BLOOD LEPRECHAUN by J Cae
A/N:
J Cae: I'm baaaaack!! Where's mmmmy fanclub?
Kael: J, it hurts me to go through this again, but YOU DO NOT HAVE A FANCLUB.
J Cae: ...I'm crushed.
Syl: Where have you been anyway? I'm starting to miss my story.
J Cae: I...eh...homework, term papers, finals, periods of extreme Blizzard-hate, falling out with a couple old friends, confidence crises, writer's block, paintings!! (if you like, check my DA (link on my bio) for Syl x Kael, multiple Elma paintings, Alanen, Davita drawings and a photo of me).
Syl: Sums up those two months, doesn't it? I personally am not going to forgive you for your lack of updates. You still haven't gotten to the part where I fought Nerz yet. I've been waiting for it since...since you began RG last July!!
J Cae: Working on it, all right? I can't live only on fanfiction. Now…two more clarifications before we start.
Crowd: Snore...can you shut up and let us get to the story already?
J Cae: One, I'm assuming that Jaina doesn't know there's a difference between the Burning Legion, the Scourge and the Forsaken--they were all grouped under Archimonde when she fought them.
Jaina: That's right. Treat me like a stupid baby (sarcasm).
Elma: So, is this part of your extreme anti-Blizzard-ism then? Seriously I don't mind cuz I'm your evil persona--I mean I'm not a Blizzard character (so please don't use me!!)--just curious.
J Cae: More like I don't have the cash or time for WOW (grits teeth).
Elma: You know what? You should get out there and write your own game or book.
J Cae: Where I'm headed. But in the meantime, Blood Leprechaun will continue to be AU, and I will not make adjustments according to that evil, evil MMO!! I am prepared to mercilessly ridicule any witless individuals who dare flame because this story contrasts with WOW.
Syl: Beautiful speech--now on to the story.
J Cae: (sighs) Nobody takes me seriously anymore.
REMINISCENCE: SOVEREIGN
"All those nights when I lay unconscious, you watched over me."
"I was imprisoned in another consciousness where dark and terrible demons torture my soul daily...Only you were there in front of me. The demons could not destroy me, for your light blinded them."
"I don't know what Kil'jaeden did to me, but there is some kind of evil stirring inside me..."
"I loath myself! I hate what I have become!"
"No, don't say that. Sylvanas, I love you. No matter what you might become, I'll accept you as you are. I'll always be here for you..."
CHAPTER NINE: RUINED
(DALARAN, 13 YEARS AFTER SYLVANAS SAILED WEST)
It was decided that the army would begin its march on the second evening of its assembly. Night had yet to fall over the outskirts of Dalaran after Kael and Leprecha finished briefing the soldiers. They had not expected the slaves to be elite warriors--Kael attempted to convince himself that the element of surprise would be enough for them to take the Forsaken's capital, but Elma had to be the one to remind him that they could never completely catch Sylvanas unaware. She must suspect something, although the young sorceress calculated that the Dark Lady could not, by an arcane principles, transport all of her warriors back to the Undercity at once to meet the invading troops.
Their army carried no standards, no flying emblems. Those things were only to boost morale, and an army of slaves had none. Earlier, two slaves openly mocked the notion of Leprecha being one of their leaders and she retaliated by demonstrating her magic on a hapless stray hound. That was unnecessary, in Kael's opinion, but effective enough. The two defiant slaves immediately kept their tongues behind their teeth. So awkward it would seem that though Elma was certainly the smallest in physique and the youngest by years, she was the one who wielded the most power.
She briefly went over the geography of the Undercity. Though it sprawled over an enormous area, the Forsaken's capital consisted of mazes and viaducts. The many narrow passages would make for perfect ambush. She told them of a secret entrance to the south of the city which she believed would be unguarded, since only those who were part of the Undercity knew of that entry. Kael almost allowed himself to be amazed by the complexity with which the Undercity seemed to be constructed--and he was prepared to be awe-stricken once he actually set foot into the hidden city.
When the meeting was over, Khecomo and Iria retired to the inn, needing more rest before the long march. Elma asked Kael'thas to accompany her and walk a little way around Dalaran. Though his king did not question, Khecomo was immediately suspicious of her motives. Not wanting him to create anymore embarrassment than he already had, Kael firmly ordered Khec to stay at the inn and await his return.
Khec had tasted the consequences for testing the leprechaun's patience the night before--had Kael and Iria not intervened in time, he was certain he would be dead. Why would his king give his complete trust to a murderess over a rider who has served him for years? He thought he could comprehend the guilt of not having been able to save a helpless child from torture--in truth, he had not been able to save his people from a similar fate. Though Kael was sentimental by nature, Khec feared the sorceress might have placed some awful enchantment over the king. Why had this Elma person dragged the elves into such dire situation--or, should he say, out of it? If she had not betrayed Sylvanas, Kael would have become the Dark Lady's slave, and Iria would most likely be dead. Khec did not know what would have become of himself. He could have been either or. What did Leprecha want? What had she to gain from this? And to whom did she truly owe her allegiance?
Khecomo was determined not to make another mistake again.
Kael'thas followed the sorceress to the scattered ruins of sorcery towers and other edifices, exposed to the sun and rain--the graveyard of a once-glorious city, the tomb of a proud civilization, now laid in waste and decay. It seemed to him that whatever reusable material had been salvaged from amid the ruins for the crude reconstruction of the city and left behind were rubbles that were of no more use--and yet they were the sole evidences of their former lives before the coming of the Burning Legion.
Though Kael still preferred the style of elven construction, he had been impressed by Dalaran in its full glory. He felt a pang, now all that remained was this deadened sight, a memory. He had spent a great portion of his life with the Kirin Tor in pursuit of his arcane studies. He had not set foot into the human city again in the aftermath of Archimonde's power. Imagine how one would feel having experienced the destruction of her home firsthand...
His eyes traced the girl's lithe form as she moved to place a hand on a disintegrated pedestal. The stone surface had exfoliated, though he could tell it had once been an elegantly carved pillar of sorts. He could not in his life picture how the construction would have looked like before its destruction.
Perhaps there was something gentle in the picture that the young woman created as she bent to touch the marble slab, her eyes downcast, her expression mournful and distant as though she was recalling some fleeting scene of her former life. These ruins, these shattered blocks, these useless chunks--they had all been part of her former life, her childhood, her parents, her memories.
"I used to want to see this place when I was a child--the Violet Gardens."
He gasped. This was the Violet Gardens! His Kirin Tor, now all ashes and fragments.
"My father used to tell me that we cannot come here," she continued, oblivious to his shock. "The wizards have some magic wall that would keep the likes of us out."
"The likes of you?"
She ignored his question, "To the wizards, there was only one true form of magic--what they practised. All else were demonic. If they still exist now, they would look upon you as an abomination."
Kael sighed. He was ashamed to remember what the Council's theories were. Although he knew the source of his magic was not completely 'clean', times had changed and that 'true' magic the Kirin Tor endorsed was not enough to save them anymore.
"And I happened to end up wielding Kirin Tor's magic long after they are gone."
He remembered their conversation two nights before that she had been under Jaina's tutelage for some time.
"Elma," Kael struggled to begin, feeling a lump rise to his throat, "I understand there are things that maybe painful for you to recall. I don't mean to aggravate you or anything. But please--I want to know. I can wait until you are ready."
The sorceress looked away from him abruptly, her expression fell.
"Tell me about Jaina then. How did she end up in Sylvanas's hands?"
"She left with a certain warchief when the Horde attacked Theramore under the command of the Dark Lady. The Forsaken, of course, betrayed them in turn and Jaina became a hostage."
"But I thought Sylvanas said that Thrall betrayed her into the hands of Ner'zhul!"
"That was after."
Kael grimaced. So much betrayal--Sylvanas, was I wrong about you?
(THERAMORE, SAME AFTERNOON OF THE ORCISH INVASION 13 YEARS AGO)
Unnatural tremors woke Jaina Proudmoore from her fitful slumber. Earthquake? Or was it something else? She thought to roll out of her worn and filthy mattress, yet it would avail nothing. There was no window in her prison cell, no light. No way of knowing.
She could hardly recall how long she had been confined there, conveniently out of everybody's way. She did remember, though, how she was roughly roused from sleep one night and placed under arrest by the order of her brother. She had been prepared--she betrayed their father and gave the orcs a way to enter Theramore. She knew that would not go with impunity. She would not defend herself against the charges laid on her, but she only wished he understood that what she did, she did for the benefit of both nations.
Damn her naiveté. Damned if she knew why she believed that day of reconciliation between the two nations would come. She came close to admitting that she had made a terrible mistake and overestimated the wisdom of her brethren--they would only ever see her as a betrayer who killed her father, not the saviour who brought peace to the two war-torn races.
It also became very hard to convince herself she was not in the wrong after having witnessed Rexxar raise his axe to her father's neck. She knew she could never come to terms with her people--least of all, with herself.
Had her betrayal meant aught at all?
The hopes of peace were not high after her father's fall. Thrall left Theramore, indicating clearly that he would have nothing to do with the humans again. Jaina felt a pang. She had not expected him to fall onto his knees and beg for forgiveness, yet the detachment in his voice disappointed her. Had she sacrificed her father and her people's love for another excuse to prolong strife and segregation between the two peoples? She could not tell if she was in the wrong or right anymore.
Before she was confined, she heard of Railen's plans to launch a full-scale invasion upon the orcs on the other side of the strait--words of bravado. She might have found them touching had she been as embarrassingly short-sighted as he was. Yet what had her visions brought her but manacles around her wrists?
What was done was done, beyond redemption now. She had hoped that Railen would at least give her a fair trial and a chance to explain herself. But he had not. He was determined to forget her--the eyesore, the shame.
She gave up counting the hours long ago. Guards would show up from time to time to give her a bite of stale bread and some filthy dishwater. They were not allowed to convene with her lest her groundless propaganda should corrupt their righteous minds. For the first weeks she was thrown into the dungeon, she pleaded with them to allow her an audience with Brysta--despite the precise and merciless talent with words her sister possessed, she could be sure that Brysta would at least hear her out, while Railen would only explode in rage.
Yet this day, she awakened to find no guards to deliver her meal. She attempted to comfort herself with the thought that the hour was early. She would not be terribly shocked if her siblings had finally decided to smother what little hope she had of leaving the prison alive (if at all), although she wished fiercely they had thought of that sooner.
No, perhaps, the hour was still early.
And damn it, she was starving.
The metal bars that blocked the way to her freedom clattered on.
What of the tremors? What was the cause?
If the roof collapsed, she would have found it quite amusing. Having been locked up for so long, she was bored beyond her sense.
She missed her magic terribly. Brysta, being a caster herself, knew her potentials--solid walls could not keep an archmage confined. She found a way to strip Jaina of her mana, though the latter never figured what was done. She longed to feel magic coursing through her veins again, longed to be out in the open, albeit that prospect, she admitted, was becoming rather dim.
More quakes. They grew disturbing.
Ah, footfalls. The guards must have arrived just when she needed answers--and hopefully, they would have some food for her. Inwardly, she was relived--perhaps she had not yet been forgotten.
But when streaks of lightning bolted the lock on her prison door, she jumped out of bed and retreated as far back as she could get in her dark cell. Who was this visitor of hers? Ordinary guards possessed no such magic. The footsteps, she recognized now as they approached, were hurried and familiar.
A black-hooded figure came into view--a female.
"Brysta?" Jaina cried out her sister's name in a mixture of horror, relief and sorrow. Had her request for an audience been finally granted? Or was she to be taken to her execution? The tremors--were they the thunderous cheering of those who condemned her? Oh, she should have known that day was coming.
"Come quick, Jaina," the dark sorceress beckoned. "You are wanted."
Brysta headed down the corridor without even looking back. A woman of few words, as always.
'Come quick, you are wanted'--were these words what an executioner would say to her charge? Jaina dared not trust to hope and followed grimly without a word. She might get to live for another few precious moments. Or she might not.
It never occurred to her that it would be so difficult to head down the hallway. Agonizing months of malnourishment, mistreatment and inactivity had stripped her of the strength she once possessed, yet it was her heart that was reluctant to follow, uncertain if she'd like what lie before her.
"Hurry," came Brysta's detached voice. Jaina picked up her pace.
When she managed to hobble to the end of the hallway, the sight took her by surprise. It was certainly not in her expectation to see maidservants lining up on both sides to greet her.
"Bathe and dress her," was her sister's command. "Make her presentable."
"Brysta, what is going on?" Jaina chanced a question. None of this made sense. She understood she was still a prisoner, bound to whatever fate Brysta saw fit, yet she ached to know. "What are you doing to me?"
"That would be no concern of yours," Brysta snapped with inhuman sternness.
"At least..." Jaina faltered. "At least tell me what the quakes are--you do not seem nervous."
In contrast to the maidservants who clustered around themselves in fretful anxiety, Brysta was cold as always--Jaina never did remember seeing much emotions surface on her sister's face.
Brysta made a grunt in her throat, "The orcs have invaded."
"Invaded?" Jaina cried in surprise. "But why..." she paused. Obviously enough, Railen must have done his good work during her imprisonment. She knew now--or thought she knew the reason Brysta released her, "Is Thrall..."
"Yes, he is leading the army, damn it," Brysta flared. "And stop speaking of him as though he is some sort of saint. He is just as savage and prone to corruption as the rest of his kind."
Jaina thought to argue. Thrall would never have started the war unless he was first provoked--and it became clear enough to Jaina who was to blame for the armed contention between the two nations. She had more questions, though she did not think it was a good time to ask, "Are you hoping that I could pacify him with my presence?" That would be the only explanation she could come up with for the maidservants and the bath.
"No," a shake of the hooded head was her verdict, "I am only trying to make you look like the one who betrayed Father to his death again."
The maidservants started to lead Jaina to the bath, not really wanting to touch her filthy skin. Before she followed them, she saw Brysta reaching to pull down the hood that was beginning to slip. Perhaps the fabric concealed her face well, but the greyish hue and the disease-blotted skin on the back of her hand was the tell-tale signs of undeath. Jaina's eyes widened in horror, her heart bled in denial.
"Brysta...you have the plague?"
The horror of Andohal and Stratholm flooded back into her mind. The plague--the term was an understatement--had swept through so many unsuspecting villagers. It was because of it she lost her beloved Arthas forever. It was because of it now she must lose her sister.
Why Brysta? Why on Theramore?
The dark mage did not answer, leaving the maidservants to tend to her hysterical sister.
The courier's eyes were wide with fear. His message hung suspended behind his clattering teeth and ragged breath.
"Admiral...our defences...have been breached."
"Yes, yes," Railen hastily pulled on his gloves. "Do you see that I am fully plated in armour already?" The witless knave probably had not seen it--his eyes were glazed his and lips quivered violently.
"Their numbers...are plenty," continued the stuttering fool, "A great too many…we…"
"I will deal with those brutes myself," Railen snapped in frustration. "We must defend the Citadel at all costs. Now, run along and find Sir Usven. Tell him--if he is still alive--that he has much to account for."
But the envoy was no longer listening. He crashed to the carpeted floor, unconscious from exhaustion. In annoyance, the admiral ordered a few of his guards to carry the man away and send another runner on the errand.
So the Miracle was a fraud, was he not? Sir Usven had better be dead, or he would have a lot of explaining to do. Was he some pathetic fool who claimed to be different? He might have had some luck on his side to have managed to harass the Horde and survived the brutes' wrath. He might have had some charm to have gained love from his followers, but after all, he was human, and it was evident enough. Usven had sounded so confident of his triumph against the orcs that Railen gave him his blessing and complete trust. If only he had not let his desperation rule him, he might have seen how false the Miracle was.
"Admiral…" began another worried courier who entered the throne room. Half-expecting the message to be repeated again, Railen motioned him away when he caught sight of his sister--no, his two sisters. Brysta strolled in, bold as always, while Jaina shuffled quietly behind her with her head bowed low in shame--but why the splendid white dress? Why the sparkling jewels in her hair?
"Brysta, what is going on in your mind?" Railen barked at the black-clad mage.
"Being the oaf you always are, I certainly do not expect you to comprehend my ways," Brysta waved a hand. Jaina stepped forward, still not daring to meet the eyes of her enraged brother.
"What would that be?" Railen flared. The sight of the betrayer displeased him so. "I do not have time for games."
Brysta shook her head and sighed, thoroughly annoyed with her brother's incompetence, "Do you not see the power that she still holds? The golden maiden to the orcs? The Warchief still believes she fights on their side. He would hesitate when he saw her--and meanwhile, I will lay an arcane trap in this room."
"A clever plan, sister," Railen's features softened immediately. Just as he was quick to anger, he was also easy to please. But knowing him all her life, she was too familiar with his ways. He would be completely trusting of her. He would never know what she intended for him until it was too late.
A/N
Consider this chapter 9A. Really, really sorry about cutting off like this. I'm in the midst of my final exams right now, and I procrastinated some to edit this. I couldn't get the next part of what would have been this chapter to work right, so I'd rather post it next time when I have an idea what to do about it.
I guess I still really wanna keep going and write till BL's end, regardless of what might happen in WOW. Like I said earlier, this story will continue to be AU, and I won't make any adjustments to make it fit the WOW storyline--you're very welcome to sate my curiosity by offering me interesting info, though. I know I haven't been doing my job well, and I'm really sorry about that. But please don't desert me--please? I'll be really sad if you do.
Crimson Paladin: Yup. Information about Mrs. Brettshard was kind of a giveaway, although Alanen's death was a bit of a twister there. I don't think Ner'zhul would ever go to Elma and say 'hey, you know what? I killed your father, so now you have to fight for me'. The easiest way he could manipulate Elma would be by using her anger to serve his purpose.
Sylvanas...the deeper I go into the story, the more I hate my new version of her--no! Must rescue Syl's image!! Well, she didn't really 'seduce' Illidan. It was more like a mutual development thing--but they both know it's not going anywhere. It was more like she saw Illidan as an emotional support, a replacement of Kael during the time when she needed him around.
Be patient, my friend. Frostmourne is yet another key element in this story--notice the way that Leprecha always carries the runeblade around? There must be a reason, no?
inaam07: Yup, you surely were the first person. Thanks, dear. In the next couple chapters (I'm really hoping that I'd be able to stay on schedule, although from experience, things that I got so excited about usually happen like 10 chapters later), we will find out what happened to Sylvanas, and I'm getting excited already. Yeah, like I said to Crimson Paladin, it is much easier for Nerz to lie to Elma and tell her that Alanen died by Sylvanas's hands--that way he could manipulate her and keep her around. BUT once she found out he had been lying, guess what happened?--a quote from Weis and Hickman I find particularly true--"Evil always turns upon itself." Well, all right. Stop tempting me, and I'll stop giving out spoilers.
Elma must be crazy? Well, I'm a bit reserved about that statement, though looking at the ending of my first draft, I am tempted to...nay, no spoilers. But she did love Nerz as a father, teacher, friend etc--because he was the ONLY ONE in her life for many, many years. But what Nerz saw in her was, of course, different. He was no longer human--or orc for that matter, and he did not need to depend emotionally on anyone. Besides, he was much too preoccupied with his games. So, yeah, he was indifferent to what she felt about him.
And nope. Elma never 'died'--well, Nerz banished her to the afterlife and then brought her back, but she's alive now. More will be on that later when we find out what REALLY happened at Northrend.
Queen of the Harpies: "Feed?" Meep. Ghouls are cute, sister. That's why both Syl and Nerz have 'em.
I wasn't kidding when I said I'm in love with Varimathras (Keep to my online undead Naga personality? Ssso we ssshall. Naga men aren't hot enough. We mussst lusssst after mussscular male demonssss and continue with our long-time Kael obsession...yesss). I intend to increase Vari's role, if I can figure out some ways to work him into the plot. I kinda like the way he turned out too now, a bit mentally cruel, but not so much actually.
I eagerly await further updates of 'Forbidden Fruit', but take your time to explore a bit of this and that. Sometimes it takes rather long--like I've been fidgeting with Vari's inconsistent personality for over a year already! Um...are you gonna make that your SS entry?
Li Katsuya: Thank you!! I'm famous for plot twists, it seems. Railen and Brysta are my OCs, though Jaina's true elder brother died in some war (very possibly against the orcs but I don't recall off the top of my head) and her half-elven sister Finnall Goldensword leads the half-elves (Daelin's 'been around' obviously).
arthus: Thanks. You made my week! Yeah, I'm trying to finish up an original fiction while I struggle with my BA at the same time. I'm really hoping to see the day when I will have at least one fiction published--even if it doesn't sell well. Meh...Thanks again for your support.
Trevor XI: Thank you. Ooh! Five stars!! I certainly hope that Wizards would take my story...it's set in a parallel world of ancient Bulgaria, and I've done a bit of research on that one. Ah well...we'll see what happens.
Elven-King-R: (huggles) Yesssss. My goal is to infest the minds of all Warcraft gamers with an obsession for Sylvanassss...!! Since you're already a Kael fan I don't need to do anymore preaching. I know, I know. I was supposed to write in Illidan a few ages ago, but I wasn't too happy with the way he turned out. Instead, I've expanded on the Orgrimmar/Theramore part--originally you aren't supposed to know about all that so soon. I've decided to be a bit more coherent and go for the Elma & Syl storyline first. Illidan will appear right at the beginning of Part IV, which isn't that far off--if my predictions hold true, all mysteries revolving Sylvanas will be uncovered in the next chapter and chapter 11 will be the beginning of Part IV.