Well it's been almost 6 months since I last touched this story, and I don't even drop by much anymore. But as I type out this author's note, I'm hoping that someday I'll finish this as well as my other two stories --
I'm going to have trouble remembering what I had all in mind. I'm not a writer and I certainly don't write outlines, drafts, or storyboards or anything so I'll continue the story best I can. I'm not exactly certain how you kill undead, or if Arthas is really even undead. I just thought he was a human gone insane. I don't remember the game saying that he had died at this point of the game. Another thing I'll talk about before I start is that I know that none of them seem to be getting along but a friendship between these three characters really has to come gradually. Anyway, on with the story.
--
They continued to ride through the rode through the night and broke out of the woods onto a beaten path. Lordaeron was close.
The Dark Lady could feel her slaver's body tense up and she no longer felt his cool breath tickling the tip of her pointed ear. She felt his power over her wane once again, but her thoughts were hazed, as he slowly seemed to recover. She could sense Arthas was in pain. She smiled wickedly, unknown to him as she continued to stare forward and ride.
"I'm the only one here, nothing else will see you whining in pain, dear king," she stated smugly.
Arthas growled through clenched teeth, both in pain and annoyance," Believe me, you're the last miserable creature I'd like to be near when I'm uncomfortable." He ended his insult with a faint wheeze.
She felt him rubbing against her as his head leaned onto her shoulder, his wispy white hair tickling her cheek. She wanted to vomit, thinking he was trying to molest her, but quickly noticed something was wrong when she drove her elbow into his stomach. Not so much as a grunt came from him. The tormenting whispers ceased. His control over her was completely lost. She presumed he had just passed out from whatever was causing him so much pain, or better yet, he was dead. Even his mount slowed to stop with no orders from its master. There she sat, actually trying to take in what had just happened.
The chance of her life had just presented itself. The one person she loathed most and desired to kill more than anything lay dead still on her back. She dismounted and threw the unconscious knight face first on to the dirt path. Kicking him in the gut she turned him on to his back. Kneeling down next to him, she checked over his body and noticed his eyelids twitching.
'Good, I was hoping to do this myself anyway'
She unsheathed her dagger and pressed its frighteningly sharp tip against his chest, just above his heart. She breathed heavily, pumping her decaying lungs full of needless air. There she stood, with a dagger waiting to be plunged into her tormentor's heart. This was the revenge she had been waiting for. Wasn't it? She hesitated and thought, no. Killing him could only give her so much satisfaction. She wanted her retribution to be perfect. She had envisioned slaying him so many times in her mind, but she had never thought what she would do or even how she would feel afterward. No. She wanted him to suffer; suffer more than she had suffered. That was vengeance, that was justice. She wanted him to beg her to end his life, groveling on his knees and kissing her filthy, mud crusted boots... but...
Would she ever be given this opportunity? If she didn't reach Lordaeron by dawn, Kel'Thuzad would have a legion of ghouls tearing down every obstruction between Loraderon and their last meeting point in search of Arthas. Maybe she was being greedy.
'You can't always get what you want, right?'
She replayed the new fantasy in her head, of Arthas degraded to nothing before her. She stabbed the dagger into the dirt, screaming in frustration. "Oh gods, this should be such a simple decision," she wept, not from pain or sadness but from pure rage directed at herself more than the stiff body lying nearby. No tears came from her blazing eyes, only vicious wails that pierced through the air making various woodland creatures scurrying away in fear. Hugging her knees to her chest, she tried to choke back the sobs that continued to escape from her. Resting her forehead on her knees, she sat still for a moment, considering her next move. No. This opportunity had to have come to her at this time for a purpose. How much time she had to decide was unknown.
'I would rather regret now than regret later when I'm still serving this bastard for the next eternity.'
Springing up, she yanked her dagger from the soft dirt and raised her arm as she kneeled over Arthas, preparing to sink the blade into his throat. Before she could even start down, a bitter cold grip snapped around her throat, squeezing harshly, eliciting a whimper from the previously determined Dark Lady. The familiar whispers of the Lich King invaded her mind once again and dulled out her thoughts. The dagger fell from her fingers as she franticly tried to pry the fingers away. His body tediously sits up until they meet eye to eye, though his were still shut and fluttering. Redoubling her efforts to free herself, Sylvanas digs her sharp nails deep into his fingers in a mad panic, drawing copious amounts of blood but the grip gets even firmer, threatening to snap her neck. "Wench! As if I would let some cursed elf bitch ruin the next vessel for my spirit," a booming, distorted voice rang in her head leaving echoes of a cacophony. It was not from Arthas as his lips did not move. Suddenly his eyes snapped open as a blue light, as bright as the sun, flared out from his once dull gaze, blinding her through closed eyelids. "Frostmourne still claims your soul, and you will never be free until he wishes it so." To her relief, Arthas slowly closed his eyes as the light receded and the horrible commotion in her mind faded away.
His fingers relaxed and his hand dropped away as Arthas' eyelids slowly opened, showing nothing but his jaded eyes. He looked at the elf mere inches from his face and began to survey his surroundings. His emotions shifted from confusion to anger as he roughly forced Sylvanas away from him. Quickly rising to his feet, he yanked Sylvanas up by her soft hair and stood her up. "Where are we? What happened and why haven't we reached Lordaeron yet?" Arthas angrily inquired," and what did this to me?" He raised his bloody hand for her to see. Black blood was still dripping profusely from the deep gashes she had left in her frenzy. Receiving no answer and eyeing the blood on her fingers and neck, he scowled and struck her across the face so hard she stumbled backward. "I have seen ghouls scavenging the flesh from rotting corpses, but you, Ranger, disgust me," he spat contemptuously. "I want to know what happened here when we reach Lordaeron. I don't have time for this nonsense." Mounting his horse, he took another look around; he knew he was close to his destination. Ignoring the woman slumped on the ground; he rode off, kicking up a cloud of dust. He never noticed the deadly dagger lying in the dirt. The one that should've taken his life.
I'm going to have trouble remembering what I had all in mind. I'm not a writer and I certainly don't write outlines, drafts, or storyboards or anything so I'll continue the story best I can. I'm not exactly certain how you kill undead, or if Arthas is really even undead. I just thought he was a human gone insane. I don't remember the game saying that he had died at this point of the game. Another thing I'll talk about before I start is that I know that none of them seem to be getting along but a friendship between these three characters really has to come gradually. Anyway, on with the story.
--
They continued to ride through the rode through the night and broke out of the woods onto a beaten path. Lordaeron was close.
The Dark Lady could feel her slaver's body tense up and she no longer felt his cool breath tickling the tip of her pointed ear. She felt his power over her wane once again, but her thoughts were hazed, as he slowly seemed to recover. She could sense Arthas was in pain. She smiled wickedly, unknown to him as she continued to stare forward and ride.
"I'm the only one here, nothing else will see you whining in pain, dear king," she stated smugly.
Arthas growled through clenched teeth, both in pain and annoyance," Believe me, you're the last miserable creature I'd like to be near when I'm uncomfortable." He ended his insult with a faint wheeze.
She felt him rubbing against her as his head leaned onto her shoulder, his wispy white hair tickling her cheek. She wanted to vomit, thinking he was trying to molest her, but quickly noticed something was wrong when she drove her elbow into his stomach. Not so much as a grunt came from him. The tormenting whispers ceased. His control over her was completely lost. She presumed he had just passed out from whatever was causing him so much pain, or better yet, he was dead. Even his mount slowed to stop with no orders from its master. There she sat, actually trying to take in what had just happened.
The chance of her life had just presented itself. The one person she loathed most and desired to kill more than anything lay dead still on her back. She dismounted and threw the unconscious knight face first on to the dirt path. Kicking him in the gut she turned him on to his back. Kneeling down next to him, she checked over his body and noticed his eyelids twitching.
'Good, I was hoping to do this myself anyway'
She unsheathed her dagger and pressed its frighteningly sharp tip against his chest, just above his heart. She breathed heavily, pumping her decaying lungs full of needless air. There she stood, with a dagger waiting to be plunged into her tormentor's heart. This was the revenge she had been waiting for. Wasn't it? She hesitated and thought, no. Killing him could only give her so much satisfaction. She wanted her retribution to be perfect. She had envisioned slaying him so many times in her mind, but she had never thought what she would do or even how she would feel afterward. No. She wanted him to suffer; suffer more than she had suffered. That was vengeance, that was justice. She wanted him to beg her to end his life, groveling on his knees and kissing her filthy, mud crusted boots... but...
Would she ever be given this opportunity? If she didn't reach Lordaeron by dawn, Kel'Thuzad would have a legion of ghouls tearing down every obstruction between Loraderon and their last meeting point in search of Arthas. Maybe she was being greedy.
'You can't always get what you want, right?'
She replayed the new fantasy in her head, of Arthas degraded to nothing before her. She stabbed the dagger into the dirt, screaming in frustration. "Oh gods, this should be such a simple decision," she wept, not from pain or sadness but from pure rage directed at herself more than the stiff body lying nearby. No tears came from her blazing eyes, only vicious wails that pierced through the air making various woodland creatures scurrying away in fear. Hugging her knees to her chest, she tried to choke back the sobs that continued to escape from her. Resting her forehead on her knees, she sat still for a moment, considering her next move. No. This opportunity had to have come to her at this time for a purpose. How much time she had to decide was unknown.
'I would rather regret now than regret later when I'm still serving this bastard for the next eternity.'
Springing up, she yanked her dagger from the soft dirt and raised her arm as she kneeled over Arthas, preparing to sink the blade into his throat. Before she could even start down, a bitter cold grip snapped around her throat, squeezing harshly, eliciting a whimper from the previously determined Dark Lady. The familiar whispers of the Lich King invaded her mind once again and dulled out her thoughts. The dagger fell from her fingers as she franticly tried to pry the fingers away. His body tediously sits up until they meet eye to eye, though his were still shut and fluttering. Redoubling her efforts to free herself, Sylvanas digs her sharp nails deep into his fingers in a mad panic, drawing copious amounts of blood but the grip gets even firmer, threatening to snap her neck. "Wench! As if I would let some cursed elf bitch ruin the next vessel for my spirit," a booming, distorted voice rang in her head leaving echoes of a cacophony. It was not from Arthas as his lips did not move. Suddenly his eyes snapped open as a blue light, as bright as the sun, flared out from his once dull gaze, blinding her through closed eyelids. "Frostmourne still claims your soul, and you will never be free until he wishes it so." To her relief, Arthas slowly closed his eyes as the light receded and the horrible commotion in her mind faded away.
His fingers relaxed and his hand dropped away as Arthas' eyelids slowly opened, showing nothing but his jaded eyes. He looked at the elf mere inches from his face and began to survey his surroundings. His emotions shifted from confusion to anger as he roughly forced Sylvanas away from him. Quickly rising to his feet, he yanked Sylvanas up by her soft hair and stood her up. "Where are we? What happened and why haven't we reached Lordaeron yet?" Arthas angrily inquired," and what did this to me?" He raised his bloody hand for her to see. Black blood was still dripping profusely from the deep gashes she had left in her frenzy. Receiving no answer and eyeing the blood on her fingers and neck, he scowled and struck her across the face so hard she stumbled backward. "I have seen ghouls scavenging the flesh from rotting corpses, but you, Ranger, disgust me," he spat contemptuously. "I want to know what happened here when we reach Lordaeron. I don't have time for this nonsense." Mounting his horse, he took another look around; he knew he was close to his destination. Ignoring the woman slumped on the ground; he rode off, kicking up a cloud of dust. He never noticed the deadly dagger lying in the dirt. The one that should've taken his life.