm only stating the truth.” He bit back almost playfully. “You have had enough thrill for today, cub. Run back to your keep before you say something you might regret.” It sounded like she was daring him to push more. “I don't think I will have reasons to regret saying just how pleasant you are on the eyes, Warchief. I’m sure you must hear it often either way.” He was feeling bold.
She scoffed. “Those around me are smart enough to not try such things with me. What do you think you'll gain from it? A kiss?” she saw his adam's apple bob on his throat, she wanted to bite it off. The fact that he wasn't immediately denying it only demonstrated his sheer stupidity. He said nothing. She almost barked a laugh, but kept her expression serene. He wasn't keen on lying but of course, he wouldn't admit he did want a kiss. His heart was pounding hard again. How dumb can hormones make you? There should be a study.
“How sweet.” She said in a sardonic tone. A mocking expression adorned her face. “Plead hard enough and I might consider granting you what you desire, little lion.” He shuddered, feeling dizzy again. What was he doing? How did they end up like this? Why was it so easy for her to get him to forget himself? She had him wrapped around her little finger.
“I think we should conclude this meeting.” He said, swallowing hard, he needed to get out before he did something stupid. “Wise choice.” She whispered.
“I- I will await your selection of participants Warchief. I thank you again for your cooperation.” He was all proper all of the sudden, standing up almost rigidly, as if he wanted to escape before another erection rose on his pants. She stood up. “Very well.” She looked at him, he wasn't moving just yet, staring at her mesmerized. “I won't kiss you goodbye, little lion.” She reached her hand to him, willing to shake his. After all, he had managed to survive a conversation with her.
The boy walked to her but instead of shaking her hand, he brought it to his lips, kissing it. His flesh was smooth and ardent. She didn't recall Arthas being that warm to the touch, even in their most heated moments. It made something stir inside her. She retrieved her hand, and he looked dumbstruck. “I-”
“Save it.” She cut him off. “Not a single word more, leave before you do something stupider still.” He nodded, silently, obediently. She rolled her eyes at him and turned in her heels to leave. The sway of her hips was hypnotizing. He was openly staring until she was out of his sight. He suddenly felt everything collapse on him. He was breathless, almost losing his balance. Has he succeeded really? Did he manage to make this happen without starting a fourth war? Yes. But he had been so careless, speaking to her like that. He covered his face with his hands, rubbing it harshly. The image of her sex came to him vividly, the feeling of her lips whispering into his ear. His body ached with wants he had never experienced before.
“By the light…” He exhaled to himself. What had come over him? He was overwhelmed with embarrassment and desire. He adjusted himself in his pants before leaving the tent. What would his people think if they saw him come out there all flustered and erect? Had he had no self control? Not with her, no. He had never behaved this way before. Not even close. He had always been such a serene man, inclined to prayer and meditation. No female had ever stirred him before, as pretty as he could find them, they didn’t really impact him this way.
When he got out of the tent, Shaw was waiting for him outside with an indiscernible look in his eyes, Anduin didn’t delay his news. “She agreed.”
“I am aware, I read our copy of the terms.” Shaw seemed to be expecting a more detailed explanation. “What do you think?” Anduin asked. “Everything looks good on paper. Still, there's plenty of room for foul play. What did you talk about after the agreement?” Anduin thanked the light he was mounting his horse the moment Shaw asked, because he wasn't sure he could hide the agitation. “She just wanted to test me. But we parted on acceptable terms. I think.”
“You think? Did she threaten you? Did she harm you?” Shaw was doing what he needed to do; be cautious and vigilant. And even though Anduin understood that perfectly, he wanted more than anything to be left alone. Had Sylvanas threatened him? Well, maybe. But everything was covered by a veil of seduction and playful banter he didn’t dare to confess. “No- ah. She is quite severe, yes. But, I think she was reasonable.”
“What did she want to talk about in private?” Shaw pushed, incredulous. “I guess she wanted to understand better why I proposed this at all.” Was that really the reason? Now that he thought of it, despite she being the one to ask for a private conversation, he was the one asking the questions. So what did she exactly wanted to talk about privately? Anduin suddenly felt slightly apprehensive. He didn’t notice at the time that she never really clarified or pointed out what she wanted to talk about, she simply allowed him to engage with her and indulged him with answers.
“And?” Shaw seemed a little bit on edge. Deservingly so, he looked like he hadn't slept well in days, waiting for the worst thing to happen at any moment. “Everything is good Shaw. I consider this a victory. She agreed to my terms and she didn’t kill me- a fourth war hasn't started. Considering my prospects I think this is the best we are going to get in this scenario.” He said this while looking away for a good chunk of his assessment. He knew the spymaster was the last person he could fool, but he wouldn't describe in detail what really happened there. It was under control, he considered, so a little privacy regarding his less than proper behavior felt deserved after his apparent victory.
“Alright, your majesty. Forgive me, there is no such thing as too much precaution with the Banshee queen.” Shaw withdrew his questioning, seemingly understanding the young king was reluctant to describe in detail the ‘off the record’ part of the reunion. The boy seemed flustered and he wondered if the Dark lady had played any mind games with him. “What's your impression of her?” A seemingly subdued question. “I- wasn't expecting her to be so…” Shaw raised his eyebrows in expectation. Anduin cleared his throat. “She is quite something.” Again, a vague answer but it was more than enough for Shaw to understand his king was simply stunned and possibly starstruck by the Dark Lady. Unsurprising, in a way. But concerning still. She could play nice before him all she wanted, in the end her true colors would show. “I see.” The man ceased his proding.
Anduin fixed his gaze on the plains, trying to find respite from it all in the landscape. He just needed a moment to collect himself, he was sure only more questions were to come and he didn’t have the desire to reveal the way she had affected him. It was embarrassing to say the least, not to mention how inappropriate and dangerous the whole thing had been. The nearer the keep became ahead, the more inadequate he felt about his behavior, he wanted to hide in his room and bury his face in a pillow as he relived in his head the recent exchange. Now that he was out of her proximity he felt impossibly embarrassed about almost the entirety of the meeting, especially the closure.
He had been flirting with her, how dumb he must have looked to her that she correctly guessed he wanted-
He wanted to feel a kiss from her lips.
His hands held tight to the reigns of his steed. The next hours were bound to be mental torture, he was sure. He would be reliving every small detail in his mind over and over again and he didn’t want to feel more mortified than he was already. He wished then he had a chance to meet her again, to prove he wasn't a silly boy with no self control. By the light, he had an erection before her. He wanted to smack himself in the face.
He needed to be back in his quarters, he needed prayer.
Prayer did help to clear his mind and calm the remaining traces of anxiety in his body. He was left to rest, everybody too pleased with the outcome to bother him with more questioning. Shaw would send word of the results. After a cold bath, a hot meal and a change of clothes, the pressure of it all hit him like a hammer, leaving him exhausted and quite sleepy. He wanted more than anything to lay on his bed and drift away to a state where he wouldn't be reliving over and over again what had happened.
As he closed his eyes, he felt the sweet embrace of slumber and quickly found rest as he fell asleep comfortably in his quarters.
The water looked like molten gold as the sun colored its surface. Its rays rained throughout the horizon in a blinding splendor. The white sand was warm and pleasant, music and laughter could be heard close by. He felt his heart fill with contentment and bliss as his gaze followed the sight of two elven women running about playfully. “ What melody now, Lady moon ?” Before he could turn to see the person whose soft voice had asked, the moment flickered away.
His eyes rested on the rich liquor of his crystal cup. It was fragrant and enticing. As he drinked from it, his tongue tingled with its exceptionally pleasant flavor, its sweetness was followed by a burn down his throat. He hummed, he had never tried anything like it before. The music was beautiful but it made his heart ache with melancholy, he couldn’t understand why.
Almost as if a ghost had pushed through him, he saw a silhouette draw from the place he was standing. His eyes followed, as he felt many others around him did. This woman that had passed through him like a shadow, looked very real, not a ghost, Anything but.
She was, possibly, the most gorgeous creature he had ever laid his eyes on. Her golden hair shone with flickering diamonds that had been woven beautifully throughout. Her skin was kissed by the sun and luscious. The melancholy displaced off him, and followed her. It dawned on him that it belonged to the woman. She was heading to the balcony in search of solitude. A man approached her. Together they looked like the very picture of royalty, he was almost as equally beautiful as her. They shared a majestic air, and he seemed to crave for her. He couldn't really blame him, if anything he admired the courage to approach her.
They began to dance and as the music shifted, he soon felt his heart beating fast on his chest. The sensual movements of the pair would be nothing short of scandalous affair in a human court, but here it was glorious. He desired, more than anything, to be in his place. Embrace her the way he did, touch her and dominate her with the same confidence. He was lost and entranced by the spectacle, just like the other people around him. Everyone was silent, only the music and the sound of their heels echoing in the room. He couldn't help but hold his breath as the man dipped the woman, and there it struck him. As her figure fell in a devastatingly seductive arch, he recognized the elven woman and his heart constricted with electrifying excitement and pain. He stepped forward and the sight dissolved before his eyes.
Darkness enveloped him for a good while. He waited, expecting another vision to produce before his eyes.
He was stabbed. The sword pierced him right through, he looked up and met cold sea-green eyes. He gasped and fell, but the pain- The pain . It was blinding, searing, unforgettable. It rescinded. He crawled, his fists clutching at yellow petals, flowers were crushed below his struggle. A scream ripped right through his ears and he thought his head would explode. He grasped his head and turned.
An elven woman lay near him, she bled to death- just above her, her broken soul rose. Her face was covered in tears. His vision blurred as he felt tears of his own spill copiously. He wanted to reach for her but he couldn't move, he sobbed.
“You are mine now .”
‘Don't touch her’ he tried to scream, but no voice came out. Everything blacked out to a blinding rage.
Darkness once more embraced him. His warm tears ran cold. He tried to collect himself, he prayed, but no light came to him. How long has it been?
“ You are practically… alive .” A whisper to his ear. He felt shame, revulsion, wrath and an igniting desire. The humiliation washed over him mercilessly. He wanted him to stop, but he didn't and his body complied, disobeying his own commands. There was no escape, nowhere to run to, no light to reach. It ceased. He gasped for air, his lungs hurt. He wanted this to stop.
“... I have to pay the price because you don’t have the guts to kill Jaina? ”
‘Jaina? ' What did aunt Jaina have to do with anything? He turned, and saw her . Sylvanas. She-
She was pale, her hair not as golden, but she looked-
She looked alive, it was unnerving, because he knew, he felt she wasn't. A hand clutched her face with a violence that shocked him, he froze at his presence. “ Keep her name out of your filthy mouth. ” Arthas’ voice promised punishment. It was a blur. Agitation filled him. He panted for air, he couldn't see what was happening then he heard her scream. The sound of something akin to a whip snapped continuously. His heart hammered furiously on his chest, he tried to find her, help her.
Then her screams turned into moans. He froze, he lifted his eyes and saw.
Arthas held a thick leather belt on his hand, he brushed it against her sex. He wanted to avert his eyes. He felt his heart jump with fear and exhilaration. He clutched his chest, trying to compose himself. But she- she kept moaning in such a way he couldn't help but stare. He couldn't see from this angle what exactly was Arthas doing with his fingers to her but-
“ It shouldn’t surprise me that you enjoy this .” Sylvanas bit down the velvet blankets below her. Her bare body ached, but she kept herself still for him in the most lascivious and vulgar position he had ever seen; her face was pressed against the bed and her rear up for her abuser. Arthas lined his member against her and pushed. Anduin wanted to behead him.
She was penetrated, her thighs quivered, something dripped from her core. Arthas barked a laugh remarking he couldn't believe she came already. Anduin panted for air, his face burned with ire and-
He saw the Menethil prince thrust into her and fill his hands with the tender flesh of her ass. He picked her up by the hair forcing her to stand on her knees. She clashed against his chest as he continued to thrust into her. Tears ran down her cheeks and she moaned with unabashed pleasure. He grasped her face to place his lips on her ear.
“ Do you want me to stop?” he whispered to her.
“ No.” she answered, deliriously.
He could see now with astonishing detail everything how her body moved in response to Arthas ministrations; her breasts bouncing with hardened peaks, the discharge running down her thighs, the thin thread of drool running down the corner of her pink lips. She was beyond herself, lost, broken. Undone.
He heard Arthas voice fill his mind ‘do you love me? ’
“I love you.” She answered lewdly.
He felt an overwhelming, blinding pleasure wash over him in waves from head to toe. He had to repress a moan as he saw Arthas spill himself inside her. Anduin managed to close his eyes only for a second. He heard her body be dropped on the mattress, he looked up once more. Arthas unsheathed himself from her ass , Anduin felt his heart sank and his groin ignite when he realized then he had been there .
The Death Knight carried the body of Sylvanas, now unconscious under him, up to lay her better on the bed. He sent a wave of necrotic magic that healed her bruised skin and only then he allowed himself to embrace her from behind, burying his face into her hair, inhaling her scent.
That scent .
Anduin felt wrath coursing through him like fire, he wanted to get up from the corner he had been sitting on this whole time, but as he stood he opened his eyes.
He gasped. Sitting up on his bed, he blinked several times, his vision blurred as tears fell from his eyes. It took time for him to realize he was in his quarters at the keep in Arathi Highlands. He was drenched in sweat, his hair sticking to his face and neck. His body was heated in a fever-like state. He tugged the blanket away from him to see his briefs soaked in precum and semen . He was still somewhat hard. He could see right through the white fabric that covered him as it had become transparent from his fluids.
He stared, astonished. Speechless.
He had-
His cheeks redden with unspeakable shame. His hand clasped his face covering his mouth with horror. He had orgasmed from the sight of Sylvanas being-
He felt complicit, filthy. Sinful. How could he do this? Even if it was while asleep. He should have never felt anything alike before what he witnessed.
What had he witnessed?
He began to remember the other fragments of his dream. Everything felt oddly specific. The more he thought of it, the deeper the fear and shame took over his body. He had never been to Quel'thalas. He had never seen Sylvanas alive. He knew Arthas only by name, how could he recognize who he was? Was it truly just a dream? Could it possibly be something else? Memories? Had she done something to him inadvertently?
But why on the light's name would she ever want him to see that . To see her like… that. It was too raw, too sensitive- Personal, horrifying, humiliating. The woman he met today would never allow him to know- to see…
He was panting again, he felt his member twitch and he felt overwhelmed with shame. How could he feel any arousal from-
He closed his eyes, the images of her naked body aching in smoldering pleasure almost made him moan. He bit his bottom lip.
He needed cleansing. A frozen bath, prayer. Repentance. Now.
