Author's Notes: I'm posting the flashbacks and prologues for the cast of Mercy, Grace, etc...in one spot so they won't be lost in updates. This is a flashback to when Maerciless was in the Lich King's control. Aeschlie, of course, continued to fight with the Argent Dawn against the Scourge. She was never completely sure that it was her former best friend that had turned into this killing machine; after all, the person she knew as Allendrelle had fallen, hadn't she? She had nearly convinced herself of this when Maerciless showed up in Stormwind again as a death knight. Maerciless has no memory of this encounter. Aeschlie is haunted by it.
Head-canon check: One of the seductive draws of the Lich King is he made everyone that worked under him feel like the most important person in his army. In reality they were all pawns for him to move around, and none of them more important than the rest.
….Maerciless.
The voice was no more than a whisper, a gentle caress against her mind. There was not a single hesitation in the swing that took off the enemy soldier's head (…..dwarf, he was a dwarf...), and not a pause in the swath of destruction that she cut through the front lines, and yet her entire inner focus immediately attached itself to that voice.
Yes, my lord?
Watch as our enemies fall before us. Look at how weak they are, how stubbornly they cling to their mortal bodies as fools to a sinking ship. They mean nothing. They ARE nothing. Obstacles between you and our goal.
She swung her head up and momentarily locked her ice-blue gaze on the target: a figure on a horse steadfastly holding up the banner signifying their defiance of her lord. (a human. The banner of the Argent Dawn.) As if he could sense her, he turned his head her direction slowly, almost unsure. Her eyes narrowed and the rest of the world seemed to fade: although his face was set in determination, his arms strong and steady as he held the pennant aloft, bolstering the morale of the troops within sight of him, Maerciless could see the sweat gleaming off his brow. She glimpsed the slight panic in his eyes as he nimbly avoided the advancing Scourge on his steed. She could smell his apprehension from her position. She moved forward slowly without pause: more soldiers fell at her feet. She barely glanced at them as she strode toward her goal. (A druid forever trapped in cat form. A gnome mage neatly parted from his head) Snowflakes flew before her as if from an invisible, colder-than-ice wind. She was only a few yards from the flagbearer when he seemed to realize the danger he was in. He yanked on the reins of his charger, attempting to steer the horse away from her but was blocked by a wall of Argent Dawn soldiers locked in battle. A lone paladin, blazing with Holy Light, singled her presence out of the other mindless Scourge and raised her mace towards him, the words of a holy shield on her light blue lips.
"Strangulate," Maerciless whispered, reaching one hand like a claw to encircle her slender neck. The soldier gasped, dropping her mace and clutching her throat as the breathe was ripped from her lungs, stealing her ability to cast. Without thinking, she glanced to the soldier's face as she raised her runeblade for the killing blow. Two pale blue horns smoothly curved into flowing hair that used to be white: now stained with the blood and grime of battle. She was a draenei. Her eyes were bugged from lack of oxygen but it was not fear that stilled her struggles: it was shock, doubt, and a hint of recognition? A dull ache exploded in the back of her head as the end of the post holding the banner struck her. She dropped the paladin without another thought and in one motion, cleaved the bearer in two. His look of surprise stayed with him in death as he and the post fell to the frozen ground. Kicking his body aside, she very deliberately ground her hoof onto the banner, breaking the wood and tearing the fabric. She heard several Argent Dawn soldiers give out pained cries, as the Scourge army rallied around its enemy's fallen banner. As she turned to head back into the fray, she thought she glimpsed the draenei paladin in the distance, staring at her with the same shocked expression on her face. Almost immediately, the presence of the Lich King surrounded her again, dominating her entire being. She closed her eyes and welcomed him in. She could tell he was pleased. Her heart beat quicker, prouder, and she pulled herself up with satisfaction as she accepted his praise.
Well done. You truly are my greatest champion, Maerciless.
Her strength and resolution renewed, she plunged into the battle, a force of death once again. It was quickly over: with their conviction gone, some of the soldiers simply turned and ran. Most of them were mowed down from the skeletal archers. As Maerciless trudged through the aftermath, finishing off the survivors, she paid no notice to the blood covering her armor, the snow and sweat drenching the cropped mass of black curls atop her head, or the cuts and bruises adorning her dark skin. The last would be taken care of by the dark priests and necromancers. Her purpose was to serve the Lich King without fail, till her dying breath. Her armor and other needs would be taken care of. She was only to fulfill her duty. As she reached the end of the sea of bodies without seeing the draenei paladin, she felt a tiny glimmer of something in her stomach that she didn't recognize. (relief?)
The army was organizing and moving on. She called for her deathcharger, and joined the ranks of other death knights as they marched through the frozen wasteland. It wasn't until much later, deep in the grasp of sleep, that a name briefly flickered across her consciousness.
….Aeschlie?