Author's Note: This story is a continuation of characters originally presented in "Honor Transcends", also published on this site. I have republished it with more chapter breaks to make it easier to read. The final assault is beginning on Icecrown Citadel, and Lady Hilde has been captured by the forces of the Lich King. Please Read and Review!
It was the incessant mutterings of the acolytes at her feet that convinced Hilde she was still alive. Light willing, in death at least the sibilant hissing would stop. She pried open her eyes against the frigid cold, blinking away the hoary feathers coagulating on her lashes. Six of the blasted Deathsworn knelt about a half-yard away in a crescent shape. Their immaculate black and purple robes fanned out around them, the hoods pulled up to shield their faces. Hilde gritted her teeth in hopeless anger; the tiny movement shattering the frozen tears streaking her face. The shards fell with a slight tinkle down to the icy floor.
She glanced down at the carved ice so temptingly near beneath her feet. Her toes missed the floor by bare inches, doubtless by design. It took several minutes of concentration, but finally she managed to swing them back and forth. The triumph was punctuated by stabbing pains from her shoulders, and a sudden rise in the cadence from the acolytes on the ground.
Hilde tried to avoid seeing them, the twin spikes of ice rammed through her shoulders, but every movement reminded her of their presence. The abomination that placed them had seemed to take great pleasure in ensuring they caused the maximum amount of pain. The first had been swift, the second slow; slow enough to allow her to hear each bone fracture and each muscle tear. The abom had smirked from his zipper-like face, and struck each with his flailing arms, the shock tearing screams from her unwilling lips. Now she hung in the frigid room, with the acolytes at her feet to keep her silent until the Lich King was ready to claim her soul. Just as he had with the other Maidens of the Crusade. His underlings had taken great pleasure in showing her their bodies, encased in ice, awaiting the Lich King's command to rise and begin their eternal service.
At least the blood had mostly stopped. Thin rivulets escaped the grip of the spikes, and froze in black streaks across what remained of her clothing. The eager Deathsworn had resorted to whips when their swords had proven useless. The love of a long-dead paladin shattered their blades each time they tried, even to the hooked rune blades of the death knights. The Deathsworn seemed to enjoy a more hands-on approach anyway. Hilde flexed her fingers grimly, hearing the crack of tendons around the spikes. She'd taken quite a few of them down before being captured, and they appeared to hold a grudge.
Hilde shifted her eyes to the opalescent doorway. Two death knights guarded the portal, more for appearance sake then real need she wagered. With six chanting monkeys cutting her off from her demon power and no expectation that the Argent Crusade would mount a rescue with another high value target in the citadel, there was little risk of escape. One had removed his helm and was playing bones with his rotting ghoul minion. The other remained standing with his arms crossed, cobalt eyes boring into her face from behind his thick saronite helm. Hilde summoned up the dregs of her courage, baring her teeth in defiance. There was no outward reaction, but Hilde let her lips relax into a triumphant smile nonetheless.
If I am to die here, I won't go down easily like the others. Morag the Butcher. Ja'nna Whisperleaf. Rue S'erayne. Alessandra. Picked off one by one by these monsters. Hilde growled softly in her throat. And to be used by that bastard who calls himself a king. Never!
A pinprick of heat started in her back, flushing through her body. Hilde clenched her fists, embracing the pain. Her back arched, a vicious scream bursting from her lips. For a moment, she could feel both the presence of the Light channeled through her flesh, and the welcoming flood of strength from her demon blood.
The chanting from the floor became shouts as spells were strengthened and tossed around her. The death knight playing bones paused, negligently flipping a hand her way. Crushing cold slammed through Hilde's mind, whipping away the demonic presence. She collapsed back against the frozen wall; shaking slightly as even the Light was driven back. The pain subsided, leaving her hollow and limp, and marking time through the growing bands of blood seeping down her chest. It couldn't be too much longer. She just had to last. They could claim in her death. In life she was still free.
She hung her head, panting weakly as the trickles of sweat slid down her face and froze. The lank strands of hair slithered down, hiding her face from the glaring blue eyes of the death knights at the door. Hilde closed her eyes, dredging up the last gasps of her strength.
It was a slight hint of warmth, and the wan glitter of light that opened her eyes, and directed her vision downwards. The translucent figure standing close by coaxed a small smile from her bruised lips.
"Christof," she whispered. "I did everything I could, but I don't think there's an escape this time."
Alone amidst the darkness and shuddering ice, the ghostly figure glimmered with a soft echo of what had been the presence of the Light in life. Thick plate armor sent dim sparkles into the frozen air. The figure reached out, hands gently touching her knee. Hilde closed her eyes briefly, feeling the warmth radiating upwards.
"They'll come for you," Christof whispered, his voice so thin it could almost be mistaken for imagination. He rested his head against her side, his arms circling around Hilde's legs. She shook her head slowly, feeling tears threatening to well up again from her burning eyes.
"They know about Lord Bolvar by now," she answered. "Even with what's left of him, he can help settle matters between the Alliance and the Horde. That's much more important then I am. I'm…I'm just a figurehead to the Crusade after all." Hilde's lips pursed slightly, derision slipping into her voice. "I'll be a statue at the frost-blighted tournament ruins after the Ashbringer chops my undead body into pieces." The expression slid off her face, and Hilde's eyes drifted closed. "At least for now, I get to see you again. I tried so hard to make you proud."
"No one could have done better," Christof whispered, gently stroking her legs. "Just try to hang on. I won't let you fall into his hands, I promise."