A/N: Guess what? I have a sore throat from hell. My throat is so dry I feel like I've been living in the Burning Steppes for ten years without any water whatsoever. Anyway, as terrible as this all is, it did inspire a story, so at least my suffering benefits my followers. First time writing this pairing, but lately I've been pretty into it, which would work out better for me if there was more fanfic of them. Ah well, I guess it's up to me to fix that, then. You know the drill. Read and review!
-love, always, Skye-
Ps: does anyone actually know what Katrana does, aside from ruin lives and orchestrate the death of innocent queens and look attractive?
...
Of all the things she had been forced to deal with during her time in Stormwind, every trial and tribulation she had undergone, every obstacle that had been thrown in her way, Onyxia was quite certain that this was by far the worst thing she had faced yet.
Standing in front of the tall, ornate mirror, she lifted her hand and pressed it to the forehead of Katrana Prestor's body. Her skin was ablaze, burning hot enough to make the scalding air of Blackwing Lair feel refreshing. Her eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion, and each time she swallowed it felt as though her throat had turned into sandpaper. There was a constant throbbing in her head and an aching that reverberated through every muscle of her body. The sneezing was the worst. Every so often, a violent spasm would overcome her, and it would become impossible to breathe, and then the most awful noise would escape her.
Scowling at her own reflection, she turned away and retreated back across the chamber to her desk. There was no way to deny that she had fallen ill, but that didn't mean she could waste the day away accomplishing nothing at all. At the very least, she could look over some of the paperwork that had started to pile up, budgets and ledgers and letters from outlying cities pleading for aid that would never come. The kingdom of Stormwind was being torn apart, brick by brick, and she wasn't going to let a little thing like a cold interrupt her.
Her thoughts were cut off instantly by another loud sneeze, the sound of which echoed through her chambers and made her jolt so violent so she collapsed into the chair. With a loud groan, she folded her arms across the chaotic mess of papers and dropped her head upon them. How was she supposed to get anything done at all when she felt like this? Her true form never would have been affected like this by a little sickness, but this mortal body was so susceptible to weakness. It was pathetic, it was deplorable, it was-
A knock at the door drew her back into reality, back into the form of Katrana Prestor. She lifted her head slowly in the hopes of avoiding another wave of pain, rose to her feet and stumbled over to the door. She had barely managed to pull it open a crack, just enough to peer out into the corridor beyond, when a fit of coughs overtook her. Katrana's slender fingers gripped roughly at the door frame, the only thing she could do just to keep herself standing upright, and tried in vain to regain control over herself and this infernal sickness that that seemed to decide to make itself right at home in the space between her lungs and ribs.
A sudden hand shot out to grab onto her shoulder, offering her support. For a moment, it was welcomed, and she even found herself relaxing into it, because every inch of her body ached with invisible pain. But she quickly remembered herself, and as soon as she did, she pulled away from the touch, curled her lip back into a sneer. "What do you want?" She snapped. The sound of her own voice made her flinch, so hoarse that she barely even recognized it.
And of all the possible things he could have done, Bolvar Fordragon had the audacity to look her right in the eye and smirk. He was quick to get rid of it, though, to replace it with a slightly more concerned expression, brows knit and lips curved down. "You're sick."
Katrana rolled her amber eyes. "Thank you for that startling realization, Highlord. Really. I hadn't the slightest idea." Immediately she tried to retreat back into her room and slam the door, because she just really didn't have the energy to deal with him at the present time.
But Bolvar, apparently, wasn't finished speaking to her, because his hand reached out to grip the door and hold it tightly in place. He may not have had the strongest willpower Onyxia had ever encountered in her life, but she supposed that he made up for it in brute strength, for as hard as she pulled it refused to budge even an inch. "Have you gone to see a healer?" He asked.
"It's just a cold," she retorted icily. "Hardly something to fret over." She tried once more in vain to pull the door closed, glaring up at him all the while. "Do you truly have nothing better to do than accost me? Because if that is the case, it's no wonder the kingdom is falling apart under your watch."
The slightest flicker of hurt crossed Bolvar's face, but he quickly managed to shove it aside. "You weren't in assembly this morning," he answered after a moment. "I only came by to make sure you were alright."
Katrana gave up altogether on trying to close the door, opting instead to cross her arms tightly over her chest. Of all the humans she had been forced to live among, none of them seemed able to infuriate her quite like Bolvar. Maybe it was just his unyielding goodness, his dedication to his moral upstanding and his genuinely concerned nature, that set her off so. She had never encountered anyone with such a capability to care so very much, and it frustrated her beyond explanation.
"Well," she said at last. "You've seen now. I'm fine, thank you. So if you would be so kind as to leave me be..." She trailed off, allowing her spiteful glare to finish the train of thought for her.
Bolvar hesitated, but only for a few seconds, before at last he released his hold on the door, dropping his arm uselessly back at his side. "Sure, Kat," he muttered, his tone far too disheartened for her liking. "I can take a hint. But if you need anything, you know where to find me." He turned away then, his shoulder slumped, and all she could do was watch him go, and wonder idly why he would want to offer her help of any sort in the first place.
But the thoughts were short lived, as she finally closed her door and felt yet another sneeze forcing itself out. Her gaze flickered to the desk for but a moment, before straying instead to the bed. She supposed that a few hours of rest couldn't hurt anything, and the paperwork would certainly still be there when she awoke. Giving a decisive nod, she crossed the room and collapsed into a blissfully dreamless sleep.
...
She couldn't be sure how long she slept, only that when she woke again to the sound of thudding at the door, the sky outside was stained with the darkness of night. Katrana sat up, wiping the exhaustion from her eyes, and managing to force herself across the room once more.
The instant she opened the door, she immediately wished she had stayed in the bed. "Oh," she huffed, shooting a frustrated look as she pushed a hand roughly through her hair. "Did I fail to make myself clear earlier? Allow me to try again. Go away, Fordragon."
If Bolvar was at all phased by the harsh greeting he received, he gave no indication. Instead, he simply murmured, "I, uh, brought you some soup. Thought you might be hungry."
Katrana felt her brows pull together in a slight frown as her amber eyes flickered from his own soft gaze to the silver tray in his hands. Upon it sat a small bowl filled to the edge with broth and a cup of tea. Bolvar watched with that same annoyingly patient expression as she stared at the tray as though she was afraid it might burn her if she were to reach out and take it. She had to be the most fascinating creature he had encountered in all his life. She could be the coldest, most calculating person he had ever met, and yet it never failed to amaze him how oblivious she was to her own emotions, or the way her eyes lit up and gave her away entirely even as she tried so hard to cling to her scowl.
At last, she reached out to take the cup, cradling it in both her hands and raising it slowly to her lips. The relief it brought to Katrana's throat was wondrous, the warmth of the liquid soothing the aching pain. She looked up at him through her lashes, the ghost of a smile daring to tug at her lips. "Thank you," she murmured quietly. Her voice was so heartbreakingly low, the gentlest he had ever heard it in all the time he had known her, and Bolvar couldn't deny the way that it tugged at his heart. She was far too beautiful to try and keep herself locked off, and he just knew that behind her impenetrable mask was a woman that longed to be understood, appreciated. Why else would she distance herself from everyone else, unless she was afraid…
Bolvar had been afraid too, he realized. Afraid that if he got too close to her, she would only lash out, push him away further, as if that was even possible. For longer than he could even remember, he had watched her from afar, studied the mystery with which she shrouded herself and wondered what secrets she was working so hard to conceal. Wondered what could have possibly made her so afraid of opening up. Wondered what she would do if he were to just close the distance between them, to lean in and-
Swallowing back any hesitations, abandoning any sense of reason, Bolvar did just that, brushing his lips against the corner of her mouth. And for one blissfully perfect moment, nothing else existed, just the two of them, and it was exactly as he had imagined it would be.
And then Katrana was jerking away from him, her movements so sudden that she sent half of her tea sloshing over the side of the cup. Bolvar, too, staggered back, straightening up as his eyes went wide. "I'm so sorry, Kat," he blurted quickly. "I dont know why- I didnt mean-"
In a flash of motion, Katrana reached out to rip the tray from his hold, turning her back on him without a word and retreating back into her chambers. For a long moment, Bolvar could only stand there staring at the place where she had just been. Light, what had he been thinking? if she hadn't hated him before, which she had made clear on more occasions than he cared to recall, then she surely hated him him now.
"Fordragon."
Her icy voice brought him back into the reality, which, if the deadly glare she was giving him was any indication, was not a place he wanted to be. "Really, Katrana, I'm sorry," he said again, holding his hands up as if he just needed to have something between them. "I shouldnt have done that. I didnt mean to offend you-"
"Do you ever shut up?" Katrana growled, but when Bolvar looked at her, there was a smirk upon her lips, and a moment later her fingers tangled in the hair at the base of his neck, and she went up onto her tiptoes, and she kissed him once more.
This time, she lingered for a few precious seconds, pulling back only when Bolvar dared to rest a hand upon her hip in the hopes of bringing her closer. After, he could still feel the feeling of her lips against his own, a feeling he knew he would not be forgetting anytime soon. Her expression was back to being utterly impossible to decipher, but there was a gleam in her eyes that hadn't been there before, and he swore he could still see that signature smirk that would undoubtedly haunt him for many nights to come.
Inside, Onyxia was reeling. A thousand different emotions flickered through her, each moving far too fast for her to even begin to pull apart, most of which she wasn't even entirely sure she could comprehend if she tried. A moment of silence passed before she dared to speak again, for fear of not being able to say anything at all. However, the most she was able to come up with was a quickly muttered "goodnight," before she darted into the sanctuary of her room, slamming the door behind her.
Bolvar jumped at the sound, frowning deeply before giving a short chuckle and turning away. It hadn't exactly gone the way it had in his imagination, but then, these things seldom did. And yet, he caught himself smiling the whole way back to his room, because for one perfect moment, he had gotten to glimpse behind her walls. And he couldn't help but think that maybe, if he was patient, if he really tried, then in time Katrana Prestor might allow him to see who she really was.