Just Let me Stay a Little While Longer | By : Allyrion Category: +S through Z > Warcraft III Views: 10283 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
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Visible below were Jaina Proudmoore and Sylvanas Windrunner laying together upon the Dark Throne. For some this might have been impossible, but the Banshee Queen's was easily big enough for both.
The fact that they were naked was far from the most surprising thing their observer had seen. For he had beheld the extent of their power plays, carnal desires, and sexual fulfillment. The way their moans of pleasure had rent the air echoed in his mind even now.
To many a mortal man the sight was one to foster arousal and excitement. Even to a member of the Forsaken, with all of the drawbacks having a near-undead body had, it still had quite an effect on Athelion Dallbright. How could it not when featuring two such particularly lovely participants?
The two women had only recently completed their final lovemaking, rubbing their womanhoods against each other until they cried out in near mutual orgasm. Their newfound affection had been fierce to see then and now as both lingered in post-orgasmic aftermath.
Athelion had watched them through all of it.
He had long spied upon the Royal Chambers here from afar, beholding firsthand the politics of the court. His father had initially sent him to hone his skills against the best trackers the Forsaken had to offer...and perhaps collect useful tidbits of court gossip as well.
It was almost natural that Athelion had become quite taken with his ruling queen, Sylvanas Windrunner. This other had always been such an authoritative monarch for their kind. She had maintained her power through numerous trials and her combat prowess was legendary, proven recently in suppressing the rebellion of her former majordomo Varimathras. Rumours also persisted that she had even bested Arthas himself, the Lich King's own onetime champion. No one knew for sure of the truth of the last but Sylvanas herself.
To add to her attributes of strength, agility, and cunning, was her almost carefree enchanting beauty. The Dark Ranger was still favoured with the natural good looks of her former Elf kind and well beyond even this high standard.
How could he not have fallen for his Banshee Queen? There were few in Azeroth who could resist such charms as hers. Least of all it seemed the once proud Archmage of the Kirin Tor.
What would he do now though with the knowledge of what he had seen? First of all, he couldn't stay here.
For a moment longer his eyes lingered upon the resting couple with their blue and peach forms, living and...not quite living, intertwined within one another. Then he left without a sound. Sylvanas had almost supernatural senses Athelion knew, but even she couldn’t hear what was not there.
The Deathguards that protected Sylvanas' Royal Court were quite vigilant, at least compared to the mindless Scourge or the lazy human guards of Stormwind. However Athelion had known the ways of the Undercity since he had been a child. He was furthermore well schooled by his famous father in the roguish arts and matters of warcraft. Every successful spying mission had only served to hone his skills further.
Athelion continued his secret way back from the Royal Quarter, slipping soundlessly through dark paths towards the dwelling he and his family called home. He contemplated on what he had to tell his father, truly considering for the first time not telling him.
Everything he had he owed to his sire, the influential Lord Seneschal of the Royal Court. Although Sylvanas had seen her traitorous second Varimathras executed she still had need of a right hand. Rather than see the corrupted majordomo position filled Sylvanas had simply created a new one with the same responsibilities. Veryn Dallbright had served ably in this capacity, defending the Bulwark from the undead of the Plaguelands as well as serving as commander in Hillsbrad and Silverpine Forest against the Alliance.
Athelion was close to his father. Some said that the Forsaken were not capable of love or family but the truth was they remembered their old lives quite well. As a result family life had largely endured through even their new curse of existence. If Athelion told his father though he could not know what would be the consequences.
The moment of decision was close at hand. Their household loomed near, a former inn that was spacious but not necessarily as big as it could have been for such a prestigious official. Athelion would not allow himself to slow, instead moving at the same swift pace and forcing himself to decide.
With the easy precision and grace of a professional rogue, Athelion dove off the roof of a nearby house and smoothly through the open window of his own home.
He had entered back into his own room, the same one as when living as a teenage son.
Athelion continued briskly through to his father's study. There, behind a desk in the grim darkness suffused only by single tallow candle, was the tattered face and the signature Forsaken bright eyes of his father Veryn.
A former high-ranked member of SI:7, Veryn Dallbright had been serving as its representative in the former Capital City when the Undead Scourge had attacked. Teenage Athelion had remembered the chaos that had followed. The human court had reeled in shock at the news their longtime King Terenas was dead and his killer, their own beloved Crown Prince Arthas, had turned to evil.
Veryn had died there fighting and, like so many champions of humanity, returned as a member of the Undead Scourge. Athelion and his mother had suffered the same fate, not in the same type of glamorous last stand but in the almost casual slaughter of the common populace afterward. As mindless thralls the family had endured until Sylvanas had come to the Undercity with fire, steel and her puppet Garithos to free them from the shackles of the Lich King.
Here they were now, not undead, not living, but something in between. Something less, and something more. Father and son.
Forsaken.
"Athelion." His father still had the lank dark hair his son remembered but he was getting old. Age didn't mean much to the Forsaken's lifespan but the effect on limbs and the body was still prevalent. Veryn had once been an excellent rogue but in his advancing age he had turned instead to the politics. His martial legacy continued through his son.
"Father." Athelion looked at him steadily as he stood where he had hundreds of time before to inform of what he had seen. His mind was still in turmoil. If he told his father, what would he do with that knowledge? What would ensue?
The only alternative was to break his covenant with his own father, to lie to his own blood.
"What do you have to tell me, my son?" Veryn looked up from his parchment, his eyes curious at the unnatural hesitation.
Athelion paused a moment longer, deciding for the final time.
Then he spoke.
***
There was no greater sense of fulfillment for either of them.
Sylvanas Windrunner was still aglow with her long-desired release, satisfied by eager awaited double orgasm. Resplendently nude on her Dark Throne, the Banshee Queen of the Forsaken was smiling, an uncommon appearance on those often cold blue features. Her hand snaked upwards to gently stroke the blonde-white head of her lover nestled upon her chest.
Archmage Jaina Proudmoore could still not believe recent events and what she had done. After all her defenses and protestations the Banshee Queen had won her over. She had not thought it likely or even possible, and yet here she was, her head now pillowed by Sylvanas’ more than ample, naked bosom.
Jaina had come as straight-arrow as they could come. Born into nobility and a a blossoming young woman with innate magical talent, there seemed to be no stopping her career. Beyond her natural powers she was also bestowed with a considerable beauty that drew numerous suitors. No less than the Prince of Quel’Thalas Kael'thas Sunstrider and the former Prince of Lordaeron Arthas Menethil, had been drawn to the vibrant, vivacious sorceress. Jaina had been happy at the time to share her life with such strong, powerful men. Even more recently she had even drawn the attention of a creature far more powerful than man…
With all that in mind she had never expected to be with a woman...and particularly not this one...
Yet here they were, laying together on the Dark Throne of the Forsaken.
During the ferocity of their lovemaking and flushes of heat through their bodies, the cold air of the Royal Chambers had seemed like such an inconsequential thing. Now that those glorious moments had passed though reality set in. Jaina gave a little shiver as her body cooled in the unforgiving air. Of course for Sylvanas the conditions meant little. But her lover was a living breathing woman, something Sylvanas enjoyed and counted on.
Who else but such a marvelously vital young woman could have licked her pussy with such enthusiasm, sending the proud Banshee Queen into not one but two shattering orgasms? These recent powerful memories were the true reasons behind Sylvanas’ idle smile.
Settled on the Dark Ranger, her nude form still gleaming, Jaina gave a second shiver through closed eyes as another faint breeze swept over the two. Carefully Sylvanas wrapped one arm around her, gently crushing Jaina's large breasts, while reaching over the throne's side to search for something.
Jaina felt content in that embrace. A feeling of security she had not known since her last encounter with Arthas had befallen her. So much had gone wrong in her life since those idealistic beginnings…
She was cold though. While Sylvanas' arm was surprisingly warm it was not enough for her unclad form. The sorceress smiled to herself ruefully at recalling how the Banshee Queen had proved herself still living in more than a few ways.
Distantly she contemplated leaving the wondrous embrace to collect her clothes before she felt a welcome curtain of warmth fall upon her.
Sylvanas had collected her cloak, one of the first garments discarded during her seduction, and settled it upon Jaina. The garment hid the sorceress from the Banshee Queen’s still hungry red eyes, and Sylvanas felt mild disappointment at being deprived of the sight. Granted she could still feel the young sorceress’ warmth above, and Sylvanas had the fleeting thought of once again plundering her beauty, to spread the blonde's legs anew and eat out Jaina again...
But no, enough of that for now. Sylvanas could feel the weariness of her former captive and newfound lover. The sorceress was already descending towards sleep. Sylvanas did not feel tiredness herself, but she saw the indications in her young lover.
"Rest, Jaina." Sylvanas purred the words on a column of warm breath. "Rest now."
The blonde gave a last little breath and obeyed.
***
Archmage Jaina Proudmoore had almost been afraid to slumber, but there was no stopping the weariness and comforting warmth of both the cloak and Sylvanas herself.
So she slept a dreamless, sound sleep in her lover's arms. Above her protectively was Sylvanas, remaining awake with her glowing red eyes observing. From time to time the Banshee Queen would brush a stray lock of white-blonde hair from Jaina's face and watch the rise and fall of Jaina’s breaths from beneath the purple cloak.
The gaze revealed how Sylvanas was thinking about a great many things. It was clear that Jaina was more than the conduit of release for her built-up tension...but did the sorceress feel the same?
Obviously Jaina was predisposed to her but there were many levels of relationships. All of this had only started mere hours ago, after all. Sylvanas was almost afraid to commit anything further.
The Banshee Queen had always had to be strong and as a result she had almost forgotten what it was to be vulnerable to anyone. No one would follow a feeble monarch, and factions professing loyalty would turn on her at any sign of weakness. This would be particularly true if Sylvanas ever confessed her love and take a living human as consort. It would be chaos.
There was another inescapable fact though; Jaina was dangerously powerful. She was a prominent leader of the Alliance who had sworn to fight the Horde and therefore by extension Sylvanas.
It would have been quite something for Sylvanas to have broken the Archmage's mental defenses and then turned her into a mindless thrall. It would be a symbolic victory to make both the Kirin Tor and the Alliance tremble at the fate that had befallen their former champion.
It was still possible. How much could she truly trust Jaina? As a semi-living being like Sylvanas herself Jaina could truly join in making a new Forsaken world. The thought was tempting, for the young sorceress was now completely helpless before her at last, sleeping.
To deprive Jaina of life would be to take some of what made the sorceress herself though. It had never troubled Sylvanas before to inflict this fate upon others...but could she do the same now to Jaina?
As Sylvanas' thoughts conflicted the hours wiled away uncounted. None of the guards dared to challenge their Queen’s privacy.
Until, as they still lay upon each other in each other’s arms, one sleeping and the other deep in thought, someone finally came to disturb them.
Sylvanas heard the timid knock at the dark wrought doors of the Royal Chambers. The Banshee Queen broke off her thoughts to raise her head at the intrusion, her Elf ears perking up in thin strands to denote her interest.
"What is it?" she called in an authoritative tone.
"Pardons, my Queen," came the voice of one of her Deathguards. "But the Lord Seneschal waits without. He begs an audience."
Sylvanas sighed and looked down at the oblivious Jaina below whose breaths continued to rise and fall gently. "I will receive him later."
"He says it is urgent, milady."
Damn the man. That said he did not often raise urgent audiences often. Veryn Dallbright was a prudent commander and one of her most able subordinates. Sylvanas had found his loyalty to be endearing, relying especially on such after Varimathras' betrayal.
"Very well. Tell him I will receive him when I am prepared."
"I shall tell him so, my Queen."
Jaina was still asleep, and Sylvanas once more observed the sorceress' quiet beauty.
"Jaina." Her hands moved from stroking the white-blonde head to the shoulders to give the other a gentle shake.
The blue eyes blinked open. "Sylvanas." Jaina gave a sleepy, lazy smile. "I was afraid I would awake and not see you."
"Nothing can ever take away what we did together." Sylvanas slowly removed the cloak to expose her to the cold air once more. The effect woke Jaina quickly and she looked questioningly at the Banshee Queen.
"I need you to get clothed and re-don your chains." Sylvanas looked to Jaina apologetically. "My Lord Seneschal begs an urgent audience, and it would look suspect for me to decline."
Jaina paused a moment. The chains in particular troubled her but she had come too far with Sylvanas to refuse. If the Banshee Queen truly wanted her dead, Jaina was sure she would already be. Instead the Dark Lady of the Forsaken had demonstrated very different desires…
"Very well, Sylvanas." She made to rise, but as she did the Banshee Queen met her lips in a tender kiss. It evolved into something more, and it took some time before it finally broke, both women letting out a contented sigh as they parted.
"Thank you." Sylvanas smiled at her and turned to collect her own discarded garments. Both dressed in silence until the Banshee Queen collected the chains and placed them once more on Jaina.
As Sylvanas, clad again as the ruler of the Forsaken, sat upon her Dark Throne as if born to it, Jaina beheld her glory. The former Elf was much more powerful than even Jaina had suspected; she could feel the authority all but radiating from the other.
"The Lord Seneschal may enter." Sylvanas said with a final, thoughtful look to Jaina upon the floor in her chains.
As the dark doors opened, Jaina affected the body language and posture of an exhausted and tortured prisoner. The truth couldn't be more opposite, as Jaina was still buoyed by memories of the night before, loving and being loved in turn by the powerful Banshee Queen herself.
The Lord Seneschal walked in briskly, stoop-shouldered with a shock of lifeless dark hair. His face was sunken but his eyes were bright. Jaina took care not to look at him too closely, instead affecting a sullen, empty stare at the ground. Even without seeing him though there was a putrefying, horrible smell of decay about the former man that made Jaina unconsciously wrinkle her nose.
The sorceress guessed it was not uncommon for the Forsaken to be rotting, and that their sense of smell probably incorporated that. But Sylvanas hadn't had that same rotting scent, instead smelling quite pleasant, especially that moist burrow between-
"My Queen." The Lord Seneschal was flanked by two shambling skeleton guards, each encased in patchwork armour from who-knows-what forgotten conflict. He approached and knelt before his liege, head upraised, while the guards remained to each side.
Sylvanas threw her subordinate and these others a searching glance as the Deathguards closed the doors behind them, sealing them inside. Jaina was suddenly afraid for her but the Banshee Queen did not seem perturbed in the slightest.
"What is so urgent, Veryn?" Sylvanas questioned. "Our meeting was scheduled for later while you are not on campaign."
"I have received news which is most concerning." The Lord Seneschal threw a glance at the seemingly feeble prisoner in chains off to the side of the throne, and Jaina took care not to meet it.
"And what tidings are these, Veryn?" Sylvanas spoke the words idly but kept an edge of iron on them. As if to emphasize this, she stroked her bow propped against the throne, a gesture Jaina remembered from their first, glorious meeting.
"It has to do with the prisoner." Veryn had kept his eyes upon Jaina, and she could almost feel his suspicion. "I think she has been doing more than meets the eye."
"Do you now…" The Dark Lady's blue arm continued stroking almost sensually up and down the bow.
"Archmages are dangerous and cunning foes. I have seen them in the field firsthand and their magics are formidable. This one should be respected even more, for she is the leader of the Kirin Tor itself.”
He paused only a moment before continuing.
“My Queen, I think she is a spy sent here to bewitch us. And..." Veryn paused, then pressed on resolutely. "I think she has succeeding doing so on you."
At the last he leapt forward with surprising speed for so insignificant of a figure. It happened so fast Jaina could not react until a sharp, wicked looking blade was pressed against her throat. She felt a sudden jolt of terror spread through her body.
Sylvanas had moved equally quickly, drawing her bow and pointing it at Veryn. The two skeleton guards, armoured in their bleak, dinted plate, moved threateningly to block the Banshee Queen with ready weapons.
"My Queen, I am sorry," Veryn apologized. "I know it is treason to bare steel on you. But this creature..." He drew Jaina's face roughly upwards and the point of the dagger dug deeper into the soft skin of her throat. "She threatens both you and by extension the realm."
"You have made a dangerous mistake, Veryn." Sylvanas spoke the words ominously with the dark, sinister arrow still pointed at her subordinate.
"I have it that you were seen with this feeble woman," Veryn commented. "Your...proclivities were observed. The Queen I know would never do such a thing, not with someone still stained with the curse of life."
"You do not know me at all," Sylvanas spoke confidently, but evident beneath the authoritative tones was the note of regret. "You have done much for me, Veryn, and could still do so much more. I will give you one last chance in recognition of your leal service. Back away and leave us. Now."
"I have gone too far to believe that," Veryn replied. "And anyone ensorceled would say the same. I cannot trust your words, Sylvanas, but there is one way to be certain...by slaying the prisoner. The Queen I serve would not disapprove of such a measure."
Sylvanas considered the words, studying her Lord Seneschal carefully.
"So be it,” she finally said, nodding her assent.
Jaina felt the sudden emotion of betrayal and her fury grew to sharpen her magical talents, even as the blade tightened at her throat.
Then all hell broke loose at last.
Sylvanas threw the bow aside. The Queen of the Forsaken most of all knew how useless arrows were for stopping those who had already known death. Instead she produced a formidable blade from seemingly nowhere and threw it in a flat, horizontal arc right at Jaina.
The spinning dagger was thrown at such speed that Jaina did not have time to react other than feeling an immense sadness and acceptance of her fate. Then it struck home, causing the weapon at her throat to fall away as she heard a thump behind her.
Jaina's eyes widened with realization and her swirling emotions manifested in the summoning of two water elementals near Sylvanas. Water sprang from nowhere into the shape of two towering waves, instantly moistening the air and unleashing a terrifyingly loud noise.
The two skeletons raised their primitive weapons to strike at Sylvanas from behind. As the Dark Lady spun to confront them the two elementals absorbed the blows and drove with crushing force into both the monstrosities. The skeletons endured for a moment, each trapped inside a bizarre column of standing water. Then the force became too much and they broke apart, pieces of bone and armor dissipating inside the roaring, vertical current.
Jaina watched her creations at work, body flush with excitement at her near death scenario. She knew what lay behind but still looked there to see the body. What caught the eye first was the separated head, one that had been recently so close to her own. Looking at the grisly sight, Jaina saw that the eyes were facing up, now utterly devoid of the unearthly light they had once possessed.
Veryn Dallbright, Lord Seneschal of the Undercity, lay decapitated at his own liege's hand.
For a moment both women stood in silence, then Jaina looked from the corpse to Sylvanas. The Banshee Queen's red eyes met the blue and her face softened. There was a curious look there, a sense of resolution…and more than a little sadness.
"Not quite what I expected," Sylvanas spoke to break the silence. The Banshee Queen turned from Jaina to regard the two water elemental creations still towering over her, a pile of armoured bones at their feet. "These are quite curious and useful creations. I thought you needed your staff to create them, though."
"Most Archmages do," Jaina said glibly. The flood of emotion she was feeling began to subside.
"But not you." Sylvanas favoured the young sorceress with a smile. "Clearly I chose well.”
The Banshee Queen produced a second blade and slashed casually and fatally at the water elementals. Beings of pure water are almost impervious to common steel but Sylvanas' dual blades were far more than that. Imbued with mysterious dark magic, they cleaved through each of the summoned creatures, each howling one last time and dissipating. The hurricane of sound they made vanished with them.
The manacled Jaina remained where she was as she studied the Banshee Queen.
"What now, Sylvanas?" Jaina finally asked, afraid of the answer.
Sylvanas regarded her thoughtfully. "I am not sure," she confessed, voice softening to the tones she reserved for Jaina. "But whatever we do, we will do together."
She strode forth and unchained Jaina again. As Sylvanas drew away with the key, Jaina caught the blue face of the Banshee Queen and kissed her passionately, fearlessly, devotedly.
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