In the end, it’s a small party that enters the Vault of Eyir, mostly by necessity. According to Sylvanas, there needs to be a proper… balance to these things. Harry alone could have entered at any time because he proved himself worthy. More than that, by dominating Ashildir as he had, he could force the Queen of the Valkyra to provide him access whenever he liked.
 
Sylvanas could enter with him… but if they wanted to bring along Ashildir as well, they needed to bring along Lorna Crowley. That was the main reason Sylvanas gave for not just offing the Alliance Spy. Not that Harry would have allowed her to in the first place. Even if the Banshee Queen was quite certain Lorna would have reported to her superior and possibly brought Genn Greymane himself to their doorstep if not for her capture, Harry wasn’t about to let her just off the girl.
 
Of course…
 
“You don’t have to worry about me killing her, Harry. She’d make a poor excuse for a reward for you, once we’re done here.”
 
The Banshee Queen had other intentions, it seemed. Intentions that had stunned Lorna Crowley into silence as they’d made their way into the Vault of Eyir with her being towed along by a subservient and completely broken Ashildir. The Valkyra Queen had no issues with policing her human prisoner for Harry. In fact, she was almost desperate to serve, eager to submit, and altogether jonesing for another shot at his dick from the look of things.
 
The Vault of Eyir itself seems dimly lit, as they probe ever deeper in. Harry keeps expecting to turn a corner and find Eyir standing in front of them. But before that can happen, they hear her rather than see her. Her voice, echoing through the chamber.
 
“Master of Death. You have been betrayed.”
 
That brings their little party of four up short, everyone freezing in place for a moment. But none are more surprised than Harry himself. ‘Master of Death’. It was his title, a title that he’d long since accepted, even before arriving on Azeroth. And yet, it was a title he had only heard spoken out loud once before, from his own lips. He had named himself Master of Death to the Dragon Queen Alexstrasza, the Lifebinder.
 
He had spat the title as if it was a ward against her immense stamina, had used it as a protection against her indomitable will. He had survived her thanks to his status, had basked in it. Perhaps in doing so, in further embracing himself… he had made it possible for others to identify him by it? Either that or the Dragons were in direct communications with the Watchers, and Alexstrasza had passed on information about him to Odyn, which had in turn made its way to Eyir.
 
Truth be told, it didn’t really matter all that much, did it? No, far more important was the latter half of what the Val’kyr had said. ‘You have been betrayed’.
 
“… I know not who she speaks to but ignore her words. She seeks to divide us. Valkyra Queen! Summon her to this place as your Master wills!”
 
Sylvanas’ words split the deadly silence that had fallen over their quartet when Eyir had spoken. Ashildir does not obey however, because Sylvanas is not her Master… Harry is. And the Queen of the Valkyra will not accept a substitute for his authority, especially not when her submission to him is so damn fresh. She looks to Harry questioningly, silently asking if it is indeed his will.
 
For a moment, Harry hesitates. Jaina’s face flashes through his mind. He… he’s been going along with Sylvanas solely on faith, up to this point. Truth be told, he just doesn’t want to lose another of his closer lovers. He… he’s already decided he’ll help her, right? He can’t back down now. Giving Ashildir a simple nod, he says the word.
 
“Do it.”
 
“No! Resist, Valkyra Queen, Res-ack!”
 
Unfortunately for Eyir, Ashildir no longer looks to her for guidance. The reconstituted Valkyra Queen, no longer a spirit thanks to Harry’s powers, reaches out and with a blast of bright light, summons Eyir before her. Tis her right, and it would seem the leader of the Valarjar Val’kyr cannot deny her.
 
Of course, that doesn’t mean Eyir has to stick around once summoned. But that, apparently, is where Sylvanas comes in. As the massive titanic watcher is summoned before them, her golden body easily ten times their size, the Banshee Queen steps forward and pulls the artifact she earned from Helya off of her belt.
 
“Submit Eyir! Submit before the power of the Soulcage!”
 
The magical lantern that Sylvanas holds aloft glows with ephemeral blue light, and Eyir’s back goes ramrod straight as her arms are yanked behind her, powerful bindings of bright blue souls wrapping up her torso and restraining her.
 
“Curse you, Banshee Queen! You know not what you meddle with!”
 
Smirking evilly, Sylvanas takes another step forward, and the glow from the Soulcage increases.
 
“I know exactly what I’m doing. And I’m sick and tired of creatures like you getting in my way. You will submit. You will surrender to me. BOW BEFORE YOUR QUEEN!”
 
He’d thought that seeing Sylvanas achieve whatever her nebulous goals were would calm the disquiet growing in his heart, but as Harry watches her with the titanic watcher, he can’t deny… something continues to feel off to him. Something twinges at his senses, as if he’s making a mistake here. Perhaps its because he STILL doesn’t know what Sylvanas actually wants with Eyir.
 
Only… he can guess, can’t he? Harry is well aware of what the Banshee Queen has suffered, as well as some of the things she’s done. He’s also aware of the Val’kyr she’d used to keep herself alive after the defeat of Arthas. He’d been filled in on all of that background information and had a well-founded suspicion that Sylvanas… deeply feared death.
 
But she didn’t have to worry about that anymore, right? She had him now. It was fine. She didn’t need to keep pushing the boundaries, didn’t need to keep driving towards the edge of the cliff. She wouldn’t. Right?
 
Harry’s lips thin out, as Sylvanas demands Eyir’s submission yet again, but Eyir once more denies her. He’s about to step forward, about to speak up… when Sylvanas glances over at him, and a familiar glint appears in the Banshee Queen’s eyes, right alongside a familiar wicked grin.
 
“If you will not submit to me… then perhaps you will submit to him.”
 
Tightening her grip on the Soulcage, Sylvanas begins working her will upon the ancient artifact. The magical lantern grows brighter, and Eyir cries out as she’s pulled up into the air. At first it just looks like she’s being lifted up, levitated and suspended in midair… but then Harry realizes what’s actually happening. She’s being shrunk down, forced into a smaller and smaller form until she’s about the size that Helya’s own titanic form was when he’d fucked HER into submission.
 
The glowing golden Val’kyr is forced to her knees before Harry, pushed forward until her ass is in the air and her face is level with his crotch. His crotch which, Harry has to admit, twitches at the sight of the powerful titanic watcher, reduced to such a state. This was Helya’s replacement. This was the being that Odyn put in charge, after completely ruining his adoptive daughter for merely having the gall to talk back to him and speak up against him.
 
“Weaken her for me, Harry. Use that big fat cock of yours and break this bitch like so many before her.”
 
Harry has to admit, seeing her in such a submissive state, even if its forced… it feels appropriate. His cock grows hard in no time at all, and he frees it from its confines, letting it flop down over her armored head as she gasps and pants breathlessly. The hot air of her breath ghosts across the underside of his shaft as well as his balls, making him grow to full mast all the faster.
 
With the Soulcage, Sylvanas pulls Eyir up into the air, lifting her bound form off of the ground and spinning her around. Harry grunts, when the Banshee Queen deposits the golden leader of the Valarjar Val’kyr into his arms. Still, he manages the weight well enough, holding Eyir aloft, his cock coming up to smack against her covered cunt. A covering that is barely anything, a covering that Sylvanas steps forward and tears away almost contemptuously.
 
“N-No…”
 
Eyir’s stammered protest is all but ignored, as Sylvanas takes hold of Harry’s cock with her free hand and plies the head of his member against the Val’kyr’s slit. Angling him upwards, she pushes him up into the bound titanic watcher, and in turn, Harry lets Eyir drop a few inches down onto his bitch breaking member. Even Eyir is not immune to the pleasures of the flesh, it would seem. Though perhaps that’s a combination of the Soulcage and his status as Master of Death talking. Well… Master of Life and Death after his experience with Alexstrasza. Wasn’t that what he’d said to himself then? Heh.
 
Now, Harry is beginning to get into things. Now, he’s starting to find his rhythm. Grinning wickedly, he begins to bounce Eyir up and down on his cock, making her moan and cry out. Their audience, Lorna Crowley and her warden Ashildir, watch in in mute silence, with the former not even trying to escape the clutches of the latter anymore.
 
He supposed that in some cases, seeing is believing… and some sights are just too hard to look away from for some people, like a train crash… or a powerful wizard fucking a glowing angel woman on his utterly massive schlong.
 
Stepping back a couple of feet, Sylvanas holds the Soulcage aloft, her red eyes dancing with delight, her wicked grin only growing as more bindings appear around Eyir. The leader of the Valarjar Val’kyr is weakening with every thrust of Harry’s cock, that much is certain.
 
“Keep going, Harry! Her resistance crumbles by the moment! Do not stop! Do not falter!”
 
Sylvanas’ joyous voice sings with excitement and enthusiasm. So why then, is Harry still feeling just a hint of disquiet? He’s enjoying himself immensely, buried inside of Eyir like this. Fucking the golden angel woman, slamming her down onto his cock again and again as she cries out and moans, her pussy walls contracting around his member.
 
She’s just like all the other women Harry has had since coming to Azeroth. She’s cumming on his powerful shaft in no time at all, squealing away. But at the same time… glowing blue lines warp under her watcher flesh, showing the work of the Soulcage and its Mistress. Harry is helping Sylvanas break Eyir down, helping her bind the Val’kyr to HER, not himself.
 
Maybe that’s where the disquiet is coming from? In which case, Harry simply needs to push past it. He needs to fight that sort of selfishness. Sylvanas deserves his help. She’s been dealt a bad hand in life, and Harry… Harry wants to be there for her, to support her. He won’t let her down. He won’t-
 
“-ou… mustn’t… m-mustn’t… let her… win…”
 
Blinking, Harry almost pauses in bouncing Eyir up and down on his cock, something Sylvanas quickly notices.
 
“Don’t stop now, Harry! Keep going!”
 
With a grunt, he does exactly that, returning to fucking Eyir in a full nelson as the bound up Val’kyr cries out in an ugly fashion. However, as he does so, she gets some words out, whispers only meant for him that only reach his ears and no other.
 
“M-Master… of Death. You mustn’t… let the Banshee Queen w-win. She will destroy the cycle of L-Life and Death. She will destroy the Freedom of… C-Choice…”
 
Brow furrowing, Harry continues fucking Eyir hard and fast. Still, he has no issue also responding to her, humoring her for the moment. Especially when her words raise his hackles something fierce.
 
“Oh? Like Odyn did with Helya? You speak to me of freedom, of choice, after how he treated his own adopted daughter?”
 
For a long moment, Eyir has nothing to say to that. Harry feels a surge of satisfaction, even if it doesn’t fully settle the disquiet in his soul. He’s beginning to hate that sense of… of uncertainty he has within him. The part of him that is starting to doubt Sylvanas’ motivations. He wants nothing more than to ruthlessly clamp down on it, so he can be everything she needs him to be. So, he can be the support she needs him to be in this moment.
 
“… Odyn… was wrong. He… c-came to admit as much… in his own way. I do not… force any t-to become, ah, Val’kyr. My duty is to r-raise the worthy… but o-only if they are, nngh, willing.”
 
That… unfortunately lined up with what Harry had seen so far. It wasn’t nearly enough in his eyes to absolve Odyn of HIS crimes, to be fair. The titanic watcher had never tried to make things right with Helya, after all. Despite admitting that she was right, despite fixing things so that only the willing would be raised, he had nevertheless allowed Helya to languish in Helheim, hadn’t he? He had never even tried to help her.
 
But Harry’s hatred for Odyn should not translate to a hatred for Eyir. She wasn’t the monster here. She was just doing her job… and he could admit, her work was important. Still, who was to say she couldn’t do just as important work under the Banshee Queen, serving Sylvanas?
 
“Enough!”
 
When Sylvanas’ voice suddenly rings out and Eyir is ripped from his arms, Harry thinks for a heart stopping moment that she’s somehow heard their conversation. But no, the Banshee Queen doesn’t look nearly angry enough for all that. Rather, she stalks forward licking her lips, staring down at his throbbing member needily as Eyir is unceremoniously face planted face down on the ground, forced to prostrate herself in a position of submission at their feet.
 
Wasting absolutely no time, the Banshee Queen walks up, spins around, and promptly backs her gloriously fat bubble butt right up into Harry’s bitch breaker of a cock. Impaling herself anally upon his member right then and there, her heels causing her ass to lift up so she’s perfectly level with his cockhead and her sphincter giving way before his humungous shaft before immediately clenching down and sucking him further in, Sylvanas looks back over her shoulder at him and smirks.
 
“She shouldn’t get to have ALL the fun. And who knows? Perhaps some denial play will weaken her resolve~”
 
Indeed, even as Harry finds himself butt fucking Sylvanas right there in the depths of the Vault of Eyir, his hands gripping at her hips, the Banshee Queen has one hand on a leg and the other still holding the Soulcage aloft. As she bounces back into his pistoning prick, Sylvanas moans, her empty cunny clenching and gushing out a spray of pussy juices all over Eyir’s face.
 
Just Harry’s precum alone, injected right into Sylvanas’ body via her anus, is enough to get her blood flowing and her heart thumping again. Moaning, using her free hand to grope and squeeze one of her tits, she shakes and shudders her way through an explosive orgasm as she joins the living once more, albeit temporarily.
 
For a moment, Harry is content with simply butt fucking the gorgeous, glorious Banshee Queen. But then he catches a glimpse of Eyir past her body. The prostrated, bound titanic watcher is looking up at an angle as best she can, even as her face is sprayed with Sylvanas’ fluids. But she’s not looking at Sylvanas. She’s looking at Harry… silently beseeching him even now to heed her words.
 
That damn disquiet in his chest only grows. He needs to find a way to settle it, once and for all. And in all honesty, he knows there’s only one way to do that.
 
Leaning over the Banshee Queen, sliding one hand along and around to grope her other breast, Harry speaks into Sylvanas’ ear.
 
“You never told me what we were doing here, Sylvanas. What’s the point of all of this, anyways?”
 
Moaning up a storm, mind subsumed by lust and the thrill of being alive again, so close to her ultimate victory… Sylvanas finally gives him a straight answer, even as she continues to slam her ass back into his cock over and over again.
 
“Need… need more Val’kyr. Oooh~”
 
Harry cocks his head to the side at that. He’d guessed that much.
 
“To keep yourself safe? To protect yourself?”
 
“Yesss… and… to raise more Forsaken.”
 
Harry’s eyes widen at that, and for a moment he almost stops, but catches himself and keeps fucking her hard and fast. Sylvanas just continues to moan, even as he processes her words. To raise more Forsaken…
 
“… Is that really necessary, Sylvanas? The Forsaken… are they not numerous enough already?”
 
In a moment of blatant honesty brought on by her lust and arousal and the fact that she’s being spitted upon Harry’s massive cock, Sylvanas shakes her head back and forth.
 
“N-NO! Not enough… never enough! The Forsaken are… are my shield! My bulwark against the hungering dark! I won’t let it have me, Harry! I won’t let it consume me! You and I… together we will stop it! Even if I have to raise every corpse on Azeroth to stand between me and death!”
 
The Banshee Queen wails her plans for all to hear, albeit it’s a small audience. And yet, perhaps the only audience that matters. Harry finds himself slowing to a stop in his fucking of the Banshee Queen’s huge bubble butt. Because that disquiet in his soul has not been settled, knowing Sylvanas’ plans. No, now it’s blossomed into full-blown alarm.
 
In his moment of shock, as he comes to a stop, Sylvanas… doesn’t notice his disquiet or discontentment. By the time he’s stopped fucking her ass, the Banshee Queen has already pulled herself forward from his grip, stumbling over to Eyir and grabbing the titanic watcher by her helm, yanking her up onto her knees.
 
“We’ll break her together, Harry. Your cock in her throat, a hot fresh load of your spectacular cum down her gullet… her resistance will shatter. Her resolve will be destroyed. And the Soulcage… the Soulcage will rush into fill the gaps.”
 
Sylvanas pants, eyes wide and wild as she yanks Eyir forward and promptly forces the Val’kyr to deep-throat his throbbing cock. Harry is getting close now. Normally, he would have already cum at this point. It’s a sign of how distracted and… out of it he’s been that he hadn’t yet. Indeed, he’s instead been building up to the largest load he’s ever dropped. A load of seed that will almost certainly do exactly what Sylvanas wishes of him.
 
“GLUGHK! GLUGHK! GLUGHK!”
 
The Banshee Queen bounces Eyir’s head up and down his cock, forcing Eyir to choke and gag and gurgle mightily as Ashildir and Lorna Crowley continue to watch on. Harry, meanwhile, stands there almost… inactive. He’s frozen in place, staring down into Eyir’s face, the Val’kyr in turn staring up at him almost accusingly, but also pleadingly.
 
Even as she’s choked on his massive member, she’s begging him with every fiber of her being not to let this happen. Because… because if Sylvanas gets her way here, then Harry doesn’t know what will become of Azeroth. Wanting to survive was one thing. Wanting to live… Harry could understand that motivation very well. Sylvanas deserved the same chance to thrive as anyone else.
 
But it was becoming increasingly clear to him that the Banshee Queen was damaged in a way he didn’t understand. The hungering dark she spoke of had clearly spooked her so badly that she wasn’t willing to stop at just securing more ‘get out of jail free’ cards in the form of more Val’kyr to submit to her every order and whim. No, she wanted the Val’kyr not just for herself, but to raise more and more Forsaken, uncaring of their willingness, completely unconcerned with their plight.
 
She’d said it herself. The Forsaken were a bulwark to her. A shield against death. She wanted to strengthen her defenses, but her defenses included a massive army of sentient, intelligent zombies capable of independent thought, of understanding their suffering. And Sylvanas wanted to make as many of them as possible, to subjugate them all and force them to serve as her shield.
 
Would raising every corpse on Azeroth ever be enough for her? Or would she rapidly move to making corpses of all the living in order to raise more? When would it stop? When would it end?
 
… He couldn’t help her. The realization is a stark one, like the sensation of ice down his back. He can’t help her, and more than that… he can’t let her do this.
 
Just as he’s finally about to cum, Harry acts. With a loud shout, he yanks himself back… and instead of filling Eyir’s gullet with his magical seed, he coats the shrunken down titanic watcher from head to toe. He COVERS her in his cum… but it’s not what Sylvanas was looking for. It’s not the direct infusion that she was hoping would help her break through Eyir’s last defenses and subjugate the Val’kyr’s soul.
 
“Wha-?! Harry! You foolish wizard, you were supposed to cum inside, damn it!”
 
She thinks it a mistake. She assumes he didn’t do it on purpose. Shaking his head, even as his hands tremble until he balls them into fists, Harry corrects her assumption.
 
“I couldn’t, Sylvanas. I can’t… I can’t help you do this.”
 
The Banshee Queen stops dead in her tracks, staring at him blankly.
 
“… What?”
 
Gesturing at Eyir, and then at the Soulcage, Harry grimaces.
 
“This… you’re going down a path I cannot follow, Sylvanas! Why do you need more Forsaken? Why am I not enough?!”
 
Because in the end, that was what it truly boiled down to, wasn’t it? Harry wasn’t exactly what you would call a moral individual. Sure, the thought of every person on Azeroth being raised as a Forsaken to protect Sylvanas from death turned even his stomach. It was as horrifying to think about as it was unnatural, an abomination against the Life and Death he claimed Mastery over.
 
But more than that… was he truly not enough? What did Sylvanas really think of him? Were they not lovers? Or had she done all of this in order to placate him? Had everything since his break up with Jaina been to bribe him over to her side? Was he just another tool in her arsenal? Or was he just her blood bank, and she the vampire who fed off him on the regular?
 
“… Don’t be ridiculous, Harry. Nothing is enough, not even you. But you are important to me. I value you greatly. Surely that much is obvious.”
 
It is… of course it is. But he’d thought she valued him for him. Not just for what he could do for her. He’d promised to help her and Helya both… but this?
 
“You’re threatening to do to others precisely what was done to Helya. You’re not just breaking the chains; you’re taking the reins from Odyn so you can perpetuate the system with you at the top. Surely you see what’s wrong with that, Sylvanas!”
 
But the Banshee Queen is unmoved. She even sneers at him, glaring furiously with burning red eyes.
 
“I see nothing wrong with my actions. All that I do, I do for the future. To ensure a future where I survive, where you survive, where we all SURVIVE! Life… Life is the great lie, Harry!”
 
No… no, she was wrong. He had to get through to her. He couldn’t lose another to this madness. Casting about for a way to convince her, Harry’s mind alights upon a cautionary story from his original world… one that’s all too poignant at this point in time, he likes to think.
 
“There was a tale, back on my old world. The Tale of Three Brothers, it was called. They traveled along a lonely, winding road, these three brothers, one late night. Upon reaching a deep, treacherous river that had claimed many a soul before them, they conjured a bridge and proceeded to cross. They did not make it even halfway before Death, enraged at their trickery, appeared before them.”
 
He has her attention, he can tell. Sylvanas hesitates for a moment. Whatever there is between them, however the Banshee Queen truly views him, they have enough of a bond for him to command her focus in this moment. How much longer though, he knows not.
 
“Of course, Death does not work in overt or blatant ways. He did not come to them angry; despite being cheated his due, but under the guise of congratulations. He then offered them gifts of their choosing.”
 
Sylvanas’ brow furrows, her lips purse, but still she listens. Maybe… maybe he can get through to her with this. No, not maybe. He HAS to be able to get through to her. Harry won’t accept failure here.
 
“The eldest brother, a combative man, asked for a weapon more powerful than any in existence. The second brother, an arrogant man, chose to further humiliate death and asked for the power to bring the dead back from the grave. The third and youngest brother, who some consider the most humble and wise, did not trust Death and asked for something that would enable him to go forth without Death being able to follow.”
 
He lets silence fall again, before delivering the latter half of the tale.
 
“The eldest brother used his powerful new weapon to kill a rival, and then boasted to a crowded inn that very night of how he received it and of his invincibility. He was killed in his sleep by a covetous stranger who wanted the power for himself.”
 
“The middle brother used his new tool, called the Resurrection Stone, to recall his fiancé, departed from the mortal coil too soon, back from beyond the grave. Only, she was not wholly there… and he could tell her entire existence in the living world was one of pain and agony. In the end, he learned to let her go… and soon after took his own life to be with her.”
 
“Death took the first two brothers all too easily. Only the youngest brother escaped his notice, using Death’s own Cloak of Invisibility to hide for the whole of his life. When it was finally his time to go, he took off the Cloak and welcomed Death with open arms.”
 
Taking a deep breath, Harry tries to pass on the lesson that Dumbledore imparted to him, all those years ago… a lifetime ago, at this point.
 
“The true master does not seek to run from Death, Sylvanas. They accept that they must die, and understand that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying.”
 
Silence falls, as his story finishes. The comparison is clear, or so Harry feels. Sylvanas is like the second brother. She seeks to fight the tide of Death, but it’s simply not possible. All things come to an end at some point. And turning the entire world into her undead army isn’t going to save Sylvanas from her own inevitable end… it’s just going to bring more suffering, more pain, more agony to those around her.
 
For a brief moment, Sylvanas hesitates, and Harry thinks he might have gotten through to her. But then her eyes flash, and her face contorts into something angry and frustrated, and as her response falls from her lips… he knows he’s failed.
 
“No… no, you don’t know, Wizard. You haven’t seen what I saw. The hungering dark is far worse than anything this world of the living can possibly offer. But then, maybe you know more than you let on… O’ Master of Death.”
 
Harry stiffens, and silently curses himself. Sylvanas was no idiot. She’d put two and two together. Eyir had named one of them the Master of Death upon their entrance, and then Harry had just ended his little cautionary tale with Dumbledore’s own warning to him. The true Master does not seek to run from Death. That was what he’d said… and in doing so, he’d all but confirmed his status in the Banshee Queen’s mind.
 
“I see now that I have coddled you long enough, Harry Potter. You have been of great use to me, so I will offer you this one single opportunity. Submit. Kneel and bow before me now as your Queen, and I will let you live to continue serving me.”
 
… So that was how it was going to be, huh? Harry’s face shutters, as Sylvanas gives her ultimatum. Eyir had been right. He had been betrayed. The entire time, Sylvanas had known that her true plan… would be unconscionable to Harry. But she’d strung him along all the same, dragging him here to help her, to unwittingly help her pull it off anyways.
 
He’d damn near pulled the trigger too. He was standing on a precipice, and despite his promises, despite everything he’d told Sylvanas… he could not do it.
 
“I’m sorry, Sylvanas. You know I can’t do that.”
 
With a hiss, the Banshee Queen strikes. Harry is immediately forced to stumble back, as Sylvanas launches herself at him and rakes her nails across her face.
 
“NO!”
 
Ashildir’s voice from the side is immediately heralded by the Valkyra Queen’s arrival. Harry’s newest conquest is not at all inclined to sit on the sidelines and let this happen. She tackles Sylvanas away from him, forcing the Banshee Queen to shriek, causing Ashildir to stumble back and cover her ears with her hands.
 
Still, it’s enough time for Harry to get his wand out, while Sylvanas in turn puts the Soulcage on her waist and conjures a bow and arrows. The ensuing battle is not easy for him. How could it be? He still… he will ALWAYS have feelings for the Banshee Queen.
 
As such, he can’t bring himself to bring his full magical might to bear against Sylvanas. To say nothing of how he’d already used a fair amount of his stamina fucking an entire mountain worth of Valkyra. Luckily, he has Ashildir on his side, but even she is hard pressed to get ahold of the wily, ever-moving Ranger-General.
 
Of course, Sylvanas isn’t just an archer, isn’t just a limber and lithe elf. She’s also a Banshee, with all the ethereal and ghostly qualities that that allows her to call upon. She’s teleporting around the battlefield, shooting arrows nonstop, and it’s all Harry can do to dodge as he constantly tries to fire at her. Or rather… not at her, but at the Soulcage.
 
He hates himself for it. Hates that he has to destroy Helya’s gift to Sylvanas to win the day. But it’s the only option. Eyir, even now, is bound by the Soulcage’s power. The kneeling, cum-drenched Val’kyr remains where she is, shrunken down and tightly bound up in blue light. If Sylvanas gets the chance to finish that binding, to force the subjugation of the Val’kyr Watcher, then all is lost. She will have an endless stream of Val’kyr to do her bidding, both to bring HER back from certain death, as well as raise countless corpses all across Azeroth as Forsaken, to do her bidding.
 
Harry can’t let that happen, which means the Soulcage, more than anything, has to go. Unfortunately, Sylvanas is smart enough to realize this as well. When he misses his first shot on the Soulcage and watches the Banshee Queen’s eyes widen in shock and fear, he knows he’s fucked up. When a poisoned arrow from Sylvanas sprouts in his shoulder a moment later, managing to slip past his defenses, Harry knows they’re running out of time.
 
Ashildir lets out a roar at the sight of him downed on the ground, and charges Sylvanas, harassing and distracting the Banshee Queen for a second at least. But her guard is up now, and Harry can’t get a clear shot on the Soulcage from where he lies, clutching at his shoulder where black blood oozes out from around the arrow shaft embedded in his body.
 
He can’t get a clear shot of the Soulcage… but he can get a clear shot at something else. Lifting his wand in trembling hands, he flicks it in an entirely different direction from Sylvanas, something the Banshee Queen fails to notice, as she’s too busy with Ashildir.
 
A moment later however, Ashildir crashes to the ground, defeated as well. Sylvanas stands victorious, and with another arrow, knocks Harry’s wand from his wand before he can cast another spell. Of course, he has plenty of wandless magic, but Sylvanas looks all too ready for that, one hand protectively over the Soulcage as she glares down at him.
 
“Stand down, Harry. Don’t make me kill you. I don’t want to… but I will do what I must.”
 
Harry’s lips thin out, and he draws in a ragged breath before shaking his head.
 
“So… will I.”
 
Sylvanas tenses, but she’s expecting the attack from him, expecting him to strike at her in some way. He doesn’t. He continues to lay there on the ground, making no aggressive moves. That doesn’t mean, however, that Sylvanas has defeated all possible enemies.
 
BANG!
 
The sharp retort of the rifle that Harry had conjured in Lorna Crowley’s hands when he freed her from her bindings echoes through the Vault of Eyir. The bullet, moving far too fast for even Sylvanas to react to, hits the Soulcage dangling from her waist with pinpoint accuracy, shattering the magical lantern right there on the spot.
 
The Banshee Queen whips around, staring down at the destroyed artifact in horror.
 
“NO!”
 
But it’s already too late. Eyir lets out a cry, still covered in Harry’s cum, and abruptly blasts free of the bindings put upon herself. Growing back to her full size, the golden Val’kyr looks positively vengeful for a moment… albeit also a little ridiculous, basted in Harry’s seed as she currently in. And then, as quickly as all that, she’s gone, vanishing, seed and all.
 
“NOOOOOOOO!!!”
 
Sylvanas’ defeated howl echoes through the Vault of Eyir, as her plan is foiled. Harry grimaces from his place on the ground. He hates this. He hates all of this. But… he’d done what he had to do. Even if it felt more like he’d betrayed Sylvanas here, then she betrayed him.
 
In an instant, the Banshee Queen is upon him. She looks apoplectic with rage, utterly furious, and as she holds an arrow to his throat, Harry almost expects her to kill him. He… can’t bring himself to retaliate, can’t bring himself to kill her. Because deep down, he sees the scared girl that Sylvanas truly is. And he pities her.
 
Whether Sylvanas sees something similar in him, or considers him too important to kill, or even actually has some feelings for him… she hesitates and after a moment yanks herself back, fleeing the chamber without killing any of them, interestingly enough.
 
As he watches her go, however, Harry doesn’t feel accomplished. He certainly doesn’t feel victorious. He feels… he feels like he’s lost another lover, another friend. Even if he was never anything but a blood bank… or rather, a sperm bank to the Banshee Queen, he at least cared for her. He loved her, in his own way. But he couldn’t condone her plans for this world. He couldn’t let her advance her plot any further, even with the might of the Burning Legion at their doorstep.
 
Letting his head drop back, Harry stares up at the ceiling as Lorna and Ashildir arrive a moment later on either side of him to tend to his wound.
 
Fuck. This was such a clusterfuck.

-x-X-x-

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