Author's Notes: Hi! This idea came to me randomly and begged to be written. This fic isn't really orthodox, but I hope it still strikes somebody's fancy out there in computer land. Enjoy!
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She loved him. It was a love that went deeper than reason, beyond death and farther than her existence. It burned within her. It was her only reason for living. She shouldn't feel this way. She should hate him. She should hate him as deeply as she loved him. Why didn't she? What he had done to her would inspire fury in anyone. Yet, here she was. She loved him when she should hate him. She longed to touch him when she should want to kill him. She watched him with tears in her eye when she should catch herself aiming her bow towards his black heart while stroking the feathers lovingly in anticipation. Part of her screamed at the other half for it. This inner turmoil was enough to make a lesser woman go mad. Even if she was a lesser woman, it didn't matter anyway. Her true independent self no longer existed. If only her psyche was hers to give over to madness… Then this spell he had over her would not be such a curse.
Often they crossed paths in their everyday lives. How could they not? She was in service to him. Her bow killed as many foes in their master's name as his sword. So much death was on her shoulders. She didn't feel remorse. Indeed, she was happy to do it. If the killing meant that he would live to pass her sight one more day…oh! She would kill a thousand innocents if only for that. When their paths did cross, it was all she could do to prevent herself from losing control. Oh, goddess! The irony of her situation alone made her want to scream. However, she would suppress the strong emotions within her until she was alone. In her tent after hours, she would decide that he wasn't worth the effort and the strain. She knew he wasn't worth half of it and yet the next time they met, she would revoke that decision immediately. It would happen when he gave her orders. He would pause in the middle of speaking and look at her. She would meet his gaze and get lost herself there. Then the moment would end and he would be gone. Cold, brutal reality would come back to slap her in the face. Who was she kidding? He didn't love her! He couldn't love her and never would!
She would turn and walk away to complete whatever task he had assigned her. Too often the tasks resulted in death. Why does he force her to kill for him? Can he not recognize the passion that burned within her? Instead of spending time overseeing training of the troops as usual, she went to the forest around the camp. A swift climb to the top of a tree meant she could see anything that could be of interest to her. She surveyed the camp from her branch. There! She saw him leaving his tent followed by two of his guards.
She dropped down from her perch in the trees to follow. She silently walked behind his party through the woods, and the strange mix of love and loathing rose within her. She merely pushed it back down. She could not lose her control. Truly that was the only thing he had left her. She took a deep breath to steady her precarious emotions. As soon as she breathed in, his essence overwhelmed her. That essence and everything he was flowed around her and intoxicated her senses. It was too much…too much. She ran. She ran away through the camp searching for someplace where she wouldn't be disturbed. Her foot caught onto a root. It had missed her vision completely and she tripped. As she landed, her gear spilled out over the dead ground in a hundred different directions. She screamed in frustration and crawled behind the nearest building. Why? Why had she been so forsaken? Bitter tears fell down her cheeks in silent testimony to the great mockery of her life and her love. The immense irony of it all overwhelmed her senses and she was reduced to heaving sobs. Would she never be set free?
"Sylvanas?" The sound of her name startled her. She opened her eyes and quickly wiped them of tears. It was dark. Had the sun already set? Then her mind registered that it wasn't just one of her banshees calling. It was…him. She could not let him see her reduced to this. Her natural elfish sense of the outdoors told her he was far away enough to not see her should she move. She collected her arrows into their quiver, rearranged her cloak and stood. She felt no pain from the fall earlier. Indeed she felt nothing, save her love. Her tears threatened her again. No! Now was not the time!
"Yes?" She came from out behind the building and approached his mount. He seemed startled to see her appear out of the darkness. Sylvanas vaguely wondered if she had scared him. She shook her head slightly. It didn't matter. He was here and he demanded her full attention.
"Sylvanas…" He began in his normal gruff baritone but stopped halfway through She didn't notice. She was desperately trying to collect her inner self to show off some kind of normalcy. He dismounted suddenly and walked towards her. She jumped back in surprise. He stopped as soon as she jumped. They stood silently for a moment. His hand drifted towards the hilt of his sword before he stepped forward again. His gloved hand rose to her face and stroked her cheek gently. Totally dumbfounded, Sylvanas started to step back, but his other hand caught her waist.
"What are you doing?" Her voice trembled as it rose into the night air. He would never come down to her level, never actually touch her…
"Shh…" he muttered and moved forward. His head slowly bent down to float just above hers. He looked into her eyes with utter longing. Sylvanas found herself surrendering to him as his lips briefly touched hers. Her confusion was lost as they stayed locked in the embrace.
"No, this can't happen." He pulled away and turned to go. His skeletal horse stomped its hoof impatiently. In a matter of seconds, he had mounted the unholy creature.
"Goodnight Sylvanas." His eyes were dull now. It was only several minutes later when he was gone that Sylvanas found her voice. It was all she could do to weakly reply.
"Goodnight Arthas."