(note: "An Karanir Thanagor, Mor ok angalor, mor ok gorum, pala'ahm raval" are from the song "invincible" and mean "Long live the king. May his reign last forever. May his strength fail him never!" from what i've found. if this is incorrect i apologize)
Long Live the King
Lightning spiked through the darkened clouds as the snow drifted delicately to the ground. Unlike the blizzard above, the top of the citadel was calm now. Wounded men of all races seeking healers. The able bodied gathering the fallen for their parting ceremonies. Priests carefully mending those who rested quietly trying to recover their strength enough to celebrate their victory. Victory. The words burned in Jaina's brain. Physical pain wrenching her heart. This was victory.
Although her knees were now numb from the slick ice floor, her brain had finally begun to melt and process the events around her. Her gloved fingers ran along the smooth cold plated armor, tracing the skulls and patterns. Is this what victory felt like? Her eyes fell upon the visage of her future king, her love. Lifeless, cold, inhuman, defeated. His body lay sprawled before her, the lack of blood increasing the eeriness of the surroundings. But how could you bleed if you were not alive when you were killed.
A chilled tear fell from her chin and landed on a shard of metal upon his chest. Curious, she picked it up. The metal had the remainders of cold blue runes. Feeling the faded magic, she realized what it was. Anger boiling her blood despite the frigid temperatures, she screamed and threw the remainder of the cursed blade Frostmourne and watched as it slid off the edge of the citadel. This fucking blade. This fucking fortress. This fucking snow.
The snow. Her mind drifted back to the Hillsbrad countryside. Waking alone at the base of the Alterac mountains. Shocked as the snow struck her head from behind, she whirled to find Arthas, a playful grin lighting up his face. The snow now started to settle in his white hair. Tenderly she brushed the dead strands away from his face. Softly the words escaped her lips in a hushed lullaby.
"An Karanir Thanagor" tears welling up, choking them back, she continued.
"Mor Ok Angalor" pausing now to catch her breath, the tears flowing freely
"Mor Ok Gorum" removing her glove she pressed her bare hand against his frozen cheek and unleashed her sobbing.
"Pala'Ahm Raval" there was no holding it back now, sobbing she threw his arms around his neck and wept freely.
There was no warmth left, only dark, only cold. Each passing minute the chill only served to ignite her inner fire more furiously. She could have saved him. They told her there was nothing left. That's when she felt it. Her hand brushed against a small chain around his neck. Releasing the necklace from the embrace of his armored chest, she froze in silent horror. Her locket.
All this time. All these years his soul was lost. Her mind racing with probabilities and alternate timelines. Liars! They all were! Arthas was still there, trapped beneath this grim destiny. The realization that she did this to him was to much for her to handle. She couldn't save him. She gave Varian the final decision to end this. She killed him, he could have been saved!
Her arcane power began to grow. Bolts of energy shot out from her hunched form. A pillar nearly crumbled atop a group of weary soldiers. Not noticing or caring to focus on maintaining her power, she continued to weep. Each breath bolts of arcane energy shot out, arcing up to meet the white hot lightning in the heavens. A brilliant, deadly display of power raining sparks in place of snow around them. The citadel was empty now.
How long she wept over the body of her love she will never know. Time was as frozen as the barren wastes around her. A pair of strong hands resting on her shoulder shook her from her reverie. Her eyes looked up into the concerned, scarred face of Varian Wrynn. Gently he helped her from the ground. She nodded silently in acknowledgment. Varian signaled for a group of 6 men and a wagon to emerge from the stairwell. Jaina knew what they were here for. Tenderly she placed a kiss on her locket and replaced it around her love's neck. He kept it into undeath, he should keep it now at peace.
She watched solemnly as the men covered his body with an embroidered flag of Lordaeron. There were no ceremonies planned, no graves that were dug. This was the last she looked upon him. The heir to a ruined kingdom, to rest in a ruined wilderness. Fingering a button she'd removed from his cloak, the words of his father echoed in her head. No king rules forever. From this day forward, not another tear fell from her eyes for the fallen son of Lordaeron.