Archive of Our Own

Hours had gone by and yet Sylvanas still seethed with anger. The solution to the Forsaken’s future had been in her palm , but through some stroke of her continued god-awful luck it had been stolen from her grasp. One of these days she would kill Greymane with her own two hands and finally rid herself of the nuisance... he’d been a thorn in her side for far too many years now and his badgering at every turn was quickly growing old.

With nothing left keeping her on the Broken Isles for now Sylvanas had decided to pull her dark rangers out of Stormheim and journey back home to the Undercity. Too many other things required her attention as Warchief and she could no longer afford to waste time on this avenue if it was a dead end. Once they’d returned she would set her rangers back on the task of securing yet another solution for her people and begin the search once again.

Even now as she leaned against the rail of the Oblivion and watched the ship’s wake in the dark ocean behind them, cold fury roiled in her chest. The sting of defeat had not lessened.

“Nathanos,” she said, catching him snap into attention out of the corner of her eye, “With me.”

Her champion responded immediately, the journal containing his report of their mission disappearing from his lap without so much of a second glance at the pages. When he came to stand at her side she beckoned him along with her as she descended the steps down the deck of the ship, deciding the relative seclusion of the captain’s quarters was a better place to vent her frustrations to him. Even her dark rangers weren’t privy to her deepest concerns- mostly because they were prone to idle gossip- but Nathanos had always been directly at her side when she needed him the most.

At least that was still a constant.

Even so, he was unusually tense when he closed the door behind him. This cabin was sparse compared to what she had had on the flagship of the fleet, but it would do for the journey home. A small table with a pair of chairs sat against one wall; Nathanos’ remaining blighthound was curled beneath it, still as a statue as it slumbered away. Sylvanas crossed to the back of the room, a long, low sigh ghosting from her lungs as she gazed out the window there.

Nathanos dropped his pack on the end of the cot at the far wall with the rest of their combined gear, his gaze fixated on her as he undoubtedly tried to figure out why she had wanted a quieter location. When she didn’t speak immediately impatience quickly took hold, his eyes narrowing despite himself.

“My queen?”

“You know, Nathanos,” she started, feeling her shoulders drop as the tension she had been carrying drained from her frame, “I sacrificed a great deal for your new body. I had hoped you’d take better care of it.”

For a moment he was quiet but once he realized she was simply teasing he let out a low, rumbling chuckle in response. Nathanos crossed the room and pulled a chair back from the table, mindful of the blighthound asleep beneath it. The flickering light the lanterns offered cast shadows over his face, illuminating the jagged new scar that crossed from the corner of his eye over the bridge of his nose.

“Being aboard the Skyfire when it went down was not in the original plan, as it were.”

“Do try to be more careful, Blightcaller,” she answered drily, not without a bit of amusement, “I hardly have an endless supply of val’kyr or your cousins at my disposal.”

“But more importantly,” he cut in, tilting back in the chair until he could prop his legs up on the table, “The huntmaster is still loyal to the Horde, as she should be. She could be a formidable force when the time calls for it. The scouting reports say she managed to obtain the Aegis.”

Sylvanas waved him off with a huff of irritation. She had no desire to talk about the merits of which ally would be best to keep close, not when her fury with Greymane- and more importantly, herself- was still fresh. The mention of the huntmaster only reminded her of what had transpired when the blood elf had managed to gain access to the vault. Dealing with the rest of the fallout could wait until she’d had time to bury her anger or release her frustrations in a different manner.

As Nathanos noticed her quick dismissal of the topic he paused, leaning forward to put the chair back down on the floor and rising to join her by the window. He remained quiet, instead waiting for her to decide she was ready to discuss what was bothering her. The man could be infuriatingly patient for her when he wanted to be; after her harrowing ordeal in Northrend following the Lich King’s defeat it had been to him alone she entrusted the details of what had happened.

It was a crutch from a time before her death, but one she was unwilling to give up.

“Let me see,” she muttered, reaching to tilt his face into the light. Nathanos’ eyes gleamed dangerously as she did so, a quiet, half-hearted growl caught in his throat. When her thumb brushed the fresh scar he flinched involuntarily, earning a soft ‘ ssh ’ from the Banshee Queen. After an exaggerated sigh and roll of his eyes he allowed her to continue her inspection. He had surely caught wind of some of the apothecaries calling him uglier than before after crawling out of the Skyfire’s wreckage; although he cared little for their sentiments perhaps he knew Sylvanas was more concerned than she had initially let on.

“I was-”

“Worried.” Sylvanas’ mouth curled into a subtle smirk as she interjected, still looking at the hastily healed wound marring his face. “I know. It was quite obvious, Nathanos.”

Nathanos huffed at that, carefully taking hold of her wrists to remove her hands from his face. For a long moment there was no sound other than the creak of the ship against ocean waves and heavy footsteps on the deck above them. He looked as if he was searching for something- anything- to say.

“Maybe so.” He kept her hands in his for longer than he should have before releasing his grip, brow furrowed. “Ensuring your protection is my most important duty. Slipping away in the thick of battle makes that incredibly difficult, Dark Lady.”

Her eyes narrowed as she shifted back away from him, irritation renewed. Sylvanas had always known him to be overprotective of her without needing to be, but in this moment what felt like a chastisement combined with the residual anger of what she had lost in Stormheim struck a sore nerve.

“I am more than capable of handling myself,” she hissed, lip curled back in a snarl, “You forget your place, Blightcaller.”

Nathanos didn’t budge from where he was standing, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he fought the urge to snap back. He was usually so sure of himself- especially where she was involved- and to see him suddenly out of his element gave her a small shred of satisfaction. It wasn’t enough to quell the anger still curled in her chest, but it was a meager start.

Sylvanas waved him off as she paced around the edge of the room, slinging her quiver off of her back and tossing it across the cot without a second glance. It honestly wasn’t fair of her to take out her frustrations on him when he had carried out her orders so dutifully even in her absence. The moment she had returned to her rangers they had filled her in on what had transpired… the murderous rampage he had taken to until he was able to confirm she had escaped unharmed, the fierce battle between him and Greymane aboard the Skyfire, his redirection of their forces back to Skold-Ashil for their original mission…

She drew a long, shuddering sigh and turned on her heel back towards him. Nathanos was fuming now- she could tell by the way he’d set his jaw- but he had yet to even offer one of his usual retorts.

“My… arrogance cost us the solution to saving our people,” Sylvanas finally bit out in defeat, leaning her back against the wall of the cabin, “I could have killed that mangy wolf but in that moment I wanted him to watch as I ensured the Forsaken’s future. A grievous, stupid mistake.”

“He shattered the lantern, then.”

“There must be another way.” With her confession out she dropped her face into her hands for a moment, trying to wrack her already overworked brain for the next solution. “I will have the apothecaries scour the library once more when we’ve returned.”

Nathanos let out a slow exhale at that, tugging his hood back from his face to smooth his fingers through his hair in exasperation. He hesitated briefly before returning to sit at the table, leaning his forearms against the surface. There was nothing he could say to mend deep disappointment that her loss brought her and he was wise enough to know it.

Sylvanas moved to sit on the tabletop beside him, crossing one leg over the other and folding her hands into her lap. For a long moment neither of them said anything until Nathanos whistled at the blighthound still slumbering away at his feet. The creature stood and stretched with a pitiful whine before retrieving the satchel that had been left at the foot of the cot as commanded.

The hunter collected it from the hound when it returned and procured an aged bottle from within, the label long worn away and unreadable. Nathanos uncorked it with little effort, reaching to grab a pair of glasses from the shelf behind him after he had done so. Wordlessly he filled one for each of them and handed Sylvanas hers without even looking up.

The action was weighted with old familiarity which did not go unnoticed by her. For a short moment her anger evaporated in exchange for that twisting, undefined feeling in her chest that regularly pestered her as of late. It waxed and waned as weeks passed, but with her champion ever at her side these days she felt it more often than not.

“Thank you,” she said, avoiding his gaze entirely. It was no celebratory drink, but for now it would have to do. As she tipped the glass back she grimaced; it burned all the way down.

“You can blame that on Greymane too,” he muttered, leaning back in the chair to prop his legs up on the table behind her, “There was something on the Blightcaller you would have preferred before they sunk it into the sea.”

“Oh?” Sylvanas raised an eyebrow at that, absently swirling the contents of her glass, “Expecting company?”

Nathanos shrugged noncommittally, taking a pensive sip. “No.”

“You,” she started, shifting her seating and swinging her legs around to his side of the table and well within his personal space, “Are a terrible liar, Nathanos.”

Sylvanas watched him swallow thickly, a quick flicker of his eyes over her the only indication he had acknowledged her moving closer. After a tense stretch of quiet he readjusted to put his feet back on the floor and leaned his forearm against her thigh. He set his glass beside her and tilted his head back to look up at her with a resigned sigh.

“You are, and have always been, a more than capable ranger. I only…” Nathanos trailed off a moment when her hand found his jaw, clearly distracted by the interruption. “My life for yours, Sylvanas. I am yours to command and it is still my duty to ensure your safety above all else.”

“I know,” she soothed, draining what was left of her glass and setting it beside his. “You’ve done well, my champion.”

Something about the way he seemed so confident to lean further against her ticked a nerve, bringing back that insidious itch that she had let rule over reason before their first assault on the Broken Shore. So long as she was the one holding the reins it was hardly an issue, but each time he was allowed to make his own move it undoubtedly left him with smug satisfaction at having gotten away with it. That simply wouldn’t do. Sylvanas gave him plenty of leeway already- perhaps more than she should- but he would not soon forget that she was the one deciding how far she would let this go.

Sylvanas really shouldn’t have allowed it at all, but their lengthy history was always a snag in putting her foot down. Foolish sentimentality, indeed. Nathanos had told her once he would willingly follow her to damnation if it meant staying at her side and she was forever loathe to push her loyal champion away.

He growled when she leaned down and drew him forward into a lingering kiss, but he was docile under her touch and made no move to pull away. A soft, barely audible sound- one that no one would ever seriously attribute to him- caught in his throat when she deepened the exchange, her fingers keeping hold of his jaw.

As quickly as she had initiated Sylvanas withdrew with a satisfied smirk, lithely slipping from the table and crossing back to the window to watch the rapidly disappearing sun on the horizon. Having the last word was far too pleasing than it had any right to be.

She watched him wrestle with himself for a moment, his fingers idly threading through his hair as he processed what- exactly- had just happened. Nathanos finally stood and yanked his hood back up, whistling for his hound as he went for the door. Try as he might to hide it, Sylvanas recognized the tense posture in his frame that he carried when he was unnerved. That brought her a small sliver of satisfaction, at least.

“Leaving, Blightcaller?”

“I’ll be back after doing the rounds,” he replied, throat tight with something undefinable, “Someone needs to ensure those incompetents are doing their jobs correctly.”

Sylvanas said nothing even as the door closed behind him, instead listening as his heavy footsteps retreated. It didn’t take long for his voice to carry back as he barked orders at whichever unfortunate soldier had crossed his path. She chuckled quietly at that. He’d return once he’d had a chance to cool his heels and settle down. Provoking him wouldn’t be nearly as enticing if it didn’t earn such a fantastic reaction.

Melancholy settled in once she was left alone with her thoughts however, and Sylvanas drew a long, low sigh. She could lean on him. Nathanos’ loyalty would never waver, even if she was still unsure of exactly where they stood with each other. That was a question she hardly wanted to think about at the moment despite the lingering taste of bourbon on her tongue. Sulking away in the captain’s cabin was hardly what she needed to be doing, after all. With another glance at the rapidly disappearing sun on the horizon the Banshee Queen collected her quiver and bow from where she had set them and headed out the door after her champion.