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)

3. Chapter 3

This chapter, I shall attempt to focus on backstories and things of the past to fill in some quite obvious gaps in story and relationships between characters. The past will be written in Italics and the present in just plain text as normal, hope you all enjoy!

Willhelm sat idle on the railing of the crows nest, his back turned to center of the mast and legs hanging freely about in the wind, pondering on many thoughts that crawled their way back into the forefront of his mind. His past coming up in many instances. His eyes narrowed and his facial features sunk in unison as constant reminders of the pain he'd endured in his last few years, ranging from the simplicity of loss, to the dark recesses of torture. He moved a hand from the railing, losing of bit of support as the other was gripped tightly around a rope tied to one of the multiple webs of rope around the ship and peered down at his wrist and forearm. Multiple scars lined their ways up and down the arm, the other arm having identical markings, some earned in battles against his many enemies, some received as he fought for his life in a time of need. He traced one specific scar that flowed from the end of his middle finger down to the beginning of his forearm, then clenched his fist, a warm memory shooting into his mind.

Swish! A steel axe sacved the end of Sylvanas's eye brow, the little golden hairs falling to the dirt beneath her. With in-human agility, she leaned just out of harms way as another axe flew in her direction, the Troll Axe-thrower being very persistent to end her life. She quickly regained her balance and drew an arrow from her quiver. With a strong pull of the string and the following release of it, her arrow launched towards the Troll, embedding itself in his skull. She watched the tribal drop at a moments notice and smiled at the perfection that was her marksmanship. Although with a quick glance around her, she had noticed her ranks' decreasing numbers and arched her brows, fury building within her at the sight of so many fallen elves, as well as humans who had came to their aid. A turn of the head to the right however, and her life had flashed before her eyes and time seemed to slow, another hurling axe just inches from her chest. Just as she was sure it had planted itself in her breast, the sound of steel on steel rung in her overly sensitive ears. A glance downwards had shown an extended gauntlet that was strewn across the length of her chest, and followed by the arm was a human slowly launching himself through the air. He quickly landed in the dirt beneath their feet, having thrown himself in her direction to save her. Sylvanas instinctively stepped back as if to dodge the axe she no longer needed to worry about and gasped at his ever so timely arrival. She then shot down to his level to see if he was alright, but not before drawing another arrow and firing it into the Trolls' heart, the wooden assailant of death protruding from its blue skin. The man rolled over with a frustrated groan, his eyes wide with strands of dark brown hair strewn about in front of the bright blue. A roguish grin stretched from cheek to cheek and he nodded as he stared up into the amber sky. Sylvanas inspected his person to see the blade of the axe that was meant for her firmly placed within his hand and forearm, the steel gauntlet not serving great protection from beneath. Her face turned sour for a moment, "Thank you..." She said quickly in the humans language, "But you didn't have to do that" She grabbed the hilt the axe and tugged slightly, testing how well it had penetrated his flesh. The man groaned and shook his head side to side while wincing in pain at the Elfs' actions and tried to sit up, however Sylvanas placed a hand to his chest plate and held him down. "It was nothing, but we must move. It's not safe sitting in the middle of a battlefield, ya know!" he ushered as he watched trolls, elves, and his own kind battle to the death around them. She smiled and shook her head, her golden locks of hair flying true with each motion. "You needn't worry about those trolls." With a quick yank of her entire arm, Sylvanas pulled the axe from the man's arm, causing him to cry in pain for a moment. She then stood with her bow in hand and held an arrow in the other, readying to fight once more. The man rolled over in the dirt and propped himself up on his knees before standing, his injured arm in hand. He stumbled at first, attempting to gain balance, and then turned to look at Sylvanas. He stared at the elf for what felt like an eternity, however had only been a few seconds. The way her hair resembled pure gold and her slightly sun kissed skin appeared as if it simply reflected the rays of the sun caught any ones attention. Her blue and silver armor also glistened in light, giving her an almost holy aura. Sylvanas turned to look at the man, who was clearly staring. She transferred the arrow to the same hand as her bow and held out her free one in a greeting gesture.

"Sylvanas Windrunner... The Ranger-General of Silvermoon." She spoke with ease, her voice calm and confident despite the fighting still pressing around them. The man held his hand out as well, taking Sylvanas' and shaking. "Lord Willhelm WolfHardt, at your service." Sylvanas smiled at hearing his title. "A pleasure to meet you Lord WolfHardt, again, thank you for stopping that axe from ending the long spree that is my many years spent in this realm." Willhelm returned the smile and shook his head once more, "Non sense, the pleasure is all mine Ranger-Genral, I'm honored to meet you, and even more so to fight at your side, as well as save you from what might of been the end of your life." He bowed before drawing his sword from its sheath. He peered down at his still fresh wound and sighed as blood clearly coated the steel and watched as it began to trickle down the hilt of his blade. He merely shook it off and gave Sylvanas a nod of the head before the two returned to battle. She noted his boldness and thought of how she too would ignore any injuries until after the battle was won.

Sylvanas stood next to the tent that had been erected there solely for her own use, that was surrounded by smaller tents used by just normal soldiers of her army, and over looked the reminisce of the previous battle and swam in her own pit of guilt. The view of the field of bodies was sickening yet she couldn't look away for she knew she had ordered them there. The trolls were getting stronger and larger in numbers, which numbers were the main reason her people were so troubled in this war. The Humans came to their aid as well, however also suffered a grave amount of casualties at their own expense. They were great allies, strong willed and brave in battle however they numbered too little as well, most of their forces being occupied by other matters. However Lordaeron was close enough to know that Sylvanas and her people needed help in their endevours, and help they recieved" Chainmail and steel plating clanked together as someone approached from behind her, causing her to turn to see who it might be. The man walking up to her surely surprised her but certainly was welcomed. "Lord WolfHardt! I'm glad to see you made it out of that alive!" Her face turned grime as she turned back to the left-overs of war. "Many great soldiers were lost today, its ashame..." Willhelm nodded while running his fingers through his full beard in deep thought. "Yes..." He paused a moment and sighed. "I lost a few friends on this day. They were brave men and great warriors... They will be missed, as will the rest who fell today. However my commander seems to think they were well sacrificed." He paused a long moment. "Im not sure I entirely agree." Sylvanas nodded and she hung her head in dispair. "I'm sorry to hear that you lost some friends in the fight, I know how loss feels. I've lost a great many friends, even family, to this war." She faced him completely, making eye contact. "I'm even more sorry that it was my peoples' battle that caused them to lose their lives, though." She turned her head away in shame. Willhelm scoffed and exhaled greatly. "Yes well, despite who they fought for, I'm sure they were greatful to fall to battle rather than old age or sickness. I realize you carry a burden thinking that each and every death on our two sides were your fault. I'd ask you not to trouble yourself with such thoughts, however I do not know the struggles of leading an army so I also do not know the dificulties of ignorning such thoughts. I will just simply say that no matter who the leader, armies always suffer casualties and you manage to keep yours at the minimal, the best you can. Mine on the other hand seems to think the more you lose, the better." Sylvanas didn't move but simply looked into the distance. A change of subject was due.

"Hows your arm?" She asked softly. Willhelm chuckled ever so slightly at the change of subject. "It works, and that is good enough for me, the healers did good work on it. Your Paladins are very close with the light. They did say that there will still be scarring but im quite alright with that." She smiled a little. "Thats good to hear." replying in something a little more than a whisper. Once more a monent of silence, "Do you know when your people will be returning to Lordaeron?" She asked, entering her tent, expecting him to follow. Willhelm shrugged and let his arms drop to his side as he did in fact follow. "Soon I would think, however it won't be until our... esteemed... commander says so." Sylvanas lightly laughed at the mild sarcasm and continued while looking at the map that lay on a large table in the center of her tent. "Well, if you could possibly relay a message to him, I would greatly appreciate it." An honest smile was shot in his direction as she looked up from the map. Willhelm nodded and returned the smile. "Right..." She began once more, "So, my people and I are..." She straightened her posture and completely faced Willhelm, "...struggling with these trolls on multiple fronts. I was curious if he'd be able to send some of his men back with me to Silvermoon so we are to use them in our battle against the Trolls. Tell him that if he has any questions to come see me. If you do this. I'd be very greatful." Willhelm bowed in repsect to hers truly and stood straight once more. "I'd be more than happy to Lady Windrunner. I shall get to it then, it was a pleasure to have fought at your side, as well as get to have this talk." His smile was genuine. "Nonsense, the pleasure was all mine Lord Wolfhardt, you did afterall save my life." Again, the smile was returned. "And worth saving it was... Farewell Ranger-Genral." Sylvanas bid him a farewell as well and with that, Willhelm turned on the heel and exited the tent.

A wide smile appeared upon Willhelm's face as he thought of the first time he had met Sylvanas in person. He admired her, especially due to her skill in combat. She may have been a Ranger and him a warrior, however she was just as skilled with a blade as she was a bow. Willhelm and a bow, on the other hand, didn't mix so well, despite the few lessons he was given by multiple people in the past. Over the years leading up to the invasion of the scourge, Sylvanas and Willhelm had ran into each other on multiple occasions, Willhelm having been one of the many men stationed at Silvermoon in an attempt to help the Elves against the blight of the Trolls. He had also been introduced to Ellithara, Sylvanas' distinguished lover. She too was feirce in battle, however not for the same reason her partner was. Ellithara wielded the powers of dark, holy energy. A priest at heart, yet twisted into something of fear and pain, which she very much so burned such things into her enemies with even so much as a glance, her gleeming frost eyes turning into firey shadows. The trio became great friends, and even greater allies in battle. Willhelm grew attatched to the two She-Elves rather quickly. However not more than a day after the human forces returned to their great city of Lordaeron, did Arthas kill his father in cold blood and slaughter the entire city, releasing the undead upon his own people, using the newly dead to grow his army even greater. Ofcourse, Arthas then moved towards the Elves, ravaging the people, killing 90% of their population, including Sylvanas. Willhelm had not been at Lordaeron at the time of Arthas' invasion, deciding to stay in Silvermoon to continue fighting the trolls, however when the scourge landed upon the Elven city, one glance at the army of undead told him all he needed to know. His family, wife, kids, and other relatives and friends, all now either dead or mindless corpses trudging through the dirt beneath their feet and he was powerless to help any of them. The best he could have done was give them peace. Once forced back into the city itself, Willhelm and Ellithara were some of the last to of gotten out of the city as it burned to the ground. They watched as Arthas plunged Frostmourne into Sylvanas' chest and took the soul from her body. They watched as the undead decimated thousands upon thousands of Elven people. All they could do, was watch.

The memories clouded Willhelm's mind, causing his previous smile to turn completely sour. He could feel tears begin to form in tbe corners of his eyes as he began to re-hear the screams of innocent people being slaughtered like pigs in his head as well as how he was powerless to save his beloved wife and children. His son and two daughters, to never be seen again, to never be able to watch them grow into the great adults he knew they would become. Images of the undead flashed through his mind, the brave war cries of the Elves defending their home, ready to die in it's defense. And then once more, the hollowed cry of Sylvanas as life left her body, and the anguished scream of Ellithara as she watched the love of her life die, and the memory of how difficult it was the pull her back in all her fury, to keep her from getting herself killed in some mindless attempt to avenge her lover. The image of pure hatred in her eyes. Before he even realized it, Willhelm had begun sobbing softly up in his isolated nest that sat above the ship below, the smooth sea-breeze drying the tears to his cheek as they continued to roll downward. He attempted to wipe them away and clear his face, but to no avail, they kept coming. He shook his head, trying his hardest to empty his mind of the harsh memories that assaulted him but still, nothing. Willhelms' grip tightened on the rope he held as he still sat on the railing, and he threw his legs over into the inside of the crows nest, then following, he slid down onto the floor of the nest and pulled his knee's into his chest. He continued to cry hysterically into the top's of his knees, the images of his children's smiles flashing into the forefront of his mind, as well as his wife that he missed just as much. A frost bitten hand clasped onto his shoulder, who he instinctively knew to be Sylvanas. She didn't make a sound, just simply set down next to him and placed her head onto his shoulder in an attempt at comforting him. Willhelm felt hair brush against his arms and fall into place, side strands draping over. His sobbing slowed as he opened his eyes to see strands of her once golden locks strewn about in front of his eyes, the now dark and white and brittle hair once more reminding him that he was not the only one to suffer. His mind began to clear as it began to empty of his previous thoughts and fill up with sympathy. Willhelm lifted his head and glanced to his left at Sylvanas, noticing her eyes were closed in thought. He shifted the shoulder her head lied upon, causing her eyes to flash open, the rubies boring into his. She lifted her head and continued to stare into his eyes. Her brows lowered and her eyes narrowed as she began to seemingly search for something in Willhelm.

He feigned a smile at her and looked away at the floor of the crows nest, then reached up to grab the railing with his right arm. He began to stand, pulling himself up toto get onto his feet and leaving Sylvanas to sit. He felt nails dig into his other arm as she grabed at his forearm and pulled him back down towards her and he simply gave in. He exhaled sharply and sat once more next to her as she clung to his arm.

"Sylvanas..." he muttered. She shook her head in response and parted her lips to speak, "We have all suffered in the past..." She turned to look him in the eyes, "...and for many of us, it still haunts us to this day... A moment to release all of those pent up emotions... A moment to cry... to remember all that we have lost... is one we all deserve. Don't let yours go to waste..." The words bit hard into Willhelms' mind. She was strong willed, certain that if anything were to attempt to stand in her way would crumble before her and showed no emotion other than rage, effected by nothing other than her own ambitions, yet she was the one to look him in the eyes, her face full of empathy, as well as sympathy, and give him advice on his feelings. Even the Banshee Queen had her moments. Sylvanas looked foward towards the center the crows nest and placed a hand on Willhelms' leg. "My dear friend..." Willhelm eyes landed upon her hand as it moved back and forth in a single circle on his thigh. "Would you believe me if I said I was terrified?" She turned her face back towards him. "Terrified of what?" he questioned, "You're more than likely the most feared leader in all of Azeroth... Sure you have your enemies, however most are too scared to so much as go against you." Curiosity flooded his head as he turned searched her face, waiting for her to give an answer. Her expression was doleful and eyes downcast, "Death..."

This is a line breaker because i don't know how to actually put one like ive seen on other stories so yea... here we gooooo...

Ellithara sat idle upon a throne that was not her own, her eyes darting to every corner, taking in the space she already knew well enough. With on leg propped up and the other stretched out, her head in her hand, elbow on the arm rest and the other arm slack in her lap as she watched. It felt odd being in her seat, in Sylvanas' throne. She sat upright, her feet just ever so slightly touching the cold stone floor beneath her. She ran her hand thoroughly across the grey, rough brick that made up the seat and couldn't help but think of Sylvanas. Everything around her was a solid reminder of her queen, who she missed deeply. Her touch, her caress, pure extacy of her lips pressed against her soft flesh. Ellithara could feel herself weakening as she thought of the multiple times the two had made love and instead of pleasuring herself, she had to sit idle and suffer, all while tending to the people of Undercity. Ellithara came back to when a gruff, disembodied voice broke through her daydream. Her blue eyes shot forth and landed on the disfigured face of a forsaken commoner. His jaw was only attached by a metal plate on bolted onto the left side of his head, his words were difficult to understand, however she made due.

"Lady Ravensun..." The man kelt before Ellithara and stared at her feet and the stone floor as he spoke. Ellithara was confused by his actions and leaned forward "Please, rise!" She urged, motioning for him to stand. "I'm not your queen, I do things a bit differently than she does. No need to worry about any executions while I'm in power!" Her smile was wide as she tilted her head to the side and grinned. The undead man looked up to face her and was lost in her expression but stood anyways. "Okay?" He said slowly, "Well, there have been an increased presence of dark hounds near the entrence to the sewers and-" Ellithara cut him off mid sentence with quite a bit of enthusiasm, "Got it! I'll send some dread guards their way to deal with the hounds immediately, no need to worry!" The forsaken man furrowed his brows as best as he could and stood with confision rather apparent on his face. "Um, thank you? My lady..." he bowed and turned on his heel to leave. Ellithara slumped back into Sylvanas' throne and sighed with relief, thinking to herself that she handled the conversation well. However when she gazed past the man who was now leaving, she noticed the slew of forsaken men and women soon to approach her for her utmost co-operation.

An hour and a half past when Ellithara finished up with the last citizen of Undercity. She slouched over, her shoulder keeping her head up as her forearm sat on the thrones' arm rest. The golden locks fell over her shoulder and hung loosely, swaying as a very slight breeze constantly flowed throughout the winding tunnels of Undercity. Footsteps from behind began to fill her ears as they perked up in response to the sound and she lazily peered out of her perifrials, her bright blue dimming as het lids grew closer together. A boney hand clasped onto the back of the throne as a forsaken woman, clad in a steel chestplate with chainmail hanging from the inside as well as shoulder guards, stepped into place at her side.

"Lady Ravensun, I presume you had an exhilarating time with the locals..." Her voice was much more clear than the vast majority of other forsaken, possibly having been raised early on after her death. Ellithara peered up to look the woman in the eyes, the amber glow that all forsaken shared was more aparent than most as well, her eyes being brighter than others. "I'd say you presume wrong, Deathstalker Junis." her voice was low and deeper than normal, making it obvious she didn't care much for the tease. "Very much so indeed... Is this what it's like for Sylvanas every day? She normally keeps me out of these sessions, claims she spares me of the bordem." Junis put a smirk onto her face as best she could and moved her hand from the chair to Ellithara's back with a gentle pat. "After today, you may very well have the answer to that question, my lady." Ellithara softly chuckled and nodded in response. "Now, you're right about that. I'm certain she does spare me of the bordem. I'll have to thank her for that when she returns." The two women laughed in unison. Deathstalker Junis removed her hand from Ellithara and stepped forward more, coming to stand just before the set of stairs leading down from the throne. Without looking back at Ellithara, Junis spoke once more, "You're doing well in the Dark Lady's stead. Just don't think too much about the position you hold, but rather who it is you hold it for. You make her happy, just as I imagine you did when she breathed, even if they say happiness isn't for the undead. Lead how you will, she'll support the decisions you make." Junis turned her head and faced Ellithara, whom stared back, "Sylvanas will return before you know it."