Two Betrayals
She appeared inside the Wizard's Sanctum of Stormwind City. She caught the whiff of burning wood coming up from the windows. The windows glowed with an angry orange color. Calia took in a deep breath, pulling out her rifle. She slowly approached the left window just as a billow of black smoke rose up. The assassin's eyes lit up wide as she watched the cobble stone streets blanketed by chaos and flames. Trees burned like bright torches. Stormwind guards trampled through the streets, shouting over the roar of the flames. As they ran, they were suddenly beseeched upon by Twilight Cultists. Calia cocked the barrel of her rifle and lifted it up. She took in a deep breath and steadied the beat of her heart, bringing the scope up to her eye. She felt her heart slow, the scope vibrating only periodically with her heartbeat as she took aim. A guard fell, his attacker's sword dripping with his blood. Calia set her jaw and fired upon the cultist. The steel-jacket whistled through the air and piercing the cultist in her chest. The knock-back force of the bullet sent her toppling over towards her companion. Calia lowered her gun just to empty the used shell. Once more, she took aim, this time for the second cultist. Once more taking another deep breath, she fired. One of the guards turned and came in between the cultist and Calia's shot.
"No!" Calia called as the shot impacted him upon his back. The guard toppled over, blood splattering out onto the cultist. The cultist looked up towards the Wizard Sanctum. He wiggled his fingers, dark, purple energy flowing around them. Calia edged back from the window. The cultist sent a wave of energy flowing from his hands. It wrapped around her body, tightly constricting her. Her arms fell to her sides as she was suddenly yanked powerfully from the window. The cultist sent her flying towards him. The stone ground suddenly came rushing towards her. Calia's eyes squinted from the wind. She grunted as she fought against her restraints. A flash of gold came from her pouch and the purple energy snapped around her. The golden glow flowed out around her, shielding her. Gripping her rifle tightly, Calia pulled her dagger from her belt. She slammed upon the cultist, driving the knife into his chest. Kicking off of his shoulder, she flipped in the air and landed right behind him. The cultist staggered backwards, gripping the knife tightly in his hand. Calia turned around to the cultist breathe his last breath.
Cleanse this city...
Calia looked up, seeing the other guards struggle against the attackers. Her ears twitched at the sound of a mighty roar coming from above. The ground shook with the sound. She cast her gaze skyward, seeing black and purple wings flapping above. She held her breath. It was a Twilight Dragon. Seen against the sun, the dragon appeared as black as time's ending. When it spread it's massive wings, the sun disappeared completely. Another roar sounded and she felt the rush of wind around her, blowing the tops of the trees. A second black and purple scaled dragon followed the first. Purple energy sprayed from its jaws. A score of Twilight Cultists dropped from its back like overripe fruit eager to be picked. They opened their parachutes and landed just beyond a burning building.
They're invading the city, Calia thought.
Protect all that you hold most dear.
Calia shook her head, sensing the buzzing in her mind. She patted her pouch, hearing the sound of the Dragon Soul jingle in it. Calia started off. Her body slowly began to fade into invisibility. She felt her leg muscles bunch up and she started off in a blur. Her speed increased, sending her darting swiftly down the streets.
Her thoughts became drowned out by the sounds of fighting. Screams echoed through the streets. An idle cry of a child called for her mother. The flames blurred around her as she continued her run. Flames licked out over her legs, singing her leather trousers. Her heart pounded in her chest and her breath burned in her lungs. Smoke choked her throat and she coughed. As swiftly as her legs sent her through the streets, she finally felt her speed give out. Calia's stealth faded from her as she slowed. She felt the muscles in her calves throb, her thighs twitch. She trained her muscles to send her to incredible speeds. Her commander noted that she was one of the fastest he had ever seen. However, her special sprint lasted much shorter than the other rogues, who could pace themselves better. Calia leaned over, resting her hands on her thighs, breathing.
She looked up to the sounds of footsteps against the cobble stone. Just as Calia rose up, she felt a mace slam across her jaw. Her body flew backwards like a ragdoll , slamming hard upon the ground, the mace cutting lines across her face. She painfully rose, the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. Calia came to her feet, her head pounding. A hand grabbed her hair, yanking her painfully close to her attacker. She looked up to see a Twilight Hammer, blue-skinned, and purple, spiky-haired Troll bringing her close to him.
"Look what I found," he said with a sinister, toothy sneer. He drew his mace close to her again. "I won't be thinkin' of no funny business, mon."
Calia gripped her knife tightly. She reached up and sliced the Troll across his hand. The troll let her go, calling out, gripping his hand tightly. Calia slung her brown hair and leapt in a roundhouse kick, sending the troll to the ground.
"Filthy Twilight Hammer," she said, spitting another lob of blood.
"You pay for that, mon," said the cultist, gripping his mace tightly. He swung it down upon her. Calia swerved out of the way as the spikes of the mace barely missed her shoulder. The troll took another swing, this time, aiming for her left and Calia once more dodged it. He turned and slammed his foot into her stomach, knocking her down. Calia rolled across the ground as the troll swung his mace for her again. He slammed the mace down to her side as Calia rolled out of the way. As he lifted the mace of, a some of the stone broke off from the ground. He swung again, slamming the mace upon Calia's side. The assassin called out. A growing dark spot stained her leather jerkin. She felt the warmth of her blood spread around the wound. Holes poked through her armor. Calia coughed. The troll rose up, and gripped his mace tighter. Once more, in one swift swing, he came for her again. Calia rose her dagger up, blocking the blow with the blade. She kicked upward with her right foot, knocking the mace from the troll's hands. Jumping to her feet, Calia drove the dagger into the troll's stomach. She pulled upwards upon the dagger, slicing through his skin. The troll slipped off of her blade, falling to his back, his body limp. Calia held to her side, feeling the blood spread down her hips. She reached into her pouch with her hand, searching frantically for a healing potion.
"Where is it?" she whispered as she searched around.
Pulling the pouch off, Calia dumped its contents out. Many of her poisons fell to the ground followed by the golden disk. Calia paused, gasping for air as her eyes focused upon the golden surface of the Dragon Soul. She reached down, wincing as she lowered, to pick up the disk. She turned her head to peer at the Dragon Soul. Her hands caressed its warm surface and it responded with a soft, pulsating glow. Calia closed her eyes and brought the golden chain to her neck. Placing the Dragon Soul around her neck, she tucked it under her leather armor.
Give in...
Make them pay.
These inferior beings.
They threaten everything.
They are the evil of this world.
They must be snuffed out like the flames that cover this city.
Calia gripped the disk under her shirt. She knelt down and fumbled through her spilt contents for a healing potion. A scarlet vial sparkled in the light of the flames. Calia picked up the vial and popped off the cork with her teeth. Leaning her head back, she downed the potion. She felt the pain of her wound subside and the warmth of her blood lessening. Calia gasped, hearing the sound of creaking above. She looked up as a flaming branch from a tree snapped loose. Painfully, she tumbled out of the way as the branch fell to the ground. Calia rose up and sheathed her knife. She pulled her rifle from her back and started off once more.
As Calia rounded a corner, she heard the sounds of swords clanging against swords grow even louder. Civilians ran for their lives, picking up their belongings as they made their way for the gate. Guards guided their evacuation, while at the same time, keeping the Twilight Cult busy. Calia heard another bellow and a rush of wind around her. Looking up, she spied the flapping of draconic wings. A ball of fire streaked across the sky as a red dragon flew into view. The red dragon dove for a twilight dragon, talons outstretched. The twilight dragon rolled and its talons locked upon the red dragon's talons. The two dragons spun through the cool, evening air, snapping at each other's necks. Their blood falling like horrible rain upon the terrified observers.
Another fireball flew out from the red dragon's mouth, impacting upon the twilight dragon's chest. The dragon disengaged from his foe, spinning away as the red dragon flew in pursuit. Another fireball raced out from the sky as another red dragon flew overhead. The dragon sent forth a cone of flames across the streets, setting fire to the cultists. Another red dragon fell from the sky, purple and black energy crackling across its body. Calia leapt out of the way as the dragon slammed upon the buildings around her. Dust, clouds, fire, and shards of wood and glass flew out from the fall of the dragon, knocking Calia back. The shards cut her sides. A piece of the dragon's horns broke off and drove into the ground. The red dragons that were still battling chased after the other twilight dragons. The master of the twilight dragons, Ultraxion, was no where to be found. Calia swallowed hard, her throat becoming dry. She made for the sounds of swords clashing.
Rounding a corner, she came to the Valley of Heroes. Looking up upon large pillars were two scorched, claw marks.
They were the claw marks of Neltharion when he destroyed a portion of Stormwind City during his destructive flight as Deathwing at the beginning of the Cataclysm.
How interesting you wish to protect the one who caused so much destruction to your beloved city.
Behind her, the Cathedral was in flames. Calia turned away from the Cathedral and ran for the Valley of Heroes. Before her were many refugees as well as the guards fighting off the Twilight Cultists. Aiding them was none other than King Varian Wynn. Of course, Varian would not leave Stormwind to the hands of the cult, the warrior king was more than willing to defend its gates along with his soldiers rather than flee to safety with the refugees. Varian, good friend to Calia's younger brother Arthas prior to his descent into becoming the Lich King. Though, Calia recalled some of Arthas' jealousy towards Varian. Varian was always physically stronger than Arthas. However, when Arthas became the Lich King, stabbing Teneras with Frostmourne, to Varian, he had dealt the ultimate sin. He betrayed the Alliance and his father, as well as their friendship. Varian took Arthas' betrayal as personally as Calia did.
Since Calia's reconnection with her estranged husband Neltharion, she could sense a growing resentment towards her that Varian held, questioning her loyalty to Stormwind. After all, Deathwing harmed the Alliance far more than he ever did with the Horde. He ripped it from the inside out, causing deceit to flourish through the ranks and breaking up the strong Alliance. His daughter Onyxia split Varian apart into two personalities, two people and turned Anduin into a puppet king. Varian was more than willing to slice her head off once he merged with his other personality. As Calia came through the gates to the Valley of Heroes, she saw the head of Neltharion's daughter Onyxia still hanging from the chains. When she was slain for the second time, those who brought her down brought the head back to Stormwind. The rest of Onyxia now laid upon the Obsidian Dragonshrine.
Though Varian had vocally stated he had forgiven Neltharion for his actions as Deathwing, Calia could sense there was still hatred. King Varian Wynn can never easily forgive any actions made against his beloved Alliance. Rather than causing any further grief, he let it go for that one day so that Calia and Neltharion could stop Command Schnottz from using the Coffer of Promise. Saving Azeroth from the goblin's ambitions meant saving the Alliance and at that moment, that was all Varian cared about. However, Calia knew that Varian thanked the Light every day she and Neltharion remained on the other side of the world, in Theramore. Neltharion was Lady Jaina Proudmoore's problem, not Varian's. The less Varian saw of the Earth-Warder, the better.
Calia looked behind her at the city in flames.
It seemed Neltharion's troubles had become Varian's once more. Even in Northrend, the Earth-Warder had made his presence known through his enemies. The Twilight Cult attacked Stormwind, hoping to draw out Neltharion and anyone aiding him. Knowing Neltharion was once in an Alliance stronghold, it would make sense to attack the main city of the Alliance in order to draw him out. Though Neltharion had stated many times to Calia about the meaning of neutrality, whether he acknowledged it or not, he was allied with Stormwind. And so, Stormwind was made to suffer for it.
Varian swung powerfully with his longsword Shalamayne. His wizards providing back up, shielding him from the lethal spells of the cult's dark warlocks. Conjured demons bashed against the guards, their great axes clanking upon the shields. A felgaurd grabbed a guard by the collar and tossed him away as if he was a toy. The demon swiftly made for Varian, raising his axe. Calia darted off, once more calling upon her speed. Just as the demon took his swing, Calia leapt into the air, pulling out her rifle and fired. The demon kicked back, stumbling slightly. He turned around only to feel the impact of Calia's heel upon his jaw. He came crashing down before Varian's plated boots. The felguard rose up reaching for his axe. Calia backed away as Varian sliced down, cutting the demon's arm off with his sword. Calia cocked her rifle and shot the demon in the head.
"I see you haven't lost your touch, Princess," said Varian, cocking a brown eyebrow at her. Before Calia could answer, he raised his great sword. Thrusting it forward. The blade pierced straight through the chest of a Twilight Hammer Night Elf.
Calia wiped her forehead: "Don't call me princess..." She paused and smirked slightly. "Tiny."
He swung his sword and rested it against his shoulder.
"They started dropping in not long ago," he said. "Setting my beloved city aflame. The giant dragon, a twilight dragon the size I've never seen...started blasting much of my city. Then, he flew on, heading north. He is probably in Lordaeron now, setting it on fire now."
"Lordaeron..." said Calia, taking in a deep breath. She gripped her own neck, pulling at the skin in a nervous fit.
Protect all you hold dear...
Calia felt a strong hand upon her arm as Varian pulled her aside. He shoved her into the shadows. Calia looked up, looking into the dark, cold eyes of the warrior king. He held strong onto her, his gloved hand squeezing her arm.
"Where the hell is that husband of yours?" he asked. "Where is our dear 'King Prestor of Alterac'? Not here to defend his Alliance? The least he could do after what he's done."
"He's in Northrend," said Calia. "Wounded badly by Ultraxion."
"Ultraxion?" asked Varian.
"That giant Twilight Dragon..." Calia began. She looked away, her eyes growing downcast. "Neltharion created it."
"He what?" asked Varian, his jaw dropping. His lips pulled tightly across his perfectly white teeth. "That monster was created by Neltharion? I should have known..."
"He was created when Neltharion was still Deathwing!" called Calia. "Neltharion tried to destroy Ultraxion."
Varian looked beyond Calia seeing the orange glow of his city. His lips perched and his heart quivered. His jaw set.
"All because of him," he began. "This is happening all because of him! All because we had to go and let him live! How is Azeroth better off with Deathwing alive rather than dead?
Threatening the one who you love?
Calia blinked.
"Tell me, Princess Menethil..." began Varian, looking down upon her. "How can it be better with him alive? Would it have been better if we just put that dragon out of his misery? Would my city be burning now with him dead?" He pointed his sword at Onyxia's head dangling loosely from its chain. "I should have mounted his head along with his daughter's."
He threatens Neltharion's safety.
Neltharion cannot defend himself.
Only you can.
He is like the Twilight Cult!
He wishes to take Neltharion away as well.
"No..." Calia whispered.
You cannot trust anyone, not even those who you call your friends.
He allows your beloved land to be destroyed.
He wishes to kill your beloved husband.
He curses your brother's name.
Deep down, sometimes he curses your father's...
You are scum to him now.
Not even fit to hold your title let alone your true name.
You lost that long ago.
Was it your brother's fault, your father's, Neltharion's or Varian's?
No longer Menethil...
You are Hastings.
"When this is over, that dragon will pay for this," said Varian. "After I've slain this Ultraxion as well, I will make Neltharion pay. I will take his head as well!"
Calia's eyes narrowed at Varian's words. She could see the king's fury build. She felt a growing heat against her chest as the Dragon Soul began to glow. Power began to build up inside her muscles giving her greater strength.
He threatens Neltharion, he threatens Azeroth!
Traitor!
Do what must be done for the safety of all.
Run him through!
She had no idea what prompted her to do it. With her building strength, she swung her arm and tore from Varian's grip. Before the king could react, Calia kicked him away, sending him slamming onto the ground.
"What is the meaning of this?" Varian called, jabbing his sword into the ground and rising up.
"Don't ever threaten my husband's life..." Calia said, drawing both of her daggers. She circled the King of Stormwind. "You have no idea what evil lies beneath your feet. You are too busy with your thumb up your ass, having a shouting contest with Garrosh to even care what really will happen to this world. Wake up, Varian!"
They should be dealt with, like the Scourge.
"My brother was blind as well," said Calia. "All he cared about was doing what was necessary to take his enemies down, not about his own people, and look what happened to him. Look at what happened to my father. You're just like Arthas! You don't deserve to have my father's position as leader of the Alliance. And you don't deserve to bear the banners of the Alliance of Lordaeron as your emblem."
Varian looked into Calia's cold, blue-green eyes. Her mouth curled in a similar smirk, the crooked smile her brother had when he fell from grace. Arthas was smiling back at Varian through his older sister.
"I should have known..." began Varian, brushing a brown lock from his face. He raised his sword. "How could kindly old King Teneras raise two treacherous children? It took you 30 years to show your true colors, Calia Menethil. Maybe Deathwing helped bring it out. All the more reason for me to run my sword through his heart. I'm not like your brother, you are!"
"I am not Arthas!" Calia called.
"Oh, but you are, Princess," said Varian. "And just like him, you are blind to what is happening to you. I don't want to loose you, Calia, but I do have any problems taking down another traitor."
Dethrone Varian!
The guards looked behind them, seeing the cult thinning out. The raised their swords, preparing to charge at Calia.
"Stop," said Varian. "I'll handle the last member of the House of Menethil. It is the least I can do for Teneras. I could not take care of Arthas, but I will take care of you, Calia."
"So you take all that pent up anger you had against my brother on me," said Calia. "The only good thing I have to say about my brother is this...he was always much stronger than you, Varian. You're a weakling!"
Varian raised his sword and charged for Calia. Calia gripped the ground with her feet, both her daggers poised in defense. Shalamayne swung down and clanged upon the blade of one her daggers. She swung with the other dagger, slicing a deep gash through his gleaming armor. She felt the power of the Dragon Soul flowing into her arms, feeding her muscles with hot energy. Calia ducked as Varian swung his blade over her head. Varian slammed down with the hilt of his sword upon her head and Calia dodged. She backflipped, kicking him in the lower jaw. Varian staggered backwards, landing upon the ground. He felt his chin. The nimble assassin once more circled him, cross-stepping as she walked around the king. Varian felt his own muscles bunch up as a strange energy washed over him. He looked back at Calia, his eyes taking on a feral appearance. Once more, his jaw set as he rose to his feet. Once more, Varian charged for Calia, but this time with greater speed. Calia's eyes widened as the sword came down upon her. She barely had time to block it, rolling out of the way as the sword gouged a crack through the cobble stone. She swung with her daggers again and Varian dodged, kicking her back against the ground. Calia rolled out of the way as Varian swung his sword once more. The blade sliced a piece of her hair off, the brunette lock falling to the ground. Calia gasped, rising to her feet. Just before Varian could swing again, the assassin winked out of sight. Varian looked around, taking a sniff of the air as Calia silently circle him again. She leaped upon his back, her daggers out, ready for the kill. Varian swung around and moved out of the way just as the daggers sliced forth. Calia faded back into view just as the king grabbed her arm. He spun around, slamming her back to the ground.
"Don't underestimate me, Calia," he said, pointing his sword at her throat.
"You think that can save you?" she asked, breathing heavily. "I've got a secret too." She lowered a hand upon her collar. "Would you like to see?"
Varian made no reply, raising his sword up. Calia puled upon the chain around her neck, revealing the Dragon Soul's glowing surface from under her shirt. The glow of the golden disk flashed a blinding beam of light into Varian's eyes. The king stepped back, crying out as the light blinded him. He dropped his sword, covering his eyes.
Calia watched as Varian shook his head. His vision slowly cleared. He looked up, seeing a blurry vision of Calia, bathed in the glow of the Dragon Soul. As his vision cleared, Varian leaned down to pick his sword back him. Calia motioned him to come to her with a graceful hand. Arthas' smirk still spread across her mouth. Varian squinted as he looked upon Calia. The glow of the Dragon Soul nearly obscured her. A new vision appeared before Varian's eyes. As Calia lowered one of her blades, it appeared to grow out longer taking on a strange, cold, bluish cast. It look so strangely familiar. She grew taller, her leather shifting to dark plate. Her hair looked white and her eyes glowed with the same cold blue glow as the now strange rune blade she carried. Whether it was an illusion, or some trickery, Varian could not tell.
For all he knew, he saw Arthas standing before him.
The sword swung against him, knocking him back to the ground again. As the sword rose up, ready to pierce through his armor, a powerful, earth-shaking voice sounded. The voice sounded like two large boulders grinding against each other.
"Calia, stop!"
Varian looked beyond the glow of the Dragon Soul to see the statue of the famous mage Khadgar slowly coming to life. The white marble statue began to shed pieces of its material as it began to move, stepping down off of the pedestal. The staff it carried withdrew into its hand as the form began to slump over. Massive marble draconic wings sprouted from the back of the Khadgar statue and the face elongated to that of a box-like dragon's head. The body thickened and became powerfully muscular. A long tail tipped with a carving of a blade grew out from behind the statue as its hands and feet twisted into claws. Shapes of armored plates appeared along the back of the marble dragon-looking Khadgar statue. A beard flowed in braids from its jawline. It spread its wings wide and bellowed out a roar, leaping to the ground.
The living, marble statue was Neltharion, the Earth-Warder.
0
They had left Neltharion alone to rest in the lava, making their plans to defend all of Wyrmrest. Dragons came flying in from Tanaris, the Vermilion Redoubt, Coldera, and the Emerald Dream. They called in their ambassadors to the temple and their best of lieutenants. The red dragons of the Vermilion Redoubt brought in members of the Earthen Ring. Dragons both in their mortal disguises and their true forms blanketed Dragonblight, ranging from red, blue, green, and bronze. Siderion though was the only black dragon there aside from Neltharion, both were the odd ones out. Instead of joining them, he remained near the shrine, guarding his lord's slumbering body. The only one he would let in though was Calia, however, she had not returned. Nadina told him she walked off and she had not been back since.
"Don't worry about hiss conssort," began Nozdormu, upon sensing Siderion's worry. "She will return sssoon enough."
Still, Siderion waited.
Neltharion shifted his body in the lava, going deeper into his slumber. His mind was lost in the darkness, resting peacefully. The soothing, churning of molten rock seeped into his body. His bones cracked back into place, his wings reshaped.
Yet, all he could feel was numbness.
The cracking of bones, the knitting of muscle and tendons would have caused him tremendous agony, but in his unconsciousness, he felt nothing.
It was cool in the dark despite his body halfway submerged in glowing lava. His mind could not sense anything going on outside. His claw reached out in his dreary, dreamy state, hoping to touch a loved one. Hoping to touch Calia. But his claws fell upon the basaltic rock around him. Neltharion let loose a small whimper, his face contorting into a pained expression. His heart sank, she was not there.
"Calia..." he whispered. "Ysera...Alex...?"
He felt the air around him grow colder. His breath became heavier, labored. The sting of the chill washing over his body. He no longer could feel the heat of the lava around him.
"Calia..." Neltharion said, waving his claw around, searching for her.
"She is not here," said a strange, echoing, hallow voice.
Neltharion turned his head, his eyes still closed. Once more he let loose a small, weak whimper, pawing the air for something to reach out and touch him. He felt two hands upon the upper parts of his forelegs. His body lifting up off the floor. Whoever it was, he drew Neltharion near him. The Black Aspect could feel an icy breath upon him.
"Open your eyes, brother-in-law," said the voice.
Neltharion lifted his brow, but his eyes remained tightly shut.
"Open your eyes," the voice commanded.
He slowly began to open his eyes, almost feeling it to be a strain just doing so. Despite his body healing, Neltharion felt very weak. His head dipped to one side, hanging there limply upon his shoulder. He barely could lift his arms. His wings still drooped upon the floor, draping out like a wrinkly, leather shroud behind him. His tail dangled loosely, the elementium blade scraped along the stone floor. His vision was blurry, he could not make out the strange blob holding him up.
"Who...who are you?" Neltharion asked.
"You do not recognize the sound of my voice, Daval?"
Neltharion's eyes slowly began to clear and the face in front of him slowly came into view. The man was a human, with a very pale, deathly purple face. His hair was white. He was dressed in plate and chainmail, skulls decorated the armor. A black cape fell over his shoulders. A crooked smile drew a thin line across his mouth. Though, what caught Neltharion's attention was the man's eyes. They were the most intense blue-green he had ever seen. They looked much like Calia's. Neltharion's jaw began to work, opening and closing as he stared into those eyes. There was only one other human he knew had eyes like that.
"Arthas?" Neltharion asked.
He could feel the icy grip of the death knight's hands upon his scales. He shivered through his spine, causing the elementium plates to clank against each other as they vibrated. Neltharion looked around him. The chamber was black, made of the cold sardonite, blood of Yogg-Saron. He could hear the strange whispers of the Old God chiming through the walls and the floor, but the whispers were faint, indistinguishable to him. His new found immunity to the whispers of the Old Gods kept them nothing more than whispers, barely even hearing what they had to say. Though, even then, the constant whispering could drive one mad without the fortitude to ignore them.
Arthas hefted Neltharion up with unreal strength, dragging him towards an icy pillar in the center of the chamber. The whole room looked almost devoid of color, as cold as Arthas' heart. Arthas lowered Neltharion upon a slab of ice. The dragon could not fight back against the death knight, his strength still lost to him. He raised a gloved hand to Neltharion's face, feeling behind his long, black beard. The dragon shrank back from Arthas' touch.
"Tell me, Prestor," Arthas began. "What did it feel like to leech upon my father's mind, make him bend to your will like that? To manipulate everyone you came in contact with...with only a glance and a smile? How could we fall for your charms?" He touched the other side of Neltharion's face, feeling along the scaly bumps of his chin. "The power over lesser minds you wielded." He grabbed hold of the dragon's lower jaw, pulling him up. "You tricked my father into allow you to marry my sister. You sewed the seeds of my father's fall. In a way I have to thank you for it, dear brother."
"Thank me?" Neltharion asked. "Why would you thank me?"
"You, through your machinations, Deathwing," began Arthas. "Brought about all of this." He raised his hand to the cold air. "The Alliance fighting each other, not seeing the true threat, breaking apart and allowing the Scourge in. Which brings me here."
"I had nothing to do with your choice, Arthas!" Neltharion pulling away from the death knight. "You pulled that sword out of its icy prison. You heeded the call of Ner'zhul."
"I swore that I would find a way to protect my kingdom at all costs," said Arthas. "I never knew that my kingdom was in danger until my sister gave birth to something rather...interesting."
"Our child," said Neltharion. He recalled the day Calia told him about the child. A half dragon, half human hybrid. She described the baby as being covered in black scales, with fangs, stubby wings, and a stubby tail. When the baby was taken away, Calia stated that it was Arthas who took it and then killed it. It was their child, Calia's and Neltharion's. Their first child...their only child.
"Who knows what else could have risen if the Alliance became weakened," said Arthas. "You left a gap in the Alliance when you disappeared, Prestor. A gap that the Scourge later filled. Your tactics were different, but the result was the same. Everything fell into chaos, just like you wanted. I realized then if one powerful entity could take down all my father built up, another could just as well...very easily."
"Don't blame the Scourge's attacking Lordaeron upon me," said Neltharion. "Nor your actions in Stratholme." He lowered his head, breathing heavily. "Damn it, I'm talking to a ghost! Or an illusion...you're dead! And not the moving kind either." He took in a deep breath, lifting his head up again and leaned upon his elbows. "Arthas, why are you here?"
"We are all determined to do what is necessary to protect those who we love," said Arthas. "Protect those who need our protection whether they realize it or not. Even if that means we go to great lengths and commit acts of horrible malice upon a few to save the others."
Neltharion leaned up upon his haunches, looking sternly at his late brother-in-law.
"I know what I did," he said. "I know the actions I went to, the lengths, I went to in order to protect my world. And it drove me to madness. Just as your actions drove you to your madness." His eyes narrowed. "I can no longer lay blameless for what I have done. Alternate personality be damned, I cannot live without paying for my sins. But you never came to that conclusion. You still believed what you did was right, even in your death, you gave no admittance you were even sorry!"
Arthas turned away, slowly waving his hand in the air.
"You and I make an interesting family," he said. A rush of air swirled around him. Neltharion brought his wings around his body, shielding himself from the piercing, stinging cold. Once more, his body trembled and his plates rattled with every shake. Neltharion clinched his teeth tightly.
"Family..."
"Both of us, sacrificing our very sanity for the destruction of all that threatens us," he replied. "But now, someone else follows in our footsteps. You've seen it in her eyes."
He once more smirked when he heard the dragon's growling huff. Noxious smoke escaped Neltharion's nostrils.
"That determination," began Arthas as the swirl of air coalesced into a rippling image. Neltharion slid off of the icy table. His head felt heavy as he attempted to lift his great body up. Arthas looked back to him. "Our determination."
Neltharion looked upon the vision before him, seeing a human female shuffle through the streets of Stormwind. The city was on fire. Neltharion watched as she came to a Twilight cultist, driving her daggers into his chest without paying any heed to the calls of innocents crying out for her help.
"Calia?" he asked.
"What have you done to my sister?" asked Arthas.
Neltharion's wings gripped his body tightly, the digits squeezing in desperation to keep what little heat he had left inside of him trapped. He looked away from the vision before him, his wife continuing to slaughter any and all Twilight Hammers she could find. His black scales looked pale, cold, as a growing frost began to cover them. Neltharion closed his eyes tightly. He usually could withstand such extreme temperatures, no matter hot or cold. There was something about the chill that drove deep inside of him. He could feel the molten core that kept him alive, solidify as the cold over took him.. He raised a claw, noticing his movements were sluggish.
"What are you doing to me?" Neltharion asked.
"Don't like the cold?" Arthas asked.
"I don't!" the dragon bellowed, his voice echoing off the tall walls.
"Determination," said Arthas. "Yours, mine, and Cali's. No, it is desperation. What have you done to my sister?"
"I don't understand the question," Neltharion replied, his head stiffening as he moved it back towards Arthas. His tail coiled around his body and his shoulders haunched up. He could feel every joint in his body aching as they froze solid.
"Think on it, Prestor," said Arthas. "But do not take too long. I just might have a new dragon statue to decorate here."
Neltharion lowered his head stiffly down. He felt it lock to his neck and he could not move it another inch. Arthas walked around the large, Black Dragon, laying a hand upon the shoulder of his wing. He leaned closer to Neltharion's head, pulling down on a horn. Neltharion felt his neck begin to move, the scales cracking as he drew closer to Arthas. His claws clinched up. He bit his lower lip. His heart pounded against his chest, trying to pump the solidifying magma inside of him. His breath became shallow, wheezing as he breathed. Neltharion desperately gasped for air.
"So...cold..." Neltharion said in a shutter.
"Desperation," said Arthas. "Look how desperate you are. Clinging onto life as it slowly begins to freeze over."
Frost formed tiny crystals upon Neltharion's eyelashes. His green eyes began to slowly gloss over with the growing ice. He blinked, feeling the crystals painfully scrape across his inner lids.
"Answer my question, Prestor," said Arthas.
Neltharion felt a tear drip from his lid, only to freeze instantly upon his cheek. His sight becoming cloudy with the ice.
"I...don't understand the question..." the Earth-Warder repeated.
"The cold will give you clarity," said Arthas. He lifted one of Neltharion's braids. The braid snapped, breaking off like a shard of volcanic glass. "You better hurry. You do not have much time."
"Stop doing this...to me..." said Neltharion, his voice barely making a sound. "Arthas..."
"Death..." began Arthas. "Is never soothing, is it? Cold. Painful. Scary. You called yourself Deathwing, and yet, you've never experienced what death is like. Only delivered death, never experienced it. Pitiful. Desperate. My sister...say the words. Don't hide them. And this will all go away."
"She is...desperate!" Neltharion whispered. "Desperate. Because of me." He blinked, the shards of ice cutting thin, lines inside his lids. "Desperate. I...was desperate. Attacking him, not asking for help. Not telling anyone about Ultraxion. I have no one...to blame but...myself. And it finally bit me in the ass."
"What is she doing?" Arthas asked.
"Revenge for...my mistake..." said Neltharion. His eyes began to close as he felt the last bit of the cold clutched at his slowing heart. "I am sorry. The desperation that we have felt...now is upon her. And she will...fall into the madness that we succumbed to. My redemption, I thought I could...fix what I have done...it is only more of my selfishness. My desperation. Now, it is hers. I love her, I want to be with her...I don't want her to make the same mistakes I have." He opened his eyes up. They were completely white, frosted over. "Or you have. We are no different. Different methods, but we are the same. And we have hurt her because of it...we have hurt them...Calia, Teneras, Onyxia, Sintharia, Nefarian. We use them, when we need them, we push them away. We don't deserve them..."
Neltharion felt his body lower to the ground, stiffly laying upon his side. His wings folded once more around him, wrapping him tightly in a blanket of wrinkled membrane skin.
"No, we do not," said Arthas.
Neltharion felt the cold air rush against him and he curled up tightly. He could hear the sound of cracking along his body as it hardened into cold obsidian. The pain of the chill slowly etched away as his senses numbed again. He was bathed in darkness. He closed his eyes again, grateful for the numbing sensation as his body locked up, changing to rock.
We do not deserve them...
As the cold subsided, Neltharion felt a burning heat upon his body. He felt it crack again, and heard it splinter across his back. His senses changed, becoming alive again. He felt the rock around him, extending his consciousness out everywhere. He heard the sounds of the ocean, felt the wind, heard the rumble of the mountains, and the voices of people.
The voices of people, they filled his ears the most. He could hear the mortals upon the surface, hustling and bustling about. He felt his body extend out through the crust of the planet and seeping down deep into the molten, gooey center. Neltharion's mind felt its extensions peaking out through the surface. His lengthy ears finally came upon Stormwind. Neltharion saw through the rock an image formed through sound. He focused his ears upon the familiar sound of footsteps, specific footsteps that he recognized. He rolled through the rock, his mind extending out once more to follow the footsteps. He looked beyond the feet to find them belonging to a female human swiftly running through Stormwind. A thunder broke through the rock, sending a white light into Neltharion's senses. The sound blinded him and he shrank back. His ears throbbed, his head pounded and the rock quaked around him. His ears rang loudly, the deafening sound echoed through his mind. As the white light slowly faded away as the horrid ringing sound subsided, releasing the pressure upon his mind. The sound cleared, showing once more a vivid image. Neltharion spied the echo of a fallen dragon lying upon the cobble stone street. He continued to swim through the rock and dirt beneath the city. Sparkling stars filled his vision as the sound of gunfire and swords clanking resounded through the stone. Neltharion paused, seeing the sound itself bounce off of great, statues all lined along two columns with a path leading out from them. He was in the Valley of Heroes. Neltharion shifted, hearing the sounds of his wife's voice and another familiar voice. He turned, seeing the image of a hulking man wearing gleaming armor and a large sword.
"Tell me, Princess Menethil..." began the man, looking down upon her. "How can it be better with him alive? Would it have been better if we just put that dragon out of his misery? Would my city be burning now with him dead? I should have mounted his head along with his daughter's."
Neltharion looked on, seeing the echo of the sound bounce off a dangling, surface. It was a large draconic head with horns curving forward. His heart stopped, dropping heavily like a stone. He felt the agony of the cold once more creep upon him. There she was, hanging from chains was the head of his daughter, Onyxia.
"Don't ever threaten my husband's life..." Calia said, drawing both of her daggers. Neltharion watched as she began to circle the man. "You have no idea what evil lies beneath your feet. You are too busy with your thumb up your ass, having a shouting contest with Garrosh to even care what really will happen to this world. Wake up, Varian!"
Varian! thought Neltharion. King Varian Wynn. What is Calia doing?
"I should have known..." began Varian, brushing a brown lock from his face. He raised his sword. "How could kindly old King Teneras raise two treacherous children? It took you 30 years to show your true colors, Calia Menethil. Maybe Deathwing helped bring it out. All the more reason for me to run my sword through his heart. I'm not like your brother, you are!"
"I am not Arthas!" Calia called.
"Oh, but you are, Princess," said Varian. "And just like him, you are blind to what is happening to you. I don't want to loose you, Calia, but I do have any problems taking down another traitor."
With that, they threw themselves upon each other. Calia and Varian fighting. As their steel clanked together, Neltharion once more was assaulted with blinding flashes of white light. Varian threw Calia down and Neltharion swiftly shifted away as she hit the ground, sending another flash of white into the dragon's eyes. He held his head, hearing the sounds of their struggling.
This has to stop! Neltharion thought. What is wrong with her? Why is she attacking Varian?
He shifted one more time, feeling his way in a retreat as they battled. He came upon the image echo of a large statue of an elderly man, dressed in fine robes and holding a staff heroically up. Neltharion focused upon this statue, remembering something about it. His mind slowly began to recall a battle in Outland, with him made to watch as Deathwing fought a cunning mage. Deathwing defended the children his Sintharia had laid, in which he hid in Outland. Neltharion watched through the broken window of his eyes, warped landscapes and warped figures, but he could clearly make out the mage. All the mage's magic could do nothing against the great power of Deathwing, that is until...
It was a simple spell, a parlor trick. Deathwing felt something come loose upon his back. One by one the goblin-forged, adamantine plates began to peal away like the skin of an orange, coming loose from their bolts. Deathwing bellowed out in agony as his fiery blood erupted like a fissure of lava, spilling out over his ashy, black scales. Neltharion cheered the mage on, hoping that perhaps he would finish the job. He was the only mortal that seemed to be able to weaken Deathwing. Of course, Neltharion's praises was met by a lash from Deathwing himself. He sliced at the weakened personality, punishing him for even speaking out.
You will know your place, Neltharion!
Though, he had been punished, Neltharion smiled. Deathwing's plans were ruined. Forced to retreat, the Aspect of Death sent one final warning to the human mage.
"I've seen you, mage!" he said. "I've seen you!"
The name came back to Neltharion and his eyes looked upon the statue with some hope.
Khadgar!
He had no other form but the planet itself. Neltharion extended his consciousness, filling the marble statue of Khadgar. As he took control of the statue's form, the statue slowly came to life. Haunching over, it suddenly fell to all fours as bat like wings sprouted from its back. The human face of Khadgar twisted and reshaped, becoming a box-like dragon's head. A tail sprouted out and the statue shed its marble robes, filling out into a large, draconic body. Finally able to move for the first time since the strange dream, Neltharion step down from the pedestal. He approached the two dueling humans. Calia had Varian down on the ground, pointing her dagger right at his throat.
"Calia, stop!" he called, raising a claw to her.
Calia turned around, her eyes widened when she saw the white, marble statue of her husband walking towards her.
"Cali," Neltharion began. "Don't do this. Please. Don't make the same mistake your brother has. He is not your enemy!"
Calia rose up slightly, her face stern as she looked upon her stony husband. Neltharion felt the coldness of her eyes upon him and despite his marble body, he shivered slightly.
"Don't stand in my way," said Calia, pointing her other dagger right at Neltharion.