BLOOD LEPRECHAUN by J Cae

A/N: Happy New Year, everyone!! Thank you again for your patience. For some strange reason, my muse is still stuck in Japan and unable to catch the plane, and I am giving up on the Thrall vs. Usven battle altogether. Then, I started writing this weird interlude just for fun...and it evolved in quite an unexpected manner. I figured I'll prolly postpone the block-inducing scenes till later!!

Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed writing this chapter. I hope you'd enjoy reading it too.

Disclaimer: My thanks to Lacuna Coil for taking me through my writer's block. Falling was stuck in my head (after looping it on my player for three hours--bloody awesome song) while writing this story, and I'll admit to stealing a line or two from that.

And now the beat inside me

Is a sort of a cold breeze and

I've never any feeling inside

It's ruining me…

Bring my body

Carry it into another world

I know I live but like a stone I'm falling down

Lacuna Coil, Falling

THE GHOST'S INTERLUDE

How he wished he could erase from his mind the stain of haunting emerald that bore into his core, her green eyes that scorched his confidence, that took his composure. He had to admit he was guilty of lounging in the delusion that he could will the skies to storm. Yet albeit the extent of his telepathy, all he ever felt was the cold that cut to the bone.

Ah yes, the young human prince's body was a blessing, the long-forgotten music of pumping blood, the treat of warm flesh adhered to the bone--that gift of a pure and tender mind that filled him with a painful ecstasy as he first tapped into it, and the intense fear of death as the boy's soul was ripped from his body. Arthas never objected to corruption, but his fear of destruction was so real--exhilarating. Ironic how the prince had taken so many lives, yet he dreaded to give his own. Now his mournful ghost could but hang trailing outside his body, unable to accept the betrayal of which he found himself victim. How ironic Sylvanas had sworn to kill Arthas, only to realize too late that there was no longer an Arthas whom she could kill when she reached Northrend. All that was left of him was a shade stripped of all power, and a shell resided by another more powerful being.

The ice walls of the lich king's prison were torn down, and he was free to walk the lands again. The extent of his power increased--it became so great it poured like the eruption of an endless volcano whenever he reached out. He was able to touch so many minds. He converted millions of hapless creatures into his worshippers, his cult. He used them to achieve his goals and defeated two of his greatest archenemies.

What then?

He could feel nothing inside. He did not even feel empty. Oppression within the throne seemed much easier compared to the purposelessness he felt. Even torture in the clutches of a certain demonlord's hands seemed kinder. He realized that he had aims back then. After he claimed victory, there was nothing left for him to fight for. He could see no point in ruling alone.

Perhaps it was some part of his former mortality that returned to haunt him. He suddenly recalled what loneliness was like.

And now, his eyes fell upon Elma who was conversing with the unworthy elf king. She was his pearl, his flower that he planted and watched over through the years. He never left her. He had attributed the guilt he initially felt for tearing her away from her father to Arthas's innate weakness. But now the memories of a painful wrench in the place where his heart had been brought back a nostalgic feeling for life. She became the personification of his will to live, his desire to be young and powerful again. He could never leave her.

He knew he had ruined her. He turned her into another Sylvanas, another selfish and vengeful soul. Sylvanas had been too old to die. She remembered living. She knew what she had been and what she was not. But Elma was too young to know life, too young to understand loyalty. He hated to think she was also his failure. In the end, even though she recalled little of her late father, Ner'zhul had to concede that Alanen had won. She did what her father would have wanted her to do.

So close, yet so unreachable.

Now, she would be recounting the story of Sylvanas's failure and someone else's victory. There was almost none of that usual haughtiness in her tone. He wondered if the curse that was laid upon him ever affected her--he did not know if she was capable of feeling aught now that her vengeance was claimed.

He stretched out an ethereal hand. He could make her drop to her knees. He could even make her die. She could be a rag doll in his grasp. But no. He would rather she return and worship him the way Sylvanas did before he was to kill her for a second time, that condescending moment when she renounced her chances of winning and declared him victor. No words could describe the rush of sweet ecstasy that assailed his mind and his desire to feel it forever.

But then an unexpected blow struck hard. He was thrown from his conceit and torn from his frail human form. He watched the prince's body burn and shrivel in unholy fire, impaled by Frostmourne, slain by the one sword that he forged over a roaring fire. He watched as his victory was usurped from him. The dying breaths of Sylvanas belonged to someone else in the end. He was denied of her death--he could not even sound his protest because he no longer had a mouth to cry out with.

He could not draw his gaze away from the young sorceress now, even if he tried--but he did not. She alone would give him purpose for his existence now. She alone. He would make her worship him.

Alanen's daughter, do you realize you are not yet immortal. I have promised I will give you that when you grow strong enough. But even now, you are still a child, still so frail and careless...

I am jealous of you, a mortal child...so very jealous beyond my logic. I wish I could explain it, patiently, like I always did. I wish you would sit next to me and listen quietly, as you always did. But that cannot happen anymore, can it?

But now, I will show you just how much I envy you...

As his blade hit home, Elma crumbled right under the weapon. Her mouth widened in a silent scream. With a swift jerking motion of his hand, he freed the blade--that was when she shrieked.

"Khecomo! What are you doing?" Kael lunged to snatch the weapon from his hand, but he was quicker and eluded from the mage's grasp.

"She must have wanted to separate you from us and do you harm! I cannot allow that to happen!"

The rider took a moment to revel in his effortlessly claimed victory--but only for a moment. His horror overwhelmed him. He had expected to slay a witch, an assassin, but this wretched opponent of his was far too frail. She fell too easily by his hands. Had he in his mad impulse murdered a child who offended him with her sarcastic gibes? She attacked him earlier at the lake and almost killed him, but, to be fair, she was first provoked. Was he the one whose mind was tainted?

But the sorceress toppled to the dirt and ceased to move. Blood flowed freely from her side where a wound was opened.

Khecomo reacted first. He crouched and pressed his fingers to her wrist to take her pulse. When she did not respond to his touch, he turned her over--and that was when her hand shot up to close tightly around his throat. She was remarkably strong for a girl so young, especially one in her disadvantageous state. He tried to free himself by standing up, but her grip was firm. He stumbled on top of her--apparently this was out of her calculations as well. She gasped as his weight crushed her, yet her grasp did not lax even as she fought her own agony. Acting purely out of self-defence, Khec slammed the hilt of his blade into her temple, knocking her senseless. Her hand sagged motionless to a side.

He was free.

What now?

His king's features were drained of colour, "What have you done?"

What had he done?

What had he done indeed?

He dropped his weapon as though it burnt his hand. Why? Why had he done that? Why? He knew it in his heart that Leprecha meant Kael no harm, not then. Why did he find himself possessed by mad rage to drive his sword into her spine? His heart wrenched painfully as he averted his gaze from the pathetic, bloodied form that was Leprecha. He distrusted her. He hated her. He believed she committed more evil than he had ever imagined possible. But she did not deserve a death like this. He fell to his knees and prayed feverishly that there was some way she could be saved. But she was unresponsive. She was barely even breathing.

So young...she was a child. She was only trying to help, even though she had yet to name the price for her aid.

Kael gathered the wounded sorceress in his arms, rubbing her hands as though he could somehow rub some life back into her. "Elma..." he hissed, "You can't die. You can't. I've failed you once. I can't fail you again."

"I'll...I'll fetch a healer," Khec said, numbly. How ironic--it was only minutes ago when he wanted to see her dead.

"No! Leave, Khec!" the Blood Mage's burst of anger shocked him. "Go where I'll never have to see you again!"

"But milord..."

"You heard me!"

"But milord...what about...the rescue?"

"You forget--there will be no rescue without Elma!" Kael fumed, his eyes flared with an angry white light, "We don't know the geography of the Undercity half as well as she does! We will have no advantage--Sylvanas will kill us all!"

And Khec swallowed hard. It was then when he realized he had not only destroyed a young villainess. He had destroyed his people's future. Why had he not thought of that before he acted? What had prevented him from thinking clearly before he acted?

"Let me do this then--let me fetch the healer. And then I will leave."

So you know...

So you see...

My child, you are not invincible...


Disclaimer, A/N:

Ooh. I broke me promise and gave this story yet another twist. Everything changes from here--for worse or for better? Stay tuned, because we will visit Kalimdor shortly.

Readers and reviewers, thank you. You guys always make my life so much happier. Thanks for your support--and please forgive me for being a review-whore just for this one A/N, lol. BL has become the second of my fanfics on to hit 100 reviews!!(prostrates self before reviewers) and it also has the highest review/chapter rates, averaging at 9 reviews per chapter last time I checked. Love ya all. Group hug!!

Crimson Paladin: Well, after this update, no, Kael and Leprecha are no longer setting off to confront Syl...The Black Warden will definitely be one of the most crucial characters in BL, and she will be back again soon. Again, you raised an interesting question. Sylvanas didn't go to Azeroth because she didn't want to. She actually took off to Kalimdor to escape Kael, not Ner'zhul. In an earlier chapter I mentioned it too that if Nerz were to find her, he would, regardless where she is. She just wants to get away from Kael where he can't reach her. Seems hard to imagine, but in some ways, Syl here is a reflection of myself. I've been in a relationship like that before, been with a guy whom I'm not really sure whether I love or not, and I ran away--although I didn't run for thirteen years, I did fly over the Pacific Ocean to get away from him and to sort my feelings out--I always get my inspiration from awkward moments of my life. Oh, no. He wasn't 'Kael' enough for me. Didn't work out. Apart from that, yeah, Illidan would be a problem in Azeroth.
inaam07: Missed you so much!! Yup, yup, I find joy in confusing people. Just a clarification though: Elma was never undead (I can't promise 'will never be'). The whole 'soul-stealing' thing didn't actually involve killing her, and in fact, Nerz only banished her soul into the afterlife and then summoned it back after he killed Alanen--she's as alive as Kael, pretty much, when Vashj/Meris chose to release him. Illidan is edging his way closer and closer...
Elven-King-R: Ouch. I actually wrote that before I read the Simarillion. But I totally agree that the previous chapter is lacking a certain something. It's almost like I've forgotten how to write. This and the next chapter came way easier though...
Lord Raven Drakon: Thanks for the headsup. I KNEW Rokhan should be MIA somwehere!! Balnazzar wants to kill Sylvanas, right? Right? Gosh, I know I hate him!!
Kazza: You're the lucky person!! I actually came up with something a day after you left me a review (psst leave me more reviews and I might be able to write faster). Thanks for your compliments. I like where Illidan is heading as well--just wait till we get to the good part.
I)void: I missed you too!! Thanks for your support. Woot!! I made it!! This took a little longer, but it wasn't a two-month-er. Heh.
wingchumonZERO: Thanks.
Azzandra: Thank you!! (takes cookies). Here, have some brownies (hands brownies). I'm glad the finals are OVER. Not the best thing I could have done, but they're OVER nonetheless.
Li Katsuya: Thanks for reading. Uh huh, everyone's pretty much screwed, lol. Night Elves will be inching, inching, inching their ways to the stage.
Cybaster: Heyy! Haven't seen you in quite a while. How's life going? I see you've got a new fic. Looks good so far, but I regret I haven't had time to go through it in detail yet. Thanks for your comments on BL anyway. A definite confidence-booster (hugs).

In order not to give out spoilers, I shall say nothing about Thrall's fate, although the Theramore invasion will most definitely be a large factor in the plot--in fact it will pretty much determine Jaina's fate.

As for Listen, thanks for showing an interest...I have pretty much combined Listen and BL into one, although in the original Listen, neither Sylvanas nor the Black Warden will ever show up in Kalimdor to make a mess of things. To be honest, I'm not sure about completing it. But we will see.