Hello all and welcome! I am beginning a new what if series that, if successful, I will attempt to update as time goes on. In a world of danger, intrigue, and destruction, how many times have we wondered: what if? What if a certain blow was turned thru a twist of fate? What if a destiny tragically cut short was avoided?

And so we turn our sights not on what may be, but what could be...

Volume 1: What if Illidan defeated Arthas at Icecrown?

Arthas skidded backwards on the treacherous ice, breathing heavily. Catching his breath, he barely managed to raise Frostmourne before his foes blades descended once more, the impact jarring his arms and further tearing at his wounded shoulder. Arthas cursed with feeling. If he had been just a bit faster in that blasted tunnel, he thought, that damned icicle would have impaled the cavern floor rather than his shoulder, making Frostmourne feel like it was a hundred pounds and slowing his already weakened reflexes. Looking into his opponents' eyes, or more accurately what passed for them, he saw no hint of weariness or weakness, only a burning desire to end his life. Pushing back, he was surprised when his opponent suddenly gave ground and unfurled his wings, gaining both height and distance. Raising his glaives as if to ready another crushing blow, he seemed not to have noticed that his bare torso was now open to an attack. Arthas' eyes narrowed. He knew he didn't have much strength left and he might not get another opportunity... Coming to a decision, Arthas suddenly sprinted towards Illidan. Coming under his guard, Arthas' heart leapt as he swung Frostmourne towards Illidan's midsection with all his might, anticipating the slicing of flesh and the end of their murderous duel...

...only to gasp in surprise as Frostmourne cut nothing but air as Illidan suddenly flapped his wings mightly and flew over his head. A faint tremor behind him alerted him to the destination of his foe and Arthas' heart filled with dread. Turning desperately, he attempted to weave a defensive pattern but a tremendous impact stopped his movement cold. Confused, he looked down slowly to see his opponents' burning blades protruding from his rent breastplate followed by a steady flow of what he dimly realized was his own blood. Looking back into his opponents burning eyes, he saw Illidans' lips twist in an expression of fierce triumph. Any other thoughts he was attempting to form died as Illidan twisted the blades, turning his legs to water and causing Frostmourne to fall to the drifting snow below.

Wrenching the blades free, Illidan breathed deeply and rolled his shoulders, his nerves and mind alive with vindication. He had done it! The meddlesome human was finally dead and his path to the Lich King was clear. With the deed done, he would finally be free of Kil'Jaeden and pursue his own path. As for his reward, he grinned as he imagined Tyrande's infatuation with his prowess. After such an impressive victory, even she could not deny he was his hateful brothers' superior, and even if she did, well...no doubt Kil'jaeden could change that particular mindset for him.

His reverie was broken as he heard a slight scrapping of steel across ice. Looking down, he was surprised to see the wretched human was not dead as he first thought, though he could see he would not last much longer as his fingers moved feebly towards his sword. Illidan's lips peeled in contempt and he was about to raise his blades to finish the persistent human but stopped as he saw Prince Kael amongst the gathered throng of his followers, his eyes burning with fierce desire. Deciding he could be magnanimous after all, Illidan smiled and beckoned him forward. 'Young Kael, this human destroyed your homeland and put your people, your family to the sword,' he said, stepping back. 'Your service has pleased me greatly, and for that, his death is yours.' Prince Kael'thas smiled a predators' grin, and moved towards the still twitching body of his hated foe with murderous intent. Kneeling beside Arthas in the snow, Kael spoke softly into his ear. 'For what you have done to me and mine,' he grated between clenched teeth, 'no amount of suffering would be sufficient for your crimes.' Drawing a jeweled dagger from his robes, he leaned in close. 'But while this will not bring them back, consider this a preview of things to come you murderous filth!' he snarled. Bringing the dagger up, he brought it down with a howl of anguish and vindication. Wrenching the blade free, he brought it down again. And again. And again.

Illidan watched as Kael trudged thru the snow to join him and Lady Vashj at the entrance to the Frozen Throne, seeing the criss-cross patterns of slowly freezing blood decorating his face and brightly colored robes. Besides the physical attestations to the deed, he seemed if anything to stand taller than before, as if a great weight had been removed from his shoulders. Joining his lord, Kael smiled and bowed slightly, his blood-streaked face making him look even more savage than before. Illidan smiled inwardly. Ever the devoted servant this one, he thought, but what would he do with him, with them both when his task was complete? His smile faltering slightly, Illidan mentally brushed the question aside in irritation. Plenty of time to decide one's fate when the task is complete, he thought. 'We have looked into the face of death and found it wanting,' he said, looking first to Kael and then Vashj. 'Now the final step remains: to face it's beating heart and tear it asunder! What we do today will echo throughout eternity, and you will both have the privilege of seeing the dawn of a new era! Come, the Frozen Throne awaits and the Lich King's doom has come!' Shaking his wings slightly and dislodging a small flurry of snow, Illidan, Kael, and Lady Vashj entered the darkness beyond.

Climbing the icy stairs that seemed to stretch on forever, Illidan craned his neck upwards. With his enhanced eyes, he could make out a veritable nexus of raging power sitting atop the frozen glacier. The sheer magnitude of such power staggered him, having only felt its like in the presence of his master Kil'jaeden. For a moment, doubt flooded him. Surely the Lich King would not be defenseless, its existence dependent on the lives of its devoted servants to keep it safe? He grew more uneasy as further questions sprouted from this conundrum. Is the Lich King truly helpless without his servants? Could this be an elaborate trap? He didn't have time to ponder his thoughts further as he reached the final step to ascend to a large platform. There, before him, stood the Frozen Throne and upon it, the Lich King. Or did it? He could see a storm of magical energy within the block of ice before him, but where was the Lich King himself? Stepping forward cautiously, he came to a stop before the icy block and peered deeper. Was that...armor inside? Moved by a compulsion he didn't quite understand, he brought up his hand to touch the icy prison before him. 'My lord,' he heard Kael say vaguely, 'is that wi-' He didn't hear what else Kael may have said as he felt a monstrous consciousness spasm and his world became white.

Falling to his knees and gasping fiercely, Illidan gripped his forehead as a powerful headache wracked him. Breathing thru clenched teeth, he started to relax as the pain slowly receded and for the first time took notice of his surroundings. Instead of the platform he stood upon only moments before, he found himself in a richly appointed drawing room where ice covered the walls and a fire burned dimly in the corner. A massive table dominated the small room, but Illidans' eyes were drawn to the figure seated at the head thereof. Illidans' senses narrowed as he recognized the same nexus of power emanating from the Frozen Throne only moments ago, but was puzzled as the figure seemed to be that of an Orc from what his followers described. And not just any Orc, but one clearly infirm and advanced in years. What stood out most was the peculiar painting that dominated his gnarled face which seemed to take the shape of a skull. Seeing the power in this Orc who was at the same time not an Orc, Illidan carefully kept his hands away from his blades. 'Who are you?' He stated. 'What is this place?' The Orc smiled in a way uncomfortably reminiscent of a spider finding a fly in its web. 'I am the Lich King, master of the Scourge, though you may call me Ner'Zhul.' He waved around him. 'As for this place, consider it a meeting place of sorts. A quiet sanctuary where we can converse undisturbed.' Getting up, the Orc slowly began to pace near the dimly burning fireplace. Wiping at a small spot atop the mantle, he smiled faintly and turned back to look at Illidan. 'I know why you are here and that your master Kil'Jaeden commanded my destruction.'

Illidan tensed, wanting to reach for his blades but slowly curling his fingers away from them. For all his appearances of frailty, this being was anything but and could likely crush him on a whim. Patience, he willed himself. If he had wanted you dead, you would be. He wishes to talk, so let us talk. 'Did he happen to tell you why he wished my destruction? No of course not, he would not dare admit such weakness to those he deems his inferiors.' he said with a chuckle. Looking directly at him, Illidan could feel his mind boring in on him. 'He ordered my destruction not because I outlived my usefulness in his grand scheme, but because I began to eclipse his own power.' The old Orc smirked. 'Why do you think it was that he sent you? He knew he could not match my power himself and feared to face me!' The smirk disappeared and he looked hard at Illidan, the skull face seeming to take a life of its own. 'He sent you to your death in hopes your efforts would weaken me enough to bring me to battle on his terms and vanquish me himself. Did you truly believe he intended to honor his bargain, much less reward you?' The Orc spat contemptuously.

'What did he promise you hmm? A fortune unending, power beyond your dreams?' Unbidden, Tyrande entered his thoughts and the old Orc smiled grimly. 'Ahhh, the woman who spurned you yes? Such a prize to be had...' Stepping closer, the Orc looked at Illidan intently. 'What if I were to tell you I could offer you your hearts' desire and more? Wealth, power, the woman you love, it can all be yours...' the Orc whispered, 'Join with me, and gain the power to destroy your enemies and take that which you desire most!' 'Power to destroy my enemies?' Illidan said. 'Such power singularly failed to save your pawn who now lies dead in the snow!' The old Orcs eyes narrowed dangerously, but Illidan continued with growing confidence. 'And as for what I desire, you singularly failed to keep me away as you desired so what worth are such promises?'

At this, the Orc growled and raised his hand swiftly towards him. Before Illidan could muster a spell to shield himself, he was hurled across the room and pinned to the wall. Fluttering his wings and thrashing feebly, he swiftly gave up as the sheer power behind the spell was insurmountable. The Orc stalked towards him, eyes blazing. 'Do not make the mistake of assuming because you were able to best that pathetic whelp Arthas that I am helpless! I could crush you like a bug...' he said, twisting his fingers and causing Illidan to cry out as he felt his heart slowly tightening in his chest. 'I had hopes for Arthas, but he proved useless to me! But you however...' he slowly unclenched his hand and Illidan fell to the floor gasping for breath. Ner'Zhul leaned forward over Illidans gasping form. 'You proved your strength in ending his life and now stand on the threshold of immortality. Will you falter as he did, or will you ascend to become that which you were always meant to be?' Sensing Illidan's hesitation, Ner'Zhul kneeled beside him and placed his gnarled hand on his shoulder. 'Join with me,' he said, 'and your reward will be endless! Seal the pact and embrace your destiny at my side!'

Moving hesitantly, Illidan slowly raised his hand. It hovered for a moment, before resignedly clasping the outstretched gnarled hand of Ner'Zhul. The Orcs eyes blazed triumphantly. 'It is DONE then!' Ner'Zhul grinned fiercely. 'Come young Stormrage, embrace your immortality and ascend to the power of a go-URKK!' The Orc stopped suddenly in mid-speech and coughed blood. Looking at his bloodied fingers in shock, he looked down to see Illidan gripping his blade fiercely with his offhand, the weapon almost fully imbedded in the Orcs chest. Getting up, Illidans' face twisted with contempt and naked avarice. 'Why should I take my place at your side you old fool...' he said as he lifted his hand, now burning with parasitic power, towards the staggering Orc, '...when I can simply take your power for myself?' Searing fingers burning into his skin and Ner'Zhul screamed as his power was pulled from his body. He knew pain as never before and his scream reached new heights as the world exploded around him.

'Anything?' Kael said as Lady Vashj murmured an incantation with her hand resting upon Lord Illidan. 'It issss hard to describe,' she said, concentrating. 'It'ssss as if he issss ssssomewhere else, but not gone...' 'Where is he then?' Kael exclaimed. When he saw Lord Illidan touch the ice, SOMETHING happened and no matter what they tried, they could not seem to get any response from him, not even break his contact with the ice. 'Wait...' Vashj said, narrowing her eyes. Her eyes suddenly widened in shock and fear. 'He isss com-' With a thunderclap, the Frozen Throne exploded, showering the scene with deadly missiles of sharpened ice. Forewarned, Kael barely managed to throw a shield up in time to deflect one such missile from impaling his chest. Gasping from his brush with death, he looked up and his heart dropped. Vashj was apparently not so lucky as a shard of ice had lanced her through the abdomen, her reptilian eyes still wide with shock as a slowly growing pool of blood began to form around her. Behind her, the Frozen Throne was a shattered wreck, pieces lying everywhere. Standing before it was Lord Illidan, remarkably unscathed by the devastation and looking intently at something on the ground. Was that...a helm?

Stooping down, Illidans' clawed fingers gripped the ridged surface of the helm and raised it to his eyes. He smiled as he worked his power into it, reshaping it to contour itself, making it his. 'My lord?' he heard Kael say hesitantly, 'Are you alright?' 'Indeed young Kael,' he grinned as he lifted the crown to his head, 'I feel...' as the crown rested upon his head, 'like a new man...' Kael felt a twinge of unease as he watched Lord Illidan place the crown upon his head. What was he doing? As soon as the crown rested upon his head, an abrupt seizure seemed to take hold of him, his back straining and shoulders arching from some unknown force. Finally the seizures stopped, and Illidan sat stooped, his head bowed low. 'My lord...' Kael began to say, but stopped as Illidans' head came up slowly.

A flash erupted from the helm and Kael raised his arm to shield his eyes. As the light died, Kael slowly lowered his arm and spasmed in fear. Lord Illidan now wore a nightmarish simulacrum of the helm he had placed upon his head, spiked and molded perfectly around his horns. A crystal that once glowed blue now burned with a fierce green light that matched his lord's eyes and burning tattoos that now seemed to swell with terrible power. Illidan smiled as the glacier around him began to shiver and collapse, answering his summons for a view of his new realm. He had never felt such power as he had now, not even when he drained the Skull of Gul'Dan of its magic. In comparison, that pathetic trinket was akin to a child's toy to the power he now commanded. Stretching out his senses, he could feel ever single mind connected to his power, his loyal servants answering his summons across all of Azeroth. The feeling was indescribable, the power to create and destroy without limit.

'Lord Illidan!' Distancing himself from his realm with a thought, Illidan turned his gaze back to the present and the shocked blood elf standing before him. 'Wh-what have you done?' Illidan laughed. 'Isn't it obvious young Kael? The Lich King is dead and his power is now mine.' Illidan stepped closer as Kael slowly backed away. As he stepped forward, he spared a glance towards the still body of Lady Vashj. Death was no longer a hindrance, he thought with an amused smile, and gently reached out his mind, reconnecting her severed threads and infusing her with new life. Eyes that were once serpentile yellow now snapped open with burning green light, and Lady Vashj slowly raised herself from the now frozen pool of blood that surrounded her. 'I am yoursssss to command my kingggg...' she rasped, taking her place at his side. Seeing Kael's horrified look, Illidan chuckled. 'Oh come now young Kael, death is not so bad...' He stopped and raised his glaive towards Kael. 'You now stand at the precipice young elf. You can rule by my side, or you can serve as a slave. Choose wisely my young friend...' Kael's eyes slowly hardened. 'I choose...' reaching into his robes, 'None of them!' he spat, disappearing with a flare of teleportation.

Illidan shook his head. Fool, did he truly think he could escape his wrath? The power he now commanded would not be stopped by borders or by force of arms. 'My lordddd, shall I punish him for his insolence?' queried Vashj. Illdan shook his head and turned back towards the Frozen Throne. 'Not yet Vashj, his treason is immaterial and will be punished at a time and place of my choosing.' 'Assss you command, my lordddd.' she said, bowing and falling in behind him. 'Fear not Vashj, for I have a greater task in mind for you,' he said, ascending to the throne. 'I think it's time...' seating himself and grinning fiercely, 'that we paid Darnassus a little visit. There's someone there I would very much like to see...'