Well now, the 3rd chapter is up and there are few things I would like to add to those who do not play World of Warcraft since this fic is kinda based on the places and events of the game :) Since I don't wanna spoil it to you, I left the notes at the end of the chapter :)

Enjoy!

Tirion's Gambit

„Master, everything is ready." Val'kyr battle maiden bowed, hovering inches above the ice-covered ground, flapping her ethereal, white wings.

The Lich King sat silently on the Frozen Throne, thinking. After what seemed like hours of his gloved fingers rapping out the same rhytmical tones into the ice over and over again, he finally stood up and the Val'kyr moved quickly out of his way.

„Is there something else you are hesitant to tell me?" he asked, calmly yet there was was something in his voice that made her shiver with fright and jerk a little even though she stood her ground.

„Yes, master. There were... reports of the Argent Crusade preparing to attack the convoy, disguised as a group of our acolytes."

His brilliantly glowing eyes narrowed underneath the saronite helmet. „Who is leading them?"

„The human paladin, Highlord Tirion Fordring."

He sensed anxiety from her voice but decided to ignore it. If Fordring intended to march right into his very grasp, who was he to deny the old man his last wish? Paladins will never change after all. Impertinent, arrogant, overconfident and royally stupid, just as he used to be.

„What are your orders, master?" the Val'kyr asked reluctantly, as another couple of minutes passed in silence.

The Lich King strode across the Throne chamber, halting at the top of a spiral staircase, leading to the depths of the Icecrown Citadel. „Proceed as planned." he said without even looking at her. „I will see to it myself that my old friend recieves... a warm welcome." and he left in a swish of his heavy, black, fur cloak.

o.O.o

Keri'el was sitting in an armchair, leaning against a squashy, red velvet cushion, legs folded underneath her. Her concentration focused on three flasks infront of her, hovering about six feet obove an expensive-looking Persian carpet. One filled with emerald liquid, the other with what looked like crystal-clear water and at the bottom of the last one laid a small, pitch-black stone. She did not seem to have aknowledged Arthas' coming in, for the experiment required her full attention.

Five drops from the second flask fell onto the black stone, evaporationg instantly. Then she added half of the green liquid and the stone melted, leaving a deep-violet mixture of liquid and gass. With a single thought, she lifted the result of her actions a bit higher so that a beam of light from one of the orbs, levitating below the ceiling hit the substance and it flashed and the flask cracked open, it's contents dissolving into nothingness before making an unsightly puddle on the beautiful carpet.

Her brows knitted together in a dissaproving scowl and she snapped her fingers, making everything dissapear before conjuring all three flasks again with the intention to start over.

„Alright, I get it!" irritated, Arthas removed the Lich King's helmet, heaving an exasperated sigh. Every time, she stubbornly refused to speak to him untill he did so.

„Well then, our plan has been set in motion, I take it?" her experiment vanished with a pop as she turned to face him.

„Yes. And Fordring is coming as well, just as you said." he flunged himself heavily into another armchair, putting the helmet beside him, aquamarine jewel glittered in the dim light.

Keri'el glanced at it suspiciously for s few seconds, nostrills flaring slightly before once again turning her attention to her lover. „He is curious about whether or not there is still hope for you." she said seriously. „When he finds out there is none, he will probably attempt to destroy the heart in hope that it will wound you or even kill you."

„And will it?" Arthas raised a white eyebrow.

„I am not sure." voice jingling with humor, she stood up and settled herself on his lap. A little concerned about the slightly hopeful tone in his voice, though she might have just imagined it.

„And yet you seem awfuly calm about me dying in about fifteen minutes." his pretended blister turned the whole thing into a jest.

She waved her hand dismissively and kissed him on the lips. „I am not going to lie to you. The heart you are about to expose to them will have some effect on you. But do not worry, I doubt ´twill give you more than a little shudder... because ´twas originally yours before you created the bond between us by giving part of it to me." the elf explained as the ivory-haired prince opened his mouth to argue, then jumped off his lap and picked up the Lich King's helmet.

For a moment Arthas expected her to throw it away or do something of that sort, but she only handed it to him with an unconvincing smile. „Now be a good host and go welcome our friends. I will be watching from here."

Keri'el returned to sit in her armchair and conjured a crystal orb, making it levitate above her opened palm. Image of Arthas, putting on the saronite helmet appeared within its depths, while the real man did exactly the same just a few steps away. Streaks of vapor emitting from his eyes, two glittering sapphires, the only things clearly visible beneath the visor.

She regarded him intently as he was leaving and for the first time since the day she had arrived here, she could not see the Lich King at all. Only the prince of Lordaeron, hidden beneath a cold, saronite mask.

The door closed behind him and a single tear trailed down her beautiful, elven face. This was most likely the last time they say each other he did not have the slightest idea - just as she intended.

Keri'el opened a drawer to her left and took out a quill and a piece of parchment. Taking a quick look into the crystal orb from time to time, she began writing. He deserved a full explanation and she did not have enought time –or courage- to give it to him as she was now.

o.O.o

Highlord Tirion Fordring marched into the Cathedral of Darkness, hiding his face beneath a hood of an acolyte of the Cult of the Damned, four of his faithful Crusaders and one Champion of the Argent Tournament trailing behind him as he made his way through innumerable skull-embroidered pillars supporting a high, domed ceiling hiding in darkness way above them, to stand by a long, stone bench to the left of an altar, where the High Invoker paced impatiently, waiting for something. Or someone. A procession of Cultists loomed out of the shadows of the Citadel's entrance, aproaching the the old necromancer, handing out to him the frozen heart of Arthas Menethil. Fordring knew, he needed to get closer in order to see for himself, if there was yet hope.

The occasion arrived shortly, as a dark, heavy pressence pressed against them like a fist trying to strangle the last breath out of their lungs. The Lich King had come and he knew they were here. Fordring scoweld slightly. He could not say he was completely surprised by the turn of events but at least he hoped this could go smoothly. In his mind he heard Darion Mograine, to whom he had spoken just before coming here:

‚And just when did something go as smoothly as we would like?'

Truer words have never been said. That was why he had brought the Ashbringer, even though had someone seen it, they would be revealed instantly. Now the old paladin knew he did the right thing, for with a bit of luck he will get a chance to end this war in a single strike.

The Lich King almost lazily walked along the center path, leading to the altar and came to a halt infront of the High Invoker, who held the heart to his master. But instead of taking it, Arthas turned his face towards a group of acolytes, standing only a few meters from him, heads bowed. One of them suddenly broke away and as he aproached the Lich King, he let his hood slip to reveal bearded, old face of Highlord Tirion Fordring. The others waited, though their eyes were fixed on the man and the king.

All fell silent, everyone watching intently the two of them.

„Uninvited guests. Did you think you would go unnoticed inside my dominion?" the Lich King's soft, deep voice, tinted with amusement reverberated through the cathedral. Frostmourne sank deep into the cold, stone floor, Arthas folded his hands on his chest, sapphire eyes locked onto Fordring's emerald-green. „I must confess you were not altogether unexpected." mirth curled the undead prince's lips. „I hope you find your final resting place... to your liking."

Apprehensive, brows knitted together, Fordring drew the Ashbringer from underneath his cloak. His mind was set. Green eyes flickered between Arthas and the heart.

„You sound a little too confident. Especially considering the way our last encounter ended." he retorted in what he thought was a bold and daring tone.

The Lich King laughed derisively, gloved fingers now coming down to dance at the top of Frostmourne's hilt. Did this arrogant paladin truly think, he had forgotten what hapened at Light's Hope Chapel? Brightly glowing eyes narrowed playfully. „The last time we met, you had the advantage of fighting on holy ground. You will find that our situation has been... reversed." the words came out but a purr of a cat, toying with it's food before eating it.

The paladin had no intention of letting Arthas know about his partial agreement with this statement. With any luck, it does not matter where they stand as long as he is able to reach the heart.

„That might be," he noded slightly, glaring into the bright blue eyes of his enemy. A strange chill ran up and down his spine and he supressed a shudder. „But I do not need to stand on holy ground to run that disembodied heart of yours with the Ashbringer."

And to strenghten his threat, he griped the sword's handle firmly in both hands. This has to work! If it does, the nightmare ends here!

„I call your bluff!" the Lich King snorted, pulled Frostmourne out and pointed it's tip into Fordring's face. The two swords vibrated, as if tempting each other to make the first step. „You are a paladin after all. Your obsession with redemption goes beyond the inane. You surely would not destroy the humanity's only chance to redeem its most wayward son. You would sooner die!"

„The heart..." Fordring regarded the little frozen object in the High Invoker's hands with mixed feelings and realized, there is no other way. „The last remnant of your humanity. I had to stop it from being destroyed." He admitted more to himself than anybody else, thoughts swirling wildly in his head. ‚Distract him and strike!'„I had to see for myself." ‚Just a little bit longer! ‚„And at last I am sure... only shadows from the past remain. There is nothing left to redeem!"

And as he spoke, Highlord Tirion Fordring charged forth, bringing down the Ashbringer's blade to cut the dead, frozen heart. High Invoker's headless body dropped to the groung and a shock wave spread out, hitting the Lich King with such a force, he was thrown off his feet, landing a few meters away - but still alive. Sort of.

Now to play his little performace.

Arthas dropped to one knee, ignoring a cold bit of dissapointment in the pit of his stomach. Regret -known only to him- reflecting upon a smile on his lips, he prepared to amuse the audience, staring at Fordrins body, now lying motionless where his blade had hit the heart.

He did not look so confident anymore. Pity he still lived. Arthas could not help to wonder what would have happened had Fordring died.

He took a deep breath before spitting out all the theatrical nonsence he had prepared for this occasion and suddenly a veil clouding seemed to have lifted, even though he was not aware of it's existence untill now. And it felt like someone ripped all the intestines out of his body, leaving but a husk. A flicker of pain blinked through him, paralysing his senses. So many things now seemed so obvious, he could not uderstand why he did not think about any of it before. Had this heart belonged to him, he would be dead. But it had not. It was... hers!

He cried out in great, genuine anger and pain.

Convinced that the Lich King's rage comes solely from his being wounded by Fordring's attack, the disguised Crusaders finally moved to protect their leader, prepared to defend him with their lives.

Arthas could not think, could not see, could not move. His breathing was heavy and he felt like he was about to suffocate within the confines of his saronite armor. However, this was hardly any excuse to screw everything up and so he decided to turn the anguish to his advantage. He will not let them take away the last precious thing he had left without putting up a fight! But it did not give him the so much needed strength. His body felt like it was made of lead, stubbornly refusing to move let alone stand and fight.

„YOU... will pay for that, old man." he grunted, his voice trembling. He may not be able to, but there were others who can and will fight in his name. „SLAY THEM ALL!"

As feeling and strength began creeping into his numb body again, the only wish floating through his frightened mind now was for all this to be over as quickly as possible. He wanted to return to the Citadel. Even though she decieved him, controled him possibly the whole time, he wanted to make sure his intuition had been wrong and Keri'el is watching him right now, admiring his acting, although this could not be called acting at all.

However this one luxury was not supposed to be granted to him.

Abide by their master's command, the cultists swooped down upon the handful of Crusaders, making a circle around Fordring. A fierce battle broke off and in the midst of all the clanging and crushing of bones and metal a familiar voice reached Arthas' ears and he went rigid, eyes growing wide.

„I hope you fellows do not mind if we crash this party. I brought some old friends with me!" laughing madly, Thassarian, the death knight charged straight into the middle of the battle, followed by a small army. The traitors, Knights of the Ebon Blade, have come.

One of them, however, did not follow his comrades. Instead he slowly approached the Lich King, wary of him, yet daring Arthas to just try something. To give him a single reason for taking his revenge here and now.

„Are you hurt, master?" whispered Darion Mograine maliciously, so that nobody except the Lich King could hear him.

A strong surge of hatred rose within Arthas like a tidal wave, washing away everything else for a fracture of a second. He looked up into Darion's cold, glowing eyes. There was nothing but pure loathing radiating from him. Only by letting Keri'el back into his mind, the undead prince resisted the urge to cut the smirk out of the death knight's face now that he knew he could. Maybe if he did just that, it would ease the pain. To channel his feelings into violence...

Mograin snorted and spat on his former master. „Pathetic!" voice dripping scorn, he turned away from the kneeling figure. The fighting raged with renewed intensity now that Fordring's forces were boosted by his own men. But it had already taken far too long and there were still many of the Scourge left and much more coming, he was sure of it.

„We do not have time for this!" he shouted over the glamour of battle. „Quick! Through the portal! He will not stay down for long!"

It seemed as though the only thing Mograine came here for was to save ' gloved hands clenched into angry fists as he watched it all, bound by the promise to his elven lover.

They picked up the Highlord's body and jumped through the Deathgate Darion had conjured, one after the other.

Only three of them remained behind just long enough for everyone else to escape. Darion himself, Thassarian and Koltira Deathweaver.

„Looks like whatever Tirion did put on some harm on the Lich King. Too bad we can not finish him off." sighed Thassarian with a look of a small child, eager to unwrap his christmas present prematurely.

The terrible struggle overwhelming Arthas' senses intensified at that point. It took every bit of his self control to prevent him from showing just how hurt he actually was. That and Keri'el's voice, echoing through his mind:

‚If you do something stupid again, 'twill all be meaningless, understood?'

Yes, he was very well aware he needed to follow the carefuly prepared scenario of hers to ensure there will be a future for Azeroth after he is gone, however on the other hand his rage, pain, dissapointment, guilt and perhaps cowardess too... everything within him ached from longing for freedom and prayed for Mograine or anyone else to end his torture while they had the chance. But for them he was just a monster. Why would they give him the peace of death when he did not grant it to them? But maybe... just maybe...

Small flame of hope, still burning inside Arthas' chest finally crackled and died when Darion put his hand on Thassarian's shoulder. „Patience... we will get our chance soon enough. Be content that for once, it is Tirion who is in our debt."

Koltira snorted loudly somehwere just out of sight but did not challenge the argument.

Seeing his promise of release leaving infront of his eyes, Arthas felt an aching need to make them end this so strongly, he began loosing control.

‚Do not... do... anything stupid... Arthas!' exhausted, heavy voice caressed his conciousness. ‚'Tis crucial that they know... that they are... prepared... to accept...'

A sharp dagger pierced his chest, the tone of that voice spreading within him like a poison. Hearing it, Arthas knew he was never going to see Keri'el again. And at that moment, the desire to die himself rose up within him with renewed strength, throwing every bit of caution to the wind. He lost Jaina and now another woman he held most dear and both out of his own selfishness. He could not –he will not- take it anymore.

By sheer power of all his will, the Lich King forced his limbs to move and slowly, he stood up, prepared to unleash his fury upon those, that have cost him so much. And in that moment a presence filled his body, rendering him immobilized once again and he saw Koltira and Thassarian dissapearing within the portal as if from behind a curtain. Last mocking smirk was all Darion Mograin spent for him before he too stepped through and vanished. And the presence left with him. It was too late.

Notes:

First, Tirion's Gambit is an actual quest chain in Icecrown (you can watch it on youtube) and it starts with your character meeting a blond boy named Matthias, who is supposed to be the part of Arthas' soul still resisting the Lich King. He will lead you to a place where Arthas cut out his heart after he had merged with the Lich King and threw it off a cliff where you can actually see the memory of him and find the thing somewhere in the snow. As you report to Fordring, he has the bright idea this can be exploited (f*cking old fart!), the Lich King decides it would be better to bring the heart to safety before something happens to it and this is where the fun begins :)

Second, all the things that happened in the Citadel of Darkness and the dialogues between Fordring, Lich King, Darion and the others are taken from the quest as it is, I did not change a thing about it (except the one where Darion makes fun of the Lich King and spits on him...) :) And also the Champion of the Argent Tournament refers to your character :) And the Knights of the Ebon Blade are an actual faction of death knights led by Darion Mograine :)

Third, in the game Arthas' health (which is f*ckin' enormous) actually dropped about two thirds when Fordring hit the heart with Ashbringer (...lame if you ask me since the Lich King should be the most difficult boss in the game Y_Y) and at the end as they all entered Darion's Deathgate, the Lich King actually started casting a spell called ‚Lich King's fury'... (unfortunately at that point, I decided to run as well just to be on the safe side :D)

P.S.: If you don't understand something, don't hesitate to ask ;D