I LIVE!

Well, it's been a good 3 months since I last updated Truae. I apologize for all of this! Midterms, Finals, and trying to work on so many other things at once really got to me. I'm currently trying to work on my novel, but I have trouble setting anything down on paper. You know how it is with novels- you sit down knowing exactly what you want to write, but the words you need just wont come to you, and you feel like if you set anything down on paper it just wouldn't be right.

I have not given up on this fanfiction, by any stretch of the imagination. I'm just lazy, and sometimes I need to be beaten into shape by angry fans. In other news, I'm going to start updating bits of information and pictures relating to my novel on Deviant Art, so that anyone interested in my work can see what I'm up to. I've also uploaded a picture of Nathanos and Ketala to Deviant Art. The link to my pics is available on my profile page

Plans

Undercity

Varimathras was comfortable. It was a strange sensation; he had gotten used to a lot of aches and pains over the last year. He grunted and slowly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly to clear his vision.

Harsh stone walls greeted him, riddled with claw marks and other gouges. A few bloodstains marred the floor, and torturous weapons hung from the far wall. Varimathras stiffened momentarily and then recognized his surroundings and gave a long sigh. He was within his personal quarters in the Undercity. These were his marks of frustration, his torturous weapons. The blood belonged to an unfortunate succubus who had found him there. He was safe here. Safe at last…

For a long moment, he didn't move, gazing vacantly at a chipped and unremarkable stone in his wall, thinking over the events of the last few days. At length he became aware of a heavy weight on his brow, and he lifted a hand to touch his forehead. As he drew his hand out from beneath his covers, he became aware of the bandages that covered his frame and wrapped carefully around his hand and fingers- Fingers!

Varimathras sat bolt upright, nearly swooned from pain, fell back against his pillows, and stared at his healed hand in amazement. After a moment, he brought his other hand before him and saw that it had also been mended. He lifted his hands to his brow and found both of his horns had completely regenerated. In grinding his jaws together, he could feel the presence of his fangs, and the absence of any pain in his feet hinted that his hooves had also been restored.

She had me healed… his mind concluded in astonishment. I am whole… She had me healed!

"Yes, I did." Her voice came from his open door, and he twisted his head to look in that direction. Sylvanas was standing there in all her deathly glory. She had washed herself free of Detheroc's blood, and her bone-white hair spiraled around her in a pearly cascade. "How do you feel?"

Varimathras swallowed, ignoring the fact that she had read his mind with such ease. "Much better," he said after a moment, and then quickly added, "Thank you, milady."

Sylvanas gave a thin smile, and slowly stepped into his room. The dreadlord swallowed as she came closer and closer, for he still had no guarantee that she wouldn't strike him dead on the spot. She glided all the way up to his bed, and paused, eyeing him sharply.

"You betrayed me," she said after a long time.

He nodded. "I made a mistake," he said softly. "A very large and glaring mistake."

She snorted, and a hint of a snarl crept into her voice. "I remember what you did at the Frozen Throne," the Black Lady hissed. "I remember how Arthas gave my spirit to you, and how you tormented me. In fact, the last thing I recall was you eating me."

"I did not eat!" he protested hastily, trying to appease her. "I swallowed whole! There are magics one can use to protect the soul from being digested!"
"Oh?" she asked icily. "Then tell me, Varimathras: Why did you go to so much trouble to steal my soul out from beneath Arthas? Why protect me?"

"To cover my back," he answered truthfully. "I felt that I might have been wrong to trust the Lich King's hollow promises. By saving you, I ensured that I could repair what damage I had done, and perhaps undo my betrayal."

"But only if Arthas betrayed you," she hissed.

Varimathras winced and nodded.

Sylvanas snorted and turned to his window. It was open again, and she stared at the dark scenery beyond, a grim expression on her face. Varimathras remained silent, watching her. When she spoke, her voice was not angry but mournful. "Why?" she inquired. "Why did you betray me? The truth?"

The Dreadlord looked down at his mended hands, and took in a slow breath. She prefers when I am honest, he reminded himself. It calms her, makes her less volatile. "You are a tad abusive," he said hesitantly. "The last time you tortured me, you left me broken in a cell next to Anub'arak. I was angry and acted irrationally; I took up Anub'arak's offer to aid the Lich King."

Sylvanas looked back at him, a puzzled expression on her face. "So," she asked quietly, "you are saying it is my fault?"

Varimathras stiffened, and took in a steadying breath. "No. It was mine. My reasons did not justify my actions. But you asked me why I betrayed you, and I did it for those reasons."

Sylvanas watched him for the longest moment, and did not say a word. At long last, she leaned over him. Her slender hand, cold and skeletal, stroked lightly over his cheek. "Never, ever, betray me again," she said in a low, cold voice. "Make one wrong move, one false step, and you will follow Detheroc to oblivion."

Varimathras nodded. "I believe you," he told her. Sylvanas tilted her head to the side and smiled. Then, suddenly she leaned down and pressed her mouth firmly to his, kissing him openly, deeply, passionately.

The ex-Dreadlord stared up at her in bewilderment, his lips moving slightly in response to hers, his brows furrowed in confusion. Instinct prompted him to lift a hand and touch her hair, but experience cautioned him not to. The last time he had listened to his instincts concerning Sylvanas' kisses, he'd gotten stabbed. He didn't want to offend her, especially at such a dangerous time.

She chuckled at his uncertainty and broke off the kiss, smiling cruelly at him. "You are mine," she said. "My pet, my servant, my slave. No one else will ever want you. You have no other place, no other master. You belong entirely to me, forever." Varimathras grimaced, but nodded, acknowledging the truth of her statement. In the end, how was it any different from belonging to the Burning Legion?

Sylvanas regarded him and then slowly stood and moved to leave his room. The ex-Dreadlord blinked and watched as she departed, confused by her actions. As she reached the door, he blurted out a strange question, a question he regretted the second he asked it:

"Do you care for me?"

The Banshee Queen halted abruptly in his doorway, her body going rigid and her hands clenching tightly into fists. Varimathras swore mentally to himself and tightly closed his eyes, praying he hadn't just sealed his own fate. A long, agonizing moment past, during which Varimathras tried to shrink further and further into himself. At least, the Banshee Queen chuckled and shook her head, her aggressive posture fading away. "I cannot care for you, Varimathras, any more than I can care for anything else. To do so would be to invite you to take advantage of me in my moments of weakness. I let you do so last time; I cannot let you do so again." With that she walked out the door, leaving the ex-Dreadlord alone.

Undercity

True to her word, Jaina Proudmoore teleported the ranger and his companions back to the Undercity at the break of dawn. However, as Jaina was a bit of a wiseass, she could not resist teleporting Nathanos directly into the Undercity. In the resulting commotion, Ouro ended up wrapped around the full length of the Undercity's central hub, hissing and spitting at the giant bats that called the place home. Nathanos stood near the bank, smiling at Ouro's antics and reconsolidating his opinion of the Lady Proudmoore.

The giant worm was causing an absolute mess. Abominations were flying through the air left and right. The stalls of vendors were being knocked over and tossed about, bats were being eating whole, and the occasional Forsaken was being flattened beneath her mighty bulk.

Ras looked curiously at their surroundings and then realized exactly where he was. He meeped and hid behind Nathanos, hoping that no undead had seen him. "Aren't you going to stop her?" he asked in a flustered voice, peering out at the sandworm.

Nathanos blinked and looked over his shoulder at the frightened mage. A large and evil grin spread over the ranger's face, and Ras's eyes widened in horror. Immediately the mage stumbled backward and began to cast a teleportation spell.

"Guards!" Nathanos called in mock-terror. "Guards, there is a human mage on the premises! Doubtless he is the one who called this worm here!"

Four abominations and twelve Forsaken swiveled their way, their eyes locking on the purple-robed human.

Nathanos gave a content smile and looked back to Ouro. "I suppose I should get her out of here before she gets herself hurt," he admitted. "Oh well. It was fun while it lasted."

Tiny, tiny beasties, poke at me, hate them, too small place, too small! Don't fit, bite, bite, stop bothering me, get away, hate, hate, hate, hate, HATE-

"Ouro! Calm, calm."

The great worm paused and reached forward with her antenna, letting them brush over the leather armor of her master. In the dismal light of the Undercity her eyes could see nothing, but she knew the scent of her master well. An unhappy sound escaped from the depths of her throat and she scuttled closer to him, seeking direction. He rubbed his hands gently over her antenna and then pulled himself onto her back. Ouro reared up a bit to better accommodate him, and then waited patiently for instructions. She even managed to ignore the irritating warlock who was trying to drain her soul out through her tail.

"Good girl," the ranger murmured soothingly. "Come on, let's get you out of here-"

"Nathanos. Blightcaller."

Nathanos jerked his head up at the familiar voice and blinked several times. After a moment, he turned around in his seat and looked behind him. Standing there was Sylvanas Windrunner.

Nathanos tilted his head to the side and then turned Ouro around so the worm was facing her, and he didn't have to twist around in his seat. "Nice to see you up and active, milady!" he called pleasantly.

"Why, Nathanos, is there a giant worm in my city?"

"Because I'm compensating for my lack of libido," he answered solemnly. "Oh, and we had a teleportation mishap. Ouro, here, is my animal companion, and I was just about to lead her out of the city.

Sylvanas regarded him a long moment, her face unreadable. "We are sending our forces against Zul'Mashar in two weeks. You will lead them."

"I'll think about it," Nathanos answered blithely.

"It was not a request," the banshee snapped, her eyes gleaming with hate. "You have failed me in countless ways, Nathanos Blightcaller. You will lead the attack on Zul'Mashar, or I shall kill you here and now."

If the Ranger Lord was intimidated, he did not show it. "How have I failed you?" he asked innocently. "Is this about how I neglected to tell you that Varimathras had thrown his lot in with Arthas? Or is it how I abandoned the Undercity when you 'died,' simply because I didn't care about it? Maybe it's because I thought it would be funny to put the Apothecarium in charge? Oh, but perhaps it's due to the fact that I suggested you possess Ketala, and so I am indirectly responsible for Arthas gaining control of your soul…?"

The intensity of Sylvanas's furious gaze was so potent that Nathanos could almost smell it. Unperturbed by his queen's deadly anger, the ranger pondered and then shook his head. "No, no, I think you're most upset that I left the undead lands all together and went to Southern Kalimdor to take care of the orcish problems instead! Bugger, I should have seen that one coming! If only that damned teleportation scroll hadn't misfired…"

"How dare you-"

"Oh well, I do have good news milady," he chattered on, smiling warmly at her. "You won't have to worry about me and my failures! You see, I don't even have time to stay around here, so I'll be completely out of your hair."

"I am going to kill you," she hissed, tearing her bow from her shoulder and quickly nocking a black arrow.

"You will have to wait," he returned in a low voice, his pleasant façade slipping away and his hawk eyes narrowing on her. "For the last two and a half years, Ketala has been held in captivity by Kel'Thuzad. I am going after her, and no one; not you, not the Undercity, not even Arthas himself; is going to stop me."

Sylvanas blinked, confusion mixing in with her anger. "You are my servant, the Champion of the Banshee Queen."

"And to you I owe my loyalty, yes," he responded. "But if I bow to your whims now, I will lose the will to pursue her, and you know well that we need to get Ketala away from the Lich King. I must defy you, if only to further your cause."

This piqued the undead queen's interest, and she lowered her bow, regarding the Ranger Lord curiously. "She is being held in Naxxramas, or so my advisors tell me," she murmured softly. "Are you telling me that you plan on sacking the necropolis?"

"With, or without your help," the ranger acknowledged.

"A rather passionate course of action for someone who went missing in Silithus for two years, don't you think?"

"I got bored," he replied nonchalantly. "Zul'Mashar is hardly a challenge."

"Indeed," the Dark Lady crooned pleasantly. "So it has nothing to do with lingering guilt over the fact that you let Kel'Thuzad take her?"

"Lingering? I felt guilt in the first place?" he asked, a confused expression on his face. "No, milady. I let Kel'Thuzad get his hands on a piece of prized weaponry. I don't feel guilty- I feel pissed."

Sylvanas chuckled blackly, and gave a slow, definitive nod. "Naxxramas it is, then. We strike for the head of the Plaguelands."

"As the Dark Lady wills," Nathanos assured her with saccharine charm. "Now, please give me a moment to relocate my pet." Sylvanis gave him a dismissive wave, and so he turned Ouro about and urged her towards the sewers.

It did eventually occur to him that Flower had gone missing in the commotion.

Naxxramas

The sounds of approaching undead grew louder.

Thaddius looked up from Ketala and stared worriedly at the door to his chamber. Ketala's gaze followed his, and she took in a deep, steadying breath. "I have an idea of how we might escape," she informed the giant abomination. "But you need to listen very carefully to the instructions I give you."

"I'll listen!" he promised emphatically, turning his viridian gaze back to her. "I learned how to give a gentle hug, didn't I?"

Ketala smiled up at him and gave his hand a gentle pat. "Yes, you did. I know you can do this. Now, carry me up to the door and set me down. I'm going to try and buy us some time."

Thaddius tilted his head to the side, but began walking up to the door. "Buy… time?" he questioned, unfamiliar with the idiom.

Ketala chuckled. "It means I'm going to make it harder for them to get to us. So we have more time to escape," she explained.

"Oh! Oh, okay." He smiled to himself and mouthed the words 'buy time', before reaching the door and kneeling to place her near the ground. Ketala thanked him, climbed out of his palm, and rushed to shut the door.

I can do this, she assured herself. I can save him. I can save myself. I must do this. I cannot fail. She looked back at the titanic abomination, with his trusting green eyes and childish smile. I cannot let them hurt him again.

Ketala gave a gentle smile at her monstrous companion, and then returned her attention to the door. Her eyes began to whirl a mix of browns, yellows, and greens, and she carefully drew her scimitars from their sheaths. I can do this. I can save him.

"Terra," she murmured. Her scimitars arced out and whipped forward, green energy spiraling down their lengths. I am strong enough. I am skilled enough. She stabbed, striking into the stone doorframe, into the ground, into the door itself. Green energy trailed after her, bathing her in its earthen glow. I am enough. I can do this. She twirled around, drawing the scimitars close, and as she did so the stone doorframe began to change. It warped and mutated, as if it were jelly instead of stone. Then it began to ooze, to move, creeping over the extent of the door, barricading it against the oncoming Scourge.

Thaddius gasped in surprise, and could not resist touching the moving stone. It was as cold and unyielding as any normal stone, and yet he could feel it moving beneath his fingers. Puzzled and amazed, he looked down at his new little sister and gave an admiring smile.

Ketala repeated this exercise twice more and then regarded her work. "That should hold," she decided at last, turning back to Thaddius and climbing quickly up into his hand. The titan blinked and held quite still until she was sitting safely upon his palm, and then he lifted her up to his eye level.

"What now?" he asked.

"We need to find a better way out," Ketala explained. "Take me over to the back wall of this room."

He nodded and obeyed, his gigantic feet making deep booming noises as he quickly traversed the great laboratory. When they reached the other side, Ketala eyed the wall appraisingly.

"Lift your other hand like this," she instructed, raising one of her hands with her fist balled. "And knock upon the wall." She made a light knocking gesture, so he would understand exactly what she meant. He nodded in understanding and did so.

His arm went straight through the wall, knocking loose a stone block, and causing dust to fly up in the air. Ketala burst out laughing. A look of surprise overtook the titan abomination's face, and he looked worriedly at his little sister.

"That's good!" she assured him through her giggles. "That's fine! Do it again, pull the whole wall down till you can walk through!"

Thaddius gave her a confused look but then smiled and nodded, and attempted to jerk his arm free. When it didn't come loose he blinked and jerked harder, and almost dropped Ketala in the process. He paused and frowned at his trapped arm. Then he looked at Ketala and carefully drew her against his chest, cupping his fingers protectively around her. The undead paladin tilted her head to the side, and then let out a startled squeak when he hunched over her, turned his shoulder into the wall, and rammed it with all the force of a gnome subway train.

Rocks flew everywhere, bouncing off his shoulders, forearms, head and back. He seemed unfazed by them and shrugged them off as if they were feathers. His feet, however, caught upon a particularly stubborn stone block, and he tripped forward and sprawled wildly into the room beyond.

He landed with an 'oof,' looked dazedly around for a moment, and then gasped in alarm and looked quickly down at Ketala, hoping desperately that he hadn't flattened her.

The undead paladin wiped dust off her face and then gave a laugh, her eyes whirling merrily up at him. "I'm okay," she told him. "You fell right on top of me and didn't flatten your hand out in the slightest. I'm impressed!"

Thaddius sighed in relief and clambered to his feet, hugging the little paladin against him and then holding her out in front of him again. He looked at the wall he had just crashed through and his eyes widened.

"I did that," he marveled aloud, a bewildered expression on his face. Stones and debris lay in piles all over the place. As he watched, another stone came loose and tumbled to the ground.

"You did," Ketala agreed, patting the curve of his thumb. "It was splendid."

His eyes quickly turned to her and he gave a shy smile, a blush creeping over his cheeks again. So innocent and adorable was this expression that Ketala was forced to smile as well, and she gave his thumb a tight hug (for hugging any other part of him would have been nigh impossible).

The two, giant and paladin, were standing in a fairly expansive hallway, in a part of Naxxramas Ketala had never visited. Ordinarily, the undead paladin would have told Thaddius to bash his way to the outer wall of the building. There she would have seized control of a nearby Frostwyrm and instructed it to fly him to safety.

Unfortunately, due to Thaddius's size and weight, she doubted that any Frostwyrm short of Sapphiron could have carried him from the necropolis. Instead, the duo needed to make use of the teleportation device at the heart of Naxxramas. Likely Kel'Thuzad had deduced this as well, and had set up guards all around the necropolis' center.

Ketala sighed. I can do this, she reminded herself once more, and then she pointed down one hallway and looked up at Thaddius. "Head that way. Move as swiftly as you can."

Her new brother gave a nod, and started off in that direction, holding Ketala close against his chest.

Light… Protect us…

Sitting upon his loyal horse, around the rim of Naxxramas's teleportation device, ex-Highlord Mograine gave a slow and manic smile. "Light from darkness," he whispered. "Birthed from death, an ember hidden by the choking ash. So you are, and so you always will be, Servant of Ice… Though, perhaps not in the way you first imagined… A Deathknight is but ash. Only the threat of frost can draw the wind."

Your ruse appears to have worked, Highlord, a silky voice whispered within the depths of his mind, the voice Mograine existed to serve. The girl has submitted herself to anger and self destruction- and now she has allowed her hopes to be built up. All it takes is a single blow, and she will fall to ruin. My new deathknight, my new champion, is but a step away. Your service will be rewarded…

Mograine laughed, a loud, bizarre, insane cackle, reeking of filth and death. "Threat of frost," he said in a mirthful voice. "Twin spirit's wind."

"Reignite the flame."

Theramore

Nobundo was meditating, allowing the spirits of air, earth, water, and fire to rush around him, to rush through him. He took in a deep breath and sighed, letting the elemental energies repair and shield him. His arthritic knuckles shrunk ever so slightly, the bulging joints losing perhaps a centimeter in width. His fingers shifted, savoring their new freedom from pain and decay. The vertebrae in his back straightened another hair of a degree, and he rolled his shoulders backwards, trying to stretch out his aching muscles… A voice. High-pitched and laughing.

His eyes flickered open, and he looked curiously towards his door. There, as clear as a lamp in a dark room, was Jaina's mysterious little shaman. He could feel the elemental power radiating from this thing, this child, bathing his room in its presence. The novice shaman was walking down the hallway, and someone was accompanying it.

Nobundo swallowed, and then carefully, painfully pushed himself to his feet. He reflected that he needed to meditate more- his body was showing more strain than usual. Still, he could not let this opportunity go by. He needed to catch a glimpse of this mysterious shaman.

He reached his door and carefully opened it, being certain not to make a sound. Two beings were walking down the tower's hallway, a small child and an adult… an adult with sunken flesh and yellow, glowing eyes…

Undead. Nobundo's eyes widened in surprise, and he cocked his head to the side. Jaina had spoken of her father briefly in their conversations, and had explained that the man had been brought back as an undead. She had told Nobundo that this man now served her as an Admiral. Admiral Daelin Proudmoore. The hairs on the back of Nobundo's neck stood on end, but he refrained from confronting or assaulting the undead man. Instead, Nobundo marked his distinctive hat and professional clothing. This had to be Jaina's father- there was no other explanation.

After a brief moment, he looked down at the child at Daelin's side. The little one was dressed in an overlarge cloak and chatting happily with its undead guardian. Its voice was of such a quality that Nobundo decided it must be female.

She was adorable, with her sleeves brushing against the ground and her hood drooping over her face, and the tail of her cloak dragging after her. Her cute little waddle and naïve exuberance contrasted sharply with her guardian's sharp stride and morbid demeanor.

A precious, delightful little girl.

What baffled him most, however, was the fact that Jaina and her father were actively hiding this child. Her cloak, for instance, was obviously in place to cover every patch of her skin. For the life of him, Nobundo could not fathom a reason for why an entire family would work so diligently to keep the girl out of sight.

"Grandpa?" the little girl chimed as the two walked past him and disappeared from view. "I smell funny."

Nobundo blinked, and blinked again. Every piece fell together in a matter of seconds, building up an elaborate image. Every clue, every movement, every strange circumstance collided together in a rush. With a small, "Oh," Nobundo realized the truth.

She was Jaina's child.

An illegitimate child.

They hid her because she was not supposed to exist. Because no one was supposed to know about her. Her father was probably some poor deckhand or penniless advisor, unfit to marry royalty. Nobundo sighed and nodded to himself. He had wanted to ask Jaina about the little girl, but now he realized he'd have to wait for the sorceress to bring up the subject herself. This was going to be a long and delicate road.

(cont.)

Jaina had told Daelin she might be gone for two to three days, and when he and Kallah returned home from a long day of fishing, the sorceress was still missing. Daelin sighed lightly, but didn't comment. Instead he located a bathroom, and ran some water for a hot bath. As the bath filled, he noted that magical plumbing was a wonderful thing.

After there was enough water, he sent Kallah into the bathroom to wash off, as she smelled of the swamp. As she bathed, he found her some fresh nightclothes and set them next to the bathroom door. Then he located one of Jaina's couches, flopped down on it, and heaved a great sigh.

His daughter had a sex life.

Her lover was an orc.

Orcs were the enemy.

His daughter had a child.

So, Daelin had a granddaughter.

The child's name was Kallah.

And Kallah couldn't swim.

Daelin chuckled and shook his head. "I must be going crazy. I haven't argued with Jaina about the Horde for a week, and here I am furious that she hasn't taught her daughter to swim." He reflected on that for a moment and then said, slowly, "My granddaughter can't swim. She had never seen a ship up close until this very morning."

He rubbed his temple and the bridge of his nose.

"I'm calling a half-orc "granddaughter.""

He grimaced.

"How the hell could Jaina not teach her to swim? Jaina could swim before she could walk! She lives on an island! An island surrounded by nothing but water! Water, and land that's soaked with water! Our family crest involves an anchor! Is she insane? Could she not have snuck the child onto a sloop one night? They wouldn't even have to walk out on the dock! Jaina could have taken a sloop out into the swamp, put down its anchor, and teleported Kallah there!"

Daelin stood up and began to pace, gesturing angrily through the air.

"It's not like the child has shown a disinterest in ships; The girl's bloody obsessed with them! She makes a better model of a second-war battleship than any sailor I've ever seen! And what has she been given for reference? Probably nothing more than old books and tapestries! I thought she'd explode from joy when Jaina teleported us to my sloop!"

Well, the explanation was fairly obvious. Jaina didn't always have a lot of time to spend with Kallah. Often, when the sorceress was home, she was working on spells or battle plans. Daelin knew that Jaina was often overworked, and would frequently pull all-nighters trying to get some project finished. What with the war in Silithus, the conflict in Northrend, and the expedition into Outland, Jaina simply didn't have time to give Kallah a proper sea-faring education.

"Unacceptable!" the undead admiral snarled. "If Jaina will not spend the time to teach Kallah what it means to be a Proudmoore, than I will have to! Never will a sailor be able to call any of my flesh and blood a land-lover!"

"Grandpa?" came a little voice from behind him. Daelin blinked and looked over his shoulder to see Kallah standing there in her night dress. She gave him a funny look.

"Erm…" Daelin coughed and turned, coming up to the little girl. "I see your hair is still a mess. Would you like me to help you with it?"

A look of delight broke out over the little girl's face, and she immediately forgot about her grandfather's ramblings. "Okay!" she chimed happily, and she hurried off into the bathroom to get her brush.

Daelin sighed and followed her. He decided that Kallah was his penance for walking the world as one of the undead.

Andorhal

Vaiden had but five possessions: his shirt, his pants, his left sock, his right sock, and a little doll his mother had given to him. Textiles had been rare within Naxxramas, and so Ketala had been forced to loot the bodies of the dead to gather material for his clothing. The shirt had once been a Silver Hand tabard. The pants had been crafted from the violet robe of a Kiren'tor mage, and each of his socks had once been part of a scarlet crusader's uniform.

Needless to say, none of those overly fanatical groups would have been happy to see Vaiden's clothing. In light of this, one of the first things Zeliek did upon reaching Andorhal was procure some new clothes for the boy.

The doll, however, Vaiden would not part with. It was an ugly little thing, more rag than doll, and frayed at every edge imaginable. It had been made from the soft silk of a priest's robe, and was pieced together with the same heavy-duty thread used in abominations. Its eyes were made from copper pieces, and its mouth was an uneven black line of stitches. Its only attractive feature was its hair, so black it could be considered blue. Zeliek guessed that Ketala had severed a few locks of her own tresses and sewn them onto the doll's head.

Vaiden loved it. He carried it everywhere with him, and nuzzled against it, stroking its hair and hugging it whenever he seemed nervous. He slept with it, ate with it, walked with it, rode with it, smiled with it, frowned with it- there was never a portion of his little life where he ever set the tiny doll down. If the little black-haired rag disappeared from view, it was only because Vaiden had hidden it within his own clothing, perhaps to keep it safe from the world.

Zeliek watched as Vaiden played with the little rag doll. The child was stroking its hair and pretending that it was fighting off some invisible monster. The undead paladin smiled lightly, and reached over to stroke the boy's unruly brown mane. "You need a haircut," he observed out loud. "Something to match your new clothes." The little boy looked up at him and made a face. The paladin blinked and then laughed, ruffling the child's hair. "Oh, fine… fine… No haircut."

Vaiden smiled lightly at the attention and hugged his doll against his chest. From across the room, a voice wondered "So this... this is her kid?"

The voice belonged to an ex-deathknight by the name of Lodan, the current 'steward' of Andorhal. Lodan had been in service to Ketala when she had been abducted into Naxxramas, and had continued to serve Andorhal after her disappearance. He, as the most stable individual in Andorhal, had taken up the mantle of leader. He'd finished Ketala's great Cathedral, and he'd led her people through trial after trial.

He felt like someone Zeliek could trust. "Yes," the undead paladin confirmed. "I don't know if she was able to get a message out to you before the Lich King overwhelmed her again."

"No, Andorhal knew she was pregnant," Lodan murmured quietly. "We knew just about everything she did- at least until Kel'Thuzad took her. The bulk of the undead here, their minds were wrapped very tightly with her own. This child is Nathanos's, yes?"

Zeliek nodded slowly. The idea of a 'good' undead hive mind still bothered him, but he realized that it had only been established to keep the undead together and to keep them stable. "She asked me to take Vaiden to Nathanos."

Lodan grunted. "That sounds like Ketala. Putting faith where faith has no business being placed. But, I suppose I cannot complain. If she were not so sympathetic towards the undead, we would all still be in the service of the Lich King."

Zeliek tilted his head to the side. "You disagree with how she led Andorhal?"

The ex-deathknight laughed and shook his head. "I disagree with how readily she puts herself in harm's way. Case in point: Nathanos. I do not know how much she has told you of him, but the Ranger Lord has struggled with very malign impulses since I met him. He isn't evil, no… but I would certainly describe him as sadistic."

The undead paladin frowned. "Do you think I should keep Vaiden from him?"

Lodan sighed. "He was also very, very close to her. Hell, I thought he'd been abducted with her. No one's seen him since Ketala disappeared. He may be dead."

"Ketala seemed to believe he was alive," the paladin noted.

"I'll trust her judgment them. But if Nathanos is alive, something must have kept him away all these years. He is cruel, selfish, and abusive… But he would not have left Ketala there alone. He loves her too much."

"He does not sound like a very reputable person. How do you know he would not have abandoned her? How do you know he loved her?"

Lodan smirked. "Aside from the fact that his heart would start beating when she was close to him? Nathanos loved her. Just not in a conventional way. But, Ketala never told him she had conceived. He may not want Vaiden… and he may not be the best choice of parent. Ketala could be setting herself up for more heartbreak… Still, if she told you to bring Vaiden to Nathanos, then I think you should heed her wishes. It's not like she's asked for much. And who knows? Perhaps he needs help."

Zeliek regarded the ex-deathknight for a long moment, and then nodded slowly. "Do you have any idea where I should begin my search for him?"

Lodan thought for a moment, and then nodded. "One other being was there at Ketala's abduction… A man by the name of Tirion Fordring." Zeliek's eyes widened slightly in recognition at the name. "He should currently be in Light's Hope Chapel, or perhaps he's stationed in Quel'Thalas. Either way, you must make a difficult trip across the Plaguelands in order to reach him. I'll prepare everything and properly brief you about the journey. If my mistress wants Vaiden in Nathanos's care, then…" he sighed, "I shall do everything in my power to fulfill her wishes, no matter how much I personally dislike the Ranger Lord." He turned and headed to the door leading out of the inn. "In the mean time, try to rest. I'm certain Naxxramas hasn't been kind to you."

"Thank you," the undead paladin murmured appreciatively.

Vaiden just played, oblivious to the discussion of his elders.

Naxxramas

Naxxramas was in chaos. Undead flew left and right, smashing in the walls, ceiling and floor. When they collided with something, abominations generally exploded into a pile of unattractive green slime, and ghouls would burst like shrapnel into hundreds of skeletal shards. At the center of this mess was Thaddius, stooped over and slapping angrily at his attackers. At his feet, Ketala nimbly dodged his various stomps and kicks, and tore apart anything that threatened to hurt or trip him. They were a splendid team- honed skill and brute strength combined into a single fighting force.

With every blow, with every swing of Ketala's scimitars, they moved forward. At times, Thaddius's steps were reduced to painfully slow shuffles as he pressed against a wave of unforgiving attackers. At other times, Ketala would signal him and he'd charge straight through the undead lines, crushing ghouls, liches, and necromancers with nothing more than his feet and his mighty weight.

Hope welled in the paladin girl's chest, blooming out and wrapping her in a safe cocoon. They were winning! They were breaking through, and the heart of Naxxramas loomed closer, and closer! I can do this! I can actually save him! I can save myself from this hell! An abominaton lumbered forward with a thick grappling hook in its hands. Ketala laughed and charged at the creature, plunging her blades through its chest, head, and gut. Nothing could stop them! No monster within Naxxramas's walls could hold Thaddius at bay, and with Ketala at his feet, he was almost invulnerable. His titanic boots shielded his legs, and his gauntlets protected his arms. Rare was it that a weapon even landed on his bare flesh, and then it took only a light, effortless smack, and his attacker would be flattened like a common mosquito.

Arthas taunted her in the back of her skull, but light flowed through her and kept his words at bay. He wouldn't stop her. Nothing would stop her. They were both going to be free.

Over the sounds of battle, Ketala heard a thick, ominous clicking noise. It was followed quickly by a clank, a whoosh of air, and then a tree-sized harpoon was sailing through the air, arcing straight at her titanic sibling.

"Thaddius!" she screamed.

His green eyes flicked up to the airborne missile, and blinked once in surprise. He reared up and grabbed at the object instinctively.

His fingers closed around it and the wood splintered somewhat at the force of his grip. Ketala's eyes widened in surprise. Thaddius stared at the giant harpoon in bafflement and then looked down at his little sister for direction. Ketala swallowed and deftly stabbed a nearby ghoul. "Do you see where it came from?" she called up to him.

The titan blinked and looked around, squinting his eyes. Down the hallway, he could see a strange wooden contraption that might have been responsible for the harpoon.

"I think so!" he rumbled back excitedly.

"Throw that thing right back at it!" she encouraged.

Thaddius looked confused down at her, but nodded and tried to aim the harpoon. He stuck his tongue out, and nearly bit it in half with his metal jaws, and then stepped forward and threw the weapon as hard as he could.

He missed the machine by a landslide. His harpoon skimmed the ceiling, exploded through an archway, dumped giant rocks all over the enemy, turned sideways when it hit a flying obsidian destroyer, and then landed horizontally upon the enemy, crushing thirty unfortunate ghouls and rolling and bouncing on to crush dozens more.

Thaddius winced. "Oops. I missed," he confessed shyly.

Ketala burst out laughing. "Get down here you silly goose! I need you to push back these abominations so I can detach some grappling hooks from your boots." He smiled at her loving tone of voice, and stooped down to smack some unfortunate abominations out of the way.

They were going to win!

A roar sounded down the corridor. This time, when Thaddius looked up, he saw that the hordes of undead were parting like a sea. Charging through the center of the swarm was a great skeletal monstrosity, with blue energy wafting around it. It was unlike anything Thaddius, in his limited experience, had ever seen, so he looked down to Ketala for guidance.

Ketala grimaced. "Its name is Sapphiron. Get down a side tunnel. Now." Thaddius blinked, and Ketala looked up at him, her eyes blazing orange. "Now!" she commanded, and she thrust her sword at one of Naxxramas's halls. "Run!"

Thaddius jumped and pivoted immediately, charging in the direction Ketala had specified. Behind him, the thing called "Sapphiron" roared. There was a mighty whoosh of air. He did not stop to look behind him, merely grabbed on to the corner of the side tunnel and dashed inside. An explosion of frost energy rippled down the corridor behind him. It lined the corridor, from top to bottom, and rippled past like a freight train.

Thaddius whirled around and his eyes opened wide. He looked down, and then gave a sigh of relief when he saw Ketala clinging to his left boot. Her scimitars had turned a white-blue color, and her eyes whirled cobalt. "Be ready!" she shouted above the sound of the ice blast. "Tackle it the second it reaches this hallway! This icy mess comes out of its mouth, so be careful!" Thaddius nodded, and clenched his hands nervously. The icy storm ended, and the earth boomed with each of Sapphiron's mighty strides.

Closer.

Closer.

A skidding noise, and then Sapphiron's mighty head wrapped around the corner and its mouth opened wide, a blue aura gathering in the back of its throat. On instinct, Thaddius leapt forward, seized its lower jaw, and rammed its head bodily into the ceiling of the hallway. Its jaws snapped closed and the frostbolt exploded harmlessly within the confines of its skull.

With what Mighty Sapphiron had left of a mind, the great dragon was pissed.

I love my novel…

Here's to hoping I update the next chapter faster! YAARRRG!