As If Just A Breath

by War Bred Viking

The world has odd ways of working. Captured, tortured, and destined to die. Then not moments later, entrusted to protect an old friend and Queen. Desires that had been tucked away as if they didn't exist finally brought out into the open. The oddest group of companions, the oddest group of lovers (SylvanasxOCxOC - Varying expansions, starts in MoP)

2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Side by Side

(In perspective of Lord Willhelm Wolfhardt)

A week had passed since I last had seen a single pine tree. Nothing but water, clouds, birds, and blue sky. The sea was calm, like that of a sleeping child, the waves smooth, simply brushing against the sides of the ship we sailed onward. The sky was as clear as a pane of glass, the sun beating upon the upper most deck, the only shade available being below deck and the shadows that the sails cast upon us.

I leaned against a cannon that sat idle at the side of the ship and simply glanced upon the doorway that lead into the royal quarters. It was as if the gods were calling upon me to enter for some other worldly purpose. Ruby eyes began to shine through the darkness that cloaked the woman they belonged to. The sun not daring to direct its rays upon her highness. A fanged smile was directed my way, followed by the bright jewels fading back into the darkness.

Sylvanas was like the millions of gold everyone and everything wanted, yet knew they just simply couldn't have. It felt... odd to lust over the living dead however she didn't look like most of the Undead. She was a banshee, her body almost perfectly preserved, save for the lack of blood flow and properly working organs, it was as if she hadn't even died and was never raised. Some other obvious aspects had changed as well. Her touch was that of frost, her breath a winters chill. I had never been one for the cold, the warmth always comforted me. Sylvanas was a very different story.

"Lord WolfHardt, the Dark Lady requests your presence, I'd make haste if I were you. She did not seem happy." I peered left unaware a sailor had approached me, his disembodied voice and rotting appearance slightly startling me however used to it I was. "Understood, consider me already there." The sailor nodded and left me, proceeding to continue on with his other ship-born duties. I began to march my way towards the Banshee's quarters, taking in the scenery as I made my way. When I arrived, the door was already open, as if an open invitation so I of course entered, the two guards standing by it motioning their heads in the direction of said entrance. As I walked into the unknown, I noticed the room appeared empty. The quarters were cool, the stained glass windows that were located just above the head of the Queens' bed were opened wide, yet the sun shine was suppresed by the compressing shroud that was the room. A shivering chill layred the floor and caused the hairs on my legs to stand up full height. Violet, Silk drapes lined the bed under the stained windows, which layed in the center most part of her quaters, yet still pushed back against the farthest wall. The remaining stained glass windows that were placed elsewhere along the sides of the ship had dark depictions of The Dark Lady, the Forsaken insignia. I stood there a moment longer in the room, waiting for a sign of life, the Queen that had requested yours truly no where to be seen. I felt a chill run up my spine. A major gust of wind then smacked itself against me, the open door I had entered through slammed shut with great force. Sharp claws began to soflty trace their way around the back of my neck, followed by moist flesh pressing against my skin. A delicate kiss was placed upon the muscles that surrounded my spine and throat, the small spicle of left over saliva leaving the spot of contact cooler than the rest of me. Freezing arms wrapped themselves around my waist and a head planted itself against my back, the nose of whom it belonged to dug into me. Breasts and waist pressed against me firmly as the arms around me tightened.

"Your warmth is comforting..." A hollowed, piercing, chilled voice broke the silence. "My La-", A finger pressed itself against my lips. "Sshhh... Quiet..." I found myself rather confused, but stayed still and allowed the Banshee to continue whatever she was doing. A moment later, she released me and spun me to face her. I looked down, pure blood red eyes meeting frost blue ones. Her normal cold dead stare was a soft gaze full of sorrow. "Sylvanas... Is something the matter?" No verbal answer was given. She simply embraced me once more and layed her head against my chest. Her actions were more than enough to hand me the answer. Seeing such an intimidating, powerful, and fearless leader, one I especially held close to my heart, look so vulnerable was rather frightening. Sexual desires and playful behaviour were not an odd thing to see when she was around Ellithara, on occasion i as well, however weakness, the need to have someone close to her, to hold her. That was a job only for her lover. "What troubles you?" I simply asked. No answer. "Sylvana-" "Silence!" The word pierced through mine and everyone elses ears, the combination of simple words and the scream of a Banshee. The Gulls that incircled the ship frenzied, the cawing from outside the cabin greatly increased. The atmosphere in the room was once again quiet. The sea birds began to cleared out of the vicinity, making the silemce grow. Daggers for finger nails dug into my arms, sobbing began to break the newly established silence. I could feel my linen shirt dampen with what I could only assume were tears. I thought to myself... "The Dark Lady, The Banshee Queen of the Forsaken. Sylvanas Windrunner... Crying. You'd have to see it to believe it, but good luck surviving past that point."

I wasn't sure on what to do. I was close to her, but not in this fashion. A desire towards the Ranger-General had once been there, and still was, however after the scourge, she and many others had not been the same people they once were, especially her. Comfort was the only thing running through my mind at that point. I began to run my fingers through her britle, silver locks and carefully rub my other caliced hand up and down her back, the charred black leather and lace she wore as lounge wear moving with my hand. Chilling breath brushed against my neck as she opened her mouth to speak once more. "I'm sorry... old friend."

What felt like hours had passed, the once bright empowering sun that had only just sat at it's highest point was now only half exposed in the horizon, purple and orange hues mixing in the sky as it set to give hold to the beautiful goddess moon. The room I sat in was now only lit by the still opened window above the Banshee Queens' royal bed, the remaining windows in the room blocked the majority of the refracting light from entering her quarters. Sylvanas was sound asleep to the right of me underneath the covers of her bed. In the concealment of her privacy, it seamed as if she attempted to cling to what life was like before her death. In the Undercity, I had never once seen the Dark Lady sleep, save for her moments with lady Ellithara, as she didn't need to. I rarely spotted her doing anything other than sit in her throne and adress home-bound problems, accept letters from messengers, and listen to commoners give their two sense about what they felt to be adequate fixtures for the city itself. The only time she showed actual life was around Ellithara and the occasoccasional teasing and other comical jokes towards I. She was just an empty, heartless, blood thirsty, ruthless ruler to every other creature with eyes. Ellithara and I knew differently, her more than I.

I could still hear the sound of sea water colliding against the front and sides of the ship we sailed upon. The sound of gulls had returned, however dummed down than last they had been in our presence.

I slid myself off of the bed and softly crept to a corner of the room that held a round table with the accompanying chairs to sit in, and sit I did. An empty wooden tankard sat on the table close to me. My eyes quickly began to trace the outline of the famed container of liquids and I then realized just how parched I was. I grasped the handle of the cup and stood onto my feet, then as quickly as I stood, I made my way out of the Queens quarters. When I reached the door and opened it, I squinted my eyes to help them adjust to the new amount of light presented to them. A gust of wind brushed against my beard and high cheekbones, as well as blew the ends of my coat about with nearly no resistance from the coat itself. Sailors moved about the ship keeping up with their duties, keeping mind of the sails, moving supplies to and from, the undead working like mindless drones in service of their Dark Lady.

The mere aptitude of the Forsaken was astonishing for a people with such a rough past. Their Queen being a steady source of great moral.

With tankard still in hand, my mind snapped back to it's more primal needs as my mouth grew dryer by the second. I made my way below deck to the sailor cabins where they kept food and drink for the few living crew among the ship and made for the kegs. With the push of the tap, the bronze liquid poured into my cup, foam lining the top, serving as a sign for when the tankard had reached it's limits. With a single glance at the newly filled flask, a smile was set upon my grim face and with a simple raise of my hand, I put the brim of the wood container to my lips and began to sip at the ale, my pace of consumption growing quicker with each passing moment. Just as the liquids flushed down my throat, the sound of a bell and sailors roaring warnings to each other broke the moment of bliss and as quickly as we were all warned, an iron ball tore through the hull of the ship, sending splinters flying towards where I stood, the sphere of metal also ripping into the kegs I had just begun to worship. I dove for cover, holding the tankard in my grasp as tightly as I could, trying my hardest to not spill it's contents. Cannon fire mixed with Orcish and Gutter speak filled the air. Sailors rushed past where I layed on the wooden floor boards to get into positions and battle stations. I stood with the cup of ale still in hand and quickly peered into it, it's fullness now replaced with only being a quarter full. I rolled my eyes and downed what was left, then tossed the cup and rushed up onto the deck of the ship. The clouds were once again in view, as was an Alliance vessel on the portside. I cursed under my breath and ran towards the wheel of the ship to address the captain.

"Admiral Jonsey! What in the name of the Dark Lady is going on! They shot my damned ale!" The Admiral schoffed and chuckled. "Well Lord WolfHardt, it would seem we have some unwanted company!" He replied in his loud, disgruntled, coarse voice. He pointed at the rival ship in the water whilst he spoke the words. He then continued to bark orders to the lower sailors, all while dodging cannon balls and wooden shards. My mind then dashed to hers truly at that very moment, "where might be Sylvanas..." I thought to myself

"Where on Azeroth is the Dark Lady!" I finally voiced. The Admiral simply pointed once more, too busy steering the ship and maneuvering around cannon fire to do much more. Surely enough, with one glance, there she was, up in the crows nest with her bow, clad in her usual armor, firing arrows at the Alliance flag ship as if she hadn't been asleep just 10 minutes ago. Each arrow found it's mark, each one upon landing exploded in purple fire, setting the area of impact aflame. Her marksman skills were truly amazing, her past life being well spent as the Ranger-General of Silvermoon. I took my focus off of Sylvanas and focused back on the more important matter at hand; the sea battle. The ships continued in a circle, each tying to gain an advantage on the other, firing cannon after cannon, each ships' crews trying to assist with rifles and blunderbusts. With the sun almost completely concealed by the horizon, night was upon us, the battle doing it's job to provide light only when a weapon fired it's munitions or when a spell caster launched some form of magic either way.

I made my way around the deck, attempting to help where I could, soon realizing a mistake I made the hard way. A sharp pain entered my abdomen as I jogged towards Admiral Jonsey and the wheel of the ship. As I peered down and pressed the area with my fingers, blood began to stain my cloth shirt as well as cover my hand. My lack of armor in the middle of a firefight at sea was a poor decision on my part, that was apparent. I winced in pain, however began to ignore it. My armor and weapons laid back below deck, and that was where I was headed once more. I sprinted down into the ship, holding my wound whilst doing so. My bunk layed strewn all over the place, only one side of the bed was still attached to the wall, my belongings also scattered around. A fallen armor rack to my left caught my attention and my luck presented itself. My armor was still in one peace. I quickly grabbed it and threw it on, tightening straps and tieing laces as quickly as one could. Yelling and weapon fire was drowning out my thoughts as I strapped on my last boot. Once finished, I rushed back topside and assessed the situation. My wound still bled but that was far from important at the moment. I peered right just in time to witness a Forsaken sailor take a cannon ball to the chest, the rest of him ripped to pieces and flew elsewhere. I glanced above me, Sylvanas was still positioned near the top of the main mast, jumping to and from different extensions of each mast, dodging whatever the enemy threw at her. I grabbed my sword at my side and unsheathed it. Admiral Jonsey had moved from the wheel of the ship to another position, having someone take his place and steer. A hand clasped my steel shoulder plate and surely enough, it was Jonsey.

"By Sylvanas, what in the hell were you doing below deck again? Stop pleasing the seamen and get your ass onto that Alliance ship and do what you do best!" I laughed at the captain's tease and nodded, "Had to gather my balls, sir! It seems you've certainly lost yours!" I gestured inbetween his legs. His withered face turned sour and he showed a frown as best as he could. What was left of his brows angled inwards as well and he shook his head. I smirked at his attempted facial expressions. "Curse your handsome, untouched-" He eyed my couple scars that painted my face- "well mostly untouched mug!" He grasped my cheeks and jaw with his boney fingers and squeezed. He looked my in the eyes, his hollowed out sockets filled with a bright amber glow. "I need you on that ship now!" I nodded once again and patted his back before lunging myself forward towards the side of the ship closest to the Alliance vessel. I grabbed rope that was tied to the sail. The gap from ship to ship was large but with a bit of assistance, manageable. I cut the rope and with that, the wind pulled at me as it tried to tear the sail from my hands. Salt water sprinkled my face as it collided with the side of the ship. A flash of a cannon glared in the corner of my eye. I stood on the railing of the great Forsaken vessel I currently called home, everything slowed for a moment. The newly risen moon sat perfectly in the sky, just above the rear of the ship I was soon to board. It called to me, and I felt a tear at my muscles. They tightened as my skin darkened and fur sprouted from my body. My skull lengthened and my arms swelled as my legs shifted in form. My canines grew and sharpened as did the rest of my teeth and groaning turned to snarling. I stood straight in full power, strutting my true form. A heightened sense of smell, sharpened vision. My grip on the rope tightened and I quickly took plenty of steps back before launching forwards off the side of the ship at the opposing one. The rope held true and once at it's widest angle, I let go. I sailed through the air, forming my body to be more aero dynamic. Fur whipped in the wind. My trajectory was true and I slammed against the side of the Alliance boat. My newly formed claws dug into the finely shapened wood and my muscles tensed as I held on. With slight preparation, I lunged up the ship and managed over it's railing, my feet, now shaped like paws landed with grace, but weight behind said grace. I stood tall and gathered my surroundings. Three Sailors starred me down with confusion before drawing their swords, readying for a fight.

I shrugged my shoulders, then spoke in my now deeper, rasped voice, "What? No need to hesitate gentlemen, I'm not friendly..." I smirked, making sure to bare my fangs. With a last look at each other, the sailors charged with swords raised, the fight commenced. With a duck under one curved blade, I countered with all five claws on my right hand into the opposers' stomach. As he groaned over, a blade came down behind me, but before it landed, I turned with the sailor still in my hands, causing the other ones blade to bare down into his friends shoulder. With a push, the two toppled over onto the deck floor. The third sailor stepped back a moment, presumably assessing how to go about fighting me. He set one foot forward and held his sword true. I waved my claws in intimidation and put them to my side, ready to counter what ever he threw. A hardy roar and a swipe from his right, I dived to the floor and got onto all fours, then launched into the sailor. He had no time to react and was tackled to the floor. His sword dropped at the force of impact and his head slammed into the floor, dazing his vision. I raised my right claw to swipe while sitting over top of him, just I time for an arrow to fly under my armpit. A glance upward showed Sylvanas in her perch, winking and smirking in my direction. A turn of the head showed another Alliance soldier behind me with an arrow in his rib cage. I quickly dispatched the sailor that still squirmed underneath of my weight, sending blood flying in the direction of my swipe.

Eventually more friendly forces boarded the vessel with me and we over-threw the Alliance vessel. After the fighting had come to an end, I took my leave. I laid flat on the bow of the ship, no longer clad in fur, no longer did the smell of wet dog cling to my aroma. My armor was destroyed from the transformation, my undershirt torn and shredded, my pants nothing but a loin cloth now. I laid there with my eyes closed facing the stars above, one hand behind my head, the other next to my bullet wound. Light clacks of metal heels on wooden floor boards approached, I was sure who it was. Fire erupted in my abdomen and pain shot up my entire body, my eyes flashed open and I quickly sat up, wincing, almost falling into the water below in the process. Surely enough, there she was, pressing her fingernails into the hole in my stomach. "Ah fffuu...ck! What the hell!" blood began to leak quicker by the second. Sylvanas bore down harder and leaned in to look me in the eyes, those fiery rubies would catch a man's soul aflame. I reached to grab her wrist but she pressed harder at the movement. "Tsk, tsk..." Her lips moved so elegantly, "What did I say about transforming around my troops? You dogs never listen..." You dogs? "Well-ack!- would you have rather sunk with your sh-" Her soft, supple lips pressed against mine, cutting me off midsentence. I attemted to back away in protest but she leaned closer. She then backed off, a trickle of saliva trailing behind. "Ehmm? My lady?" I was more confused than ever. She licked her lips and wiped the excessive moistness from them and stood straight up, looking behind her. She spoke without looking my way, "Try to be more careful next time... You shouldn't even have a scratch, the extensive training I've given you." The fact that the single wound I was given had been delt to me before I had even began to fight wasn't even on the table. She simply shook her head with a sly smirk and then walked off to attend to other duties, just like that. After repairs were made to our ship, we set off once more for the mystical land of Pandaria, leaving the Alliance ship behind, slowly burning with the last of it's sailors bare assed to find a way to survive, if they could at all.