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He felt himself circling between being surprised at how different he felt, to wondering what he felt before, to what feeling "normal" for him actually was. Sometimes, though he'd never tell anyone, he'd find himself stood in Undercity, or Orgrimmar, or on the rollicking waves aboard the Banshee's Wail, or on his own rickety porch at the Stead, and do a kind of roll call of his humanity. He ran through it again, out of habit. Arms and legs. A head. His skin was solid and had no protruding bones. His beard bristled, like before. He plucked a hair from his head. Still auburn. His hands were greyish blue. His heart sat redundant and silent in his chest (he guessed). He coughed, also redundantly, but the sound was the same.
He sat on a ledge, leaning his back against a pillar puffing blue flames from its top. He knew it was risky, sitting on the edge, dangling his legs like a child, but he knew what lay beyond the swirling red clouds beneath and it didn't scare him anymore. He was almost tired of the chances. Tired of starting again.
He was growing tired of the looks and whispers that reached his ears to his left, as well. Champions still travelling between Azeroth and the Shadowlands, glancing at him and a few of them almost ran off the edge themselves, craning their necks. He glared, though unsure why. Probably best to stay on brand. He watched as the image of Stormwind in the portal shimmered and sparked. He idly wondered what would happen if he made a break for the Alliance city, or even across the platform to Orgrimmar-
"Planning a visit?" a voice interrupted.
He chuckled. "I think I'd rather take my chances jumping into the Maw."
"Please don't. I don't want to have to do this again. It's getting silly now." Sylvanas - his Queen, his Dark Lady - stood beside where he sat, looking down.
"I have no intention on dying yet again, my Lady," he replied. He moved to get up, but she waved a hand, instead sitting beside him.
"Good. See that you don't," a corner of her lip twitched. She turned blue eyes on him, appraising him. "You look well, Nathanos."
"I feel well," he met her gaze. "Though it still, even after all these years, feels strange to feel "well" when I'm..."
"Dead?"
"Exactly."
Sylvanas leant back. She, like him, was in simple clothes and unarmed. It made her seem so much smaller, though it was a symbolic gesture - both they, and the leaders of the Horde and the Alliance, knew that she could easily cause a great deal of damage without even a bow. It wasn't lost on him that while there was a lot of trust involved in allowing the two of them to be in Oribos, they were watched very closely. Shaw's agents weren't nearly as stealthy as their Master might've liked. "Perspectives change when you've been through what we have. And what they have." She gestured at the Ebon Knights by the portal.
"But they get to go home," Nathanos said, eyes again drawn to the portals.
"And where is our home? The Marris Stead? Lordaeron? Quel'thalas?" she sighed. "We don't have one, even if..even if we could go back to Azeroth."
A moment passed. They both gazed out onto the anima trails leading to Revendreth. It hadn't been decided yet, but out of the afterlives they knew of, it seemed the logical place.
Nathanos went to speak, but stopped himself. She was still the Dark Lady, his Queen, no? He suddenly wondered where he stood, what was the ranking, how should he even address her now, had things changed? She certainly seemed different when she found him in the Maw.. when she had..
"Nathanos I can practically hear the synapses firing, what is wrong?"
"I," he swallowed. Sod it. "Well I was about to say something sentimental.. and I changed my mind. I cringed and I-"
"What?" she sighed. "I don't require formalities anymore. I'm not a Queen, or a Warchief. I'm sure my newly united soul has some sentimentality in its recesses. Though don't get bloody soppy, I never could stand it."
"Allow me some whimsy then, my Queen," he said, the last word emphasised. "If we could go back. For a day. And everything was as it was before... he came. What's something you'd want to do, just once more?"
Sylvanas blinked at him.
He cleared his throat, regretting saying anything. Ah well, he was invested now.
"See, I always enjoyed the egg nog. I miss being able to taste sometimes. And the gingerbread!"
"Egg nog is vile, Nathanos," Sylvanas drawled. "Wine is far superior. Quel'thalas reds are just..were just.." a small smile drew across her face. "Travelling to Lordaeron for the snow. For snowball fights. And always winning."
'You didn't always win," Nathanos scoffed, earning himself comically raised eyebrows.
"I never miss," she snarled, instantly regretting it as a couple of gnomish Champions startled at the phrase and almost toppled off the platform.
She gave Nathanos a shrug and a look of "oops" and turned back to Revendreth.
"Don't tell anyone but I did enjoy Winter Veil. Even when we were in Undercity. Even when they'd shoot me with those silly toy guns. Anything is better than that ridiculous festival with the bracelets," she shuddered.
He let out an uncharacteristic laugh at that.
"All those hearts and presents and kisses from your adoring Champions?"
"Not all of my Champions got close enough to kiss me, Nathanos," Sylvanas said, eyeing him sideways. "As far as I remember, there was just one."
His eyes widened and if his blood flowed, he would have blushed crimson. Never had she mentioned this, since it happened, many many years ago.
"You're doing that thing again. Like a dying fish," she observed cooly.
"Just surprised, my Lady," he managed.
A movement to his left caught him off guard. A small blue creature, from that sparkly forest realm, hovered, wringing her tiny hands.
"Hello! Both of you, it's time, they're waiting for you," she trilled, grinning.
They stood, dusting off their pants and casting last looks through the portals.
"Not sure it'd be quite the same. I doubt they have Winter Veil in the afterlife. I'm not sure it would be worth it," Nathanos rubbed a hand through his beard. "Not even egg nog is worth it."
"What about mistletoe?" Sylvanas said from behind him.
He froze, once again most likely doing the dying fish impression that irritated her so. Resolved that ok, this was happening, and realising sometimes he missed being a sociopath because feelings were exhausting, he turned, and saw his Dark Lady, staring with narrowed eyes at what appeared to be a Smokeywood Pastures branded sprig of mistletoe tied to the pillar they had been sat against. She poked it with disgust, sending out a tiny plume of purple sparkles.
"I bet it was Princess Glittertits," she muttered, taking it, and unceremoniously flicking it into the Maw. "Right then," she dusted off her hands and made to walk, but Nathanos was still frozen in place.
She shook her head and sighed, before matter of factly grabbing his shirt and kissing him soundly. Nathanos floundered, just for a second, before twisting his fingers through her hair, thumbs on her sharp cheekbones and pulling her closer.
They pulled apart eventually, foreheads together, hands in each others hair and noses bumping, smiling genuinely for the first time in a very long time. Nathanos took her hand and kissed her knuckles.
"I know this might be a bit too bloody soppy for you, but I really hope we end up in the same afterlife," he murmered. "I feel like we've had a very long time apart."
"I agree," Sylvanas said, gently smoothing his hair that had come loose from all the bloody soppy kissing.
A polite throat clearing interrupted their moment.
"Well well well, I must send one of the Champions back to Lor'themar. He owes me some gold," Kael'thas smirked, and stepped back in a dramatically flourishing bow. "Please, join me, Ranger Generals. We have some catching up to do. I do hope you like tea."