Falling, rising.
Mar. 5th, 2013 11:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yukieTITLE: Arise, Maiden
FANDOM: World of Warcraft
PEOPLE: Agathe the Val'kyr, her sisters Daschla and Arturia, and their Queen.
PAIRING: Sylvanas/Agathe, sort of.
RATING: G because all Agathe does is heartmark XD
SUMMARY: The aftermath of Godfrey finding out the hard way that Sylvanas is extremely hard to kill (all of the bullets are nowhere near enough), and Agathe being terrified at how fragile her Queen suddenly seems to be...
WARNINGS: Minor spoilers-kinda-sorta for the Silverpine quest shenanigans.
NOTES: From Kyl's Great AU. I'm using more Scandinavian/oldschool-y spellings of the Val'kyr Sibling Trio's names, simply because I can.
First posted on Tumblr; expanded a bit here.
Dedicated to my dearest longcat Kyl. ♥
***
"Take care of Arturia," she said, and was prepared to die. She was happy to give of herself, of her soul, for her Lady. It was their place to give of themselves for their Master—or Mistress—and as the eldest of the three sisters, it was Agathe’s place to give all she had.
Their Lady would not fall. She would not condemn her sisters to a life without purpose or direction, to an existence without sanctuary.
Placing her hands over the still, still heart of the Lady, she closed her eyes and began to pour the very essence of her spirit into her benefactor.
It hurt, at first. She was afraid, at first. But fear as soon replaced by warm serenity. She would go, in the end, to the Great Halls. She would see her Lady and her sisters again someday beneath the great arch of its ceiling.
As she felt herself begin to slip away, cool hands closed over her own. Held. Lifted. She came back to herself suddenly; it was as if she had never begun to fade.
Agathe’s eyes fluttered open and she met the ruby-sunset gaze of the Lady.
Sylvanas Windrunner—Ranger General, Banshee Queen, their shelter and their refuge—spoke in a soft, tired, wry voice.
“Agathe Tyrsdottir. What are you doing? I did not give you leave to end your own existence. I did not take you into my fold only to lose you. You are not to destroy yourself for my sake. Do you understand?”
“You were dying—” Tears welled up in Agathe’s eyes; she turned away, ashamed.
“I am dead already, and it will take much more than one fool with a blunderbuss to destroy me.”
“...I was afraid.”
“Afraid to lose me?”
“…Yes. Afraid to lose you. Afraid to lose our home.”
Sylvanas sat up, one hand to her head. Agathe winced; that must hurt terribly, even if the wound was healed.
“Even if my body should be destroyed, Agathe, my spirit will persist. That is what it means to be a Banshee, after all. You needn’t fear—and you certainly needn’t annihilate yourself. Indeed, I forbid you to do so from this point on. Do I make myself clear?”
“…Yes, my Lady.” Agathe bowed her head and closed her eyes.
“Agathe,” said the Lady, “look at me.”
Agathe did. Sylvanas held out her arms.
“Agathe, come here.”
Agathe did. Of course, Arturia piled onto them both after like an excitable puppy, and Daschla moved to keep them all from toppling over and flattening the poor Queen under them.
“You are not to die for me,” Sylvanas said. “The three of you are to live for me.”
FANDOM: World of Warcraft
PEOPLE: Agathe the Val'kyr, her sisters Daschla and Arturia, and their Queen.
PAIRING: Sylvanas/Agathe, sort of.
RATING: G because all Agathe does is heartmark XD
SUMMARY: The aftermath of Godfrey finding out the hard way that Sylvanas is extremely hard to kill (all of the bullets are nowhere near enough), and Agathe being terrified at how fragile her Queen suddenly seems to be...
WARNINGS: Minor spoilers-kinda-sorta for the Silverpine quest shenanigans.
NOTES: From Kyl's Great AU. I'm using more Scandinavian/oldschool-y spellings of the Val'kyr Sibling Trio's names, simply because I can.
First posted on Tumblr; expanded a bit here.
Dedicated to my dearest longcat Kyl. ♥
***
"Take care of Arturia," she said, and was prepared to die. She was happy to give of herself, of her soul, for her Lady. It was their place to give of themselves for their Master—or Mistress—and as the eldest of the three sisters, it was Agathe’s place to give all she had.
Their Lady would not fall. She would not condemn her sisters to a life without purpose or direction, to an existence without sanctuary.
Placing her hands over the still, still heart of the Lady, she closed her eyes and began to pour the very essence of her spirit into her benefactor.
It hurt, at first. She was afraid, at first. But fear as soon replaced by warm serenity. She would go, in the end, to the Great Halls. She would see her Lady and her sisters again someday beneath the great arch of its ceiling.
As she felt herself begin to slip away, cool hands closed over her own. Held. Lifted. She came back to herself suddenly; it was as if she had never begun to fade.
Agathe’s eyes fluttered open and she met the ruby-sunset gaze of the Lady.
Sylvanas Windrunner—Ranger General, Banshee Queen, their shelter and their refuge—spoke in a soft, tired, wry voice.
“Agathe Tyrsdottir. What are you doing? I did not give you leave to end your own existence. I did not take you into my fold only to lose you. You are not to destroy yourself for my sake. Do you understand?”
“You were dying—” Tears welled up in Agathe’s eyes; she turned away, ashamed.
“I am dead already, and it will take much more than one fool with a blunderbuss to destroy me.”
“...I was afraid.”
“Afraid to lose me?”
“…Yes. Afraid to lose you. Afraid to lose our home.”
Sylvanas sat up, one hand to her head. Agathe winced; that must hurt terribly, even if the wound was healed.
“Even if my body should be destroyed, Agathe, my spirit will persist. That is what it means to be a Banshee, after all. You needn’t fear—and you certainly needn’t annihilate yourself. Indeed, I forbid you to do so from this point on. Do I make myself clear?”
“…Yes, my Lady.” Agathe bowed her head and closed her eyes.
“Agathe,” said the Lady, “look at me.”
Agathe did. Sylvanas held out her arms.
“Agathe, come here.”
Agathe did. Of course, Arturia piled onto them both after like an excitable puppy, and Daschla moved to keep them all from toppling over and flattening the poor Queen under them.
“You are not to die for me,” Sylvanas said. “The three of you are to live for me.”