Hey all, this is my first try at fanfiction, so I hope you all like it. Comments are most welcome!
Cold...That is what he felt, a feeling that he hadn't known for year. At least he thinks it was only years, it could've been decades, even centuries. Darkness... That is what he felt, it's funny; he thought, what gets taken for granted. Yelling, shouting, cheering and crying, they echo around him, yet muffled, like he was in a bubble. When all of a sudden the 'bubble' popped. His green, bloodshot eyes flew open a wispy blue mist gently dissipated, he begins to make out the words being said around him. "The Lich King is defeated!" came a gruff voice, "No longer shall his tyranny threaten our existence!". Who is this 'Lich King' he wondered. "Frostmourne lies shattered, their souls are free. Now at last they can rest in peace". "Frostmourne..." he murmured, "...hungers?" he finished with a confused thought, what was Frostmourne and why did it hunger?
They were yelling. They were shouting. They were cheering, and they were crying. The Lich King was finally defeated, lying in a pool of his own blood on his light-forsaken throne, his fabled sword shattered over the frozen battlefield. Tirion Fordring, wielder of the Ashbringer, was looking out over the frozen wastes of Icecrown from atop the Citadel, watching the Argent Crusade root out any Scourge hiding in the snow and ice. A lone paladin separated himself, from the group of adventures that took down the Lich King, and approached the fallen king, noting all the wounds suffered on his body; arrows, burns, poisons, gashes, slashes and stabs, it was surprising that he could even be recognised. As he got near he heard something, like a whisper, "Frostmourne...hungers?". Before he can warn the others that the Lich King wasn't dead, he felt a shattered blade pierce into his chest, directly into his heart. Blood dripping from the multiple wounds covering his body Arthas managed to stand up, tearing Frostmourne from the paladins chest, he yells "Fools! You think the Scourge defeated so easily?!" Pointing the his shattered sword to the sky, a deafening roar shakes the very foundations of the Citadel, chunks of ice splintering off the plateau that everyone was standing on.
Galakrond roared. 'How?' he wondered, he knew he was dead. But in his mind he only knew one thing; to serve. The giant protodrake landed in the Icecrown wastes among the countless crusaders that were eradicating the Scourge, in the blink of an eye he had frozen near all of them. Tiron's distraught yell gave way to the maniacal laughter from Arthas. The remaining champions with Tirion turned on Arthas, raising Ashbringer Tirion charged. Preparing to smite Arthas, Tirion ruthlessly swung at him. The blow however didn't land, the stress of the last year in the icy winds of Northrend had taken a toll on the aging paladin, Arthas deflected the blow with Frostmourne's shattered edge. Before the champions could finish the fallen king, Arthas ran and dived off the edge of the Frozen Throne. As they ran to the edge to see his fate, another roar made the very ice they stood on crack and splinter. Galakrond came soaring from the frozen wastes right up the edge of the citadel, the Lich King perched upon his giant skull, Frostmourne still in his icy grip.
To be continued...