I own Vician, all else to Blizz

A/N...

Yes, Ilius is a real thing from the Warcraft RPG. He is not in game, to my knowledge, so I've taken some liberty with his appearance. Blizz, if you want to take his look, I will happily take the royalties (jk, jk)

Warning: Kissing, fighting, death, implied death, language, and Ilius

Vician rubs his forehead, trying to ease his coming headache. He detested the cloak and shadow work of Ilius and the Lightslayers, but he needed them in the Cult. Tapping his foot, Vician looks at his watch, impatient. Ilius is late; or if not late, merely hiding as part of some elaborate test. Turning his back to the door, he crosses his arms behind his back, and stares out the Deathknell church window. Vician had gotten there early and commandeered the church for his meeting, forcing out the current Forsaken, so that he had a quiet location for the meeting with Ilius. He had hoped that he would be done before noon, but it seems he will be tied up all day.

The sounds of footsteps prick his ears; must be Ilius announcing his presence. "You took your damn time," Vician begins, turning around to face Ilius, while speaking, "Is this whole cloak and dagger thing a test of yours . . ." Vician blanches. It is not Ilius who stands before him, but Sylvanas, with her royal guard flanking her. Vician goes to his knee, bowing his head, "M-My Lady."

Sylvanas motions to her guards, who walk out, closing the church doors behind them. "Arise, Trannyth."

Vician stands, the tips of his ears red, "W-What brings you here, My Lady?"

Sylvanas leans into her hip, and crosses her arms, glaring at him, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Vician scratches his chin, "About what?"

"You know damn well about what," She snaps at him, "You and the Cult!"

"Because, throwing your name around would mean too much trouble," Vician begins, "It's not like you are in support of the Cult. As a long-time member, my word holds more weight around it than yours; no offence."

"What about Arthas?" She asks, glaring at him, "Or do you think I am not privy to such information, Lord Trannyth?"

Vician opens his mouth to answer, but finds himself closing it. "How . . .?"

"Well, you were acting strangely; so I tracked you and overheard your conversation with Kalira," She says matter-of-factly, "Why didn't you tell me about your past or that you knew Arthas?"

Vician shakes his head, opening his arms wide and shrugging, "What was I supposed to say, Sylvanas? That I knew our greatest enemy in his youth? That I was close enough to the prince, that I could have killed him while he slept? I can't change the past; no one can. Why should I bring it up, just to cause more pain and sorrow?"

"I trust you, Trannyth." Sylvanas snaps and hisses her words, stepping closer to him, "I trust that you would come to me with information like that. We've known each other since the founding of the Forsaken; you are my most trusted warlock and I know nothing about you."

Vician matches her glare, crossing his arms, "Well, whose fault is that?"

Sylvanas points at finger at him, "Don't you dare put that on me," she whispers dangerously low. Vician and Sylvanas lock their gaze, holding it, before Vician huffs and turns away, heading to the pulpit. Sylvanas runs her hands through her hair in frustration, turning from Vician.

"I was the advisor to the advisor to the advisor of the King, which allowed me access to the castle and to the private staff rooms," Vician begins, leaning against the pulpit for support, turning around to face her. Sylvanas turns back towards him, motioning him to continue. "When Arthas was born, I received a promotion for my years of loyal service to the Crown. I became second advisor to the King and third advisor to Arthas, although, Arthas did call on me more than his other two advisors.

"Over the years, Arthas and I became closer. I was no one important by any means; I was a young nobleman, but Arthas and I were on a first name basis and it wasn't strange to see us dine together. By the time his campaign to Northrend came around, we had grown distant. I died during the first wave, struck down by a crossbow bolt. And that is the tragic life of Vician Trannyth." Vician pushes off the pulpit and walks towards Sylvanas, stopping when his lips and inches from hers, "I'm sorry I never told you; I should have."

Sylvanas smirks, tension easing out of her shoulders, "Yes, you should have."

Vician smiles, the smile fading as he looks from her eyes to her lips. "Th-There is something else, My Lady."

Sylvanas cocks her head slightly, her eyes searching his face, "What is it?"

"Well," Vician begins, "I feel that . . . and I . . . should . . ." With the tips of his ears red, he sighs to himself, "Sod it," before cupping her cheek and kissing her undead lips.

Sylvanas is taken a back, at first, before she melts into the kiss, pushing back at Vician with force. Vician growls softly and matches her push, his arms snaking around to hug her body, holding her close. Their fierce kissing is interrupted by deep laughing and clapping from the corner of the church. "Oh, by the Shadow it is a lucky day," the voice rumbles out.

Breaking apart, they both turn towards the voice, "Who are you?" They both spit at the voice.

Stepping out of the shadows, a lanky and gaunt undead human, moves towards the pair. In the dimly lit church, the layers of dark stained leather and black cloth look as if the shadows move with the Forsaken rogue. Chuckling, the undead answers, "Ilius, at your service," touching a hand to his head, he mockingly salutes them.

"So, you've been here the whole time? You son of a bitch!" Vician spits at Ilius.

Ilius chuckles, "Of course. And before you ask, I saw everything. So, if you don't want your relationship with the Dark Lady to become public, you will follow my lead." Ilius sneers in satisfaction.

"Blackmail?" Sylvanas says with a start, her hands resting on the hilts of her daggers, "You must be delusional, if you try blackmail."

Ilius sneers at Sylvanas, waving his hand, "Hush now, sweetheart, the men are talking."

Something snaps inside Sylvanas, and she is on Ilius in a second. "Sweetheart? I am the Banshee Queen and you will treat me with respect." Taking a dagger to his throat, she mutters to him, "And don't you dare insult me. I don't need any man to protect me, for I am not some simple housewife."

Ilius smirks, "I think you'll need plenty of protection, My Lady." And with that, the front of the church explodes inward, showering the room with shards of wood and metal. Sylvanas turns towards the explosion, giving Ilius his chance to pull free of her grasp, sending a dagger into her side. Gasping, Sylvanas goes to her knees, pulling the dagger free. As she begins to throw the dagger, a paralyzing agent runs through her body, causing her to splutter and fall. Her breathing slows and her limbs feel heavy.

Her senses are still functioning, so she can hear Vician and Ilius speaking. "Don't worry, My Lord," Ilius says to Vician, who is standing in front of Sylvanas, his staff at the ready. "She'll recover in a few days time. It was more of a message anyway." Her eyes flick towards Vician, who is clearly swaying front side to side, seemingly trying to find an opening to attack. "You will have the Shadow Ascendants and the other members of the Cult throw their support behind me and the Lightslayers. I will unify the Cult, and I shall be its head."

Vician snarls at the crossbow dripping with poison, which is pointed at his chest. His eyes flick behind Ilius, where the Lightslayers are killing Sylvanas's Royal Guard. Focusing back on Ilius, Vician sneers, "And if I refuse?"

Ilius smiles, his rotting, yellow teeth are jutting from his decaying gums, "I will kill her—just like how you should have killed Arthas—in her sleep." Ilius whistles, as the last Royal Guard falls. The Lightslayers fade back into the shadows, as Ilius walks backwards, the crossbow still pointed at his chest. "I will give you a month, Trannyth. If the rest of the Cult does not submit to me by that time, then Sylvanas will experience True Death." Ilius chuckles as he walks backward into the shadows, leaving Vician and Sylvanas alone in the church, surrounded by the bodies of the slain Royal Guards.