Summary: Arthas' final thoughts before and after death. Includes Tirion, Terenas, and the New Lich King.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is my first eve WoW fanfiction so some stuff is probably wrong. Even so, I hope you'll read it and let me know what you think.
Pain. Which was a surprise. He hadn't felt pain...in so long...that he'd honestly forgotten what it felt like. It felt...good. To be able to feel again after so long...
His grey-blue eyes opened slowly and he blinked as he looked up, unsure of what he was seeing exactly. His eyes widened momentarily as he looked up into his dead father's face.
Terenas Menethil looked down at his son, his expression unreadable.
"Fa—Father?" Arthas coughed wetly, unknowingly splattering his chin and part of his cheek with bright red blood.
"Arthas." Terenas's tone was neutral but Arthas got the feeling that he was both disappointed and happy to see him.
"Wh-what's going...on?" He said as he watched the bright white light surrounding his father slowly creep upon his prone form.
"No king rules forever my son." Terenas said, his eyes glowing gold.
And finally Arthas understood. He was dying. The Scourge, his army, would have no leader...and they would now be free from Ner'zhul's control and would run rampant across Azeroth!
"Father...the Scourge...without me they will-" Arthas coughed roughly, gagging on his own blood.
"Every king must have an heir Arthas. Another will be chosen in your stead." Terenas said trying to calm his dying son, but his words seemed to be having no effect.
"N-no, you can't! Ner'zhul must be de-destroyed! He can't—the Scourge—they must be – stopped." Arthas said, his eyes closing as his body continued to shut down on him.
Terenas eyed his son; Ner'zhul was too powerful to be killed outright. A new Lich King would have to be chosen. Arthas knew it as well and apparently he didn't wish that fate upon anyone else.
All those years ago when Arthas had murdered him in Lordaeron, he had thought he had failed his son in some fashion; for what other purpose would his son have to murder him and take his throne? At the time he had no knowledge of Ner'zhul or of the Crown of the Lich King. But as death claimed him and he wondered restlessly within the realm of the dead, he followed his son. And he finally understood. The Unholy One had somehow broken Arthas down and gotten into his head, using his Holy powers as a Paladin and turned them into something truly frightening.
Perhaps Arthas wasn't as broken as he thought. Perhaps the Gods would be kind to Arthas in death. He could only pray.
Arthas opened his eyes when he felt his father's hand close over the top of his. He looked up, grey blue eyes locking with gold ones and Arthas got it.
He could let go. He could finally let go and be free from the Warlock's control that had enslaved him for close to thirty years now. Arthas smiled as the white light embraced him as his vision grew dark. It was over. He was free.
When the light faded, Arthas lay prone on his icy ground, his blue-grey eyes open and the light within them extinguished.
Tirion Fordring approached the fallen King with caution. He looked up as he caught sight of a whitish apparition that he immediately recognized.
"Terenas..." the Paladin breathed in disbelief.
"Arthas is gone old friend. The Unholy Warlock has no hold over him any longer."
Tirion blinked and when he looked over at Terenas he saw that he was no longer there.
Arthas, in the spirit world, watched as Tirion approached an old friend, with his old helmet, to an odd looking man who looked like he walked out of a volcano. Vivid orange crags like veins in a normal human ran across his blackened and charred skin. He wasn't normal.
"Give me the helmet Tirion; without it, the Scourge will run rampant without a leader."
Tirion looked down at the helmet before sighing heavily.
The blackened figure sitting on Arthas' old throne laughed low and bitterly.
"I have carried many burdens Tirion. Hand me the helmet so that I may stop the Scourge before anymore people die."
Tirion looked torn, but he did eventually hand over Arthas's transfigured helmet to his brother.
"It should be me bearing this burden."
The man laughed. "No, Tirion, you have a bright destiny ahead of you that you have yet to fulfill as do the heroes behind you who helped stop this." The man's voice changed when he put the helmet on.
"Go now Tirion! Tell no one what has occurred here this day!"
"LEAVE THIS PLACE!" The new Lich King's voice boomed and Arthas watched as the New King of the Scourge was sealed in his throne chair with a huge block of ice.
Tirion stared at his friend for a long moment before walking away.
"Thank you for freeing me..." Arthas whispered.
Tirion whirled around at the soft whisper but saw nothing but snowflakes flowing softly with the wind.
The Lich King was well and truly gone...and with it so was a renowned Paladin known as Arthas Menethil, Heir to the throne of Lordaeron.
Tirion would never forget this day. Nor would the dead prince watching him leave his icy throne room.
THE END