Lament of the Highborne

Chapter 1

The Banshee Queen's Remorse

"Lady Sylvanas," Thrall said impatiently, his image flickering in the scrying portal used to communicate between capitals, "I need your answer now. I realize that Northrend holds nothing but grief and sorrow for you, but your troops are needed on the western front."

Sylvanas gazed at Thrall's flickering image, the only answer apparent but unwilling to leave her lips.

"Northrend," she finally breathed, "Thrall, is that not the very place where, Arthas, the Lich King, now has himself holed away?" I believe in Ice Crown Citadel."

"Interesting you know even that much, Lady Sylvanas," Thrall said casually, though Sylvanas detected the hint of suspicion behind the calm words, "Seeing as we have received no reports of your… armies, in any area of Northrend."

Despite the fact that she knew Thrall could see every last detail of her face, Sylvanas couldn't resist allowing a small smile to thread her lips. "Why Warchief," Sylvanas said innocently, "What kind of leader would I be if I didn't have my dark little secrets? I mean, my people have a reputation in your eyes of being indecisive and devious, so I thought I should live by what they say. After all, I am the Banshee Queen."

Thrall furrowed his brow and glared steely at Sylvanas, "Caution, Sylvanas," Thrall warned, "You may be a well-respected leader of the Horde, but, make no mistake, any treachery against me, my people, or the other members of the Horde, and I will ensure that your "light" is extinguished before it has a chance to catch fire. Do I make myself clear?"

Sylvanas clenched her hands into fists, a dull pain rising in her palms as her nails dug into her flesh, but she forced a smile. "As clear as the Sunwell before it destroyed us all in a fiery explosion of Fel Energy."

"Your humor is refreshing," Thrall laughed, "It is nice to see you showing an emotion for once. Alright, there is much work to be done on the Borean Tundra. I will take my leave. Send as many troops as you can spare to Howling Fjord… if you haven't already, and remain steadfast. The Alliance have begun to set bases in Northrend, and, although we share a common enemy in the Lich King, I want any of their bases within a vicinity of our own eliminated. Dismissed."

The portal dissipated and Thrall's image faded from existence. "He knows—he has to know," Sylvanas sighed as her Champion, Nanthanos Blightcaller walked up to stand beside her, "All of the precautions I have taken, the treacherous hidden routes by sea I led myself, the lives of my own people put at risk, just to ensure maximum secrecy so I can develop the plague that will, once and for all, eradicate the Scourge, and he somehow catches wind."

Sylvanas let out another heavy sigh as she slumped into her throne. "I don't understand, Nanthanos," Sylvanas breathed, "I feel like I am the only one who sincerely wants to destroy Arthas."

"It is not that, Lady Sylvanas," Nanthanos said, "You are the only one who is willing to pay the price for his defeat. The other races do not want to sacrifice anything, while you realize the greater purpose. In order for Azeroth to be safe and the Forsaken to prosper, Arthas must die."

"Thank you," Sylvanas said, straightening up on her throne, "I needed to hear that. For a moment, I almost thought I had lost all my humanity, but it would seem I still have remnants."

"Of course you do, Sylvanas," Nanthanos said, this time his bony hand reaching out to brush her cheek. Sylvanas felt her body reject the contact, but she stomached through it. She knew very well that Nanthanos sought her, but she, on the other hand, doubted she would ever love again. She hadn't loved anyone since…

"No…" She murmured her voice barely a whisper.

"Milady?" Nanthanos asked, puzzled.

"Forgive me," she replied, snapping out of her reverie, "I am, shockingly, tired. These constant battles leave me so… weary. I realize our kind doesn't need sleep, but… I feel that it should help me soothe my troubled mind. I leave you, Champion. Organize a fleet to begin our journey to Northrend. I shall take my leave."

Without waiting for Nanthanos to respond, Sylvanas got off her throne and began the ascent to the tower that she called home. Her chamber lied in one of the only remaining spires of the once-great Lordaeron, and she had, has, and always would call it home. To Sylvanas, it was the closest thing that resembled her old home at Windrunner Spire.

As she reached the top of the spire, as always, a single tear leaked down her face. Velleria… how I wish I could make it up to you… but you cannot even bare to look at me now.

Sylvanas shambled over to her bed, lying down gracefully on the black and purple satin sheets, and, with great effort, she forced her eyes closed.

She knew sleep would not come easy—it never did—but she knew eventually her eyes would close. It was only a matter of time…


A/N: Okay, I am halfway through the next chapter of my other story, The Fame Monster, but, do to my overwhelming love of the character known as Sylvanas Windrunner, I felt I needed to make this story. This is just the prologue so it is kind of short, but, if you guys like it, I intend to make this a multi chapter work... After I finish the Fame Monster of course. Anyway, Please tell me what you think in da reviews ;). I look forward to developing this story. After all, Sylvanas Windrunner is the single most awesome character ever thought of in the history of eternity. (Does my love for her show that much?) :)

SoleixDeidara

The plauge has come upon your skin

The blight shall purge away your sin

Let it be known that this world shall be clean

For now is the era of the Banshee Queen