Just Let Me Stay a Little While Longer

Silence reigned in the Royal Chambers of the Undercity.

All three parties continued their standoff for a long, enduring moment as Sylvanas contemplated Jaina's last words. The former Elf's face was a still mask as she kept the bow pointed at the humanoid dragon for a moment further, pondering.

Kalecgos was equally motionless, his human form not an uncomely one. What gave his true nature away though were the shining brilliantly eyes, a shade of colour so pure that they almost hurt to look at. There radiated a sense of power from him that Sylvanas had never known from any creature she had ever met. Even Arthas.

It seemed that Jaina Proudmoore was quite as entrancing to members of the opposite sex as well. Even dragonkin. A rush of jealousy flooded inside Sylvanas.

Of all the things to have to compete against for the young sorceress' attentions, it had to be a dragon, the one and only Aspect of Magic.

Jaina's naked form was still splayed on the Dark Throne. The sorceress began to realize the absurdity of her situation and rose to grab her nearby clothes on wobbly, unsteady legs.

Sylvanas observed her lover's difficulty with satisfaction. Clearly, Jaina had had a powerful enough orgasm at her hands (or, more accurately, mouth) to leave her still recovering. The Banshee Queen peripherally watched the sorceress finally clothe herself and turned back to the two.

"Kalec, I-" Jaina began.

Kalecgos cut her off. His voice thundered loudly, but Sylvanas knew that no one could hear it but them. If the dragon could appear at will inside the very center of Forsaken power, he was as powerful as she feared the Aspect of Magic could be. There would be no interruptions.

"I came as soon as I had heard you were captured, Jaina," Kalec intoned. It was not fair to say he was merely speaking, for that did not do it justice. The voice reverberated with power, eyes shining with pure light. "I would not leave you to the devices of these undead. Not you."

He paused. "And here I stand now, a witness to this." His voice took on an edge of tiredness, but there was more than a little anger in it. "Explain yourself. If you dare."

Sylvanas met the radiating power of the dragon and his obvious fury with no trace of fear. The Banshee Queen did not often meet her peers in power, and even less often those that exceeded hers. Even with that thought, Sylvanas did not back down, her eyes unleashing a burning red stare at the humanoid dragon before her.

"Sylvanas." Jaina said softly.

The Dark Lady did not reply at first, keeping her eyes locked on Kalecgos, the two glaring at each other with unreadable, steady expressions. Neither would break, continuously striving for dominance over the other.

Sylvanas Windrunner would be damned if she showed any signs of fear to this creature. Jaina was hers, and she knew the young sorceress reciprocated the feelings...the evidence was only mounting.

"What is it, Jaina." Sylvanas finally replied, levelly.

"Lower your bow."

Sylvanas hesitated. Then with a single smooth gesture she dropped her weapon, which drew no reaction from Kalecgos.

The Banshee Queen moved to the side, addressing her own bottomless nature by picking up her hastily discarded clothing. While Jaina's own movements had been slow and almost guilty, Sylvanas' own moves were efficient, obvious, and defiant.

When she too was clad once more, the Dark Ranger finally turned to confront Kalecgos.

"You may have been her former lover, dragon," Sylvanas said. "But she loves another now. You cannot deprive her of the choice of her heart. If you truly love her-"

Kalecgos made a casual, slashing gesture at chest level. Almost immediately, a cone of azure light surrounded the Banshee Queen, a circle of entrapping magic that cut off her words and levitated her bizarrely into the air. Jaina cried out.

"Don't hurt her, Kalec. Please!"

"She will not be harmed. I merely mean to spare us from her feeble diatribe." Kalecgos looked away from the imprisoned Sylvanas to the young blonde sorceress. "You cannot trust her, or her words, Jaina. She is undead."

"She is Forsaken, that much is true," Jaina said. "There is a difference."

Kalecgos considered the words for a moment. "Why do you defend her?"

Jaina hesitated. "She saved my life, Kalec. More than once."

"Saved your life?" the humanoid dragon laughed, a horrifying sound full of scorn. "She is an enemy that had you captured. Not only that, but now she has somehow twisted your mind. You were a prisoner Jaina, and now you defend your captor. Do you understand how ridiculous you sound?"

Kalecgos looked to Sylvanas as the Banshee Queen remained immobile, levitating, and spoke again.

"I easily have the power to remove you from this place. To protect you from the likes of this Banshee Queen. Of our relationship, I am not sure of the damage. But I owe you at least as much as making sure you are safe."

Jaina looked at Kalecgos, pleadingly. "You would be making me as much a prisoner as I was when I first came here, Kalec. I want to be here. With Sylvanas. There is much more to her than even you know, I have seen it myself."

The young sorceress paused and then plunged irrevocably forward. "I love her."

The words were strong. Kalecgos' expression changed from one of anger and scorn to one more innocent, written plainly across his face.

'Why, Jaina," Kalecgos said softly. "I thought we had found joy with each other."

Jaina looked into his face apologetically. "We did Kalec. The times we had were amazing. But now it is time to move on."

"You think I will simply leave you here as slave to these Forsaken?"

Jaina gave him a fierce look. "I am no slave. And you will leave us if you love me, Kalec. This is what I want."

Kalecgos' expression changed and Jaina suddenly felt herself as if she were being scanned, a tingling that reached every corner of her body.

"There is no enchantment on you, Jaina," Kalecgos said quizzically. "Your love is pure."

"It is."

Kalecgos looked only all the sadder, and Jaina felt herself wanting to comfort him, but she knew she couldn't. "It was always your choice to be with me, and mine to be with you, Jaina. If this is truly what you want..."

Jaina looked at him and tears were in her eyes. "I'm sorry Kalecgos. For what this is doing to you. You do not deserve this."

"I am sorry too." Kalecgos sighed and repeated his earlier slashing gesture. The column of light around the Banshee Queen vanished. Sylvanas fell lightly on her feet, her expression unreadable.

The Dark Ranger felt the curious sensation as the dragon analyzed her as well with a piercing stare.

"For what it is worth, she loves you as well, Jaina." Kalecgos said the words slowly, as if they pained him. "Pure love between two souls is a rare and precious gift in this world."

"You will take care of her, Banshee Queen." It was a calmly spoken statement, but one full of menace. "If you do not, I will be back. For you. I promise you that."

Sylvanas looked defiantly at him. "I will protect Jaina. You have my word, on everything left I hold dear."

He cast one final, regretful, lingering glance at Jaina.

"I still love you Jaina. Be very careful in this dark place. This Forsaken Queen herself may not be enough to protect you from the dangers that approach even at this very moment."

With these prophetic, doom-filled words, Kalecgos popped out of existence as swiftly as he had come, leaving nothing behind but a faint rush of displaced air.

Jaina did not realize it, but tears were filling her eyes. The young sorceress let out a sob, and she fell to her knees, bringing her hands up to stem the flow.

Kalecgos had been good to her. She had been happy in his arms, in his power. He had loved her enough to leave her when he knew it was what she wanted.

She had hurt him, hurt the leader of the Blue Dragonflight and the Aspect of Magic himself. Jaina felt an immense sense of guilt for it.

Between her crying, she heard soft footsteps behind her. Then a gauntleted hand touched her shoulder.

Jaina tensed for just a moment, looking back up at Sylvanas. The Banshee Queen bore a sympathetic expression, all the more notable for how infrequently it graced her delicate pale blue face. Her often blazing red eyes somehow conveyed a softness as it met Jaina's tear-filled blue ones.

For once they did not kiss, they did not shake in mutual desire. Sylvanas Windrunner simply lifted the sobbing Jaina Proudmoore and hugged her, wrapping her surprisingly strong arms around the young sorceress.

Jaina returned the embrace, her body still shaking, crying into Sylvanas' shoulder. The Dark Lady of the Forsaken let the emotions flow from her lover.

Finally, Jaina stilled. Her eyes looked upwards at Sylvanas, still wet.

"Sylvanas," she said quietly.

"Yes, Jaina?" the Banshee Queen replied just as softly.

"Do you ever regret this? How we feel about each other?" Jaina looked so insecure, so human and vulnerable. "It has cost both of us so much."

Sylvanas considered for a moment, and spoke a single word with iron resolve.

"Never."

Jaina felt a rush of emotion surge into her at that, the sensation cutting through her haze of uncertainty and vulnerability.

The Banshee Queen looked at her young human lover and pressed on.

"I would do every decision I have made again if I had the choice. What we have between us is true, Kalecgos said as much. I do not regret how we feel."

"You said you loved me, Jaina Proudmoore. And I love you too." Sylvanas brought her face forward into the tear-stained one and the young sorceress returned the kiss passionately, her arms snaking around the Banshee Queen's regal form.

Dimly, Jaina was aware of the armoured breasts of the Dark Lady pressing into the soft cloth of her mage robes. The young sorceress also grew aware of certain other things as well...the warmth of Sylvanas' mouth, the shapeliness of her breasts, the feeling between her own thighs and the moisture gathering there...

There came a sudden knocking. Both women lingered in the kiss as if they wanted nothing else in the whole world, then reluctantly broke apart.

"What is it?" Sylvanas demanded with more than a little heat.

"My Queen, we have a grave matter that requires your attention." The Deathguard at the door did not even have the grace to be abashed this time, his tone instead infused with urgency.

"What is it?"

"The son of Veryn Dallbright has sent a proclamation to the Undercity. He demands retribution, my lady."

Sylvanas' red eyes widened. "What?"

"He requests a parley with you. He is bringing the defense force of the Bulwark in his cause. They are marching down the main road as we speak."

"Muster the garrison." Sylvanas did not hesitate. "Have the various local commanders report to me at once. This will not stand."

"Yes, my Queen." Distantly, they heard the Deathguard depart.

"I'm sorry, Jaina," Sylvanas said. "We will have to postpone until later. Duty calls."

Jaina only favoured her with a brilliant smile, her face still glimmering with tears. "I understand."

***

Athelion Dallbright rode ahorse down the central road of the Tirisfal Glades at the head of a long column of marching Forsaken.

The young Forsaken rogue was a mix of swirling emotions. Pride at leading an army, anger at the death of his father, and no small measure of guilt and regret. It was sad that it had come to this. Athelion felt no joy in what he was doing, but it was what had to be done.

His father had said as much to him in that still recent night where Athelion had confessed what he had seen, Sylvanas Windrunner and Jaina Proudmoore in their tryst. "I will attempt to rectify this personally. But in case I fail, you must take up the mantle I let fall."

Veryn Dallbright, Lord Seneschal of the Royal Court, had pressed a scroll into his son's hands. "My son, if I should not return..."

Athelion had felt himself tearing up and steeled himself. "You will return, Father. You are too important. Not only to me, but to the Forsaken."

"If I should not return," Veryn repeated steadily. "Give this to Nereus. He will know what it means."

Veryn Dallbright had defended the Bulwark against the Undead for years. The garrison was loyal to him. More to the point, it was also conveniently close to the Undercity.

"This scroll has the power to incite civil war in the Forsaken, my son," Veryn said gravely. "I do not give it to even my own blood lightly."

Veryn had paused. "Sylvanas has been the center of our strength, our Queen and our greatest warrior. I have been proud to serve under her as she has ably defended our realm. The Forsaken have no shortage of foes, even in the Horde."

"I will give my Queen a chance to solve this issue with a minimal amount of conflict; merely the life of one prisoner sorceress. If she is who I gauge, she will recognize our perilous position and allow it. If not..." Veryn had studied his son with a determined stare.

"You cannot allow a bewitched Sylvanas and this feeble human mage to control the Forsaken, by any means at your disposal. That is the solemn, difficult task I place on you, Athelion, should I not return."

"How, Father?" Athelion had asked his sire, a palpable sense of doom permeating into the Lord Seneschal's office.

"I do not know," Veryn had confessed. "Civil war is not ideal. The Forsaken have many foes and our borders are hard beset. It has even forced us to join the vile Horde. But civil war is preferable to being handed to the Alliance, and having all our work undone."

"Don't go, Father," Athelion had said, feebly, childishly. "We need you."

"I must do what I have always done. Serve the Forsaken." Veryn had given his son a final look, fraught with affection, regret, sadness, and resolution.

"As must you."

His father's final words to him rang through Athelion's ears even now. The Lord Seneschal had not survived his audience with the Queen; Athelion could only guess what had happened there.

One thing was certain; the Banshee Queen and her sorceress were still alive. That could not stand. It was the last command of his father, and he would obey.

Athelion Dallbright rode with his army towards his destiny, the fate of the Forsaken hanging in the balance.

***

The day was bleak.

Clouds hung overhead, obscuring the sun behind a dark curtain in the sky. Rain did not fall but the potential was always there.

There was an unsettling feeling about the Tirisfal Glades, a marked change from the peaceful times of the Kingdom of Lordaeron. Danger seemed to be around every corner and numerous unnatural creatures prowled the once verdant grasslands.

Even those threats paled to that which waited before the gates of the Undercity. There, the garrison of the Bulwark, led by the tall figure of Athelion Dallbright, stood in disciplined ranks before the capital of the Forsaken.

Opposite them was arrayed most of the garrison of the Undercity, bar only those needed to secure the other entrances. Sylvanas had commanded as many soldiers as could be found to join her force. The Banshee Queen hoped a show of force might still intimidate the young, largely inexperienced Athelion.

Before the ranks of the Undercity loyalists, mounted on an undead steed that glowed with an unholy brightness, was the Dark Lady of the Forsaken herself. Some commanders might lead from the rear, but Sylvanas Windrunner had never been the type. She knew the Forsaken both needed and followed strength, and had proven it time and again. Without any trace of fear, she stared down the ranks of the rebel force and then fixed her eyes upon Athelion.

The rogue rode forward to meet her, studying her growing figure. He remembered all too well the pale blue of the Banshee Queen's skin, skull-adorned armour clinging to the female form, the daringly exposed midriff and chest. Her breasts remained clad behind dark metal that could not quite hide their size, and her blonde hair snuck out a few fair strands from beneath the Dark Ranger's cowl.

Once, understandably, Athelion had been quite smitten with his Banshee Queen. Of course, those times were well past now.

He stopped a few meters away from Sylvanas and looked into her glowing red eyes without fear.

"Young Athelion," Sylvanas greeted him in her customary echoing tones. "How nice it is you've come for a chat. A pity you brought so many friends. I do so much prefer intimacy."

"Sylvanas."

The way he so casually addressed her was infuriating, but the Banshee Queen chose to ignore it. "Why are you here?"

"You know why." Athelion faced her boldly. "My father entrusted me with making sure the Forsaken remained both strong and independent. We are faced with a threat."

"And who gave him these dire portents, pray tell?" Sylvanas studied him closely. Athelion groped for some falsehood, but the hesitation gave him away. The Banshee Queen nodded, smiling.

"Ah. You've been spying on me, Athelion, haven't you?"

Athelion did not feel it was something he should admit to. "No, Sylvanas..."

"Did you watch me lick Jaina's pussy, Athelion?" the Banshee Queen said quietly, her red eyes keenly watching his reaction. "Did you watch her lick mine? She is very good, as you saw."

Despite himself, Athelion managed to flush at that. Sylvanas laughed. "You are far too easy to read, young rogue. You have no business being here, bringing an army to challenge my might. I assure you, it will not end well. I have faced far greater threats than the feeble likes of you."

"I am here because I must be. I have a responsibility to both my father and as a member of the Forsaken." Athelion felt woefully outmatched, but it would not do to show it.

"You want to talk, Athelion...so talk. If you wanted to attack, I highly doubt you would give me notice. Instead you would have tried something...sneakier." Sylvanas smiled confidently. "You would have been welcome to try, of course."

"I have not come here to assault the Undercity unless I must." Athelion looked at her. "You know how perilous our realm is, better than anyone. We are in the midst of enemies who grow in strength every day. You were even forced into joining the Horde, when you and your subjects despise them."

He paused, studying the Banshee Queen's features in vain for any sort of reaction.

"You know how much a civil war will cost us. It will bleed off our native strength and leave us more vulnerable to our enemies. Already the Bulwark is abandoned. What if the undead attack?"

"Where is this going, Athelion?"

"This." The rogue removed his glove and flung it full into the Banshee Queen's face. Sylvanas was far too swift for that though, the Dark Ranger catching the glove deftly and studying it carefully with her red eyes.

"Single combat, Sylvanas. You and me. I have only one condition. You bring the harlot to watch as I end you, so she can watch as her scheme to control the Forsaken utterly fails."

"Single combat," the Dark Lady mused. "You and me, avoiding all sorts of messy civil war. It sounds almost too good to be true, Athelion."

"You are that confident you can win?" Athelion challenged. "I am no mere weakling, Sylvanas."

The Banshee Queen only smiled at the weak bravado.

"It is true enough that I do not desire battle here. It is for the sake of our people I must accept. You will have to be another casualty of your misguided conscience, just like your father was. He was a noble man, and you are truly his son...but it will not stop you from meeting your doom at my hands."

"You killed him." Athelion's voice was flat, steady.

"He challenged me." Sylvanas met his stare levelly. "I do not accept challenges to my authority. I cannot. You know that."

Athelion stood there in silence, his gaze growing colder by the moment. "I am going to kill you, Sylvanas. Two hours from now, in the main courtyard of the Undercity. Bring the whore."