I do not own World of Warcraft or any of its characters. Though I do own the idea of my character Selareosona. I am only going to declaimers on this chapter but I mean for it count throughout this series. Also, Im going to make Sylvanas' time under Arthas about 3 years, so that Sela had some time to grow. Please Review, and I will answer any reviews I get. Though I will continue the series anyway ^^
Panting as she sprinted through the gothic woodland, the banshee lost herself to deep, raging thoughts on the events that had just occurred this somewhat disappointing night. Arthas, the disgusting man who had taken everything from her in life, and severed her very soul from her body, thus commanding her in death, had escaped her long planned revenge like the filthy coward he was. Gods' know where he is. But, even as the satisfying thoughts Sylvanas had about the blood of Arthas finally being drained from his body, along with his screams of beautiful agony, she felt that she had over-looked something. Her few years as a banshee had made most living memories rather hazy to her. Though she wished to keep up her pursuit, her newly found legs screamed their protest. Her loyal sisters, glided around her like moths to a light, as they sensed their leader's pain.
"Let us rest here, sisters."
Sighing as she paused, letting the relief of stopping overcome her body, her hand acted on its own, and moved into a faintly recognizable gesture to any woman. To Sylvanas, it was if the world had just jolted her into another place. The memories of what the gesture stood for to her alone over whelmed the high borne, buckling her legs from the agony she now felt. For once in her life, Sylvanas Windrunner, 2nd eldest daughter to the high borne elven family of the Windrunners, the former Ranger-General of Que'Thals, did not care who saw her or what image she had to uphold. She screamed and wept her agony from the memories she could not stop. Ones that had been lost when her soul was severed. She remembered meeting the Prince, and how dazzling he was. She remembers her heated face as he bowed to her and asked to dance with her at the Royal Ball. She remembered their secret meeting places. She remembered the first time they proclaimed their love. She remembered the night she spent alongside him. She remembered the morning that the sickness came. More tears spilled from her crimson eyes, hazing her vision. Her banshee scream tore into the night repeatedly. Swearing to the gods how she damned them, to Arthas, the man she would murder herself, and to the Prince, who had left before she could tell him. Feeling their sister's distress, Sylvanas' fellow banshee let their cries of shared agony overflow the air. Sylavanas sang her battle cry of vengeance long into the dead night, her choirs never pausing, and promised vengeance for her people, her lover, her death, her blood. For the child she so desperately longed for.
As if something pulled her to look out into it's mystifying beauty, a young high borne elf turned her small head to gaze up at the beautiful starry, northern sky, just beyond her window. Her Aunt Veerseea told her the sky held the ability to cam our minds, and sometimes, it will lead a person to what they truly desire. Selareosona gazed out into the night sky with her luminous ice blue eyes, that made her look very wise and serious for her age. She searched the sky as if she believed the woman her aunt and uncle often spoke of when they believed their young niece was asleep, would appear. The elven woman they called Sylavanas. It was rather strange to the young girl, as her aunt and uncle would always seem to mention Selareosona with this Sylavanas, and someone they referred to as the "Prince". Toying with her almost white, blonde hair, Selareosona Windrunner drifted into one of her many uneasy dreams, which only once she reached the dream would she meet Sylvanas and go on adventures with this wondrous and clever woman. This woman named Sylvanas who she so desperately longed to meet.