Work Text:
The current dragged her with such force that using her arms to try to gain control of her direction was futile. Sylvanas shielded herself before being slammed against the reef. Something snapped; she felt one of her leather straps loosen. The water continued to pull her down, but her cloak was pierced and stuck in the sharp coral.
She reached quickly for the knife sheathed on the side of her thigh, cutting the neck of the cloak and the belts of her pauldrons to free herself, hyperaware of the debris coming down with the stream. She kicked the reef behind her, gaining momentum to follow the current. She swam, lunging far and away towards the edge of the flow, where the canal broke off on another path. Deep and without light, she found the entry of an underwater cave.
As she began to emerge, violent coughing caught her attention. It seemed she was not alone in the cavern. The corners of her lips twitched, and a malicious smile drew on them; the opportunity for retribution had come so swiftly it almost tasted sweet on her tongue.
Kneeling on the ground, retching up salty water, was Anduin Llane Wrynn. The boy-King was wheezing for air, completely oblivious to her presence.
“Well, well… What do we have here?” Sylvanas held her knife tight in her fist, walking up to him slowly. It had been his fault; after all, he was the one responsible for this irritating setback.
He looked up, startled, barely recovering his breath. Anduin tried to stand, stumbling from the effort, lacking oxygen and feeling a sharp pain in his side. He had no Shalamayne to wield, and several of his armor plates were missing, so when Sylvanas lunged and pushed him savagely to the stonewall of the cavern, he bit back a cry of pain. Light flickered on his palm as he tried to smite her with it, but she pinned his wrist to the wall, pressing the knife to his throat and the weight of her body on his.
She savored his agitated breath, the trembling of his bottom lip. Oh, how satisfying it was to know that only one of them would leave this cave alive. “Hand me the blade, and I promise you, little lion, death will be quick and painless.” She spoke almost softly, now feeling in control and back on track. He looked at her with confusion, too busy trying to keep a posture that did not inflict him more pain to notice just how intimately close she was standing against him. “I don’t-” He couldn’t even talk; she was pressing the edge to his throat almost hard enough to cut his neck.
“This… Façade of good little priest is getting old.” Sylvanas began to twist his wrist gradually, almost reaching the point of fracture. He really tried to not voice his pain and present himself strong, but a whimper was threatening to escape his lips. “You dragged me with your stupid Light. I saw it fall on the deck of your ship. You have it, I know you took it from me.”
Anduin pursed his lips, eyes glimmering with defiance, or perhaps tears. Under the bioluminescence of the starfishes of the cave, it was hard to tell. Regardless, her patience was waning, so she applied more pressure on his wrist.
“I don’t have it-!” His eyes flickered and shone abruptly with a light that blinded her momentarily. He pushed past her, suffering a cut shallow enough to ignore. Anduin tried to reach the water, but, inevitably, he was tackled to the ground, falling on his back, miraculously missing a hit on his left side, the one that hurt too badly to stand straight.
Fine hands pinned his wrists on each side of his head. Sylvanas caged him to the floor. Her hair was soaked and tumbled free, drops of salty water falling lightly on her bare shoulders and him. He was suddenly struck by the realization that it was the first time he had seen her without the pieces meant to define her presence as intimidating: the cloak that hid her moonlit hair and hid her face under shadows, and the prominent pauldrons to protect her delicate shoulders. For a second, he was stunned.
“What did you do with the blade?!” She was nearly baring her fangs at him, careless to hide just how much he had angered her.
“If you truly saw it fall on my deck, it must be on my ship-”
“Don’t you dare lie to me, boy.”
“You just said!-” He couldn’t continue to talk, because she pressed her knee against the fractured ribs on his left side. This time, he couldn’t hold back a cry, thrashing, trying to lessen the touch. She removed her knee, shifting her weight to sit on his abdomen; a more merciful pressure to his wounds. Anduin was panting for air and pale as snow.
“Test my patience, and you will know just how cruel I can be.” She was looking down on him with those ruby eyes. The only dash of warmth in sight. He tried to calm under her hold, to convey he wouldn’t try to escape again.
“I can’t conceal the blade from you- If it fell on the deck, it must be there, you saw it yourself.” He rushed his words, trying to reason with her. He had prevented her from keeping the blade, yes, but he hadn’t taken it himself.
She remained silent, staring at his insufferably honest eyes. It was true, the moment he dragged her with light, the blade slipped from her hands, and it fell on the deck of his ship. It was the last thing she saw before the sea broke mad and they were tossed from the vessel.
However, as unfortunate as it was, it was hardly a coincidence.
“How lucky, little lion.” She shifted her weight once more, hovering over him as she slid her knife back on its sheath, securing it. “It seems you'll live another day.” Sylvanas stood and looked around, observing her surroundings, eyes narrowing as she noticed the peculiar nature of the starfishes adhered to the walls of the cavern.
She glanced back at Anduin, who still lay on the ground breathing shallowly because of the pain. “We must move. Now.”
If she had to make a guess based on the wildlife around them, it was almost certain this cavern was submerged in water all the time; they were lucky enough to reach it during an unusual low tide. She didn’t want to linger and risk her human bargaining chip to drown.
Anduin sat up, sweating cold, trying not to complain. “I-” He was breathless. “I don’t think I can.”
Sylvanas arched a fine eyebrow, examining his body language carefully, knowing well that he wasn’t that talented at deception. It was obvious he was in a great deal of pain. “Then heal.” She said almost between teeth, losing patience.
“I’m depleted, alright? I got nothing to eat, no way to replenish- I lost my satchel to the sea.” He bit back, holding his side with anger in his eyes.
“How irresponsible of you to pull such a bold move with so little strength left.” Sylvanas scoffed, and he was unsure what she was referring to exactly: the leap of faith or the failed smite. If he hadn’t attempted the latter, he’d have enough energy left to heal his ribs. Now he was trapped in this cave, unable to move or defend himself. He would die and, in other circumstances, she would have chuckled at such an idiotic destiny, but she was in a conundrum herself.
Ships don’t simply fall into an abyss all of a sudden. The sea broke apart, and she saw it with her own eyes before plunging into the water. There was one suspect for such a thing to happen, and ever since the thought crossed her mind, she had been tasting bitterness in her mouth. Azshara.
Was that snake plotting to betray her? They had a deal. The blade of the Black Empire in exchange for the complete annihilation of the Alliance fleet. She thought she could whisk it away to later deny her part? It was no coincidence they fell the moment the blade slipped from her hands.
And now she had no bow, no quiver, and no daggers, only a knife. Her crew could be dead or scattered, and predators lurked around; she could assume nagas were searching for her or it, and she couldn’t discard the possibility of running into the Alliance. After all, they were the main suspects now. The blade had fallen on the deck of an Alliance ship. The dog or the witch had it, possibly.
She could take out Greymane, but Proudmoore- not without her weapons. It would be too risky to attempt it in these circumstances; she ought to have the advantage surrounded by water. Unless she used the boy-king, it was a sure thing they would give up the blade if she handed back the little lion, but that would only be possible if he preserved his miserable life.
“You want to drown? Stand up!” She snapped at him, losing her temper. She hated when her plans depended on others.
“You think I’d be here with you if I could move?!” He snapped back, his voice reverberating against the walls.
“I will not carry you-”
“I never asked!” He clenched his jaw tight, clutching his side. Even breathing made it hurt. “Be my guest and leave!” He glared at her, still trying to ease his pain with weak flickers of light. Drops of sweat ran down his temple from the effort.
Sylvanas closed her hands into tight fits, suppressing the impulse to decimate the young man before her. Instead, she began pacing around. She had little to no knowledge about their surroundings. She didn’t know how far of a distance she’d have to swim to reach the surface on the other side; she didn’t need air to live, but he did. Then there was the matter of predators, even if they were able to swim the distance, there was no guarantee that a sea beast wouldn’t attack- he couldn’t swim on his own, and on top of it, she only had a knife. They could die if they were ambushed.
She was grinding her teeth. There were too many risks, too many things that could go wrong, and so little time to come up with another solution. She stopped in her tracks and groaned with open frustration, starting to remove the plates from her with little care, nearly ripping them off. She tossed them without even looking, nearly hitting Anduin with one. She unlaced her boots and began unbuttoning her pants.
“W-what are you doing?-” Wide-eyed and breathless, Anduin felt his heart race as more skin was exposed.
She kicked away her pants, keeping only the leather bodice she wore under her armor. If she had to go out there and scout underwater, she very much preferred the ability to move properly. She turned and pointed rudely with her finger at Anduin. “Do not even think of leaving this place, I will kill your crew with my bare hands and make myself a rug with your mutt’s pelt!” She stood there, skin glistening from the seawater like moonlit porcelain, with that tight piece hugging her figure like a glove; he had to avert his eyes. His silence would have to serve as an admission because he didn’t dare to talk then.
She dived gracefully, with minimal disturbance to the water, and Anduin exhaled long.
The relief of finding calm waters outside the mouth of the cave was brief because the moment she reached the surface, the landscape around her made her gasp. They were on the seafloor, only… There was no water. The sea had parted, revealing all that lay under it, gargantuan walls of water held up serving as menacing barriers that could, at any time, fall back and crush them. It was a deadly air prison made out of powerful magic.
Azshara had done her dirty. If the treacherous Queen acquired the blade from someone other than her, she could easily claim the bargain was not fulfilled, and judging by this unexpected and reckless move on her part, Sylvanas suspected that was exactly what she planned to do.
Sylvanas’ gaze was fixated on the gigantic wall of water. There was a certain sensation of repression here, almost as if her domain was suppressing all other forms of magic, something she could perhaps take advantage of; it could very well affect her might, too. Trying to fly away as a banshee could backfire.
The body of water she was in was small. It would be possible for Anduin to make it, but- She glanced around the ‘coast’, noticing copious amounts of crazed murlocs carrying makeshift weapons. Fairly inoffensive in small packs, but it seemed she was in the middle of their village; there were dozens upon dozens, with their little huts, their hoarding, and their unreliable tools. They could overwhelm them in a blink, especially considering they were unarmed, but mostly, that the boy-king could not move without help.
The main detriment remained constant: he was too hurt to move and too depleted to heal. And while there was no shift of tide threatening to submerge the cavern entirely under water, there was also no guarantee that Azshara wouldn’t change the conditions around them. They were trapped at her mercy, and for her, the best chance for survival was to find the blade before Azshara could.
So, there was only one thing she could do, as much as she despised it: she had to keep the cub alive as leverage.
He had managed to drag himself to the wall, resting his back on it at last, breathing shallow to not hurt himself. She had left with a threat on her lips, implying she’d return, but what if she didn’t? It was rather conflicting, because he felt relief at the possibility, but in the state that he was in, it would take hours for him to regain enough strength, and by then the tide could drown him. There was a small part of him that hoped she’d actually come back, and when he acknowledged that, he was sure he was beginning to lose good judgment.
She emerged from the water in complete silence, and if she weren’t so captivating, it would have been entirely terrifying. But beauty triumphed over her uncanny ability to move that quietly.
Their eyes met, and the unwilling relief in him made something tighten in her chest. She had never seen anyone look so much like prey; those blue eyes triggered a need inside her that she could only understand as some sort of reactive aggression. Aching for her to squeeze his cheeks tight under her fingers until he cried. She tossed to him the net she was carrying, hurting him in the process.
“What are you-?!” He complained at first, but then he saw the spilled contents of the net. A variety of shellfish: mussels, clams, scallops, and oysters. A delectable feast of fresh mollusks and crustaceans. His eyes grew wide. “Is this… for me?” He asked softly, utterly unable to muster hostility then.
“Eat or die.”
“I-” He pursed his lips, sensing that her answer was somehow guarded. She hadn’t just grabbed the first thing she could find. Everything in the net was pleasant to eat, even raw. And a fragment of him fluttered at the idea of Sylvanas Windrunner taking the time to harvest genuinely enjoyable food for someone living- for him. That she was capable of being considerate- “This is quite alright …Thank you.” It was bittersweet to be grateful. If this came from any other person in the world, this gesture would be quite touching, but there had to be something underneath when it came from her.
She threw the knife to his side, embedding it in the sand, and didn’t spare him a look before turning on her heels and diving back to the water. He sat there, staring at the knife, the only weapon she carried. Its handle was made out of bone, and he could only hope it was not human.
He reached for it, feeling his stomach growl loudly, and began to open the fresh shellfish resting on his lap.
By the time he was finishing, she emerged once more from the water, this time carrying a bag. He avoided looking at her for long, not wanting to repeat the same feeling as before, focusing instead on eating out his last oyster. A mere movement of his tongue, and he was savoring the delicious treat. When he opened his eyes after swallowing, she was standing right there looking at him, unblinking, something dangerous dancing in her eyes. He couldn’t quite understand why, but it sent an electrifying sensation down his spine. He cleared his throat, carefully setting the knife aside. “It must be a dire situation if it's worth feeding me rather than just leaving me here to fend for myself.” He said it with slight levity, but there was a clever intention behind his observation. He had given it some thought; she would not waste a second of her time on something unless it benefited her.
“At least you have no delusions about your current situation.” She approached to take her knife back and wash it in the water, and Anduin had to fix his eyes away on the sand to not look at all there was to look. His heart was starting to race again, and he could see from the corner of his eyes curves, curves, and more curves. It was… hard not to look.
Long ago, he had come to terms with the fact that the Banshee Queen had the most… symmetrical face he had ever seen. She was… pretty. Now he had to deal with the fact that she was more than just pretty; her platinum hair soaked and wild, clinging to her skin, her feminine shoulders, the swell of her brea-
“What are you looking at?”
The bite in her voice nearly made him flinch. He blinked a couple of times before looking away immediately. “Thank you for lending me your knife.” He tried to ignore the hammering on his chest.
“Don't thank me, heal your fractured ribs so we can leave this miserable place.”
It was the first time they talked this much. Things between them had always been antagonistic, and it would likely remain that way; there was no fixing it after everything she had done. And he could admit that, on this occasion, he had acted out of impulse; when he saw her with that blade in her hands, he felt he had to stop her. He was afraid of the consequences of letting her wield a blade connected to the Old Gods. He couldn’t endure inaction once more, so light took over and, with wrath, he dragged her from one ship to another.
For a second, she looked genuinely surprised, and it had been so satisfying, until the sea broke apart and swallowed his ship. Next thing he knew, he couldn’t breathe; he was sinking due to the weight of his plates. He removed what he could, and miraculously, he ended up here. And by some vicious twist of fate, she found him. The question now was: what could compel Sylvanas Windrunner to preserve his life? To go so far as to feed him. Could she be toying with him? Or was it so bad out there that she truly needed him to survive?
He glanced her way, detailing how elegantly she sat on the sand as she cleaned her plates off seaweed. It was so strange seeing her like this. Somehow, he expected her to be more guarded with her skin, but she seemed so careless, so… Free.
“Stop looking at me.”
He swallowed, feeling warmth creeping up his cheeks. “What did you find outside?” He managed to keep a steady voice, pretending to be unaffected by her uncanny perception. Sylvanas stopped cleansing her plates, a futile errand to keep herself busy. She looked back at him over her shoulder, ruby eyes gazing upon him with slight irritation. “It won’t be so easy to return; it wasn’t a mere shift of the tide.” Anduin listened, unwillingly captivated. “We are prisoners of a threat we cannot ignore.” She added softly, the echo of her voice filling the cavern and making him shudder.
“What is it? If we are going to depend on each other-”
A dry chuckle interrupted him. It had been such a cynical sound that he had to hold the need to roll his eyes in annoyance.
“Depend on each other…?” She seemed amused. “I don’t need you to survive this.” She lied. There were plenty of ways for her to die, and it was far too soon to visit the Maw again.
“I am not stupid, Sylvanas. In what world would you take the time to feed me, if it weren't strictly necessary for your needs?” He tried to be civil.
She smirked to herself, pretending to be busy cleaning her pauldron. “I guess you are not that stupid. Indeed, I would leave you to starve if I didn't have use for you.” She didn't dignify him with a look, not for a while, until she dropped her pauldron unceremoniously to the sand and began to crawl towards him on all fours.
The mood shifted radically, from a slightly difficult conversation to a hot tension that took the air from his lungs. This time, there was no chance he could mask just how flustered he was by seeing her approach him in such an animalistic… predatory and… sensual way.
She got too close, and he couldn’t flatten himself further against the wall. She stopped when her hands were resting at each side of his stretched legs. The closeness was choking him; everywhere he looked, it made something pulsate inside him.
“Do not mistake my ability to use you with a need for you.” It was rather obvious she knew the effect she had on him if he had to judge by the way she dragged the words to imply something more than just- “I am a pragmatic, little lion. I make good use of my resources, but I have little patience for incompetence.” She leaned closer, and for a second, he thought she would press her lips to his.
“Heal yourself." She said, the sultry tone gone, she moved away to stand before him, crossing her arms with a harsh look in her eyes. Anduin felt like a fool; his cheeks were burning. It was so easy for her to embarrass him, and it mortified him that he was so weak.
He pressed a palm on his side and poured light. At last, a substantial heal mended his wound, and the immediate relief almost made him groan. But he considered he had been vulnerable enough already, so he simply stood up.
It was… curious. Without her boots, she was no longer his height; there was a slight but noticeable difference now, and it made him perceive her frame as more delicate.
“When you are done leering, remove everything that will be too cumbersome to carry in water-”
“I was not leering.” He said so firmly, as if convinced of what he was saying, and for a moment she just chuckled. But it wasn’t the acidic laughter that she so often used to mock him, it was something more.. Playful and light. She rested her palm on his chest without hesitation, getting a feel of his hammering heart.
“Remove your clothes before I carve your eyes out.” It was a threat, and yet- He felt his face burn and words get stuck on his throat, he couldn’t muster a response, and when she saw just how paralyzed he was by some harmless banter, she smiled maliciously to herself before walking away.
“I'll look away if it troubles you that much, little lion.” She faced away from him.
It was the emphasis on ‘'little’ that lit up a fire inside him. He had never been one to preoccupy himself with sizes, but for some reason it bothered him to an unreasonable extent that she would suggest- or even think such a thing of him.
Breathing deep to calm his anger, he began to take off the plates, similarly to how she had done, with a lack of care for them. He dropped them all to the floor and removed his gambeson. A shirt and trousers were comfortable enough to stay in, removing his boots seemed unwise to him, so he kept them. The soaked fabric clung to him almost like a second skin, but it was far better than being nude or in the state of undress she was in.
She turned on her heels to look, eyes roaming him from head to toe, excruciatingly slow. “Good.”
He refused to have a reaction, quite aware that she was only looking to humiliate him. Sylvanas walked towards the bag she had emerged with the last time she left. She came back to him, dropping it near their feet, only to fetch a ragged piece of cloth. She bit into it and ripped it carefully with her fingers, making a strand out of it. “Here, tie your hair.”
He stared at the piece of cloth in the palm of her hand, speechless. It was like the food thing again. How was it that she was capable of being so thoughtful after being so insufferable? He took it, mumbling a thank you, combing his hair with his fingers to tie it up while she fetched again through the bag.
She took an ‘axe’ that was more like a piece of wood with a dagger piercing one of the ends. She pulled it apart, freeing the dagger and twirling it a couple of times in her hand before handing it to him as she held it by the edge. He finished tying his hair, eyes fixated on the blade. He reached for it, but she snatched it away swiftly.
“I trust you are smart enough not to attempt anything stupid.” She tilted her chin up, looking at him defiantly. “Because if it comes down to it. I will butcher you to pieces, little lion.” She slowly tilted the blade back to offer its handle once more. The edge wasn't very sharp, but damage could still be inflicted with it.
Anduin accepted it, taking it slowly from her hand. “Only a fool would waste a chance for survival.” He said so in all seriousness. He wanted her to understand that he'd make use of her as much as she'd make use of him. He was well aware that they needed each other to survive, at least for now.
If he were lucky enough, they would run into the Alliance first, and the tide would shift in his favor. To be quite frank, even if it was the Horde they found first, he would still consider it better than being completely alone with her, because other leaders, like the Regent Lord and the First Arcanist, were bound to be more reasonable.
“Just outside, there is a village of murlocs. We should kill some to make them flee.” She was running a hand through her hair.
“Don't you think that's a bit excessive? They'll hardly-”
She laid a hand on the wall, cornering him. “I counted up to seventy-three in plain sight. You let them swarm you, they will tear you apart and serve you as dinner.” Anduin went quiet, mustering a serious look on his face with a passionate glint in his eyes. It was obvious he did not agree with her approach. “Let's make one thing clear, cub. You obey me. Understood?”
He arched an eyebrow, tensing his jaw to not answer with the first foul thing that crossed his mind. “Let's move already.” He managed. The sooner he got out, the wider the scope of opportunities to get away from her would be.
Sylvanas walked towards the water and dived into it beautifully. He followed, feeling less graceful but secure that he'd be able to move as necessary now that his ribs were healed. There were other aches, but they were manageable; most of them were the hits he had taken when the current dragged him.
Now, underwater, he was surprised to find that not long after swimming a stretch in relative dark, the way opened to a wider body of water that wasn't too deep; he could see the surface not far, and so he hurried to reach it and breathe.
He was mindful to move slowly and not alert the murlocs when he emerged, keeping himself afloat, assessing the coast, and seeing them go here and there. Then he noticed the terrifying barrier of water and the open sky above them. The realization that they were in the middle of the seafloor made his eyes widen, and just then, a cold palm pressed silently on his lips to keep him from expressing his shock outwardly.
He hadn't noticed the moment Sylvanas had approached him from the back, and now he could feel her body pressed to his. “There will be time to discuss this. Focus your efforts on killing.” She whispered in the shell of his ear, and his heart jumped inside his chest violently. She retrieved her hand and swam past him, fast and quietly, straight to one of the huts. He followed, trying to ignore the gigantic wall of water not too far from them. When he touched sand with his feet, he hurried, following the trail of blood Sylvanas left behind. She was right, these murlocs were considerable in size and many in numbers, but even so, he couldn't be as brutal as her, opting to scare them off, rather than cutting them apart.
He saw her then, covered in their blood and killing them so violently that the creatures started to flee. Sylvanas shifted her form, showing herself as a figure of shadows and wings made of dark tendrils, but she didn't wail; she simply projected an image so terrifying, they dropped their weapons and ran.
She turned corporeal once more, observing her surroundings. Under the sun, dressed only in that bodice, she looked surreal, a vision of forbidden and violent beauty. The thrill of looking at her made him sick, as if two opposing reactions were battling inside him.
She began to walk in his direction with a decisive step. It made him tighten his hold on the dagger, as he felt the imminent danger that was sharing her proximity. The fact that he had ever felt at ease around her was a miracle on its own and, clearly, a mistake. He could not forget who she was or what she had done.
“Make yourself useful and gather provisions.” She walked past him, pushing him with her shoulder as she went to clean herself. He remained still for a moment. She was right, he had to stock up. Look for more food, find tools, and something to carry it all. He had to focus on his survival.
He began to scavenge through the huts and the piles of things the murlocs hoarded. There was a fair amount of gold and other precious things, most of it, however, was trash that looked pretty to their murloc eyes; something that caught the sunlight in a particular way, like a crystal cup or a metal tray.
He found an old, ragged satchel that didn't have any holes, and the belt still worked. He adjusted it on his hips and hung the dagger on its strap. As he continued to search in haste, he grabbed a net to pick up more shellfish. But soon he realized there was a big problem that didn't seem to have a solution: potable water.
He stared at the shellfish, considering whether the hydration from it would be enough to keep him alive. None of the flora here held any drinkable water; there wouldn't be any rivers or lakes that were not salty. Just then, he spotted a sealed bottle; the crystal was too dark to tell what it contained. It could be anything, but it was best to take it than leave it. Sylvanas approached, soaked once more and clean, she was adjusting a satchel of her own, one slightly smaller than his but in better condition. She brushed her hair back and away from her face, eyes lingering on the things he had gathered. She said nothing of it, only prompting him to follow as she squeezed the excess water from her hair.
It was easy to get lost in her. She had a commanding presence. From the moment they met, it was undeniable to him that she was unlike any other. But seeing her here, exposed as she was, with her skin glistening in the sun and her wet locks swaying in the salty wind, he could understand why many adored her, called upon her like a goddess, and wished for her blessing. How could someone so deadly and merciless be so... beautiful?
“They'll come back when they sense we are no longer around.” She glanced back at him briefly. “It's not a bad place to stock up, considering these creatures love to hoard things. Some of it is actually useful.” She moved with a light step and was secure despite how nerve-wracking their surroundings were, it gave him a minimal sense of reassurance.
The perimeter of the open seafloor was frightening; entire reefs were left uncovered, and copious shipwrecks could be spotted. Not too far from the cavern they had fallen into, they found a structure impossible to miss. It was an ancient elven spire, made out of white stone, now covered in seaweed.
Sylvanas hurried her step, standing close to the structure and carefully studying the architecture. She caressed the surface with her palm. “Zin-Azshari.” She murmured to herself.
Anduin's jaw dropped as he caught the name from her lips. The ancient city of Zin-Azshari, the place where the well of eternity once resided. The home of the highborn and origin of all elven kind, now known as Nazjatar, capital city of the Naga. He looked around him, perceiving his surroundings differently. They were in Queen Azshara's domain, which explained why Sylvanas would even consider cooperating with him. They were in grave danger, undeniably.
He walked up to the stone railing, drinking in the sight intensely, well aware that very few would ever get the chance to set their eyes on such a landscape, especially as it was- with the sea breaking open and entire coral forests glimmering under the sun. It was possible that, right now and for a long time, only he and Sylvanas bore witness to this wonder.
He gasped when he spotted black sails in the distance. Sylvanas approached quickly, looking in the same direction. The Banshee's wail, her ship, atop a gigantic reef. It was irreversibly trapped, but whole. There was a good chance part of her crew survived, and if it were the case, she could count on capable hands. Lor'themar, Thalyssra, Oculeth. From where they were standing, the Kul tiran ship Anduin was aboard was not in sight, but it was likely it wouldn't be too far, after all, he had been chasing her tail closely. The blade should be there- the key to a safe escape and the fulfillment of her deal.
“Good job, little lion.”
He turned to see her, taken aback by her praise and the lack of mockery in her words. She looked back at him, and her cherry eyes made it all too real; they were truly in this together. Forced by destiny to help each other and he wasn't so sure he hated it as much as he should.