She, Who Would be Queen

"Arthas Menethil is dead, the scourge have been pushed back. Yet, despite all of this.. I feel nothing. Sadness, joy... revenge is the only thing I knew."

She set her detached gave over Icecrown, over what she imagined was hers if she drove her arrow through Menethil's heart, "I should have been the one to kill him, I should have become the King."

Her most trusted apothecary bowed his head sadly gripping the vital plague information stolen from Putricide's laboratory, "The Lich Queen... malady, how relentless you would have been. A truly wicked delight."

Sylvanas neither smiled nor frowned as she turned towards their mounts, somehow he could tell there was still an inner conflict.. the on-going war inside her mind.