Disclaimer: Everything in this story belongs to Blizzard Entertainment.
Here's the next chapter. I did recover quite a few chapters from Wildheart Fanfiction but I am still doing a major revamp on this story. This chapter is an example; it has old content as well as new stuff. I hope everyone enjoys it. There is dialogue taken from the game in this chapter but, in case you haven't played WotLK, it shouldn't be spoilerific.
The Shadows Grow Longer
Chapter 11
As the Lich King had promised, several living members of the Cult of the Damned had arrived shortly after his departure to tend to her wounds and feed her. Jaina was too tired to struggle and simply sat back and let them work as they stabilized her foot and cleaned her cuts. While they worked she daydreamed.
She had suddenly missed the ocean. It was rather odd, for the sea was not something she'd thought much about during the years at Dalaran; ultimately it was in her blood, however, and for the past few days she'd truly missed it.
It was the fall she'd been granted permission to stay with Lordaeron's royal family. The fall she found herself sitting in with Arthas and King Terenas as they listened to the people's petitions. The fall she had found herself being treated more as a member of the royal family than as a friend. The fall she had begun to feel frightened and unsure of herself and her duties.
Confiding her longing to Arthas, he had hastily arranged for a quiet trip to Southshore where the ocean was still warm. They went with only a few guards and, upon arriving, separated from their escort despite the men's protests and went incognito into the inn and about the town.
The first night there, they sat together just off the town dock. Jaina was relieved by the salty smell and endless gentle waves of the sea. For a moment she forgot who she was and her duties in both Dalaran and Lordaeron, just content to lean against her fiancé and let the ocean air caress her face.
"Do you ever wish you weren't born a prince?" she asked Arthas.
"Of course. I think all royalty think such things sometimes." He turned to her and playfully tugged at a lock of her hair. "But if I hadn't been born a prince, I would have never met you."
"Maybe we would have met as commoners." She sighed. "Then we could have led normal lives together, never worrying about leading nations."
"Is that what this is all about? You've been acting strangely for the past few days. You've never missed the ocean. You've never questioned your position in life. Why, if you weren't royalty you probably would have never been allowed to study under Antonidas in Dalaran and you love it, don't you?"
"Of course I do, more than almost anything else!"
And so she did. But something was bothering her. Something about her impending marriage to Arthas. The thought of being a queen. Would she be able to continue her studies in Dalaran?
Arthas and other assured her that she would but she remained skeptical. Queens stayed with their husbands and supported them; they did not live in another city and pursue a career in magic!
He took her head in his hands and touched his forehead to hers. "Tell me, Jaina. What's really wrong?"
"I am afraid of being a queen, Arthas. I never really thought about it before now. It seems so… weighty compared to just being a mage." She looked up at him. "Don't you ever worry about being king?"
"I try not to think about it, honestly. No use in getting worked up over something that probably won't happen for years. I mean, I want to learn all of the things I will need to know when I AM king but at the same time I want to enjoy life being a prince since it won't last forever."
Jaina wondered how he managed to remain so carefree despite the topic. Would he become more stoic with age? She hoped not. His lighthearted attitude was one of the things she loved about him and needed in a potential husband least she lose herself in the rigorousness of her studies and other duties.
"Like I said, it probably won't happen for years." His voice went flat as a new thought came to mind. "I thought you were excited about getting married." "You aren't having second thoughts, are you?"
She shook her head.
"No," she reassured him. "Never."
Confidence surged through her as she studied her lover's face. She could handle this. She was being silly. She could be a queen and a mage at the same time. As for being queen, Arthas would always be there with her – at this point she couldn't imagine the rest of her life without him – so it wouldn't be as though she would be leading a nation on her own. That thought terrified her.
Arthas smiled. "Relax. You wanted to see the ocean; aren't you happy?"
"Yes, very." She leaned in and kissed his nose. "Thank you for bringing me here."
He stretched and unbuttoned his shirt. "You didn't come all this way just to look at it, did you?"
Jaina frowned. It was dark out, the dim lights of the inn flickering on the small waves. "Now?" she whispered.
"Why not?"
"Well, I guess we could. I'll need to go back to the inn to get my – Arthas Menethil, what in the name of the Light are you doing?"
"Going swimming."Arthas had removed his pants and was busy pulling off his underwear.
Her eyes widened. "Naked? Arthas, it's not proper! And we are too close to town!"
His familiar form darkened by shadows, he stood in front of her in all of his naked glory. "Come on, Jaina. Live a little." And he charged into the surf with a loud splash.
"Get back here!" Jaina was mortified. What if someone saw?
A blast of water hit her square in the face. Shaking her drenched clothing, Jaina scowled at the dark form in the water before her. Indignant, she turned to head back to the inn; casting one last glance over her shoulder she saw Arthas rapidly coming after her.
"Don't you dare!" she whispered furiously. But he caught her arm and swung her into the sea just as the protest died on her lips; Jaina hit the water with a tremendous splash and it swarmed into her nose and mouth. Sputtering and coughing, she swam to the surface.
"Jaina? I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"No. But I'm about to hurt YOU." With all of her might Jaina swung her arms, sending water flying towards him in a torrent. A thrill ran through her and, while Arthas coughed and sent several half-hearted splashes her way, she swam back to the shallow water and unfastened her dress, jerking it off wildly and throwing it onto the beach. Her undergarments followed as her adventurous side emerged from its long slumber. She threw herself at him, shrieking with delight.
They engaged in a short splash war before Arthas, wiping water from his eyes, called a truce. Jaina complied and swam over to him, flinging her arms around his neck and wrapping her legs around his waist. Cautiously she looked over towards the dock and was relieved to find that no one had shown up there despite the noise.
'And once again he manages to make me feel truly alive,' she thought as he wrapped his arms around her back and carried her farther out into the sea.
"See? Was that really so hard?" he whispered.
Jaina grinned and nuzzled his neck, enjoying the way her breasts felt against his chest. "Maybe a little," she whispered back. "Still, I just couldn't deny you, could I?" Suddenly she shivered and couldn't refrain from asking, "Do you love me, Arthas?"
"What a question, Jaina," he sighed, inclining his head to kiss her. "You know the answer. I love you. And I will always be with you. Always."
That night they made love for several hours in the inn with him teasing her as he kissed –
Jaina was abruptly pulled from the pleasant memory.
That damn kiss, she thought, ashamed. No matter how hard she tried to forget, no matter how many things she thought of instead, that miserable kiss he'd given her just hours before kept invading her mind. It had been so cold and unforgiving, certainly not the tender, loving kisses she'd been used to from him… but was it a sign he still harbored some sort of affection towards her? Was there a way to turn him back to the Light if he did?
Her brow furrowed and she shook her head and sighed. From what she'd seen there was no way to get him back – Arthas was simply too far gone. And he would eventually kill her.
She fell into a stupor, simply wrapping herself in her furs, wondering how this would all end.
Falric found her in this state after an amount of time she wouldn't determine. It could have been hours or it could have been days; she had no way to tell.
The death knight unsealed the door to her prison and stomped inside.
"The Master demands your presence," he snorted, disgusted by the pathetic mortal before him.
Unsteadily Jaina rose from the floor, nearly tripping over the purple and black cultist robe she had been forced to change into as she tested her wounded foot, and limped over to the smirking Falric.
The Lich King had been tempted to decimate the entirety of the Argent Crusade in the Valley of Echoes. Tempted greatly but not so much as to give the order; that was not his plan. Let them push through and take Scourgeholme and Sindragosa's Fall. Most of the Nerubians had been ordered to fall back, tunneling back to their underground Empire, leaving only a few of the spider-like creatures and several frost wyrms as well as reanimated Crusaders for adventurers to battle there.
Let them think he struck without care or caution, let them think they caught him off guard. He would show them otherwise soon enough.
Kel'Thuzad had all but taken over Wintergarde Keep with his forces from Naxxramas, a huge blow to the Alliance. The forces of both the Horde and Alliance were both scattered, driven by the corrupted worgen, in the Grizzly Hills. Warsong Hold in the Borean Tundra was under constant siege by the Nerubians, keeping the Horde occupied there.
Other than the Skybreaker and Orgrim's Hammer, neither faction held a solid presence in Icecrown, obviously not due to the lack of military resources. It was clear enough why both the Alliance and Horde chose to circle the air outside of even the great Gates, simply picking off mindless Scourge here and there or attempting to send spies into the Citadel instead of joining together in a great assault along with the Argent Crusade and the Knights of the Ebon Blade, a move that most leaders in that situation would make.
How amusing that the Alliance and Horde still fight each other instead of helping the Argent Crusade, he thought with glee. Arthas recalled Varian Wrynn as a young boy standing on the castle walls as Doomhammer was paraded in chains through the capital of Lordaeron and the look of pure hatred on the prince's face. Varian Wrynn must still hate the orcs as much as he remembered, and apparently the orcs, despite their benevolent leader, hated him.
Their benevolent leader… Thrall. The same orc slave he'd watch as a teenager in the gladiatorial pit at Durnholde Keep. How ironic, he thought with a chuckle. The 'mighty' Thrall would be a slave again soon enough – his slave along with Varian Wrynn. The two would undoubtedly fight alongside each other at last as two of his Death Knight Champions.
Suddenly he recalled a comment made by Deathbringer Saurfang as they were torturing Jaina: There will always be war despite your little tryst with the Warchief.
Ah yes. The Lich King remembered sensing the true affection between the Warchief and Proudmoore during his years of dreaming. How tragic their bids for peace and ultimately their little friendship would be ruined. He sneered.
Saurfang had called their friendship a 'tryst' but he thought nothing more of it as Jaina, despite her pathetic attempts to deny that she harbored no feelings for Arthas Menethil, clearly did hold some sort of feeling for the former prince of Lordaeron. Of course she did. They shared too much together during his mortal life for her not to! He alone understood her fully.
At eighteen she'd even been eager to marry, and at twenty two it was clear she retained her feelings despite the earlier break up. Idly he remembered her even speaking about the possibility of having children together.
Yes, the children will almost certainly be blond, she'd said, laughing happily at the Winter Veil Ball. There's no reason to think we won't be able to have children.
A grin spread across his wrinkled face. Yet another memory to break her with. He would wear her down sooner rather than later – her emotions were clearly wearing on her already. Such a weak, malleable creature. And yet there was something appealing about her mortality, her conflict inside. Soon she would need him. She would want him more than she already did. In her kiss he sensed her longing and thought of her torment and guilt in losing him over the past seven years with great satisfaction.
No pathetic orc could usurp her yearning, her love for him.
Still, his curiosity got the better of him, and he called for Deathbringer Saurfang, ordering the undead orc to tell everything he knew of the Warchief of the Horde's relationship with Jaina.
"They met secretly in the Barrens often – everyone in Orgrimmar knows," the Deathbringer had rumbled. "Thrall's private zeppelin headed off to the same butte frequently and it has been rumored that he meet with Proudmoore there. But I know it is more than rumor."
He looked to the Lich King to see if he'd said too much and was surprised when he was given a nod to continue.
"Several Kor'kron elites used to always accompanied Thrall, on the zeppelin at least. They confided their fears to my father when they discovered what was going on, and he confronted Thrall. The Warchief was reluctant to say his meetings with her were anything more than simple peace conferences, but you could practically smell her on him; I was there. My... father knew better too. He once warned Thrall of the dangers of having a relationship with a human female, especially this one. And the Warchief didn't deny it. He seemed torn but ultimately brushed it off and said his duty would always be to his people. Yet he still continued to meet her unguarded. It is even said that if Proudmoore's city ever rose up against her that she has an escape pact with the Warchief; that she would escape to Durotar and live among the orcs. That is all I know, my master."
"You are dismissed."
The death knight bowed and departed while Arthas mused on what Saurfang's son had said.
Most of it had to be rumor, he was sure of this. Jaina Proudmoore – the Jaina he'd know – had felt pity for the orcs but that hardly meant she would ever dream of having romantic feelings for one. After all orcs were brutish, ugly creatures that a human lady of her stature would surely be disgusted by them, tentative allies or not.
Yet in the back of his mind, a nagging feeling remained when it came to Thrall and Jaina.
Shrugging it off, the Lich King ordered Falric to bring Jaina to him. It was time to perform a particularly draining spell on her, a spell that often killed the one unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of it. He would have to be careful.
It irked him that he'd been so consumed with thoughts of vengeance and personal matters when Jaina, a high ranking member of the Alliance, could possibly have much to tell him in regards to the movement of the various factions around Northrend. She'd told him very little during their first torture session, and it had not been his intention to pry information out of her then.
Why not torture her until she gave up all the information she knew? Arthas knew better. Although fairly weak in body compared to the warriors and paladins who she often worked with, the mage was strong in mind, and it would take a lot to crack her. She might very well die under torture for that matter, and he did not want her dead. Yet.
So he opted for a mind probe instead.
The Lich King had not lied to Jaina when he said the Argent Crusade had been defeated at Scourgeholme. But he had not entirely been telling the whole story either.
While the Skybreaker and Orgrim's Hammer fought both the Scourge and each other, failing to gain a foothold, Tirion Fordring's ground troops moved into the Breach from the Valley of Echoes. The crusaders fought valiantly but in the end too many were lost. Without backup from the Alliance and Horde, the Argent Crusade found its own base under attack by frost wyrms and Nerubians; the surviving crusaders withdrew to defend the Argent Vanguard.
The Breach was reclaimed by the Nerubians and a blockade of webs was strewn across the sundered earth.
However then something happened that turned the tide of the battle – or at least saved the Argent Crusade from decimation.
Adventurers heard of the Vanguard's plight. They swarmed in droves to Icecrown, first rescuing as many living crusaders left alive as they could, and then reclaiming the Valley of Echoes using the massive cannons located upon the walls of the base. Nerubians and frost wyrms were crushed in the fray, leaving the Argent Vanguard shaken but not fallen.
The Breach was opened yet again, and Tirion Fordring enlisted the help of Highlord Darion Mograine and his death knights to prepare for another incursion into Scourgeholme.
As he sat upon Mirador, watching his crusaders repair the broken walls of the Argent Vanguard, Tirion Fordring thought of the adventurers he had sent to Father Gustav for further instruction on how to bless the souls of those crusaders who had been killed in the failed breach into Scourgeholme. They would be instructed to use holy water on the corpses of reanimated crusaders. It was the least that the Argent Crusade could do to save the souls of their fallen from the icy grasp of the Lich King.
Darion Mograine and several engineers were also at Father Gustav's little camp before the Breach, giving out instructions to the fighters.
A frown suddenly overtook Tirion's aging face.
Darion Mograine. The Ebon Watcher. Doubtless that he would be instructing the adventurers to act without mercy or regard to their own allies while assailing Scourgeholme for the second time.
Tirion was appalled by such recklessness, such dishonor, but the Knights of the Ebon Blade would not be turned to the principles of the Light. And the strength of the Light was the only way to win the battle against the Lich King.
He recalled speaking with Darion just after the first assault failed.
"The Lich King reacted swiftly to the breach. Faster than I anticipated," the old paladin mused, distressed at the loss of his fighters.
Darion Mograine, his face concealed by a hood, came up beside him.
"You are dealing with a being that holds within it the consciousness of the most cunning, intelligent, and ruthless indiviuals to ever live," the death knight said. He did not seem to share Tirion's pain over the loss of life during the failed attack. "The Lich King is unlike any foe you have ever faced, Highlord. Thought you bested him upon the holy ground of Light's Hope Chapel, you tread now upon his domain."
Tirion turned to the undead human, his face filled with frustration and sorrow.
"You cannot win. Not like this." Darion motioned towards the Breach that had been retaken by the Scourge.
Suddenly infuriated, Tirion rounded on Mograine.
"What would you have me do, Darion?" he found himself snarling in a very uncharacteristic manner. He already had a gut feeling in regards to the words with which Darion Mograine would respond. And he despised it.
Just as Fordring suspected, Darion didn't even bother looking at him.
"Nothing. There is nothing you can do while the Light binds you. It controls you wholly, shackling you to the ground with its virtues."
Damn that man!
The old paladin clamped a hand on the death knight's shoulder, partially turning him.
"Choose your words wisely, death knight," Tirion said with more restraint than before as he forced Darion to look at him. "You stand amidst the company of the devoted."
"Look upon the field, Highlord. The Lich King has halted your advance completely and won the upper hand! The breach you created was sealed with Nerubian webbing almost as quickly as it was opened. Your soldiers are being used as living shields to stave off artillery fire in the Valley of Echoes, allowing the forces of the Lich King to assault your base without impediment. The Lich King knows your boundaries, Highlord. He knows that you will not fire on your own men. Do you not understand? He has no boundaries. No rules to abide."
"We will do this with honor, Darion. We will not sink to the levels of the Scourge to be victorious! To do so would make us no better than the monster that we fight to destroy!"
"... then you have lost, Highlord." And with that the Ebon Watcher stalked away, leaving the older man to deal with the incoming wounded.
Lost? Ha! Tirion shook his head at the very thought. Darion Mograine was wrong. The Argent Crusade would win this battle by the virtue of the Light. The Light would not forsake them in their hour of need. It was unfortunate that the death knight could not understand this. And yet Tirion knew he needed the help of the Knights of the Ebon Blade – who else understood the tactics of the Scourge better than those who had formerly been under the Lich King's control themselves? As much as Darion's lack of faith frustrated him, the old paladin was not about to allow this advantage to slip away by berating the death knights about their lack of honor.
The sound of hoof beats caused him to turn as a dwarf riding a ram galloped through the Vanguard's front gate and up the hill to Tirion's position.
"Highlord, the Knights of the Ebon Blade 'ave purged Scourgeholme of its high priests... and the reanimated crusaders for the time being." Pain seeped through his heavy voice as the dwarf spoke those last words. "Highlord Mograine is sending adventurers after what he calls 'the lords of Scourgeholme' and wishes that I inform you the area will be secured should you wish to press an attack."
"And what of Father Gustav? Has he gathered the materials we shall require to sanctify Crusader's Pinnacle?"
"Workin' on it, m'lord."
"Very well. Thank you, crusader. May the Light go with you."
Turning his attention back to the construction on the walls of the Vanguard, Tirion ran his hands through Mirador's mane.
So many casualties already, he mused. We shall win this war, no doubt. But at the cost of how many lives? How many children will be orphaned because their mother or father doesn't come home from this frozen wasteland? Children-
Taelan. His boy... the child he had failed.
No, he couldn't let his mind go there. Not now. There were far more important things to worry about now.
Once the Argent Crusade and Knights of the Ebon Blade safely breached Crusader's Pinnacle as well as Sindragosa's Fall as planned, the construction of the tournament would begin. Invitations would be sent to the leaders of both the Horde and the Alliance, of course, to come and show their support for the fighters. The actual competition would be held. And then and only then could the assault on Icecrown Citadel begin. Only the strongest fighters would be allowed near the place; those deemed too weak would only be decimated by the Lich King's forces and raised into undeath for his vile army.
Yet this seemed an eternity away. Tirion did not have an eternity. The Lich King did. This was something Fordring was going to have to work around, and stalling the Scourge while the Argent Tournament took place was not going to be simple.
He sighed and rubbed his temples.
"Highlord?" A voice came from his left. A messenger from Stormwind from the looks of her.
"Yes, my lady?"
"King Wrynn is frustrated with Rhonin and the Kirin Tor and refuses to cooperate with their efforts to rescue Lady Proudmoore any longer. He sends you his regards and asks that you do everything in your power to aid the Alliance in bringing her safely home."
Not this again.
"My lady, you tell the king that I want nothing more than Jaina Proudmoore's safe return," Tirion said sternly. "However King Wrynn must understand that she is most likely inside of Icecrown Citadel, and none of our forces, not the Argent Crusade, not the Knights of the Ebon Blade, and certainly not the Alliance, are ready to even think of stepping foot upon its grounds until the best of us are weeded out. I will not waste lives if I can help it. Things will proceed according to plan, and unfortunately Lady Proudmoore will have to wait. I pray every day that the Light is with her. But any rescue mission at this point would be a fool's errand. I know King Wrynn. I know he will be stepping up SI:7 involvement in infiltrating the Cult of the Damned for information and I encourage him to do so. However any real military involvement will end in massive loss of life, and the Lich King's army will only grow because of it. Remind him of that."
"Very well." The messanger sounded irritated. "Thank you, Highlord."
"Light be with you, my lady."
The woman bowed curtly and departed.
Tirion groaned inwardly. Not only was he worried for Jaina's safety but he was worried she wouldn't be strong enough to withhold information about the Argent Crusade's plans from the Lich King. And the last thing he wanted was a Scourge invasion of the coming tournament, something Jaina Proudmoore had surely been briefed about during her time in Dalaran. He too desperately wished there was some miraculous way she could be rescued but it just wasn't practical. In all likelihood the woman was murdered and raised into undeath by now.
The thought pained the old paladin but why would the Lich King keep her alive? Unless there was some part of Arthas Menethil left inside that body that still somewhat cared for the girl, or was at least possessive of her alive in some way, Jaina Proudmoore was doomed.
May the Light bless you, Lady Proudmoore, his lips whispered in a silent prayer. May you be at peace before the end.