Epilogue

"It's not enough to just live, not anymore. I underwent the training so that I could be strong where I had once been weak, to fill that void that existed in my heart, to find something that could elicit feeling... but I failed. I am just as empty as I once was."

"You have devoted yourself entirely to your craft, there is little room left for improvement. Could you not have anything you wished? You harbor no sense of loyalty to your faction, why not take your fill of riches and go somewhere secluded to live out your life how you choose?"

"No, I can't... I do these things, risk my life, face the perils, fight the battles in hopes of finding something worthy of my skills, a challenge that could give me purpose and fill this hollowness..."

"I understand this emptiness you feel-"

"Do you? Do you really? At least you have your vengeance. Albeit a destructive emotion, a powerful one nonetheless. Perhaps when you have fulfilled that revenge, perhaps then you will know what I feel for surely the completion of revenge is never as satisfying as one would hope... But as it is, I can't imagine anyone can empathize with this overwhelming vacancy, nor would I ever wish it upon them. The only remedy I have been able to discern would be to find something... impossible, some task that would be otherwise unattainable. Find something that had eluded people for centuries, go somewhere that is said not to exist, steal something that cannot be stolen... Perhaps then I will feel the tingle down my spine, or my heart will bleed."

"I had thought that self-preservation was the driving force behind every good rogue's actions. To do the impossible you would be defying that; you would gamble your own life for the sake of a thrill?"

"Once I would have agreed with you. Living to fight another day trumps everything else, any loyalties, friendships, alliances, everything. But when you do that, it takes something from you, a sacrifice that only those that have made it themselves can understand. Those looking in from the outside only see the cowardliness of the rogue, their desire to only serve themselves... little do they know how much we suffer because of it."

"Perhaps you have taken that code too far, no reasonable person would ever except even the greatest of assassins to bear that weight with them always. My companions and I have experienced tragedy and betrayal, but we suffer together. I cannot imagine trying to face that alone."

"Maybe you are right. But it is so ingrained within me that I fear it can never be shaken loose. As I said, it's not enough to just live anymore... which is why I seek the challenge..."

"If your mind is made up then... there are many challenges to be found in Northrend."

Inadvertently, by seeking out the most precarious of missions, facing the nearly unbeatable foes, vanquishing the Scourge's lieutenants, desperately seeking to fill the emptiness that filled her heart, did Vaedra attract the attention of the Lich King.

She couldn't have known that the impossible would find her instead.

-

Mathias thoughtfully stroked his thin mustache as he rolled up the parchment into a cylinder and slipped it back into his pocket. He had read and reread the message at least a dozen times, searching intently to discern any other possible hidden meanings within Vaedra's letter.

It still wasn't completely understood what had transpired at Crusader's Pinnacle. Blinding the Lich King's sight in Scourgeholme from the battle above seemed an obvious move, one Mathias had comprehended in the message and carried out with ease, but when the Lich King had suddenly appeared seemingly with Fordring in his sights, something had happened.

There had only been one fatality during the encounter. Marcus, left to die with the wickedly black sword embedded through his torso, had suffered an excruciatingly painful death, lingering on for many minutes after the fight had ended. He had become drawn and gaunt, face turning ashy and gray, the skin surrounding the wound quickly festering and spreading. He had opened his mouth to scream numerous times but he was unable to emit any sound, but the pain was there in his nearly-black eyes, pupils but pinpricks on a splotch of the darkest brown, a foul bile staining his teeth and dripping from his lips to melt into the snow.

Tirion had been inexplicably afraid of the weapon, refusing to touch it and not allowing any of the other paladins to extricate it, only permitting his Crusaders to use their holy magic in an attempt to save the man. He had felt that same twisted magic before, he had revealed later, and knew it's evil, but he would say little more on the subject. Though he refused to voice it at the risk of sounding like a paranoid old fool, Mathias could see that the paladin clearly thought that the blade had been intended for him.

And Mathias had to agree. Marcus Rose had been no one, a paladin of little station and of no great importance, someone not worthy of the Lich King's attention. So what had happened? No one could recall actually seeing who had struck the man, and the Lich King had been some fifty feet away at the time, which led the rogue to firmly believe that it had been Vaedra.

But the sword had been left behind as well, deposited through Marcus' back, almost like the delivery of a gift. Did she not keep the blade for she knew it's true evil? Did she wish the Lich King to witness her treachery in full? Was the sword supposed to be a warning? He didn't know.

By the paladin's accounts, the Lich King had gazed upward into the cliff side for many moments following the strike of the blade and had loosed the most bloodcurdling of howls shortly thereafter, leaving Mathias with little but speculation as to what had transpired between the two of them.

...I have found purpose and clarity in what you would call evil...

That line of the letter especially had been troubling to the older rogue, leaving him bewildered as to whether or not there was more being left unsaid. The language was so plain that he had initially decided that it was simply a necessary part of the ruse, to convince the Lich King perhaps of her loyalty, but now he was not so certain.

When she had first come to Stormwind to face him those many weeks ago, Mathias had gotten the distinct impression that Vaedra had no choice in the matter, that someone was pulling the strings and keeping her in their control. Had she selected the darker path after all, embracing all that he had to offer but inevitably betraying him? Or perhaps the betrayal itself was the more evil of the choices, one she felt she had to do out of obligation or a need for vengeance... It was impossible for him to say, and probably a question that would plague him for the rest of his days.

Farewell my mentor, you were correct when you said we would not be meeting again...

He had said that, hadn't he. In SI:7, before he had urged Vaedra to flee in hopes of freeing the rogue from whatever force seemed to have it's hold on her. Though at the time he wasn't sure if he had really meant it, more so it was for the benefit of the other assassins that had been hidden in the shadows observing the encounter.

But why did she mention it now? Was it again just another part of the ruse to persuade the Lich King that she wished no further contact from Mathias or was it a veiled message? Perhaps it was her way of saying that she needed to move on, signaling the end of a chapter of her life even. Who could say.

Certainly not him. Mathias Shaw felt guilty that he hadn't been there more for her, that somehow he had failed Vaedra in her training. Reaching out only seemed to push her further away; didn't she know that even the best of rogues shouldn't have to suffer through that kind of unbearable loneliness?

Whatever the secret connotations of the letter might have been... in any case he was filled with sorrow.

-

Even as I write this now, I am fairly certain that upon it's completion I will promptly destroy it. But with no one to speak to other than myself, I feel that I am unable to contain the demons welling within me any longer.

I am whole once again, and yet why do I not feel like it? I do not know how I survived those months for I had very little to cling to, a shred even. No, the only thought that had kept me driven initially was the opportunity. Yes, opportunity... damn it. My life hung by a thread, held in the possession of a man-monster that wished me to be his servant and see to his every whim.

How could I say no?

It was the very opportunity I had been searching for. He took something from me, something intangible, something one would think would be un-stealable. But he did! The very thing I had set out to do. And I took it back, along with something of his. And of course, I did not attain the thrill that I had hoped. No, if anything, I am even more empty now that he is gone.

Oh, but it had been impossible, what I did. He was there with me, inside my head, distorting my dreams, reading the thoughts that dwelt on the surface... but I eluded him.

How? I only partially know. The mind is an interesting place, layers upon layers of activity, conscious and subconscious... but my thoughts have always been carefully guarded and locked away, my feelings masked and sequestered. In the beginning when he would brazenly gaze into my mind, seek out my hidden secrets, I tried to garble my thoughts with meaningless facts. Consciously I would think of anything: numbers, sequences of any kind, any jumble of information that might cloud his vision.

But soon I realized how transparent that was, and I discovered that it was quite easy to hide behind a facade of truths instead.

I do attribute a large part of my success to Mathias, I believe it was his teachings that saved me early on. For I speak the language of rogues as fluently as a scholar might know that of the elves. When I pen a letter, I need not even think of the translation for the words come to me so readily, easily disguised in their truthfulness. Word play has always intrigued me, and even when I did not perform well enough and the Lich King saw through it, I could maintain my honesty at his brusque perusal. But the words were real, and answering his questions with a shadowed openness played a large part in the development of our 'trust'...

But I am human, and he knew this. He knows much. He knows what mortals desire, what they long to hear, and inevitably, I felt myself succumbing. I had been so confident at first of my own ingenuity, how foolish I was to think that I could outlast him while he held every advantage.

Ironically enough, it was his own actions that set me free. Sending me to collect those items for his sword led me to Uther's Tomb. The ghost of that paladin saw something in me, and I'm afraid to imagine what. But he perceived it, and granted me a blessing that's purpose was even unbeknownst to me at the time. It was only when I had returned to Northrend, back into the clutches of the Lich King and I felt myself slipping, those tantalizing promises seeming all too real and close, that a shroud covered my thoughts, obscuring them from his view. The Light had protected me, and I, who firmly and unequivocally believed I was the last person at all deserving of such a blessing, cannot for the life of me fathom why.

It was so hard then though, wanting so much to give in completely, but having the opportunity not to and allow my original intention to come to fruition. I cannot deny it any longer, however. Yes, the feelings were real. I cannot disguise emotions with other emotions like I can with words, the heart doesn't allow us to work that way. Indeed when he spoke to me, whether the words were truthful or not, but when he spoke of our connection, of how our thoughts were entwined, that he could feel what I felt, that I would never be alone... my heart soared. Never would I have imagined that the emptiness could have been filled by one such as him.

But was I something to him? I doubt I will ever know. And does it even matter if I was? Perhaps. Perhaps it does not matter what he was or how much of him is still human. All that mattered was that he was there, and I didn't feel quite so hollow when I was with him, despite his darkness and brutality.

And now I know with certainty that there truly is much wrong with me, whether it be inherent or otherwise. For not only did his evil presence bring me comfort, which is a twisted thing in of itself, but also... that I turned away from it still. The very thing that caused the emptiness within me in the beginning, my damnable nature that refuses to pass up an opportunity no matter the cost, saw to it that I betrayed him in order to fulfill my task.

But the success has brought me no joy as I stated before. I regained my soul from his capable hands and even took a piece of him with me, a piece of him that he gave willingly. Of course it had been under the pretense that I was completely subservient to him, but that is the nature of the rogue, yes?

In a strange way, I think we deserved each other. He sought to use me just as I sought to use him... and from that unexpected relationship something grew. I'm not sure I could put a name to it though. I scoff at the idea that it was love, for surely our 'connection' would be the poorest and most unusual example of love that ever existed.

But still, I have been continuing with the assumption that the feelings were anything but one-sided. Perhaps I was just a failed experiment to him for surely I am no closer now to knowing how much of Arthas still resides in that shell. He can certainly act as well as I, I have seen it. However, I have an inkling that I shall always like to pretend that there was something more there, that he had felt something too, that maybe I had brought an iota of warmth into his frozen being.

Sadly though, thinking that even if it were true, that line of thought would only lead to the betrayal he suffered at my own hand, and wondering what will become of it...

I suppose I will have much time to consider it; now that I have this power, how long am I to live? Is it my curse to covet the unattainable and once I receive it to suffer all eternity in loneliness? It certainly wouldn't surprise me for irony has a habit of following me very closely.

My situation differs little from what it once was: I seek purpose. Now I simply have the means in which to act on said purpose. Must I choose a side once again? Adopt the ideals of some faction or another that mean nothing to me? Shall I stay in Northrend and use the Lich King's own power against him?

I don't think I can yet answer those questions. There is much still to think on. Perhaps I won't yet destroy this writing for there is much wisdom to be had in learning from the past, or so I'm told.

I cannot conclude this, however, until I've posed this final question to myself... why not just end it all, suffer this loneliness no longer? Because I'm a coward? Because I'm a rogue and my first objective should always be self-preservation? Both are true enough, but I think there is more to it now.

Uther blessed me, the Light granted me it's aid. I shall never give religion much merit, but those events have given me a flicker of hope. Ordinarily hope is not a concrete concept and therefore has no place in my world, but it is there nonetheless. Perhaps I am intended to use this dark power I now possess for good. Perhaps I need no alliances or factions to guide my blades for them so I need not think about the actions I take. Again, I do not know.

I look to no higher power to answer these questions for me, I can only look inward as I have always done. I know what I've done, and I know what I am. Now I just need to decide what I have become and what I'm going to do with it...

-

The Lich King sat upon his icy throne, Frostmourne clutched in his grasp across his lap, fingers clenching and squeezing around the grip of the blade. He stared at nothing in particular, but his eyes flickered with an intensity and life all of their own. The set of his jaw was harsh and tense, the very air around his person crackled and hummed with an unseen energy.

She was gone.

Completely gone, no trace of their connection remained. All but a few objects were left in the cell where she had resided for the time Icecrown Citadel had been her 'home', but they were just that: objects, garbage, nothing.

The quiet was deafening. Inadvertently he had reached out more than once, seeking her thoughts only to meet the zone of silence that her mind had once occupied. It was infuriating.

How had she done it? How?! How could she have shielded herself from him? He had asked himself over and over, the answer never becoming clearer, the obscurity only growing greater as his anger did as well.

As he seethed, other questions lay unasked: How had the Lich King been bested by a mere sleight of hand maneuver, how could he have been so blind, was his ire only due to the fact that she had escaped or was it something more... His pride wouldn't allow it. There was no place in him to dwell on any shortcomings he might possess, preferring instead to redirect his focus into fueling the anger that coursed through him.

Of course the failing couldn't be his, he would never allow himself to become distracted by the inevitable mortal emotions he knew she would develop. It was inconceivable.

No, it was her. He had selected her, yes, but perhaps he had chosen too well. She was the one defying human capabilities, slicing through his undead and dispatching his captains without a second thought; he had picked her for her superior fighting prowess and neutrality knowing she would rather be forced to live a life of evil and servitude than sacrifice herself for the greater 'good'. He had known those things, but he couldn't have known how far she would go, how obstinate a mortal she really was.

But he realized, clarity dawning on him, she was just like the rest of them. A hypocrite, a betrayer... It made perfect sense. They all just wanted his power, they all did. Uther, Jaina, his father, his idiotic minions, all groveling and smiles when it suited them, vying for his attention and power, leeching whatever they could from him before tossing him aside like a used whore, all eager to wield the knife that would stab him in the back the quickest.

The rogue was just like the rest of them, it was obvious now.

She had weakened him, that much he could admit to himself. Giving her some of his power had very minutely weakened his physical form, that bit of essence something he could never regain. She had stolen it, and recovered her soul, something he had rightfully taken.

He couldn't let that go unpunished. She would pay. They would all pay.

With a growl of frustration, the Lich King embedded the tip of Frostmourne into the cold ground in hopes of diffusing some of the rage. It didn't help.

But there was something that could.

He rose with a smirk, fitting his helm into place, the gentle murmur of his undead soothing as it filled his thoughts.

He would rid himself of Arthas' troublesome heart once and for all; it had caused enough turmoil already. It wasn't because it was the last remnant of humanity that still remained, or because emotions had clouded his judgment, no, simply because the heart had been the origin of the whole damnable plan in the first place.

Or so he told himself.

The End

Author's Final Notes:

Thank you for reading my first fanfic! I hope everyone enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it, at least to my own critical eye the quality was rather abysmal when I began but I'd like to think that there was significant improvement as the story progressed. If you care to read on I just wanted to share a few thoughts about where I went with this fic and Warcraft stuff in general, so if my ranting interests you then please continue =)

Firstly, the ending. Yes, a great place to start, heh. There were only a few ways that I saw I could really go once I began this rather ill-conceived story that just struck me one evening before I decided to start jotting it down. Some of these were definitely more viable endings than others:

-Vaedra finds a way through some means of her own or combined efforts with the Argent Crusade to destroy the Lich King..... hahahahaha. Yeah, no.

-Vaedra escapes the Lich King's grasp through death, in some fantastically dramatic way, (something I strongly considered).

-She finds some other means of escape (pretty much what I went with, though hopefully through unexpected means)

-She stays with the Lich King and together they wreck destruction all across Northrend... heh. Pretty anti-climactic IMO, seeing as how the entire fic appeared to be leading up to that anyway. zomgplottwist!

So yes, seeing the other choices mentioned above I hope my ending doesn't seem ridiculous. I didn't really want to kill off Vaedra (yes I know she's my character and everyone loves their own characters blah blah blah), because she became exactly what I wanted to capture when I had begun. As much as Uther or Tirion Fordring are seen as being the embodiment of all that is paladin, I wanted Vaedra to be the embodiment of rogue. So from various inspirations I put her together with what I believe to be a multitude of strengths and flaws that capture the essence of a rogue-like character in its entirety. From the very beginning when she was given the choice of helping the Lich King by doing horribly evil things that allowed her to keep living, or sacrificing herself for the greater good/alliance, I wanted the neutrality and self-preservation and opportunity-seeking nature of the rogue to shine through.

Granted I know it may be a little far-fetched to believe that the inner-workings of Vaedra's subconscious had been cranking along the entire time, impervious to the LK's domineering will etc. so that's not really what I what I aimed for. More that, through subtleties of words, a pocket of sanity that she never let him see or touch and using "Thieves Cant" to hide her thoughts and intentions, she was able to remain free-willed and partially untouched. Though no person no matter how spectacular could likely stand up to someone like LK, some of what she had planned and how she was able to pull the wool over his eyes juuust a little bit made her a slightly more 'special' human (someone that would catch the Lich King's eye, perhaps!) She still discovered a great deal about herself in the process, maybe finding things that she would rather not have known, seeing how far she would really go for personal gain... but the things he put her through to get there...

When I began writing I had to make the choice of how much of the WoW in-game powers I was actually going to include. Personally, I can't stand fics where the fight scenes read like a combat log, "So and so casts hammer of justice, so and so casts holy shock!" So I used a bit of creativity and instead tried to use the spells from the game as a baseline and describe them from there. But trouble also came in deciding what "level" I would make most of the characters. I did want Vaedra to be slightly "higher level" than some of the other NPC's, but things could get messy really fast if I included all of the level 80 spells. Soooo, basically, everyone kind of got nerfed in my story into being pretty average, and by the end Vaedra had developed the powers of a high level rogue (Cloak of Shadows, Shadowstep, etc.) I just hope I was able to find the right balance =)

And as for the Lich King, well, I did the best I could. He is an extremely complicated and interesting character, I had no inspiration for him other than my own twisted imagination and what Blizz has portrayed of him and Arthas so far. Yes this is a fanfic and yes I certainly took some liberties, I know it won't be perfect. And where it might be difficult to imagine his character becoming so intimately involved with a single human after his rise to LK-greatness, I felt it was a good way to portray all those unanswered questions about how much of Arthas still exists, or does Ner'zhul just absorb his memories and thoughts and use them as his own etc. Showing his, erm, 'relationship', with another person brings up a lot of those questions that I'm sure a lot of Warcraft fans are interested to know more about, though I don't feel that they are best answered by me. Hopefully I wasn't too vague at times, but I like a little mystery, it breeds questions, and thus, discussion ;)

One other random thing about LK before I draw my ranting to a close, was how very difficult he was to write at times -.-; When I started I would sit there and try to imagine him saying what I wrote in his new WoTLK doomy-filled voice, but I often found it extremely ridiculous... don't get me wrong, I love the voice in the game, it's just not very.... conversational. So it would have severely limited my dialogue if every time I went to write something for him it sounded like he should be bellowing it from the pinnacle of Icecrown Citadel, cursing all that dare oppose him, "show you the true meaning of fear", etc. etc. So yeah, I ended up just sort of imagining Arthas' voice from WC:III once he was a death knight with a bit more darkness to it I guess. Not sure why I wanted to share that, but ummmm, yeah.

Anyway, thank you infinitely to those that read, reviewed, commented, you guys make me believe in me! *sniffle * But seriously, seeing this story so well received has made me very pleased and eager to keep writing, so a /nerd high five to all of you. Oh yes, and the obligatory wifely duty of thanking my husband... heh. I actually didn't tell him that I was writing this until I was more than halfway through, but I'm happy I did. He might not be as dark and evil as me (what, I totally am) but he is certainly just as nerdy and is a endless fountain of creativity, so thanks 3 If you'd like to talk more about Warcraft or writing or some combination thereof send me an e-mail or PM, I'd be happy to discuss, debate, theorize, muse, whatever!

Oh, one last thing then I swear I'll stop. I had intended for this story to stand alone but because it seemed that many people had enjoyed it I was considering that I could easily write a prequel or sequel. A prequel would unfortunately not be able to involve the Lich King, (boo hiss I know) and a sequel would inevitably have to be AU. If either of those options appeals to anyone let me know and I will consider them before I decide to move on to something entirely different. Thanks!