"Are you certain of this?" Anduin asked, picking up the empty Blade of the Black Empire. Though still organic in appearance, the eye was staring dully and moving only in accordance to gravity. It wasn't dead, the flesh pulsating with Shadow infested liquids, but there was no will sealed inside. Now that the High King knew that it was a prison for Xal'atath, an immensely weakened Old God, rather than the entity itself, he looked at the dagger differently.
Nevertheless, Xal'atath insisted in a shivering tone, "Bring it over here." The cum-soaked voidborne would have met him or simply done the moving herself, but she couldn't feel her hips or legs whatsoever. In fact, most of her was barely able to move. Even her upper body was raised of the metal ground only with the support of her elbows. Whenever a bit of feeling resurged in her nethers, in the shape of an aftershock that almost rivalled a proper orgasm, that posture was threatened as she moaned and writhed. Aside from the liquid itself, she had absorbed a ludicrous amount of her master's energies. "Master," she tasted the word.
Now that she felt this admiration for Anduin, his strength and his unique ability to make her feel the Light, it was a different word. Before it described those who she must serve, because they had made her and none other choice was given. It described, with pragmatic futility, those who dominated her existence.
The High King, she called him master because she now felt that, at his side, even the Void Lords were no threat. Sure, they could devour existence itself, but only if they ever reached it. Until now, helping them in that had been her purpose. Now it felt like a mind controlling effect had been lifted off her. Not unlikely, given that (in her time as a proper Old God) her own minions had never been able to feel anything but veneration for her either.
Yet, Anduin didn't replace that with a similar effect. He simply let her be herself and for that... she loved him. How peculiar that such a feeling could even flutter inside her chest. He kneeled down to her with the dagger in hand, presenting the curved blade to her.
"Before, the Blade of the Black Empire was my prison," Xal'atath explained, running her long fingernails over the flat side of living metal. "A place I could not escape, where the other four had left me in case they would ever find use for me again. The seal is broken now, so I might as well reform this weapon for my own uses... you prefer longswords, do you not, my master?"
It was true that Anduin, when engaged in melee liked longswords more than daggers. Although initially terrible in close quarter combat, his recent exploits had made him skilled in that regard. As he had always had superb physical abilities, it was likely the change of mindset that had allowed him to excel. A war changed a man, after all, especially if they fought a Bitch Queen. "Indeed, Xal'atath."
The way he said her name sent shivers down her spine. Such softness for a name that stood for consuming all energy in the known universe, he didn't care about her hostile nature, only for her. What odd a bliss to feel. Suddenly she was incredibly happy about having chosen the form of such an attractive woman, even as the ease of manipulation was replaced with joy about being erotic to behold.
She grabbed the blade, pulling its edge against her exposed palm. Rather than the elven form bleeding, the dagger began to contort in its form. Hastily, Anduin let go, as the weapon was absorbed into the Old Goddess body. The void elf before him disappeared, transformed into a sword.
A longsword of the same aesthetic as the dagger now lay on the floor. It had a double edged blade, with a straight back and curved tip. Towards the bottom, shortly above the guard, the blade had a hollow spot that was filled with a freely hovering, white eye with a purple slit for a pupil. A spiked extension grew out in front of the fleshy grip, a protection for Anduin's fingers as he grabbed Xal'atath and raised her up. The handle was long enough to be used for one- or two-handed attacks.
In weight, she was completely indifferent from Shalamayne, while her appearance definitely reminded Anduin of his father's blade, just deeply corrupted by the Shadow. The eye was exactly at the same spot as the hovering sphere of gold was in Shalamayne.
First, he swung her around testily, then he summoned the second blade as well and danced around on the spot for a while. Just like the Light and Shadow those blades represented, it felt completely natural to wield them.
'I can shift between this state and my true body whenever I wish,' Xal'atath informed him. 'I would simply collapse again if I tried now, so I will spare me the humiliation of demonstration. Nevertheless, you will never be without a wife on your travels ever again.'
'...I have several questions,' Anduin found himself thinking and, before he could present them, his newest cumslut was already answering them. Present in his thoughts, as she was, he didn't need to formulate them.
'The enticing shape of a void elf shall from this day until the day of your demise be my true form - Unless you find a different one I can take to be more attractive to you,' she began. Anduin was absolutely certain that he did not want her to grow extra teeth and tentacles, so this was all good. 'What else do you worry about...? Ah, yes, our child. Until the late stages of my pregnancy, these transformations will not harm it in any way... do you wish for a boy or a girl, your majesty?'
'I can choose?' Anduin asked and immediately shook his head, scolding himself for even putting normal biological expectations on something as deeply alien as an Old Goddess. 'It is up to you.'
'A girl it shall be then,' Xal'atath had already expected that answer and made a decision. She was fine with serving him now, more than fine in fact, but that didn't change her nature of wanting to scheme three steps ahead, around, through and above of everybody else. 'Although it will take quite a while until you get to meet her...'
'I thought you could give birth basically instantly?' not only did he remember her saying something like that, voidborne normally came in sheer endless numbers.
'If you want a mere minion, I could use your seed in that capacity as of this moment,' Xal'atath explained. 'For a proper offspring and heir to both of us, wielding our powers and free of the Lords grip as you made me, to birth such a being I will require seven millennia.' That was a frankly ludicrous amount of time to Anduin, who was barely over eighteen. All signs indicated that he would become immortal, however, given in how much magic he was drenched in. Between Xal'atath and Tyrande, it wasn't like he wasn't fucking other ancients either. 'Even if you don't live to see her, I ask of you to leave this to my will - she will be my eternal memory of you,' Xal'atath pleaded.
'As you wish then,' Anduin conceded the point. It seemed Jaina would remain the person who gave first to his first child (eventual bastards not included). 'What is it about 'wife' then?'
