Darkness surrounded the sorceress like a shroud. She cautiously moved her hand to feel around her in the darkness. Cold stone brushed against her smooth fingers, and she could feel something wet and sticky on them. She could smell the coppery tang of blood, but who it belonged to was a mystery to her.
She placed her hands on the floor and pushed herself up, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She could make out few forms within the prison. There was an operating table in the left corner, and another table beside it. Multiple tools laid upon that table, all stained with drying crimson blood.
"I see you're awake finally." A dark and forbidding voice interrupted her thoughts. Fear shivered up her spine as she turned around.
Only to come face-to-face with the Lich King.
His breath came out in frosty puffs, and cold blue eyes sucked all the remaining warmth from her heat deprived body. She felt as if she was frozen in place once more. His bloodless lips curled into a sinister smirk. She remembered when those lips were hers to kiss. Once-a lifetime ago it felt like.
"Oh Arthas... What have they done to you?" Her voice sounded helpless in her own ears and despair made it tremble.
His laughter started out small and almost good-natured. It then started to grow until it was loud and as cold as the Northrend winds. "They have done nothing to me, Jaina." He looked down at her, his eyes seething with rage and something else. Something she couldn't identify. "You're the one who did this to me, when you left me at Stratholme." His voice came as a snarl at that, the rage in his eyes giving way to hurt.
She glared at him defiantly, a crease forming between her brow. "You know why I left you there, Arthas."
"You will not speak that name!" He snarled angrily, driving her toward one of the walls and placing his hands on either side of her head. She shrunk back against it, his cold, furious breaths caressing her cheeks almost lovingly. He reached out a hand toward her hair, taking one of the blonde strands captive. His fingers rubbed along it, making the smooth surface rough and full of tangles. "You're mine now, Proudmoore, and you'd best behave." She glared at him defiantly one more, her lips set in an angry line.
"I am not yours, Arthas. You cannot keep me here. My people will come looking for me." He smiled slightly under his helmet, his icy blue eyes giving away no emotion.
"Your people?" He mocked. "You mean those weaklings in the Alliance? In Theramore?" Her heart nearly skipped a beat. Her mind was in a frenzied panic, trying to think of some retort. "Yes, Jaina dear. I know all about that little mudhole you call a kingdom. I've seen you playing queen there." He was mocking her again, calling the nation she built from nothing a mudhole. She clenched her teeth, trying to keep herself from yelling at him that he was the reason that Theramore existed. But it didn't work.
"It's your fault that so-called mudhole even exists, you son of a bitch." The insult flowed from her lips as water would through a stream, surprising both Arthas and the sorceress herself. He laughed slightly.
"I see you still possess a sharp tongue, my dear. Shame it won't keep you away from me." He grabbed onto her arm, spinning her to him as if they were in a dance together. His other hand caressed her cold, tan cheeks. Jaina was almost moved by the gesture, but she knew he did it for some dark reason. He sighed from envy,"oh Jaina, you're still as fair as you were all those years ago. You haven't changed a bit."
She bit her lip to stop herself from hissing out a retort. He was toying with her emotions, trying to make her think he still loved her, even though she knew there was still a part that ached for him. In her heart of hearts, she knew she still loved him deeply. But she knew he didn't feel the same.
"Finally realize you can't escape from me, little Jaina?" His voice drew her out of her thoughts, making her look up into his eyes. Her lips curled upwards into a false smile.
"I realize I cannot escape from Arthas, but you're not him. You're the Lich King, and that's all you are to me." He stared down at her, masking the anger she knew he felt with a smile of his own.
"How right you are." He released her, making her fall to the ground. She lifted herself up on her arms, her head arching to look up at him, her blonde hair falling over her bright blue eyes. "Your Arthas is gone, and only I remain. You and I will get to know each other very, very well, Proudmoore." He said nothing else as he reached for the door, exiting with a swish of his ruined cloak. The door slammed behind him, echoing the hope dying within the sorceress. She bit her lip, hard, tasting the coppery tang of her own blood.
All she could hope was that her allies soon realized her disappearance.
Tirion paced, unrelenting, at the entrance to the Violet Citadel. Jaina had never arrived, and he wanted an explanation. Darion was nearby, looking uninterested as he leaned against a light post. His helmet was off for once, showing off his pale skin and unkempt blonde hair, earning a few admiring looks from all kinds of women on the streets. "Remind me again why you brought me here, Fordring." His voice was a low growl, annoyance glowing in his eyes.
"I can't exactly leave you alone, Darion. You'd scare off all the recruits with your grumpy attitude," Tirion snapped back. He hardly ever rose his voice against anyone, but Darion was one of the few exceptions. He was far too headstrong.
He might end up getting himself killed one day. Again. And Tirion couldn't let that happen. He was the last tie he had to his old friend, Alexandros.
Darion only rolled his eyes before looking over at a mage who descended the steps, a high elf with hair the color of moonlight, clinging to one of his arms. Tirion could feel his own mouth curling upwards into a pleased grin.
"Rhonin Redhair. It's a pleasure to see you again. And, of course, your lovely wife." Rhonin ran his gloved fingers through his unkempt firey mane, attempting to comb it. Vereesa merely stood there, her graceful lips curled into a smile as well as she dipped her head to the paladin.
"Tirion Fordring. What may I help you with?" Rhonin's voice was slightly raspy, as if he had been speaking non-stop for a few hours. But even so, his words carried strong to the aging man.
"I wish to know why Lady Jaina had never arrived at the Argent Tournament Grounds." Rhonin looked confused as Tirion finished his statement.
"What do you mean she never arrived? I saw her teleport away myself-" He stopped himself, his eyes widening considerably. "No, don't tell me he got to her?" Now it was Tirion's turn to look confused. He didn't know of whom Rhonin mentioned. But seeing as how his eyes widened, it probably wasn't good.
Then it hit him.
His Citadel is close by. He could've sensed her teleporting somehow.
"She was taken by the Lich King." The words flowed from his lips, horror showing in his voice by it trembling. Rhonin nodded silently, and even Darion looked concerned.
Tirion didn't remember what they spoke of afterwards, for he only kept praying to the light to preserve the sorceress. To keep her safe.
Oh Light, please, do not let one of your champions to fall into the clutches of darkness. Protect her in her hour of need...
If any of you can guess what Rhonin was saying non-stop, you get a virtual cookie.
