by Raichutec
The snows of Northrend coated the world in a blanket of pristine clarity. The tranquility of the slumbering mountainside belied the activity that scurried down below. The cold winds made no difference to those who had no blood in their veins to chill. The cold empowered them, and provided safety while their numbers increased and lost resources were again reclaimed.
The purity of white had been cleared away for the camp that festered in the cracked earth of the blight. The summoning of the Necropolis always brought with it the scorched lands, even within the ice and cold. Arthas nudged his mount forward, despite the precarious position against the cliff's edge. Dutifully it obeyed, snorting once in a form of protest, but never would the beast disobey the death knight settled within its saddle. None of them dared, except perhaps those who held equal sway within the eyes of the Lich King. Ner'zhul did not choose his champions because of their raw power alone, he choose them also for their strength of conviction for furthering his dark plans. It lead occasionally to conflict, but rarely did that conflict escalate. Not when he and his compatriot managed to bond in a bizarre manner during the Burning Legion's invasion.
From the corner of his gaze, he spotted slight movement, a fluttering of black tapers on the high mountain winds. A smile curved his lips slightly and a wry tone colored his words as he spoke aloud, "Kel'Thuzad... why seek me here?"
The lich drifted forward silently, crossing bony fingers over one another as he, too, gazed down at the flurry of workers in the camp below. "You have been troubled lately. Ner'Zhul himself has asked me to speak with you. Perhaps... he thinks that you are not able to complete this campaign."
Pale eyes narrowed at the accusation, turning toward Kel'Thuzad with a baleful stare, "The Lich King sees all, and if he decides I am unworthy, then he can tell me that himself."
A rasping chuckle emitted from the lich's throat, head bowed momentarily in thought. "As abrasive as ever, aren't you, Prince Arthas? Perhaps we are both wrong. Or are we...? Tomorrow, we are to sail south again. And I know you dream of her. What will you do, do you think, when you see her again?"
"Kel'Thuzad, I am soulless, I am not priveledged enough to have dreams," the death knight replied icily. Gloved fingers closed over the hilt of Frostmourne, where the blade slept in its sheathe and crooned quietly. The gesture was meant as a quiet reminder. His soul was no longer his own and his nights were dead, darkness and nothing more. He woke with no shattered remnants of a dreamscape.
"So it is true, then," the former necromancer mused aloud, "I often wondered how the soulless slept."
"Like the dead, Kel'Thuzad," Arthas assured quietly, "Like the dead."
The camp disassembled at nightfall, gathering in the ghost ships that housed their ilk and transported them across the vast ocean, down from the cold of Northrend and into the more temperate regions where the living carved out their varied existances. Arthas found himself staring at the dark, choppy waters, the sea breeze winding through pale locks of hair and keeping the cowl draped around his shoulders. The warmth renewed the blood in his veins, the scent filled his nostrils with nostalgia of another time and another place. Two years had passed since the great war, since the time that he was known as Prince Arthas, rather than Ner'Zhul's champion. When he had knelt before his father in the great throne room, before the court, and been told to join Uther in routing the Orcs.
He never imagined where his fate would eventually take him, into the cold embrace of Frostmourne and service to the Lich King. Two years as a death knight, living within the cold barrens of Northrend and handing down the dictates of his master to the masses. And yet, even now he could not feel regret, or shame, in his fall from grace. He felt nothing for his sins, but he could not quite forget HER.
"Perhaps the Lich King is right," he mused aloud, gaze never tearing from the dark, oceanic world, not even as Kel'Thuzad's ethereal form appeared from the shadows. "What do you think, lich? For I know you have been watching me for some time."
"I have been instructed to watch you, Arthas," the lich replied solemnly, emitting a vexed sigh. "I think you will betray our lord and master and I will have to kill you."
"Then why do you not do it now?" the death knight asked quietly.
Kel'Thuzad chuckled with a baleful rasp, "Because, I have not been instructed to, yet."