***Nazjatar, 8 months ago***
Despite the huge bulk, Sylvanas could feel N'Zoth somehow trying to shrink away from her. A fear that permeated the air, that sank into her bones.
As if she could even feel her bones at all. She dove, fast and deep, driving herself into N'zoth's mind with a soundless scream. And then she was everything and nothing and her life stretched on for eons and the world was dark and heavy and all bowed to her.
The Dark Queen, the ending and the beginning, Sylvanas stretched her hand across Azeroth and made it hers and hers alone. But there were others, stronger others and she was not Sylvanas but N'zoth, the Old God, weak but clever. And it was patient, so patient and it waited.
But Sylvanas lacked that patience. She drilled and dug and swam and at last she found the heart of N'zoth and took that up and squeezed it.
Still it fought her, and she ripped Tyra's head off, unmade Nathanos, ran Kalira through and strangled Jaina until she stopped twitching. It knew her weak points. And they were weak points. But Sylvanas knew better.
Sylvanas knew that Nathanos had her back, that Kalira and Tyra had become her left and right hands. And Jaina….
An Old God knew nothing of love, even less than Sylvanas did. It only saw that they had been enemies. That they had hated and fought and bled each other. It did not understand change, the grating stop-and-start of evolution and time, any more than Sylvanas understood how to give a proper apology.
So she did not release its heart. Old Gods did not die and yet Sylvanas was death given form. Her blood poisoned it, their minds battled and she ignored its desperate attempts to distract her and crushed its heart and that which could not die, did.
Her eyes snapped open. She was still impaled against the husk of N'zoth, and Alleria, Veressa and Kalira stared up at her.
Alleria's expression could best be described as free. Vereesa reached up to catch Sylvanas as Kalira removed the arrow. They stumbled, Sylvanas landing on her knees hard enough to jar her teeth.
"You trusted me," Alleria said, sounding somewhat dumbfounded. There was something different about her eyes. They seemed darker, somehow, but Sylvanas was too exhausted to pursue the matter.
"That is what family is for," Sylvanas said, and to her own surprise, she meant it.
***NOW***
It took nearly a full second for Jaina to realize that the arrow had not struck her. In the darkness, two wide, red eyes peered at her, before a thin figure collapsed into her arms. The figure was light, lighter than Jaina might have ever suspected, and her heart ached.
Fumbling for an oil lamp, Jaina managed to light it with flint from her belt. In the soft, flickering light, Kalira looked up at her. The Ranger had been the movement Jaina had sensed just prior to Nathanos's attack, and there was now a thick arrow protruding from her back. Her shadow, her daughter had thrown herself into the line of fire.
Jaina moved the candle, eyes widening as she recognized Kaldorei fletching.
"Mother…" Kalira whispered, and Jaina put a finger over her lips, lifting her eyes as she tried to listen or sense Nathanos, the lamp sputtering in her hand.
Shadows flickered and danced on the walls but one in particular moved with a predator's determination. It was too dark to see anything, and with her magic guttered Jaina could barely defend herself against a fighter of Nathanos's caliber. Be it by arrow or by blade, Nathanos would finish her off if she tried to fight on his terms. She heard the bow string a split second before it fired, jerking her head to the side as an arrow sliced her cheek open. Realizing the danger, she thew the lamp in the direction the arrow had come from. In the midst of her growing panic, Jaina realized Nathanos was toying with her.
Still reluctant to leave Kalira, Jaina first tried pulling her, before deciding Nathanos would leave the girl alone while he dealt with her. Jaina found a canister of black powder on Kalira, trying to ignore the pained sounds Kalira made every time that arrow jostled. Had it been coated with something? Jaina chided herself for never considering that the Forsaken might actually still be able to feel pain.
Canister in hand, Jaina drew back into the bedroom, where she had more room to maneuver and maybe find something better to defend herself with. The advancing shadow didn't follow her immediately and she very quietly opened a few drawers, searching for anything she could use as a weapon.
There were a few things that Jaina found of use; a letter opener she used as a throwing blade, and then a heavy paperweight. She tried to pry loose a letter spike she'd told Sylvanas could kill someone, but a flare of paranoia told her she'd been standing in one place too long, and she threw herself behind the desk half a second before three arrows in rapid succession sprouted where her lungs had just been
Very, very quietly, she reached above her head and pulled a single wire loose.
"Give up and accept your fate. This is the natural order of things," Nathanos said, just outside the door. If she'd hit him he gave no sign.
What she needed was light, and to get to the bed, to where they kept several blades. The only problem was that making a run for that part of the bedroom would expose her to Nathanos's line of fire. But there, his shadow in the moonlight. And above her head, a barely audible warning whine.
"I don't think so." Jaina dove out of the way as the overloaded typographer exploded in a hail of shrapnel, ink, and pinging screws, then thumbed open Kalira's canister, lit and threw it while Nathanos was distracted by exploding office supplies.
The resulting flash momentarily blinded her, but Nathanos cried out as well and she knew he was just as affected. And then she heard the woosh of fire, and rushed for the bed and the Sin'dorei blade behind the headboard. But Nathanos had recovered as well. Only luck and the positioning of that sword kept another arrow from piercing her heart but the impact made her stumble.
Swallowing her desperation, Jaina edged towards the bolt tunnel and called out. "Big strong ranger, has to block my magic to be able to kill me. Bet you were really happy when Tyrande sent those Sentinels to Suramar and gave you a ready made target for framing. Too bad you couldn't arrange that yourself, I can imagine how that must sting."
"I cannot wait to shut you up permanently." Irritation lined Nathanos's face, the shadows cast by the fire giving him a severe, ghoulish look. He lifted his bow and with the tunnel still too far away, Jaina found herself wondering if he'd taken those arrows from some unfortunate sentinel and what kind of person she might have been. Maybe she'd meet her in whatever waited on the other side.
A vicious roar shook the walls around them and Nathanos was very nearly cloven in two by a sword almost as long as he was. Jaina's sword shook slightly as she realized she'd been granted at least a temporary reprieve.
Tyra's armor gleamed in the spreading fire, her face contorted , sword swinging up at an angle as Nathanos dodged out of the way again. She shifted her hands, slashing horizontally across Nathanos's stomach and twisting her whole body as she made another attempt at severing his head.
The Ranger Lord was fast and agile, spinning and flipping out of the way of every one of Tyra's attacks. But each strike was closer than the one before, tearing at Nathanos's armor and then eventually opening up gashes.
Yet Nathanos was toying with her; Tyra had to be outmatched. There was nothing Jaina could do to help her without magic. Maybe with her sword, if she could find an opening without getting killed by either of them in the process. Her next option would be to get help; but just as she reached the lever for the bolt tunnel she saw a thin wire and gingerly pulled her hand away.
She turned back to the fight as fire spread through the bedroom and the hallway outside.
Tyra was pure rage, her claymore moving faster and faster as she built up momentum but never scoring more than those shallow hits, until a glancing blow sent Nathanos crashing through the hallway and into the kitchen. Tyra pressed the advantage, and Jaina followed, hoping to pull Kalira away from both the duel and the flame.
Kalira still seemed to be conscious as Jaina grabbed her under her arms and pulled her towards the living room, one eye on Nathanos and the other on the fire. The three undead might not have problems with the smoke, but Jaina would.
Nathanos came at the warrior with a second sword drawn, catching Tyra's sword in a lock and then ripping it from her grasp. Jaina was given the sweet satisfaction of the shock on Nathanos's face when that did nothing to stop her bodyguard.
Attacking with teeth and claws and her fists, Tyra shredded the front of Nathanos's armor and gouged out chunks of flesh from his arms and throat. When he managed to pull away Tyra followed, bashing her head into Nathanos's face, digging her fingers into his neck to hold him in place.
Silhouetted by fire and smoke, Tyra resembled a monster from a ghost story, clinging to Nathanos. And then she slammed her head forward again, the sound of shattering bone filling the space of the hallway.
And then again, and again, and...Each crunch was more sickening than the last, but Jaina also heard the slick sound of a blade penetrating skin and muscle. Tyra still did not stop, no matter how furiously Nathanos stabbed at her, the brackish scent of Forsaken blood filling Jaina's senses.
Flame now engulfed the hallway, bone and blood splattered the walls and floor and Jaina kept Kalira's head turned away from the sight, stroking her hair in an effort to keep her step-daughter calm. Then, seeing her opening, Jaina lowered Kalira's head to the floor and gripped her sword more tightly as she prepared to launch herself at Nathanos.
"Enough!" Sylvanas's unearthly shriek nearly shattered Jaina's eardrums, the force of it snuffing out half the fire and making the very walls tremble.
Tyra hung from Nathanos, his knife sticking out of a gap near her rib cage. Her face was a black, oozing ruin as she tore her hands from Nathanos's throat, staggered back and collapsed.
It took something truly extraordinary to make Sylvanas freeze up. Finding her home ablaze and Nathanos and Tyra trying to kill each other was one such thing.
In her shock and absolute disbelief, she'd let them fight it out while she tried to make sense of the situation. Jaina was unharmed; Kalira was not.
This was all just so impossible. Nathanos, Jaina, Tyra, Kalira. The people she actually trusted, to the extent she was still capable of trusting. She'd been betrayed, and not by someone she'd ever expect it of, but by someone who was on the inside. By family. The last time she'd felt this level of betrayal had been the Wrathgate.
In just a few seconds, the puzzle came together and so many things that had never made sense finally did. It all became so clear that she couldn't believe she'd been so blind as not to see it until now.
As the echo of her voice faded and she floated there like black mist, Sylvanas could not find her words. Slowly, she pulled herself together, and stalked towards Nathanos. "Explain yourself, Blightcaller."
Nathanos steadied himself on the wall, then pushed himself into a mostly upright position. His lower jaw was covered in black blood, his nose ruined and his chest a gaping mass of ichor and exposed ribs. His throat had been all but ripped out so he had difficulty speaking, his voice a thick rasp of gravel. "You are… Sylvanas Windrunner. The world should kneel at your feet. All that I have ever done, has been for you. My Queen. To ensure that end."
A feeling not unlike Nathanos's gaping chest wound grasped Sylvana's heart, as though Nathanos had slid that blade of his into her chest and not Tyra's. Something burned down Sylvanas's face. These, at least compared to Jaina, were emotions she was intimately familiar with. "For me? You disobey my orders. You go behind my back. It was your work, Kul Tiras, wasn't it. What other things have you done in my name?"
Sylvanas would own up to her crimes, but she resented those done without her consent. Putting her hand on Nathanos's shoulder, she forced him to his knees. Her voice rose, slowly, steadily. "Besides attack my wife. My daughters. Burn my home."
Gesturing at the discarded bow and arrows, she sneered, "In a sloppy attempt to frame the Alliance."
And it might have worked. With Jaina dead and most of her impulse control gone, Sylvanas would have attacked first in her grief and asked questions later. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being right. Sylvanas's voice was strained as she stared down at him. "You are my brother. A Windrunner."
"I would do anything for the Horde." Nathanos spat out blood. "For the Forsaken. You have forgotten us, Lady! That human whelp has you wrapped around her finger, your sisters prey upon your sentimentality. And you've always had a disgusting weakness for Sundreamer's spawn."
He went silent, eyes widening as he was frozen by silent command. Sylvanas looked from him, to Tyra, and then to Jaina and Kalira.
Stepping past her oldest friend, Sylvanas approached Kalira, and knelt before her. Unable to find the words, Sylvanas simply inspected Kalira's wound. Her Dark Rangers could take a great deal of punishment, but this arrow had hit a vulnerable location. "There is not much time, but our healers can still save her."
"What about Tyra?" Jaina asked, still holding that Sin'dorei sword.
Sylvanas shook her head. "I do not know."
Jaina nodded, then looked past her. At Nathanos. Sylvanas set her jaw, willing Jaina to not ask any questions. To not poke and prod at that wound that made her heart bleed and her eyes ache.
Dropping the sword, Jaina slid to her knees beside her. "What are you going to do with him?"
Sylvanas opened her mouth, then closed it and shook her head as she stared at Jaina with something she'd never felt before threatening to consume her.
Helplessness. Her world had collapsed, and she couldn't help but wonder at how blind she'd been. If Nathanos could betray her, anyone could. How easy would it be for Jaina to put a knife in her back? Or Kalira? Her sisters? Hell, she was pretty sure she was almost fond of Wrynn at this point.
Jaina's hand moved on top of hers, and Sylvanas looked at their hands as their fingers threaded together. "I know what you're thinking," Jaina said, roughly.
"I was in your head once," Sylvanas said. "So that's no surprise."
"Do you still trust me?"
Sylvanas met Jaina's eyes, the answer falling from her lips with disturbing ease and painful familiarity. "Yes. I do, always." Shaking Jaina's hand off, Sylvanas stood. "Take Kalira to Minuial."
Turning, she studied Nathanos. That dull ache remained, but she felt a renewed focus as she pushed her feelings aside.
"If you're going to kill him I want to-"
Voice even, emotionless, Sylvanas said. "Jaina, go. Save our daughter. Send another Dark Ranger here as soon as you can."
Jaina blinked once, then carefully gathered Kalira into her arms and started for the door. "You probably don't want to hear this, but Nathanos was right about something. You care about your family, Sylvanas."
Sylvanas said nothing else as the door closed behind Jaina, her eyes still locked on Nathanos as a hundred memories flooded her consciousness. Her boot crunched on something as she walked back to him, hesitated, and then walked past him.
Tyra still lay where she fell, perfectly still. Her chest did not rise, and there was no heartbeat to tell if she were alive or dead. There was only the faintest flicker of yellow light in the smashed sockets of her eyes. Sylvanas crouched next to her, resting her hand on the top of her head. That yellow glow followed her movements, as she leaned down and whispered into Tyra's ear.
That light strengthened as Sylvanas lifted her head and held Tyra's gaze.
"You, perhaps more than any other, represents the strength of the Forsaken, my champion." Sylvanas cupped one of Tyra's cheeks, ichor oozing through her fingers. For the moment, Sylvanas's anger had frozen, something to grasp on to later. Later, when she could deal with this most personal of betrayals.
Her voice grew soft. "Do you understand?"
"~Y…" Tyra's mouth moved, and after several more false starts, she managed to rattle out the rest of the word. "Yes."
Her eyes slid towards Nathanos, and Sylvanas touched her other cheek. "Fear not. He will pay."
Her voice cracked, that ice-encrusted rage starting to shake loose. And there was more than the rage; Sylvanas grieved, even if she refused to put that into words. It was still so impossible to believe. Nathanos… Nathanos.
Sylvanas would have sooner expected Anduin Wrynn to put a dagger in Greymane's back, than Nathanos to do so to her. Her hands almost shook. The absurdity of it all.
The door swung open again, Dark Ranger Anya stepping inside the hold. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the scene. Slowly, Sylvanas gathered Tyra into her arms and stood. She jerked her chin towards Nathanos. "Take him beneath the hold."
"Yes, Dark Lady." Anya strode over to Nathanos, picking him up and swinging his immobile body over her shoulder. "What of the fire?"
In a tight, clipped voice, Sylvanas replied, "Let it burn."
Deep beneath Grommash Hold, Sylvanas had Anya lay Nathanos onto a table and strap him down. If the ranger had any commentary on what was a familiar scene to her, she kept it to herself, a fact of which Sylvanas was profoundly appreciative.
Once, this place had been home to Garrosh Hellscream's most depraved experiments and weapons research. Most access had been sealed long ago, in part to bury the past and in part to prevent anyone from ever breaking into Orgrimmar from underneath again.
But Sylvanas had ordered this room repurposed and until recently it had remained unused, waiting for opportunity or necessity.
Tyra lay on another table, and Sylvanas could feel the thin thread holding her soul to her body fraying by the minute. She peered down at her, wondering if this could work, wondering if this plan would be a mistake and some day she'd find herself betrayed again.
She walked past a third, shrouded figure, and stood over Nathanos. With a wave of her hand, she released the hold she had over him. "You betrayed me. Me. And not just me, but the Horde and the Forsaken. You conspired with our enemies, fed them information and weakened our ability to respond to external threats. And for what?"
"To protect you," he rasped. "To support you, to lift you up. I accept my execution, but my only regret is that I will not be able to protect you from Proudmoore or the Alliance any longer."
"You're mistaken, Nathanos." Sylvanas allowed the edge of her sadness into her voice, an allowance for all that he'd meant to her, for all they'd been through together. "I am not going to execute you."
A bright light appeared above and behind her, the Val'kyr hovering above the tables. Sylvanas cupped Nathanos's cheek, his blood smearing across Tyra's on her hand. Sylvanas's expression hardened, her eyes exploding into bloody fury and her voice rose in a shriek.
"I am going to unmake you!"
Sylvanas punched her fist into Nathanos's chest, closing it around that pulse of energy, that dark magic that kept him animated and bound. The air shuddered, kicking up into a wind that rushed around the chamber. Her hair whipped around her head as her face contorted with rage and sorrow. Far above, lightning crackled and thunder roared.
Nathanos bucked, arching his back and screaming, the glow of his eyes guttering like candles in a breeze. He writhed as she held him down, twisting her hand, digging it into his chest. And then she ripped her hand out, blue, misty energy coiling around her fingers and leading from the gaping black wound like tendrils of string. Nathanos's body shuddered, his screaming an agonized symphony of torment.
As his scream tapered off, the Val'kyr took Nathanos's life force from her, beating her wings as she rose up into the air. A light pulsed from Tyra's chest, rising, floating up and then hovering in the air above her. Sylvanas caught it in her fist, and then carried it over to the third table. Above, the Val'kyr began to chant a familiar dirge.
Leaning over the table, Sylvanas stared down at the woman who lay there, fingers tightly closed around a stone with glowing blue runes.
In answer to the silent question on Sylvanas's face, the woman said, "For family."
As if it were that simple, as if family meant that such a sacrifice was second nature. Family was messy and complicated and sometimes you had to reduce your longest, most beloved companion to rotted flesh and brittle bone. "You had a second chance, Cassandra. You'd give this up for your sister?"
"What better way to be with her?" If Cassandra was surprised Sylvanas knew her name, she didn't show it. Her throat bobbed and she closed her eyes. Her fingers wrapped tighter around the stone.
Perhaps out of some unfamiliar sense of mercy or perhaps because a part of her yet hesitated, Sylvanas allowed Cassandra a few more of her limited breaths to prepare herself. And then she placed her hands onto the woman's chest.
***Many Years Ago, Before the Third War***
Sylvanas watched the sparks rise into the night sky, the smell of the smoke mixing with that of the rabbit stewing over the fire. She felt relaxed, more so than she had in weeks. And why not? Dinner was cooking, the patrol had been light, and she was in good company. It was almost enough to forget the grief.
"Tell me something, Nathanos? What would you be doing with your life, if you weren't my very best ranger?"
The man smiled across the fire at her, an easy-going smile that reminded her of why she liked him. Not in the way he'd like her to, she knew, but still. She almost viewed him like family. "I'm afraid I can't think of anything, Lady. Probably hunting and trapping. A decent living, but nothing like this."
She spread her arms around. "We're still hunting and trapping!"
"Trolls."
"Is there a difference?"
Nathanos leaned his head back and laughed. "The Trolls would say so. But, really. I like this life. Fighting at your side, days in the woods, even time in Silvermoon."
"Despite the naysayers?"
His grin turned wicked. "I enjoy few things more than putting them in their place."
"You're human," she pointed out, knowing full well he was more affected by them than he'd ever let on. "Naysayers were inevitable."
Getting to her feet, Sylvanas retrieved the pot from the fire, then spooned the stew into bowls. She handed one to Nathanos before returning to her seat.
He looked into his stew, grin fading. "Perhaps that is the case. All I can do is continue to serve you, and prove myself with every arrow I loose."
"You proved your worth to me long ago," Sylvanas smiled. "You've earned your title tenfold."
It was harder to do now, rarer in the years since her mother's death. But Nathanos was one of the few who could get one out of her. And the other … "Kalira will be joining us soon. Once she passes her final trials."
Nathanos's expression was inscrutable, the man seemingly invested in his meal. "She will make a fine ranger once she has some more experience under her belt."
Sylvanas nodded, mostly to herself, and focused on her own bowl. There was rapid change in the air, with Kalira coming of age. She hoped that Feydori would be proud of her. Of them both, not that she needed the validation.
But there were other changes. Rumors from Lordaeron, unrest in the Orc camps, and gods only knew what else on the horizon.
"Do you trust me, Sylvanas?"
She looked up, meeting his eyes across the fire, the words spilling easily from her lips. "Yes, I do. Always."