Lady and King

Will try to update once a week (every Friday). We're almost to the home stretch guys, thanks for toughing it out with me as I beat this thing into something that made sense.

XXX

Old Town
Stormwind
Alliance Territory

Another fine day to be a rogue, Tony Romano thought cheerfully as he made his way through Old Town’s morning bustle, easily weaving in and out of the crowd to reach SI:7’s headquarters.

“A good morning to you, Harry.”

“Morning Tony,” the guard raised his spear in reply. Whistling, Tony hooked a left at the courtyard, past the training dummies where an ambitious rogue-in-training was practicing her rotation and looking a bit frustrated about it.

“Time your attacks properly and don’t rush,” he called out. “Patience is key.”

She looked up and smiled, bowing. Tony watched her take a few deep breaths before trying again, this time making sure not to rush her movements. Tony nodded his approval and ducked into the building.

“Good morning, my lady Sloan,” Tony greeted as soon as he entered. “You’re looking especially lovely this day.”

“Save it, Tony, the boss wants to see you.” The poison seller threw him a small pouch. “Your latest order.”

“Feels a little light.”

She smirked. “You’re not my only customer.”

“Ah, but I’m your favorite customer,” he said, grinning.

“Lord Romano. You ready to see Shaw or you want to keep flapping your gums?” That squeaking sarcastic voice was unmistakable. Tony turned to grin at the goblin he liked to call ‘The Terrible Terror’ in his head.

“Renzik, still as—“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, quit your blabberin’,” the goblin snapped. “You’re makin’ Shaw wait.”

With a wink at Sloan Tony followed the goblin up the stairs where Shaw sat at his usual table, a set of knives in front of him.

“Sir.”

Mathias Shaw didn’t look up from the blade he was cleaning. “New orders, Tony. We’re to drop the investigation on Daffodil.”

Well, that was unexpected. “Officially?”

“And unofficially.”

“Is that wise?”

Shaw flipped the dagger in his hand, testing its balance. “You know as well as I do: we never—“

“—question orders,” Tony finished, running a hand through his hair. “Right. But sir… he’s only known her for two days.”

“He’s in his right mind.”

“Despite evidence to the contrary? I saw how he was with her last night. And I heard about the new orders against the Defias this morning. We both know the Defias is not behind the attacks.”

Shaw leaned back on his chair and regarded Tony with a steady eye. “Pull back your men. The Daffodil case is closed.”

Slowly Tony nodded. “Understood.”

Shaw got up and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You should have more faith in our sovereign, Romano,” he said with a genial smile.

Tony blinked, then returned Shaw’s smile. “You’re right, of course.”

“Is that her?” the goblin squeaked.

The two men turned to Renzik standing by the window. They joined him to look at the training grounds below where a woman in a lovely yellow dress was accompanied by two royal guards and one very familiar youth. Silently, the three rogues watched as the King’s son gestured energetically to her, mouth moving constantly. She nodded, listening to him intently, and then looked up straight at them, her face lit by the sun.

Right mind or not, Tony thought to himself, Varian Wrynn definitely has good taste.

Renzik grunted. “Not bad for a human, I guess.”

Tony and Shaw said nothing; eventually the Lady Emma turned away and followed the crown prince out the grounds and into the streets beyond.

XXX

The Trade District
Stormwind
Alliance Territory

Sylvanas walked into the busy marketplace and tried not to let the boisterous humanity of it all give her a headache. There were adventurers and civilians belonging to all Alliance races around her, laughing, yelling and rough housing. She grimaced in distaste as one drunken dwarf wearing nothing but his dirty underpants ran past, chased by an equally drunk and unclothed gnome.

“Can’t catch me, you—hic!—stupid gnome!”

“I can shee your pockmarked assh ahahahahahaha!”

“My lady, perhaps it’s time to return to the keep,” one of the guards assigned to them suggested anxiously.

“Let’s visit the Auction House,” Andy said happily, leading the way through the crowd and making their security escort nervous.

“Your Highness—“ the guard began but Andy had already darted forward, almost getting run over by a Death Knight on his steed.

“Whoa there!” the heavily armored Knight snapped angrily, calming his skittish horse. “Watch where you’re going you—“

Sylvanas moved quickly and put her arm through Andy’s, smiling at the Knight. He stopped and stared, eyes glued on her cleavage as she guided Andy around him.

“Do you have anything you wish to purchase?” she asked as behind her the guards prodded the Knight on his way.

“A chopper,” he answered promptly, watching as one such vehicle roared around the corner.

Sylvanas quirked a brow. “Anything in the realm of possibility, I mean.”

“My riding instructor said that I’m almost ready to handle faster mounts, it’s not completely impossible!” Andy laughed and the two of them entered the crowded Auction House together.

While Andy was busy admiring the choppers up for auction, Sylvanas perused the epic weapons and armor available, checking the prices to gauge the health of the economy. She noted that as with the Horde, the Alliance suffered from the same slump now that Icecrown Citadel was conquered and relative peace had again descended upon Azeroth: an imbalance between supply and demand as the general population focused on hoarding wealth instead of spending it. However, she was gratified to note that there were not as many Citadel exclusive items for sale here as there were in Horde Auction Houses.

Just as she was to turn away, her eyes landed on a new auction: the Hurricane, a mid-level epic bow with excellent speed and damage output as well as a charming special attack procedure.

As she considered the smooth arc of the bow’s limbs, Sylvanas was reminded of a tradition she had when she had been the Ranger-General of Silvermoon of giving exceptional students well-made weapons to assist in their training. The last person to be favored so was the Alliance Ranger Lord Nathanos… long ago when they were both still among the living.

Quickly she caught the eye of an auctioneer and shortly thereafter was the owner of a new bow.

“Thirteen thousand gold pieces,” Andy groaned as he rejoined her. “I think I would have to sell my liver to be able to afford one.”

“Why don’t you ask your father for it?” Sylvanas asked.

“I would never; the treasury’s gold is for the people,” Andy said.

Sylvanas nodded absently, distracted. What weak senses she had in this body alerted her to a change in the air. She put her arm around her student’s shoulders. “Get down,” Sylvanas snapped just as the auctioneer who sold her the bow screamed and fell to the ground, blood quickly spreading on his back.

“What—“ Andy gasped.

“It’s the Horde!” someone yelled. The Undead rogue that killed the auctioneer cackled joyously as more of her comrades revealed themselves. Pandemonium exploded in the room. “God damn Horde bastards! Die, scum!”

Sylvanas led a protesting Andy out of the building, smirking as she tripped a guard running in to help and causing a small pile of sprawled adventurers at the entryway. She paused at the mailbox and quickly retrieved the Hurricane.

“We have to help them!” Andy said, trying to break from her grip. “Oh, that’s a nice bow.”

“Thank you. And you are hardly equipped to deal with a raid,” Sylvanas said as she shouldered her way through the fighting throng. The battle had spread to the streets. “Your first responsibility is to keep safe, you know this.”

“But—“

“Do not mistake recklessness for bravery. Part of being a good fighter is knowing how to choose your battles,” Sylvanas said as an Orc barreled his way to them, clumsily swinging a battleaxe. Using the bow as an improvised stave, Sylvanas swiped the attacker’s feet from under him and knocked his teeth out as he went down. “This is not your battle.”

“Whoa…” Andy said, staring at the unconscious Orc almost three times Sylvanas’ size.

“Let’s go.”

They were able to escape to the canals by hugging the perimeter of the area. Sylvanas held Andy’s hand firmly as she ran to the keep.

XXX

Stormwind Castle
Stormwind
Alliance Territory

The sight of the dead guards at the entrance confirmed it: the attack in the Trade District was a diversion; the raid’s real target was—

“Father!” Andy yelled, voice breaking.

“Your Highness! Lady Emma!” Gestus said as he joined them, his blade bloodied. “Thank the Light you’re both safe. Come with me, the King wants you secure—“

“No! I must help,” Andy argued heatedly, yanking his hand from Sylvanas’ grasp. “I must,” he implored her, eyes wide and earnest.

Sylvanas considered him. “You cannot fight,” she said, voice flat and brooking no argument. Andy’s shoulders slumped. “What else can you do?”

“I can… I can heal,” he said, nervous but solemn.

Sylvanas turned to Gestus. “Take the Prince to the infirmary.”

“Lady Emma—“

“He will be as safe there as anywhere else in the castle,” she said. “Do it.” She handed Andy the Hurricane. “Only to defend yourself.” Andy nodded, wide eyed.

“I will send someone to protect you,” the captain said.

“Do not waste your resources on me,” Sylvanas said. “Your priority is your liege lord and the crown prince.”

Gestus regarded her for a moment before bowing and taking Andy away. As soon as they were out of sight Sylvanas ducked into the residential wing, moving away from the sounds of battle in the throne room and making her way to Wrynn’s private offices. As she expected, there were no guards to see or stop her; every able body was at this moment helping their king fight off the Horde attack.

She went to Wrynn’s desk, quickly scanning through the documents there.

There was an analysis on the viability of expansion in the Sholazar Basin for resources, an invitation to the Kirin Tor’s leader to visit the castle—useless diplomatic nonsense, she thought—and… here Sylvanas paused: several well-read reports regarding unusual weather patterns disturbing Alliance territories and nautical routes. Why would such a mundane topic interest you so, Wrynn?

Moving on, she saw the false order to crush the Defias threat and then, hidden in a secret compartment, notes written in Wrynn’s hand on the true orders of the squadron sent to Westfall: they are to provide assistance to the militia and general relief and aid to the farmers and settlers cautiously returning to the land.

Her ears pricked as she heard footsteps coming closer. Making a decision quickly, Sylvanas took the Westfall notes, re-sealed the compartment, and hid her body and presence in the adjoining stateroom, keeping the door ajar just enough to have a clear view of the desk.

Bishop Belvedere entered room. As Sylvanas did just minutes ago, he went to Wrynn’s desk and conducted a thorough search, quietly laughing over the Defias papers and—Sylvanas observed with interest—also paying particular attention to the weather reports.

Suddenly the sound of distant cheers reached them; it would seem that the Horde attack had been defeated. It certainly took them long enough. Belvedere rushed out of the rooms.

Sylvanas waited a moment more before emerging. She returned Wrynn’s notes to their hiding place.

“Find the last of the damned cowards!” a guard yelled from the hallway.

“I saw two of them come down this way!”

Making sure no one saw her, Sylvanas went out the balcony and lightly jumped down, landing in a familiar training courtyard. She brushed off her skirts and made her way to Wrynn’s chambers, the idea of a soak in his decadent bath sounding perfectly amenable. The human body had a disgusting tendency to sweat when forced to exert itself.

She loosened her dress and considered Emma Grey’s reflection in a mirror. Sylvanas smiled.

Just as she stepped out of her dress to stand in the sheer silk shift she wore underneath, the doors burst open to reveal two panting and disheveled Blood Elf women. Before the next breath the dark haired rogue had her dagger against Sylvanas’ neck. Judging by their armor and weapons, they were seasoned fighters. It would be unthinkable for a mere human—even one with mixed blood—to be able to defeat them.

“Move or yell, Human, and I will slit your throat where you stand,” she said in accented Common. She turned to the other Elf and hissed, “This is all your fault!”

“I said I’m sorry!” the red headed priest said glumly, spelling gently glowing shields around her and her companion.

“Sorry isn’t going to make our probable deaths any less painful,” the rogue snapped. “Who in the name of the Sunwell joins a raid without an active hearthstone?”

“But I forgot my favorite staff…”

“I don’t even know why you’re my friend. I really, really don’t.”

“You could leave me,” the priest said. “I’m sure your hearthstone is fine.”

“I don’t trust you enough not to get killed in the twenty minutes you need to wait for your stone to become available.”

Sylvanas rolled her eyes. This is what the Blood Elves have come to? How utterly disheartening, she thought. They should have killed her on sight. “I’m afraid, ladies, that this is not the wisest room to hide in.”

“I said be quiet.“

Just then the door opened and the King of Stormwind entered, gore spattered and his two swords still dripping fresh Horde blood. For a long, awkward moment there was complete and utter silence in the room. Sylvanas swallowed down her amusement at the expressions on the Elves’ faces. Wrynn himself betrayed nothing save for the surprised tightening of his mouth.

“Hello Your Majesty,” Sylvanas said, feeling the prick of the rogue’s dagger on her skin with every breath. “How was your day?”

“It could have been better,” he replied, low. He shut the door behind him.

The priest gripped her staff tightly and inched closer to her friend. The rogue pressed her blade more firmly upon Sylvanas’ neck, forcing her to tilt her head up. “Move and she dies,” she said, voice shaking.

Sylvanas met Wrynn’s eyes and wondered what the man would do. Would he bargain with members of the detested Horde to somehow save her? Or would he behave true to type and attack, thereby forfeiting his lover’s life?

Quite the interesting conundrum you have here, my dear King, Sylvanas thought delightedly.

She was, of course, ready to drop her possession as soon as it became necessary to do so should Wrynn decide to attack as she expected him to. With the information she gathered today, she was well satisfied with her investment in this pretense. It had already gone on for too long. Aside from losing all the excellent sex, she would have no qualms about ending it now.

But if he instead chose to negotiate, to betray and contradict everything that he stood for, all for the life of a woman he barely knew… well then Sylvanas should begin making plans to take over the throne herself.

What will you do, I wonder.

Wrynn stared at her face for a full minute, the silence stretching as his hands flexed on his swords. The dagger broke skin as the rogue warily stepped back and Sylvanas felt blood trickle down her throat.

Then Wrynn… put his swords aside. Sylvanas’ eyes widened in shock—and quickly narrowed in confusion as he shrugged off his cape and pauldrons.

The two Elves shared a baffled look. “Are—are you surrendering?” the rogue asked, stunned.

Wrynn took off his gloves and unbuckled his belt. “I,” he said, “am taking a bath. Do whatever you like.”

Sylvanas blinked. What?

“What?” the priest and rogue exclaimed together. “Wait, but—you can’t do that!” the priest gasped, affronted.

“I am the King of Stormwind,” Wrynn told her, quirking an amused brow. “You’ll find that I can.” By now he was bare-chested and down to his greaves. The priest’s cheeks flushed the same color as her hair.

“What about your woman?” the rogue demanded. Wrynn didn’t answer and instead stepped out of sight. A moment later there was the sound of armor falling to the floor followed by a low groan as he presumably entered the hot water.

The three of them stared at the open door he disappeared through. While Sylvanas couldn’t speak for the other two, she knew where her mind was… though from the way she could sense the two Elves’ blood start to grow hot she supposed they were all thinking the same thing.

None could say that Varian Wrynn was not virility personified.

“What could he…?” the rogue wondered, alarmed. “Is he trying to trick us?”

The priest worried her lip. “I think it’s… interesting. I never knew he was so, so…” she trailed off, her eyes growing soft and distracted.

The rogue’s hand slackened, the dagger drooping as she shook herself and gaped at her friend, appalled. “You cannot be serious, Lyral.”

“What? I find power attractive!” the priest whispered defensively. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I can smell you from here.”

“Gods have you no delicacy whatsoever?” the rogue recoiled, blushing furiously. “Pull yourself together. This is the leader of the Alliance we are talking about, not some pretty soldier we can fuck without a thought. Do you not remember the part where we joined a group that tried to kill him just a short while ago?”

Tired of their bickering and feeling slightly dizzy—surely as a result of the poison that managed to enter her blood from the dagger—Sylvanas calmly grasped the rogue’s wrist and pushed it away. “I think I will take a bath myself,” she said.

Neither stopped her as she left, and their gaze on her was a palpable thing.

Faintly: “She’s quite lovely too, isn’t she—ouch, Drienne that hurt!”

She found Wrynn sitting at the far end of the pool, eyes closed and leaning back, arms draped easily along the curved marble edge: the picture of a king in repose. Sylvanas stripped the blood-stained shift over her head and entered the steaming water. It was tinted a hazy blue green from medicinal bath salts and oil and felt wonderful on her skin. She dunked her head and glided to his side, ignoring the sting from the cut on her neck.

He cracked open one eye, mouth tilting up minutely. “Hello, angel. How was your day?”

Sylvanas smiled. She could not remember the last time anyone had amused and surprised her so thoroughly with such boldfaced gall. She kissed his bicep where she could see a slight discoloration of a recently healed injury. “It’s been particularly… productive.”

“Oh? Do tell.” Wrynn put a gentle finger to her wound, then his lips. Sylvanas sighed and arched her spine, letting his hands and mouth wander as they will.

“I paid the city a visit,” Sylvanas purred.

Wrynn ran a large callused palm down her side. “Mm, yes,” he said, guiding her to straddle his lap, “my son showed me your gift when I stopped by to assess the wounded.” He touched her chin. “Thank you. That was very kind.”

Sylvanas drew back, insulted. “Diligence in training should be rewarded, and development of skill encouraged. It was nothing more than that.”

“Of course,” he agreed, very seriously. Sylvanas frowned and nipped his jaw.

Like a spark to tinder that sharp little bite seemed to ignite him. A tremor went through Wrynn’s body and his hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise.

Yes. Finally.

Blood. Battle. Death. Magic: the smell of burnt aether. The screams of the wounded and dying. All these invisible, permanent scars that she could taste on his skin, in his mouth.

Does your soul shiver, as mine does, when your blade pierces their flesh?

Sylvanas gasped as he, without warning or grace, speared her on his cock. His lust was like a fire, burning her from within. Fucking her like an animal, his thrusts rough and hard, caring nothing for her own pleasure. She let him use her body as he wanted, tightening her cunt around him, raking her nails along his shoulders and back—spurring him on.

Will this body be enough to satisfy you, King?

Sylvanas laughed, hiccupping through a climax that he ignored, his eyes black and sex-blind. She threw her head back at a particularly brutal thrust and from the corner of her eye saw the two Blood Elf women standing at the doorway, staring slack jawed and lust flushed.

Sylvanas ran her tongue over her lips, and smiled.


XXX



Notes: I apologize. I can't believe I faded to black... I kept wanting to put in the pr0nz, but it just wouldn't happen (again). Sorry. Also, don't worry about the ffnet version being different from this one... I'll just try not to be a lazy ass and update both equally.

Elspeth: Thanks for the R&R, appreciate it. And don't worry, I'm gonna finish this for sure. Even if it kills me. Though it shouldn't....

wanderingaddict: As always, love your review. I would really, really like to discuss some of the stuff you brought up... but I can't just yet. Ahahahah. Sorry. But yeah, I was wondering if anyone picked up on the little stuff I drop here and there... glad to see you do! Note that I gave hints to the things I revealed in this chapter way back in chapter one (remember the storms? the spies you already mentioned, too.). Heh. Oh and on Wrynn being a douchetard. Yeah, he totally is. That actually was one of the main reasons why I started writing this fanfic.

Torm: Thanks man. Honored to be the recipient of your first review. And don't worry, I got a few 'no offense' remarks before... frankly it's flattering. It's always fun to surprise people.

Fawnheart: LOL glad you like the chapter titles. And, uh, to tell you the truth I'm not really all that witty or anything. I'm always deleting and stuff (in fact, I've lost count of how many times I hit backspace writing this response to your review). I think I'm good on inspiration now, actually. I don't expect to run into any more walls again... I think.