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Memories were a curse from life, and she knew this. Sylvanas Windrunner of all people knew this. It was the only fact she was sure of anymore, death not even being one. This necklace - one retrieved by an adventurer years ago - reminded her exactly of why .
Tracing her fingers over the inscription from Alleria, her eyes relit a bright red from their previously dulled color, reminded of not only her own death, but also of Alleria’s disappearance and return. How much the eldest Windrunner had hated seeing her; how angry she had been upon seeing Sylvanas in her new form. Vereesa had likely filled her in on the… many crimes Sylvanas had committed in the years since Alleria had left. The thought made the Banshee Queen smile just a bit, a twisted smile.
As always, nobody could be trusted. And how she regretted not striking the both of them down that day at the Spire, ordering her rangers to slaughter them so she could raise them as Forsaken to serve her. She wouldn’t have failed as she had done last time, but she did. Again . Because of a moment of weakness.
For a moment, she could almost hear her sisters’ voices as she ran her thumb over the sapphire on the necklace, their laughter from when they were alive. Their shared joy from one of many days in what was now known as the Ghostlands.
Sylvanas shook her head quickly, forcing herself to stop reminiscing, dropping the necklace on the desk in the process. There was no purpose in remembering - they’d made it clear that they didn’t approve of her anymore, and even so far as to hate her now. It didn’t bother her. She didn’t let it bother her.
Her thoughts returned to the present day, and the waves gently rocked the ship as she stood up to stretch her legs just a bit. Zandalar was quite a ways from Kalimdor, and she didn’t have the pleasure of travelling by air now. It was far too dangerous. Travelling by boat was better either way - it gave her a chance to tell Blightcaller his orders more privately than a zeppelin offered her.
Travelling by sea also offered her the quiet time to think, to plan, to… reminisce , she admitted. It was something she did often now, mind drifting back to her memories in Quel'thalas at any given chance.
Her strides were long as she paced around the cabin, lost in her own thoughts. Plans and memories bouncing around in her mind, she forgot where she was until a soft knock came at the door. It wasn't enough to pull her out of her mind entirely, but the door opened anyways, without her invitation. Only one person on the ship was really brave enough to disturb her, and the realization made the Banshee Queen smile before she could stop herself. Quickly forcing herself to look shocked and annoyed, Sylvanas looked towards the door and raised an eyebrow.
“Blightcaller.” Her voice came out clearly, leaving no hint that she had been so lost in her own head just moments before. No trace that she had been thinking of a home she no longer belonged to.
“My queen.”
Blightcaller spoke almost fearfully, carefully, but Sylvanas knew he wasn’t scared of her. No, he didn’t have that much of a brain. It was comforting, though, to have someone not afraid to speak to her. Whether he spoke freely or not was of no concern to her, simply the fact that he spoke was enough.
She would be lying if she said she wasn't thankful for his… willingness to speak to her. But it stirred up something she refused to think about, something that she would never voice.
The two communicated almost telepathically, not a single sound in the cabin except light footsteps and the soft closing of the door. He approached her slowly, looking at her as she raised her hood and straightened her back. The vulnerability of being seen was removed, Sylvanas refused to let Blightcaller even have the smallest thing over her.
The height difference was still noticeable between them, something Sylvanas remembered poking fun at all those years ago in Quel’thalas. Marris had been quite short, and Blightcaller was no different, despite the new body and purposefully added height. It made it hard for her to keep them as separate in her mind as she wanted.
Sylvanas stretched out her hand towards him and he stopped, gaze focused on her almost clawed hand. “Why are you here?” Her voice was harsh, an echo to it. “Shouldn’t you be doing what I asked, Blightcaller?”
He noticeably winced, causing Sylvanas to smile again just for a moment before her face returned to an annoyed look. Everything had always been a sort of game between them, but it hadn’t been fun for either in a very long time. And this was no different, really. Sometimes, she wanted to stop playing.
Blightcaller returned his gaze to her face, offering her nothing more than a blink. Not a smile, not a word. Sylvanas frowned harsher in response, dropping her hand to her side for a moment before crossing her arms over her chest.
His lack of reaction to their game as of late had been… a tad annoying, even if she herself wanted to stop it too. The game kept her from having to think about him as anything beyond a… reminder of someone she once knew. She didn't want to think about it.
“My lady,” Blightcaller finally began, the slightest bit of humor entering his voice. “We should be arriving in Zandalar within the day.”
His voice caught Sylvanas off guard, the hint of… enjoyment was strange still. His voice had changed since he had been given his new body, but still carried the same energies as Marris. She didn’t like it.
Sylvanas cleared her throat. She dismissed him from her quarters with a quiet thanks, and he left quietly, offering her nothing more than a look. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve sworn she saw something in his eyes - regret, or maybe even a deep sort of sorrow. But she dismissed the thought, returning to her pacing.
Now that he was gone, she had nothing else to do but think. Reminisce. Question .
He had been the only person in undeath to stay with her, despite everything. Despite Ice Crown, the Wrathgate, Vereesa abandoning her - he was the only constant for her and she hated him for it. She hated how loyal he was even when other Forsaken actively plotted against her, he was even willing to kill his own cousin - one that the two of them had somewhat raised together - at her order.
He still reminded her so much of Marris, despite all the changes she had tried to make to Blightcaller, and she almost thought they were the same person still.
It was… easier to say they weren’t. To push away the memories of their life together before Arthas, to forget the threads that tied them to each other, to even forget the desperation she had felt while searching for him when breaking away from Arthas.
It hurt to remember Marris, and it hurt to look at Blightcaller and see him. Nathanos .
It hurt more than she wanted to admit. The comfort he still provided her with his constant presence in her existence now… it was hard to remind herself that this wasn’t Marris. This wasn’t the person she had known in life that had been a part of her happiness. This was a man who took the name, and the remnants of his memories and personality, and built a new life.
He was as he always had been, but he wasn't Marris. He wasn't Nathanos.
Every so often, she would dwell too long on a memory and begin to miss him . The familiar aching in her chest - something that was returning now, even, as she thought. It took all she had to not speak to Blightcaller as she would Marris, with the same appreciation and… she shook her head.
Now was not the time. Not with a war having begun, the threat of the Alliance looming over her. No… she would have to sit and dwell another time.
Her gaze drifted back to the necklace, the sapphire almost sparkling, and a different feeling came over her, just for a moment. A fleeting remnant of… guilt. About Marris, about Nathanos… about her home, her family. The moment felt suffocating, and then it was passed, leaving her with a simple thought left to carry her to Zandalar.
It’s your fault.