Disclaimer: I don't own the WarCraft universe or Blizzard.

≶The Call of the Lich King: Seven Days of Torment≶

≶Day Five≶

The sun rose upon the continent of Northrend, slowly warming the countryside and beginning to melt any snow and ice that may have formed during the night. However, it did not show for long as the sun rarely showed its face in Northrend, leaving it to its bitter cold. At this point in time, the sun only rose for a little over ten hours before setting once more to warm other places of Azeroth that were more worthy of its light. This didn't bother Northrend or its inhabitants, though there were few. The heat from the sun was too hot for Northrend's tastes, anyways. The country preferred the dark slumber the night brought.

But as the sun rose, there were only two beings on Northrend that did not sleep. They were two foreign beings that had become quite accustomed to the cold of Northrend. The odd thing was, they were both the same person. They were just different aspects of that person.

Arthas the Paladin had not slept the entire night and had not eaten since the morning he went in search of the blade that he now clutched in his hand. But he knew it was not the hunger that would slowly kill him, for he knew a human body could survive without food for a whole month. It was the dehydration that was killing him, for the human body could only survive without water for a little more than three days. And he had not had anything to drink in nearly a whole week.

So, in his rational mind, this…creature could not be walking towards him. This creature that bore his face in so many ways. This creature that called himself a Death Knight. He was simply hallucinating.

Arthas the Death Knight was dragging the dead body of the bear that Arthas the Paladin had killed the day before. Or maybe it was two days before. Arthas wasn't sure anymore if he had killed Mal'Ganis yesterday or a month ago. His sense of time was off, just as his sight was slowly failing him. Every now and then, his eyesight would become filled with black…snow, blinding him momentarily. That was all he could call it. Black snow filling his vision.

The Death Knight sat down next to the Paladin, placing the dead bear in front of him. They were situated under the shadow of a small wall of ice, taking shelter from the western winds. And now, the Death Knight prepared to eat.

Glancing at the dead bear for a moment, he looked over at the Paladin and held out his dark, gauntleted hand, gesturing to the blade in the Paladin's hand. Arthas glanced at himself warily, not knowing if he should trust this mirage.

"If I wanted to kill a whelp like you, I'd have done it already," the Death Knight growled impatiently. Arthas scowled at…himself and slowly handed the sword over, hilt first. The Death Knight grabbed it and admired it for a moment. He then went to cutting off the leg of the beast and cutting the skin and fur off of it. Examining it for a moment, he took a nibble of the raw leg before handing the blade back to the Paladin. The Paladin merely took it and stared as the Death Knight gorged himself. Arthas' stomach grumbled as he watched the leg slowly be devoured. Hearing the grumbling, the Death Knight offered the leg to the Paladin, who merely stared.

"This isn't real," the Paladin said slowly to himself. "I'm just delirious from lack of water and food. You can't be real. You are just some hallucination that I am experiencing. Maybe the Lich King is playing with my mind. I don't know. But what I do know is that that bear leg cannot be real. Just as you are not real."

Arthas (the Death Knight) stared at himself, chewing on the meat slowly and thoughtfully. Licking his lips, he placed the leg on top of the bear corpse. He looked at the Paladin again. Then punched him in the jaw.

The moment the fist collided with his jaw, Arthas' vision was again filled with the black snow. He could not feel a thing as his cheek fell to the snow below. He instantly stumbled to his feet, gripping the handle of Frostmourne tightly. But as he got up, dizziness knocked him straight back down to the snow where he lay for a moment longer.

The black snow began to fade from his vision, allowing him to stare up at the gray sky for the first time. He blinked multiple times, allowing his breath to return to his body. Slowly, he got up to a sitting position. He looked quickly towards the Death Knight, who was calmly eating another piece of the bear leg.

"Real enough for you?" The Death Knight asked mockingly. The Paladin scowled before getting to his feet. When he stood, his legs nearly gave out, but he was strong. He slowly made his way to the corpse of the bear and sat back down next to…himself.

"That should not have happened," The Paladin muttered to himself.

"But it did," The Death Knight grumbled.

"You aren't real," The Paladin tried to reassure himself.

"You still believe that?" The Death Knight asked.

"You are just a figment of my hallucination," The Paladin rationalized. "I haven't eaten or had anything to drink. This is my body reacting to not having anything to eat or drink. So you cannot be real. And I can't touch that bear because it's not there."

"So by your logic, since I dragged this bear here, it too cannot be real. So when I punched you that meant that you cannot be real. Is that right?" The Death Knight shook his head. "You are so stupid, princey."

"What do you mean?" The Paladin asked angrily.

"Do you really think it matters what is really and what is not?" The Death Knight told him. "Do you think it still matters that I may be a figment of your twisted and broken mind? No, it no longer matters. All that matters is what you want to do next. All that matters is what you wish to do with your time here on this barren wasteland called Azeroth. So tell me, princey, what do you want to do next?"

Arthas (the Paladin) was stock still as he listened to his words. It was true. Arthas did not have a plan of any kind. He was so bent on surviving in this wasteland that he did not give any thoughts to the days ahead. What would he do next, if he got off this barren continent alive?

"I need to return to my kingdom," Arthas proclaimed. "I must defend it from the Burning Legion." It felt good to hear the words leave his lips. He felt…strong again.

"Idiot," The Death Knight combed his white hair with his hand, pulling them away from his face. "Your kingdom is lost."

"It is not lost!" Arthas shouted. "I am still Crown Prince of Lordaeron and a Knight of the Silver Hand! As long as I have a single breath in my body, Lordaeron will not fall!"

The Death Knight chuckled.

"That's all well and good, princey," The Death Knight told him, smiling and amused. "But how will you do it?"

Arthas didn't answer. He only scowled at…himself.

"If it were me," The Death Knight said. "I would know that I don't have the power or the strength to defend Lordaeron from the Undead or the Burning Legion. Lordaeron is too weak; the very men they cut down blow its armies away into the wind. No living men can defeat the Scourge of the Undead; there are too many. The dead outnumber the living a thousand to one. The reason? They are being led by the weak and frail King Terenas."

"You will not say a word about my father!" Arthas shouted.

"He is my father, too. So I will say what I wish about him," The Death Knight said. "But you know as well as I do that Terenas is growing weaker as his kingdom dies around him. There is no hope for Lordaeron anymore. If you really wish to save Lordaeron, you must claim it for the Scourge."

"And damn my kingdom to oblivion? Is that how I will say it?!" Arthas exclaimed.

"The Scourge will not stop until Lordaeron is razed to the ground," The Death Knight explained. "The only way to save the kingdom is to give it the Scourge."

"The Scourge would kill everyone anyway!" Arthas exclaimed.

"Exactly," The Death Knight said. "The longer your people fight on, the longer they delay their inevitable doom."

"There is still hope for my people!" Arthas the Paladin exclaimed, the black snow beginning to fill his vision."

"Was there still hope for Stratholme when you arrived?" Arthas the Death Knight asked.

"There was no hope for them!" Arthas the Paladin shouted as loud as he could, his head throbbing.

"Then how the two any different from each other?" Arthas the Death Knight asked. "No, there was no hope for Stratholme and there is no hope for Lordaeron. The only thing you can do now is to give your people a quick and painless death. Just as you did to the people of Stratholme. You knew that the grains had become infected with the Plague of Undeath. And you knew that the grains had already been distributed to the people. You knew that there was no hope for that city, so you killed every last one of them. Men, women and children, it made no difference. This is the exact same situation! Lordaeron has become infected and the only way to save it is to cut out the weak and the living!"

"NO!" Arthas the Paladin screamed as the black snow engulfed his vision and his head hit the ground with a thud. In the depths of sleep, he could be far away from this torment.

He could be far away from himself.

He thought he felt the winds of Northrend begin to pick up again, as if its heart had begun to race faster and faster in anticipation.

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Almost there almost there almost there. Two or three more chapters and I will be done! Then I can focus on more important things like sleep!

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