I was once again in this white imaginary realm. This time it was not kings cross station with Albus Dumbledore waiting for me. Neither was there an ugly babe crying on the floor.
After a while I recognized my surroundings. It was the plaza in the center of Lordaeron Capital City. I began to reminiscent. Here I met my wife and celebrated the birth of our son. Here I pledged my vows to the Order of the Silver Hand. Here I took my last stand against the scourge during my second life. In my peripheral vision I saw someone move.
"Uther Lightbringer" I recognized him immediately.
He was the one who initiated me into the order and I was his pupil, before Arthas.
"Hello, lad. I am glad to see you one last time" he smiled at me "I am so proud of you" he added with a warm smile. My knees buckled and my emotions seemed to overwhelm me.
"I failed, Uther. The blasted prince betrayed us all! The kingdom has fallen" I felt my tears escaping me. He walked to my side and put his hand consolingly on my shoulder.
"Arthas was not the first victim to the scourge, but the most crucial in the war. His desire for revenge, not vengance was his undoing. His believe to need to carry any burden, no matter how big, to do everything alone, no matter the cost to safe the Kingdom of Lordaeron, his kingdom, he fell into the demons trap" he sighed.
„Frostmourne stole his soul, lad. Him openly accepting the blade fulfilled a hidden contract. He unknowlingly, willingly swore to abandon the light for darkness. This darkness consumed him and damned his soul. He was no longer Arthas, the Crownprince, Paladin of the Order of the Silver Hand, Protector of the Realm, but Arthas the Deathknight and future vessel for the Lich King." His sad face almost broke my hearth. We stood there for a moment, his hand still placed on my shoulder.
„You rallying and leading the last of our Order and gathering the scattered remnants of Guards and Soldiers in Tirisfal gave thousands of people a chance to escape a fate worse than death. Against overwhelming odds, you stood your ground. Do you want to see what happened after your noble sacrifice? You can rest easy, your family escaped to Stormwind."
The surroundings changed. The ruins were now filled with hundreds of soldiers fighting unending waves of undead. I saw myself erasing dozens of them with every swing of my shining hammer. I knew what happened next. We were fighting for hours already and never did I leave the frontlines. It must have been a day already, but I was not sure. There was no light, only contrasting black, grey and white in this realm. Suddenly I jerked back, as I saw how „I" was hit by six bolts through my chest and staggered. „I" began to glow. The light rose in intensity until my body broke like glass and the light expanded all around me. Every injured soldier was healed and all undead in a radius of one league vanished.
The vision cleared and we stood again in the repaired, but empty plaza.
After a moment of silence I asked "What now, Uther?"
„That's the question, isn't it? You know what this realm is. You already did it once, you can do it again" he answered with a small smile.
I sat down and contemplated. The scourge has do be defeated. No undead shall ever cross the realm of the living again. 'Holy Light, please give me strength' I thought one last time. And the light consumed me.
Like the last time I was born a healthy crying boy. I hoped my body would be as good as my last. As my live was shit in my first go around. I was a scrawny boy who became a scrawny adult, never reaching my full potential. It surprised me how detached I became to my first live. Harry Potter was hailed as a hero, maybe I was once a hero. I died alone in the cold, a hundred years after my wife died. I became an emerit, because I could no longer bare it. Teddy had died, like all blacks died before they reached their eight decade. The last decades I spent reading, researching and waisting away. Only my loyal House-Elves at my side to nag and care for me. My usage of magic became less, my will to influence my surroundings with my power became less. It had kept me fit, even in my old age, but I never truly felt deserving of such a gift. For all its might and my curiosity as a child and young adult I came to loath my powers. The deathly hallows never left me, as I could not bare to see the world burn again, because of them.
My second childhood began much better than my first had been. Despite my health and determination to use my powers in case of emergency, my family fell victim to an orc raid and I was orphaned.
Just a week before the raid I had been tested early on for my aptitude and intelligence and was to be inducted into the Order of the Silver Hand at age five.
If not for Uther, I would not have known what to do. To have such a power, but not use it. To see my parents die a second time, just to be saved by knights charging at the orcs nearly broke me. Only thanks to Uther I was able to accept my powers and learn how to use it for good. In Azeroth I grew up a Paladin, standing proud at nearly two meters tall, muscled and with high endurance. This life, what ever it may had in store for me, should be hopefully no different.
On my fifth nameday I knew this world had magic. I felt it, but it was not like in Azeroth, or Earth. It was more subdued, not shackled, but young and underdeveloped. As luck would have it we were without the blasted elves and their arcane bullshit that doomed us all in Azeroth. They did teach the Arathi people the first magic and screwed us all over millennia before that. Here it seams magic was seen as unnatural, like in my first world. My connection to the light was strong as ever, which I was grateful for.
The Holy Light saved my life and my mothers after she birthed my sister.
I was born as the second son to a farmer named Theoden. Thomas son of Theoden had a nice ring to it, but gave away my missing last name. We had enough food and I had a nice childhood. My life in Lordaeorn was a cultural shock for me at first, but after thirty years there I had all but accepted my realities to „medieval culture".
As the second son I would not inherit the farm, but I had to help and learn anyway. Peasants are called Smallfolk here, which is ridiculous. Nothing small about me, hehe.
My childhood was a pretty standard affair until my tenth birthday. I did not try to outshine my siblings, or improve anything, despite a little hygiene. On my sixth nameday I had gifted all my family with a self-made toothbrush made from ox- and horsehair.
They were very pleased with it and I later tried to make toothpaste.
Sadly it was not to be and got punished by my mother for waisting supplies.
Still my teeth were healthy and my regular washing made my face and hands clean.
My hair was unruly as ever, though. I found it fascinating that traits from my first live carried over to my second and third.
My first life gave me enough attention as it was and to be known as some miracle genius would rase way too many flags. The toothbrush would be my only invention, until I became older to not scare my family. My mother was a hearty, caring woman and I cried rivers after her death. My elder brother was not stupid, but more like a copy of my father with minimal ambitions outside of the farm. He was surprisingly mature about things.
My sister was sweet, innocent and liked to hear my „made up" stories. She would often sleep in my brothers, or my bed, as she had recurring nightmares.
She would have become a truly beautiful woman. May they all rest in peace.
The farm was not very big and despite me helping my parents at age six to weed the ground and tend to the chickens it was a lovely home and we had a fulfilling childhood.
My mother told some stories of old that pictured events of the past and highlighted knights and the seven as the epitome of good. My father snorted often during her retellings, but let her telling us stories anyway.
He spoke not much about the nine penny war he had participated in and knew of the horrors war brings. Still, life was good and I was about to enter puberty, soon.
As the second son I would not inherit any land, nor would I get much money. Planning was me sitting in my room, or walking air headed through the pens of our home. My sister nagged about my „brooding", but I knew I had to do something with my live. I never saw the world, so maybe I could become a wondering knight? I was content with being a farmer, but maybe the quiet live had to follow a youth of exploring? Hmmm….