Apocalypse

Prologue

The slow chink of footsteps were the only sound in the icy cavern. Faint tremors shook the dark depths of the mountain, and a frigid wind blew around the man, buffeting him and threatening to throw him off the stairwell into the icy depths below, but he paid it no heed. His thoughts were filled with voices, ghastly echoes from his past, reaching out to him from beyond the grave. Arthas climbed on, oblivious of his surroundings, hearing only the haunting of his past, growing louder and louder as he neared the stairwell's peak.

You are not my king yet boy. And neither would I have obeyed that command even if you were!

Can this business, and lead your men home!

As your future king, I order you to purge this city!

Arthas walked on, lost in his reverie, pulled on by his Master's voice and will. A mocking ghost of a smile played across his lips as he climbed. How foolish he had once been. How foolish they had all been. King he was and King he would always be, ruling over a land he had once yearned to protect. Now he would protect it, but its citizens would not be those who numbered amongst the living.

Have you lost your mind, Arthas?

You lied to your men and betrayed the mercenaries who fought for you! What's happened to you, Arthas?

Yes, he had been ruthless. And he would go on being so, now, as King, Champion of the Lich King. And as he neared the frosted cap of the mountain, another voice from long ago barged into his thoughts.

...You will find nothing but cold, and death, in the icy mountains of Northrend...

He could not remember where that voice came from, nor where he had heard it. But all other thoughts were driven from his mind, as he finally came to a stop in front of the icy prison that was his Master's entombment. Arthas looked up at the physical manifestation of his Master in awe. He was no more than several chunks of armor encased within a wall of ice, yet the power emanating from his soul was overwhelming. The voice of the Lich King filled his mind, echoing through his thoughts and soul.

Return... the blade... Complete... the circle... Free me... from this prison..

Arthas hesitated, then hefted the sword in his hands. Wielding the weapon in two hands, he took two great steps and swung Frostmourne's rune-engraved blade in a huge overhead arc. The tip of the sword struck the Frozen Throne, a blow that should not even have marred the surface of the ice, yet the Lich King's icy prison shattered. Shards of ice flew in every direction, falling downwards towards the base of the mountain, and the pieces of armor that had made up the Lich King's physical form scattered in all directions. The helmet rolled and bounced, landing against the floor with metallic chinks, finally stopping at Arthas' feet.

The Death Knight stared down at the iron headgear, momentarily at a loss as to what to do. Was his Master extinguished, by his own hand, no less? Had he done all, gone through everything, for naught? After a moment, he stooped, and lifted the helmet with gauntleted hands. Such a tiny, minuscule piece of metal, yet it held all that was the Lich King and all his power. The moment his hands touched the metal, he knew what he had to do. Bowing his head and closing his eyes, he lifted the Lich King's helmet and placed it on his head. He could feel power coursing through him, the power of his Master, the will of the master joining the will of the servant. Arthas opened his eyes, and instead of the blue eyes a bright light flared forth.

The Lich King looked through his Champion's eyes.

Now we... are one!

--

Arthas made his way slowly to the point where the Frozen Throne had once stood. Within it stood a Throne of ice, no less regal than any royal seat that Arthas had seen in his time as a prince of the living. He sat down, the runeblade Frostmourne by his side, savoring his victory in salvaging his Master and sending the demon Illidan to the depths of hell. Soon, with the power of the Lich King by his side, he would once again take control of all the undead in the land, and launch an assault against those that still lived. Young prince Kael'thas would have to pay for his insolence, and the snake-woman, Vashj, would die as well. Sylvanas the traitor would suffer a fate much worse than when he had turned her into a banshee -

- and suddenly, Arthas felt a sudden, mental shove, and he was vaulted forward off his throne, the helmet falling - no, forced off his head in the process. Arthas nearly tumbled off the icy glacier, but managed to keep his balance. Scrambling to his feet, he whirled around to face whatever it was that had had the audacity to threaten the Lord of the Scourge, but immediately raised his hands with a cry to shield his eyes as a blinding, white light flared in front of him, encasing the Throne. When the light receded, Arthas lowered his arms and opened his eyes to a horrific sight.

The scattered pieces of the Lich King's armor were floating above the seat, right where they had been before he had shattered the throne. The light which had blinded him previously was coalescing around the pieces of armour, forming - Arthas' eyes widened - once again, the Frozen Throne, right before the Death Knight's eyes.

"What trickery is this?" Arthas strode forward angrily, laying a hand upon the icy confinements of his Lord. He could not believe it. What could have had the power to confine his Master, to throw him into the frozen depths of his prison once again? He could feel the outrage and bewilderment of the Lich King, inside the Frozen Throne once more. Then a voice confronted the two in their cavern.

You are dangerous. You seek to destroy this land. And with your power wholly returned to you, it is likely that you will succeed. By the Five, I will not allow it!

"What the - Who are you?"

Your Lord knows. Don't you, Lich King?

This.. cannot be! Impossible! How do you possess this power?

You need not know, Lord of the Undead. All you need to know is that my champions even now march on to destroy you. It is a pity that your beloved.. champion wasn't locked in with you. Arthas sensed that the presence that was there before was fading, and finally it was gone.

"My liege! Who was that? What other being could have done this outrage?"

Arthas... Rally our forces. March onto the ancient land of Kalimdor. It seems that our battle.. is far from over.

"But who-"

Silence! You will do as I command. The Great Spirit of the World Tree, Yggdrasil has entered the fray, and I will only be freed from this prison after she is destroyed!

--

A/N: I've been wanting and wanting to start a DotA fanfiction since AGES ago, but I've never really been able to come up with a coherent plot for it. After all, DotA is only about destroying the World Tree or the Frozen Throne, how do you put a story to that? But then I played through the campaign mode in Warcraft III one more time and then I finally hit upon the answer. So now I finally have this story underway. Whoohoo!

Okay, maybe from this prologue you can't really tell that this is going to be a DotA fanfiction, but trust me it is, or rather will be. It has the potential to stretch for quite a few chapters, so I'll update whenever I can. My schedule is pretty busy now, so I'll probably only be able to do so on weekends, and don't blame me if I don't update for a few weeks at a stretch yeah.

Just in case you guys haven't realized it, yes, I did use the Warcraft III: The Frozen Throne's ending cinematic for the front half of this prologue. I described it to the best I could, but if you guys think it can be improved upon, feel free to review yeah. And here's the disclaimer: I do not own Warcraft III. I own a CD of it though.