AN: Kel'thuzad fic. The lich searches desperately for a way to return Arthas to life. He has the body, he has the sword, so why aren't any of his attempts working? The Bronze dragons provide an odd sort of aid to the lich. KT/LK slash (non-con, since LK is dead). KT ends up finding his own ending, even if it is hell. Ends up in an alternate universe, therefore, AU.
You Are Worth Hell
Kel'thuzad hovered anxiously over the slab of stone where the body of his beloved Lich King currently lay. The spell was a difficult one. He'd been torturing and killing draenei for hours now. The spellbook had called for the essence of immortals, and the only immortals on Northrend were the draenei.
The stupid goat-people screamed like the animals they resembled. Kel'thuzad sneered, or would have if he hadn't been a skeletal lich. The cauldron was thick with the blood of the dead draenei.
A flash of bright light signaled that the potion was done, the spell was ended. He picked up the slightly cracked Urn of King Terenas, returned to him by idiot minion Inigo, the false Argent priest, and dipped it unceremoniously into the thick, bubbling liquid.
It had turned from red to deep violet. Good. A good color. The color magic. The Urn was too damaged to house his soul, but not damaged enough that it was made unusable in spellwork. The lich pried open the stiff mouth of his master's corpse and tilted the potion in. The burning violet potion practically lit up Arthas' body as it spread through the dead flesh. He looked like someone had strung his body with Winter Veil lights.
Kel'thuzad waited with bated breath. How he longed to hear his master's voice. To see those gorgeous blue eyes open again. To feel his master's lips against his ice cold bones, hands tugging at his thin robes...Oh, dear Arthas...I don't care if you never truly loved me. All that matters is that I loved you and you let me. My master. Forever together in death.
The lich hovered backward a bit as the potion flared more brightly. It's working! He thought eagerly. Oh, please let it be working! The spell slowly died down after the last brilliant flash. Kel'thuzad slowly floated over to Arthas, leaning down. He brushed a stiff lock of platinum hair away from his master's grey-skinned face. Used the delicate bone-tip of a finger to pull the Lich King's eyelid up. No blue orbs, no life, nothing. Empty, dead. Dead. Always dead.
"Master...wake up! I have returned you to Azeroth!" Kel'thuzad was shouting desperately. Arthas remained still. If he weren't a heartless skeletal abomination hellbent on thwarting death, Kel'thuzad probably would have cried.
Another time, perhaps. More searching. It was time to rectify another problem, one that had very little to do with his love of Arthas. His soul. Useless piece of shit that it was, had returned to him whole after some paladin had cracked his precious kitten over the head with that damn Ashbringer, sending the bit of soul in the cat back to the lich.
Unlike most liches, he made it so that destroying his phylactery didn't insta-kill him, instead it re-attached itself to the rest of his soul that remained in what he considered a body. That was troublesome, because if someone killed him while he had zero phylacteries, he would definitely die permanently.
He had no desire for that to happen any time soon. He'd already lived (existed, anyway) for, what was it now, two human lifetimes? The old paladin and his nemesis (the entire Mograine family) all glorified death in the Light. Spouting taurenshit about 'better places' and 'moving on'.
Kel'thuzad laughed at the very idea. He liked Azeroth. He didn't want to go anywhere at all. Naxxramas would be functional again soon. The Scourge hopefully would be functional again as well. Bolvar was a TERRIBLE Lich King and Sylvanas was somehow a normal elf again, which made her unsuitable for, well, any of Kel'thuzad's plans.
He fiddled with his Kirin Tor signet ring in annoyance. Why was Arthas the only perfect person in all of Azeroth? Kel'thuzad remembered when he first saw the young prince, how even then the young man had roused his passion.
It had been ages ago, when Kel'thuzad had still been a living man.
**Dalaran, years ago**
A braying female laugh broke Kel'thuzad's attention. He had been working on this spell for days! What kind of idiot would interrupt a working mage? He turned to yell at the young woman who had so rudely interrupted him.
The mage was struck dumb by the sight before him. Long, golden blonde hair, ice-blue eyes, and a body to die for. Damn! A new mage, perhaps? No, it can't be...the armor...
The mage felt a burning sensation on his elbow. He screamed and jumped, quickly casting a frost spell to freeze the flames. His robe had caught fire when he ignored the cauldron and let the potion burn. Who was that gorgeous young man?
The annoying woman, he recognized her as a new mage. Daelin Proudmoore's daughter, Lady Jaina. She was carrying so many damn books it was a wonder she didn't fall down the sewers.
Her arm was linked with the handsome young man's. She was laughing at something he'd said. Kel'thuzad felt an instant surge of hatred for Jaina. She's unworthy of such beauty and perfection. He must be mine. Kel'thuzad cleared his throat. He was still a member of the council. He could give Jaina orders, or more lessons. Hell, she might even welcome more books and homework.
"Excuse me, Lady Jaina? You and your-" Kel'thuzad didn't want to insult the model of human perfection linked to Jaina, "your friend...have interrupted a very complex spell. Surely you, Jaina, know better than to interrupt an Archmage at work!"
To no one's surprise, Jaina gasped and bowed clumsily to the archmage. "I-I'm so sorry, Archmage Kel'thuzad! I-I just...this is my...my boyfriend, Arthas Menethil. Prince Arthas Menethil. He wanted to look around, so I was giving him the tour..."
Boyfriend! That little bitch! How dare that stupid blonde witch! This handsome warrior or paladin (Kel'thuzad had no idea which was which) deserved someone better.
"Your Highness." Kel'thuzad bowed. How badly he wanted to take the Prince into his arms and pull him into a deep, ravishing kiss, one that chaste little Jaina could never duplicate. "I'd no idea you were coming. Pardon me, but things can get easily catastrophic if mages are working difficult spells and are interrupted." He held his bow, resisting the urge to gaze into the Prince's lovely eyes.
"No, pardon me, Lord Kel'thuzad. I wouldn't dare think of interrupting magic of any kind. Even the Light can be dangerous when played with by amateurs or those who have been cut off." The Prince smiled.
Kel'thuzad felt dizzy. Oh, dearest Malygos! Such a voice. Sensuous, sexy, deep...a voice like no other. A smile that lit up a city. What perfection was this? He pulled himself together and blinked several times. He carefully pushed his spellbook under his worktable with one foot. It was a book of necromancy, and he didn't want Jaina tattling or the gorgeous Prince thinking he was some type of freak.
"Forgive me, Your Highness, but I'm afraid I must give Lady Jaina extra work for interrupting my spell and slacking off on her own. She should be studying, not lazing around, not even with one such as yourself, Highness." Kel'thuzad glared at Jaina. The anger in his gazed was completely real, but had nothing to do with interruptions.
"I understand, Archmage. Perhaps some other time, my dear Lady Jaina." The Prince kissed Jaina's hand and bowed to her as if she were somehow more important than he.
Jaina looked near tears. "Please, Archmage! Don't tell my teachers! I'll do whatever work you tell me! I just...I..." She was stuttering. She truly seemed scared of him. Good. Someday, all would fear him. Except perhaps the sweet young Prince...
"Yes. Yes, Lady Jaina. Collect my laundry from the water elemental near the inn, please. Return it to me here. If I am gone, simply cast a return spell. Surely even a novice such as yourself can do that?" Kel'thuzad sneered.
Jaina bowed to Kel'thuzad, apologized to her Prince, and practically sprinted for the inn.
"Your Highness, a word, if you will." Kel'thuzad said formally, hoping to get a few moments alone with him before he took off.
Arthas glanced over his shoulder at the middle-aged archmagus. His cold blue eyes scanned Kel'thuzad. There was nothing at all special about this mage...his magic had looked odd, however. Dark. Darker than Jaina's magic. Perhaps it was due to experience. Still...it wouldn't hurt to talk to him. He would win much favor with the Silver Hand if he single-handedly rooted out a dark mage.
"Yes. I would love to hear more about Dalaran from an experienced archmagus. We can have a seat on the bench over there, and please, do not call me 'Your Highness'...I hate formality. Call me Arthas." He turned his back to Kel'thuzad and walked toward a bench, knowing the mage would follow. He was the Prince of Lordaeron. He was never disobeyed.
A swish of robes...the mage had sat down. Arthas felt a slight twinge of irritation as he felt the mage's arm brush his own. Apparently this mage had no sense of personal space. Arthas moved down a bit, away from Kel'thuzad.
He sighed. "Lord Kel'thuzad...your city is beautiful. My first question is...what type of magic do you do here?"
Kel'thuzad smiled at the Prince. To Arthas, Kel'thuzad looked simpering and annoying, he even sounded a bit prissy, but he was his precious Jaina's superior. Sort of. It appeared Kel'thuzad was much more than a simple teacher. He'd read the mage's name in a book on Dalaran that Jaina had lent him. Kel'thuzad was supposed to be the most powerful mage in the city. He had surpassed all forms of magic currently taught at Dalaran, and was thought to be experimenting with other types.
"Your High-that is, Arthas. We teach all forms of arcane magic. Arcane magic is different from other magic because it is far more addictive, and it can do so much more. So very much more. A shaman could never use the elements the way we do, nor could a druid."
Wrong, thought Arthas. He'd heard of orcs in the snowy mountains of Alterac doing things with fire and ice that he'd never thought possible. Of one particular orc, the one freeing the internment camps, who many orcs called 'chosen of the elements' who did things that made even archmages tremble in fear. The Prince did not correct the mage, however. He wanted Kel'thuzad to go on, to start talking about a new type of magic.
He prompted the mage. "Are there any other...forms...of arcane magic? Besides elemental and pure arcane?"
Kel'thuzad gazed at the Prince. He was fairly sure he was annoying him, but he would give his left arm just to touch the man. This last question...yes, there was indeed a new form of magic. Necromancy. The best. The most powerful. This man was a paladin however. He would turn him in or slay him here and now. The prospect of having the man's sword inside him was alluring up until the 'sword' became a sharp, metal instrument of death.
Kel'thuzad gave his Prince a false smile. "No, Arthas. I'm afraid not. Were you interested in harnessing the Light through the Arcane? We do not do such things here." He was sure the tension in his voice gave away his lies, but perhaps not.
Arthas stared at the mage for a long time. The mage had dull brown eyes, but there was a spark within, something Arthas couldn't explain. This mage was so much more than he appeared. Arthas frowned in frustration and waved his hand in dismissal. Kel'thuzad stood up, bowed, and returned to his spells.
The next time he saw his gorgeous prince, they were enemies. Then friends. Then...master and servant, and so much more.
**Naxxramas, present day**
Kel'thuzad realized he was actually on the bony protrusions he considered knees. The flashback had been strong, heady. Remembering his precious master in his prime, when he was the golden god, flashing and beaming with Light. You were MY Light, Arthas. Master. Kel'thuzad bent over the Lich King's dead body and pressed his face against his master's lips. It was all he could do. Sometimes, in the deepest, darkest parts of his soul, he wished he could be human again.
Human enough to love Arthas in the way he had always wanted to. To feel his lips, dead or alive, beneath his own, to feel his body, limp or strong, pressed against his...to be inside his master, to feel that beautiful flesh against his own. As it was, all he could do was stroke his master with the bones that made up his body. He could imagine a few humans who would make crude jokes out of such a statement, but it happened to be true.
He stroked his master's long-dead cock. It still felt wonderful. He wished he could do something. Or his master could do something. It wasn't enjoyable when both parties were incapable of any kind of sexual interactions. Kel'thuzad hadn't bothered clothing Arthas after those vile looters had stripped his corpse of anything valuable. His master was gorgeous, dead or alive, with or without armor.
Kel'thuzad stroked the cock vigorously. In life, his master's length would be growing right now, showing his pleasure at Kel'thuzad's ministrations. As it was, Arthas was as limp as any normal corpse would be. Kel'thuzad growled in frustration, sexual and mental. No matter how much he combed his mind and various libraries, he couldn't find a way to bring his beloved Arthas back.
He sighed. Phylacteries. He might be a bit more calm once he had made one or two. The spell was rather easy to do, but some few might find the process disconcerting if they were to witness it. It was a thing of beauty, to his mind, but very few others actually thought that about the process of creating other phylacteries.
The first one was easy. Simply cast a binding spell on yourself and mentally rip a portion of your mind away and bind it to the object. It was agonizing, the pain, but it was worth it in the end. Binding himself to Azeroth, making sure he was able to bring his master back, always. When he'd tried to make a second one, it had backfired horribly. He was in pain and immobile for weeks. Thank goodness no one tried to attack Naxxramas at the time. Most horrible of all, Mr. Bigglesworth was mad at him for a good two months afterward.
Poor cat...he'd loved Biggles! Almost as much as he loved Arthas. He wanted to buy a new cat, but every town that sold cats would scream in terror at the return of the master of Naxxramas. Maybe he could try threats? Or find a blind old cat lady. He had to have a cat to make into a phylactery. It wasn't really required or even approved of, really.
Putting your soul into something living was a dire risk, but who would dare harm any pet of the Mighty Kel'thuzad? Apparently only the Ashbringer. That stupid Mograine kid. The blonde one. Kel'thuzad was almost one hundred percent sure he'd killed the boy, but somehow he had shown up in Naxxramas a few months ago and beheaded dear Biggles. Kel'thuzad had pretended to cry for a week, after vowing to kill Darion (again).
He sighed and cast a teleport Stormwind spell. There used to be a crazy cat lady near the Mirror Lake. Maybe she was too old now to see him fully, or perhaps she just wouldn't care. He really wanted a new cat. He'd bought dear Biggles when he was still human, which was a long time ago. Shit. That meant the woman was probably dead. Hmm. At least her house was still there.
Kel'thuzad floated toward the house. The nearby grass was unkempt and wildlife seemed to be getting dangerously close to the cat-woman's old house. Irritably, Kel'thuzad cast a particularly violent arcane blast at the animals, causing them to instantly explode. He heard a woman's scream from the small house.
A young woman with long brown hair ran out of the house. She was standing in the middle of the field, barefoot. She had a vacant look on her face, but appeared otherwise normal. She did not seem to notice the sparkling, floating lich in her front yard.
"Who's there?" Called the woman, her voice sounded frightened. "I shall call the guards if you do not make yourself known to me!"
Kel'thuzad was stumped. He was standing right in front of her! What the hell? "I am here. Can you not see me? I am looking for a woman who lived here nearly sixty years ago."
She turned her vacant eyes toward his voice. "You sound odd, good sir. You have need of lodgings? Only Stormwind is but an hours march away..."
Kel'thuzad finally got it. The young woman was blind. Of course that was why she was incapable of seeing him when he was right in front of her face. "You're blind." He said obviously.
"Yes, of course I am. Everyone in Elwynn knows that. I'm not alone. I have many friends and I have my pets, my grandmother's dear cats..I care for them as she did. What can I do for you? I've little food and no extra room for an inn."She sounded almost put-out that he didn't know her.
"I'm from...really far away. Like, really, really far away. I don't even know who the king of Stormwind is. I just want a damn cat. Does Stormwind still use gold for currency?"
Now it was the woman's turn to look baffled. This man was obviously an idiot. "Yes, of course, and Stormwind has no king...the city is ruled by a queen. A cat, you say? Do you know how to care for them? Will it have a good life?" A look of concern crossed her face.
"Oh yes. I will care for it very well. It will be a very important animal. It will have the honor of housing something precious...a piece of my very soul! It will be immortal!" Kel'thuzad burst into laughter before realizing the woman was looking at him as if he were insane.
"Ahem. That is, yes, I love cats. I had one for well over thirty years before someone killed him. It was a truly vile crime!" This was true, at least.
The woman smiled. "Indeed. I love cats too. They're the only people who don't judge me. Yes, cats are people. Little furry people, but people." She picked up what appeared to be her own cat, a grey tabby, which was twining itself between her skirts.
Kel'thuzad wholeheartedly agreed that cats were indeed people. He'd always known this to be true. It was so nice to finally meet someone else who thought this. "May I purchase one, please? I need to get back to my...uhm...home." He had stopped just short of saying 'floating castle of undeath'. Wow, he really needed some kind of anxiety potion.
"What color do you like? I can't see, so color doesn't matter to me. It's their personality, what they do, how they act..." She trailed off and nuzzled the grey tabby she was holding.
"I agree, most certainly." Kel'thuzad floated over to the cats milling around the garden area. For a blind woman, she was capable of keeping a fine garden. Most of the cats hissed at him and ran into her house, afraid of his undead presence.
A few sniffed his robes curiously. A silky pure white kitten even dared to go so far as to run her claws down the front of his robe. Kel'thuzad hesitantly picked her up and examined her. She wasn't Biggles, but no one was. She didn't hiss or scratch, but mewed petulantly and pawed the air.
"What about this one? She's the only actual kitten you have. The others are adults. Do you know if she is a good one?" The lich was still examining the white kitten. She had ice blue eyes, just like Arthas.
"All cats are good, sir. A bad cat is the product of a bad owner. You may not want her, though. She is deaf, you see. I tried selling her many times, but they told me she responds to no commands at all. She can't hear. I am a poor caretaker for her, as I cannot see and she cannot hear..." The woman trailed off. She sounded very sad about the kitten's situation.
"I only care if she is healthy. It doesn't matter whether her ears work or not." It was true. He was a powerful telepath. All his commands would be mental anyway. "I shall take her off your hands. Have no fear, I am a mage. I can communicate telepathically."
He summoned some gold from his vault in Naxxramas and dumped it in the woman's hand. She shivered and jerked back when she felt the icey grip of his bones, but she did not run.
"Perhaps I will come back." He offered.
She nodded slowly. "Yes. By appointment, please. No offense, but I'm not sure if any company I may have would be so accepting of...your condition." She smiled in his general direction.
Kel'thuzad laughed. So she did know what he was. "My name is Kel'thuzad. Don't tell anyone."
She smiled again. "I won't. I don't recognize the name anyway. I'm sorry you've been forgotten. Maybe it's a good thing. Maybe you don't have to be who you used to be. My name is Kiara. Sometimes all it takes it one act of kindness to change who you are."
The lich just stared at her in astonishment. It did help his cause that no one really remembered his last reign of terror, but...her words caused him an odd type of pain. Pain he'd only ever felt before when he had seen the corpse and broken sword of his beloved Arthas. Pain in his hollow chest. Where his heart should be. How can I change who I am? What I am? I'm a lich, the master of Naxxramas, the Lich King's most trusted servant, terror of the Plaguelands and Dragonblight!
"I'm a bad person, Kiara. I do bad things. It's who I am. A necessary evil. I don't do acts of kindness." He began casting a teleportation spell, to get back to Naxxramas. As the spell was finishing, the woman had a few last words.
"Why did you choose the deaf kitten, then? Only a mage could easily care for her, and you knew it. One act of kindness, Kel'thuzad." Her voice trailed through the portal, echoing in the empty throne room of Naxxramas.
He glared at the white kitten. He only chose her because she reminded him of Arthas! White hair, lovely blue eyes...of course that was why! What other reason was there? Besides, she was mostly tool, partially pet! Nothing more. He sat the kitten down on the cold floor and turned back to Arthas's corpse.
To his frustration, a piteous mewing easily distracted him. He cursed himself and conjured a fire and warm pillow for the kitten. That should at least stop it's yowling. He didn't CARE about it. He just wanted it to shut up, right? Kel'thuzad figured he might as well name the cat. He couldn't keep calling her 'it'. That wouldn't be right at all.
Cat. Your name from this moment on is Arturia. You're being honored with a name similar to the most perfect being to grace this world, so live up to it, you little furball! He ordered his new kitten mentally. For a cat, she looked stunned, as if these were the first words she's heard. Of course, they weren't words. A mages' telepathy was images. Images and ideas transplanted from one mind to another. It was why mages could communicate with those who didn't speak their native tongue.
Don't look so shocked, Arturia. You'll be granted an even higher honor soon. I need a home for my soul, you see? It will make you immortal! You won't feel heat or cold, and I can keep you with me always! The cat, unsurprisingly, did not look all that thrilled at the prospect.
Kel'thuzad stubbornly turned his back on the cat again, definitely not worrying about it anymore. He twisted off his signet ring. The lich gazed down at the last remnant of his human life. The ring was made of thick gold with a layer of amethysts forming the signature Violet Eye in the center. The Dalaran coat of arms. The Kirin Tor, his former...friends? Colleagues? He shook his head. They were nothing to him now. Nothing.
Kirin Tor...a young mage named Jaina learning her first spells...the young girl laughing with the most beautiful being in Azeroth...another mage, a red head, arguing with a dragonmage...a woman, a beautiful woman sealing away his master's greatest nemesis...useless memories, all of them. Jaina, Arthas, Rhonin, Krasus, Aegwynn..the only one that mattered was Arthas. He was never a part of the world of magic. Kel'thuzad pitched the ring across the throne room in a fury.
He didn't need memories. The lich was Scourge. Master of Naxxramas. He didn't do kindness. He was evil. He would return Arthas to life, regardless of the consequences. In whatever heart he possessed, he knew his beloved master was not at peace. Far from it. He could practically hear the prince's screams in his nightmares. Screams of pain.
Screams his faithful servant was trying to put an end to. How else can I help him if I don't bring him back to Azeroth? I heard what the paladin said. There is no help for Arthas, in this life or the next. The only solution is to make sure he's like me. To make sure he never dies.
Kel'thuzad fought back that ache in his chest that meant he would have cried if he were human. He collapsed on the corpse of Arthas, begging and pleading to whichever god would listen to please, please give him an answer, to please help him, to help Arthas. Was this, then, Kel'thuzad's own personal hell? Never able to die to see his master in the afterlife, never able to bring his master back to him, to save him from his own hell? He glanced at Arturia, the precious white kitten he'd bought to house another phylactery.
Why? Why do I need to? Arthas isn't here. He's...there. Screaming. If I can't bring him here, surely I can go to him...but why? What good would it do? I LIKE Azeroth. I LIKE being here! I've never wanted to die. I will bring him back. Kel'thuzad's thin, bony form ached with longing for his precious Arthas, just to hear his voice again would be a gift. A voice that wasn't thin, high-pitched, and shrieking for release from his pain.
He felt something soft against his hand. The lich glanced up. Arturia, the tiny white cat. What do you want? Can't you see I'm doing something important here? The cat mewed. It sounded angry. Kel'thuzad sighed and used the glyph that let him understand all languages, including animal languages for some reason.
Say again, little girl? The cat mewed again. Why do you care so much about that corpse? There's nothing in there. I can smell it. The cat pushed her head gently against Arthas' naked arm. He picked up the white kitten. Come. We have elsewhere to be. Kel'thuzad cast another teleportation spell, this time for Tanaris. To create a second phylactery, besides the ring, which had been so easy it hadn't been worth mentioning or doing much beyond tossing it across the room. The next spell required an actual sacrifice of immortals that weren't goats.
Dragons. The Bronze flight was the most disoriented as of late, what with Nozdormu being Murozond and himself at the same time and somehow telling people to kill him while arguing that killing him is the worst possible course of action. Yeah, the entire flight was probably insane by now. He only needed whelps anyway, not actual drakes or dragons. Just the mindless whelps. He could probably steal eggs and break them open. All dragons were fully developed inside the egg, it just took time for them to be ready to face the outside world.
A few dark whelps crackling with unearthly energy were milling around outside the caverns, he noticed. This was almost too easy. He wondered if it were some type of trap, or if these baby dark whelps were some type of mutant offspring of Bronze dragons. Wait. What was he, an idiot? Of course they were! They were Infinite whelps from another dimension where Nozdormu became Murozond. They were sent here to convert this universe to their own specifications.
They were just stupid whelps, however...useless. Kel'thuzad kicked one that happened to fly a little too close. It gave an almost pitiful squall before falling to the ground, leaking brains and other fluids. Perhaps...THIS is the answer! He picked up the limp whelpling, prodding it's crackling, leaking brains. Hmm. Power over time. Over universes. Maybe one of these dragons can take me to a universe where my master lives! Where we can be together! After all, what else is the point of time travel, if not changing things, making things better? That's what these little shits are for.
Kel'thuzad pocketed the dead whelp, stuffing it in his robes, and continued down the Caverns. I don't want to go down there. Something is wrong. Please. His kitten pleaded with him. He had stopped near what appeared to be a crooked looking inn of some type. He glanced at the white kitten. You may stay here. I do not need you after this. For my part, I hope you have a happy life.
He sat the kitten down in front of the innkeeper, a bronze dragon in human form who simply smiled at the kitten and nodded at Kel'thuzad. Apparently, the lich was welcome. Or they had known he was coming. That was the problem with people who knew the future. They knew too much or too little. The bronze innkeeper did not respond to Kel'thuzad's stare. He merely started playing with Arturia. Kel'thuzad allowed himself a moment to miss the cat. He really was a cat person. He loved cats.
He shook himself and continued down the steep hill that led into the inner sanctum of the Caverns of Time. In this universe, Nozdormu was no longer an Aspect, but he was the most ancient and powerful time master in Azeroth. Or maybe he was an Aspect. Maybe he just absorbed himself from another universe where he didn't lose his powers. Lightdamned time travel! It gave even undead skeleton mages headaches!
Kel'thuzad approached the dais in the center of the massive room. The Caverns were oddly empty. A few of those Infinite whelps meandered here and there, but other than that, nothing and no one...it was barren. The hourglass in the center of the dais looked unharmed, however. The golden sands flowing ever downward, both sides balancing each other. Neither end of the hourglass had too little or too much sand. It was all in perfect balance.
"That's what it's all about, Archmage Kel'thuzad." The voice was slightly high-pitched, but obviously male. Kel'thuzad turned. A high elf. A dragon, most likely, in high elven form.
"Do not call me that, dragon. I am the Master of Naxxramas. What are you here for? This thing?" He pulled the whelp corpse out of his robes. It was still dripping blood. He dropped it to the floor.
The high elf strode over to the dead baby dragon. He nudged it with a bare foot. "It is not mine. This is not part of the Bronze flight. It is an abomination, to be destroyed." He turned his blue-gold eyes on Kel'thuzad.
"Then I did a good thing, killing it? Perhaps I can do more 'good deeds' and kill them all."
"Or perhaps you can tell me why you're here so you can get on with whatever task you seek." The elf sat down in a chair that suddenly appeared out of the sand. His gold robes seemed covered in the silvery gold sands that made up the floor of the Caverns. It gave him a very odd appearance when he moved, as if he were flashing in and out of existence, perhaps of time itself...
"Hmmph. Little dragon, I seek a timeline. A different one from this. One where my master had the life he was meant to have. One where that meddling paladin did not slay him with the Ashbringer. One where I can serve him for eternity! Give me what I seek, or suffer!" He wasn't sure how powerful he was against a dragon, but he had enslaved one, so why not this one, if it refused to do as he asked?
The elf stood up and stared up into Kel'thuzad's empty sockets, his blue-gold eyes burning with something the mage couldn't place. "There is such a timeline. Your master lives, is a great king, but you will never have him the way you want to. Are you completely sure you want this?"
"I've never been more sure of anything, dragon. If you cannot do it," Kel'thuzad chuckled a little to himself, "take me to your leader!"
"I can do it, easily. A massive staff appeared in the dragon's hand. It was blackened and scorched toward the middle, trailing down to the bottom, but the upper half looked usable and normal. Powerful. There was an orb of shifting sands within the bronze claws of the staff.
The lich felt a moment of fear as he stared into the shifting sands. The black grains showed him pain, terror, a future and past that no one should have to live. A life without his master. A life with his master, but only so he could watch his master suffer. He shuddered.
"What is this, dragon? You seek to sway my decision?" Kel'thuzad shuddered again. Don't make me say it. Please, don't make me say it. He didn't know to whom he prayed, only that he did.
"Who do you care more about, lich? Yourself, or your master? Your precious Arthas?" The dragon's eyes were burning, gold scales seemed to be crawling through his skin as if seeking an escape.
Kel'thuzad clenched his bony fist. "Arthas." He said. "I want my beloved to be happy. I care more about him than myself."
The elf-dragon smiled, his mouth full of knife-like teeth, dragon teeth. The very air rippled in front of Kel'thuzad. A massive gold dragon hovered in front of him. Good. The dragon mentally told him. The dragon ripped out a scale on his back. He handed it to the lich. Kel'thuzad took it warily. He ran his hands over the surface of the glittering scale. He saw images within. He leaned closer, and fell, into the images, into whatever timeline existed on the single scale of this massive god of time.
He screamed in agony as the world exploded around him. Black. Darkness. He noticed for the first time in over a hundred years an ache in his chest that meant breathe. He sucked in a breath, he felt relief, and also pain, agonizing pain. A dull light lit up the world for him to see. His body, if it could be called that, was shredded, for lack of a better word.
This wasn't the body of a lich, or even a human. This was something sick. Something feeble. A creature, not a person. His arms were thin and looked flayed and burned in some places, and scraped to the bone in others. It hurt, dear Light, it hurt! He could think of nothing but the pain, not even the fact that the dragon appeared to have deceived him. His fingers were a repulsive combination of flesh, muscle, and bone, barely held together by thin tendons.
His body looked like a tormented child's, if his body could resemble anything living at all. Another anguished, tormented voice broke his own cries. He managed to pull his feeble, too-large head up to look. The other creature looked like he imagined himself to be, only possibly less damaged. His flesh was merely flayed and burned, not scraped to the bone, twisted and warped as Kel'thuzad's was. Kel'thuzad tried to speak, but realized his vocal chords were too damaged or too small to speak.
Who are you? Why do you suffer as I do? His magic was gone. All the power he had built throughout the many, many years, all the spells to stave off death, what he guessed was this fate, all gone, erased here in this empty place of fear and pain. He still held his head up, though his body ached in so much pain he wanted nothing more than to curl into a fetal position and scream as the other child was doing.
I am Kel'thuzad! The mighty master of Naxxramas! I am not weak! I have felt worse pain than this! He tried to steel himself against the pain, remembering what he felt when his master died. The pain of the soul is always so much worse than physical pain. To his surprise, it worked and he slowly crawled the length of the room. He was determined to reach the other shrieking child, to at least find out who he was damned to be with for eternity.
I am in far more dire straights than you, you cry baby! At least you have full use of your arms and legs! Your body isn't partially skinned to the bone! Stop it! Stop shrieking! He mentally yelled at the other child as it's shrieks were interrupting his own progress toward it. Kel'thuzad finally reached the other flayed child and lunged, at least as much as his weak body would allow. He held the head back, and gazed into the eyes he'd sought for over twenty years.
Arthas! No. No. This cannot be. The dragon...the dragon told me...told me you would be a great king, where I would be sent! Not this! Not this tormented little freak! Kel'thuzad still clutched the feeble body of Arthas to his own, far weaker, far more damaged, body. Or...was it their souls? His body had been destroyed multiple times. His soul, only ripped and mangled.
"Does it matter, you disgusting worm? Cowardly...so afraid of death, of the death of your master, that you would murder thousands, torture more, to achieve your goal." Kel'thuzad couldn't even look up, but the voice sounded vaguely familiar. No, not familiar, hated. Loathed.
The former lich forced his head up, glaring malevolently at the person he had hated for so long. Alexandros Mograine of course. His greatest enemies, this entire family. His son, Darion, had killed his cat. Renault was a failure in so many ways, and Alexandros...he felt the boiling hatred again.
"Hatred, no matter how strong, will get you no where. You seek Nozdormu's gift. You have to earn your gift, monster. Speak!" Alexandros' last word was a command, and a spell. The lich's pain subsided somewhat and he found he was able to speak.
"I will not seek your forgiveness. I hate you. I hate you all. Your entire family. I would do it all again. I loved watching your sons fight and die because of you. Because I claimed you as my Death Knight. The best dreams I have at night are the ones where you scream for your children." Kel'thuzad forced a macabre grin.
"I do not want forgiveness from a wretch like you. I only want you to try. You heard the cat lady. One act of kindness can change a life. You care about Arthas, you lust after him, but have you ever truly loved anyone, anything at all?" The red-haired Death Knight was leaning over Kel'thuzad and Arthas, glaring at them both.
Was that the pain in his chest he'd felt every time he looked at his master? Was that love? He had never known, not really, what love was. His childhood had been empty, his parents gone, no friends, nothing, until he got to Dalaran, but it was far too late by then.
All he cared about was the magic. He rose through the ranks of the Kirin Tor with shocking ease, making the Council of Six when he was quite young. He remembered Modera's frown, perhaps the old woman had known what type of magic he sought. If so, she hadn't said anything to the other Council members, and he was inducted in secret, as all Council members were at the time.
He first felt something...different...the day when Jaina and Arthas had interrupted his work. He had seen Arthas, and felt...that something...that ache. Was that, then, love? He'd felt something similar, yet entirely different, toward Biggles and then, for a short time, Arturia. He looked up at Mograine.
"Yes. I have. I love Arthas. Truly love him. It doesn't matter whether he fulfills my desires, my lust. I only care that he is happy and free. Free from this. If this is why I'm here, if it is my job to take his place, I will." Kel'thuzad looked down at the crying Arthas in his arms. "I love you, Arthas Menethil. My Prince, my King, my Master." Kel'thuzad's felt a pain so agonizing, so blinding, that he blacked out for a time. When he woke up, his hated nemesis, Alexandros, was standing over him, smiling.
"Selflessness. That's it. That's all you ever needed to show. There is no freeing Arthas from this. This version of Arthas, the Lich King, he dug his own grave and filled it in. But not you. Your soul was worse off than his, but you felt it. The agonizing pain just now. Your soul is whole again. It's your soul. Not a single piece is left behind in your Azeroth. You're free to go to the Azeroth the dragon promised you."
Alexandros waited, for what, Kel'thuzad didn't know. The lich looked down, at his body, whole again? No burns, no torn muscles, just...his body as it was when he had been a middle-aged human man. He sucked in a breath. It didn't hurt this time, it just felt...nice. This still didn't feel right. It wasn't right. He couldn't be whole and free from pain while his beloved suffered.
"It doesn't matter. I still hate you, Mograine. All of your family, and that stupid old man, Tirion, who killed my Arthas. Perhaps I hate him more, perhaps not, but your family is the one that's been the thorn in my side. I won't leave here, even if you did make me whole again, if you made me feel true love. You should know, since you seem to be an expert on love, that I will not leave someone I love to a fate like this." Kel'thuzad felt something like pain in his stomach, almost twisting.
This man had lost his entire life, his family, his destiny, because of him, because of Kel'thuzad. Maybe what I did was wrong. In the end, I guess, I am sorry, Alexandros...He wouldn't dare say it out loud, however. He wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing he'd got to him.
A ghost of a smile passed over Alexandros' face. "You don't have to. Go. You still have the scale. Your master is a great king, you can serve him, as long as you live. It's what you want, isn't it?"
Kel'thuzad nodded carefully. "But is he my Arthas? Does he...know me?"
Alexandros shook his head. "Not really. Not the Lord of Naxxramas. He knows Archmage Kel'thuzad, but the mage, not the leader of the Cult of the Damned. In this universe, things turned out differently. Some things are worse, some things are better. All you care about is serving Arthas, correct?"
"Will my master be happy in that world? I...it doesn't matter if he gives a damn about me."
The red-haired death knight nodded.
"Then why am I hesitating? It isn't like I won't be back here, is it? Then, perhaps, I will be able to be with both versions of my Arthas. I will never move on to the next life until he comes with me." He glared defiantly at Mograine.
"I know. The wait could be a long time. It could be forever." The death knight smiled and vanished.
"I don't care. If that's how long it takes, I'll wait. Forever with my master isn't long enough anyway." The mage told empty air.
He held up Nozdormu's massive scale and leaned forward, stopped suddenly. "I'll be back, my love. I promise." He stroked the flayed head of his master before plunging into the shimmering depths of the shining scale of time.
He gasped as he tripped over cold stones and his robes caught on something, causing candles to immediately set fire to whatever book this version of himself had been reading. He murmured a frost spell, one that he had picked up as Lichlord. It worked and immediately extinguished all the flames in the entire room, filling it with a pleasant chill. He smiled. He had all his powers from when he was a lich, but he was normal, human.
But where or when was he? He heard a child's laughter. A small blonde boy with eyes as blue as a sunlit day ran into his room, tripping over the fallen bookshelf. "Ahhh! Archmage Kel'thuzad! I'm so sorry. My father said to leave you alone with your magic, but I smelled smoke and just thought I would-what the heck? Why is it so cold in here? How come you're not an icicle yet?"
How annoying. Kel'thuzad thought. The boy looked a lot like the child form of Arthas, but there were slight differences. His hair was more gold than platinum and his eyes were darker. Kel'thuzad frowned.
"Who are you? Why are you here?" He knew memories from this life would eventually come to him, but he had to at least find out when he was, and maybe where.
"What? Did that stupid spell addle your brains? If it did, I can get mommy to fix it. She's almost as powerful a mage as you are! I'm Uther Menethil...Prince of Lordaeron, silly mage. Fix your brain before I get mommy to do it for you." The boy pelted out of the room. Apparently Kel'thuzad still had a temper in this universe too.
Wait, what? Mommy? Uther Menethil? Well, perhaps Calia...no, Kel'thuzad wasn't stupid. This was the dragon's offering. He dreaded going to the throne room. Dreaded what he would see, and yet, part of him longed for it. Steeling himself, Kel'thuzad headed for the throne room.
Damn. This is Lordaeron, before (or after, during?) the Scourge destroyed it. That didn't happen in this universe, apparently. The mage almost passed out when he saw his king. Oh, my Arthas. You're you. In all your precious, human glory. That flowing platinum hair, those amazing eyes...Arthas, Arthas! Oh, son of a bitch! The Queen, that awful screeching female from Dalaran. He had married that harpy in this timeline, and had that brat. Queen Jaina Menethil.
Arthas was alive, but he would never be Kel'thuzad's, never. The mage slowly walked up to the throne and prostrated himself before his master. "Master. I live to serve you."
Arthas smiled. A cold, steely smile. "Yes, you do." Kel'thuzad lifted his head. Arthas' ice blue eyes were boring into his own calm brown ones. Familiarity. Arthas somehow knew him.
"Is the Archmage alright, honey? My king?"Jaina patted his arm softly.
"He's fine. I just need a moment alone with him. He frightened dear Uther, my sweet." Arthas waved a hand, dismissing Jaina. She kissed him on the cheek and teleported elsewhere. Arthas turned his steely gaze on Kel'thuzad again.
"I don't know where you came from, or even when, but you'll not harm my family. Don't think I can't tell. I'm a paladin. There is something dark in your eyes. Something the Light doesn't approve of. I won't allow that darkness to contaminate my wife and son." Arthas hauled up Kel'thuzad and pushed him against the wall.
Oh, gods, yes! Kel'thuzad felt his lust rising. It was damn good thing he was wearing thick robes, or Arthas would know just how amazing being injured at his hands made the mage feel. If this will be our relationship, who the hell cares about reciprocated love?
"Oh, no, I would never harm anyone, my king. Never. I exist only to serve you." Kel'thuzad fought the urge to touch himself, to relieve the pent up sexual frustration of years.
"That sounds disgustingly like a Burning Legion idea. 'Master'? 'Serve'? I won't have you drooling and falling all over yourself as if I were a Legionlord. Kil'jaeden's forces are a very dire threat!" He threw Kel'thuzad to the floor.
Kel'thuzad moaned, only very slightly in pain. "As you wish...my King. Your Majesty." The mage smiled, and bowed. He knew where he was, however.
Arthas let him up and returned to his throne. Jaina and little Uther ran back in. Arthas swept his wife into a deep, long kiss, which the blonde mage happily reciprocated. Little Uther gagged. Kel'thuzad seethed, but it didn't matter. He had Arthas.
But he had also gotten his punishment. Hell, indeed.
The high elf in golden robes smiled to himself in the shadows. Evil, even evil committed in love, was still evil. The mage would come to hate his new 'life' and wish for death. The hell he saw as a lich would be as nothing compared to hell he felt when he saw his precious Arthas in the arms of Lady Jaina for the rest of his life.
R/R. Not perfect, nothing is. It's fanfiction. I love KT/Arthas...they have little to nothing written about their mad love/obsession/master/servant relationship.