Hey, I'm back :) Did you miss me? Okay, I'm joking...

Anyway, new chapter is out and I hope you'll like it and those of you who play World of Warcraft would probaly recognize the places mentioned :)

The italic is for flashback, though it's a bit long one, but there is a story behind it :) Reviews much appreciated!

Enjoy!

The Knight and the Dragon

It has begun. Tirion Forgring recovered quickly from their last encounter within the cold walls of the Cathedral of Darkness and his determination to end the Lich King's reign strengthened, dangling almost on the verge of obsession. And his was not the only one.

Arthas watched calmly, silent amusement glittering in his bright blue glowing eyes at Horde and Alliance forces attacking strategic posts of Icecrown Citadel's defences – Forge of Souls and Pit of Saron. He could not even make himself act surprised or angry at the amount of losses withing the Scourge's ranks, not that his army did not grow with each slaughtered enemy. Not even when one of his generals, Lord Tyrannus together with his faithful pet frostwyrm perished under the relentless onslaught, ought to bring about the end of that which has plagued Azeroth for so long. That man had it coming anyway. Loyal soldier, yes, brutal in his ways –which served as a bit of a bonus- but Tyrannus refused to let go of his cockiness and arrogance even in undeath and sure enough, it turned out to be his ultimate undoing.

Thumbing the Lich King's helmet, Arthas leaned against one of the four icy spikes, reaching up to the clear, red and golden sky along the edge of the Frozen Throne chamber, his cold, sapphire eyes fixed on the burning horizon. There hovered the flying city of magi, high above an ancient elven ruins of what was now known as the Crystalsong Forest, seemingly supported solely by white, sheep-like clouds, hiding the large chunk of stone and earth that was the Sewers, spreading far and wide underneath the city itself even before it was raised from the ground of Alterac Mountains to be rebuilt, more magnificent than ever before in defiance of it's destruction by the demon lord Archimond so many years ago.

Arthas' thin lips curled up in a smile as he remembered why the mages decided to move the city here, to the very doorstep of the blue dragon Aspect Malygos' domain. For once their intentions had nothing to do with the Lich King. On the contrary, the sole purpose of Dalaran being rebuild and kept floating over lush forests of crystalline trees was to anger Malygos, the Spellweaver, Lord of Magic who felt mortals unworthy of wielding the arcane powers.

If Arthas tried harder, he could probably make out silhouettes of the many blue dragons, guarding the Ley Lines, transferring all the magic from the world around them to their master's lair - the Nexus.

Smile faded slowly, however, as something else drew his gaze. The Violet Citadel. The tallest tower of Dalaran, glittering and sparkling in all shades of pearly white and purple against the gold and crimson colored skies at dawn. It brought back so many memories. Pleasant and otherwise.

Arthas forced himself to look away. He did not want to think about Jaina and their adventures within Dalaran's many colorful gardens, glittering streets and walls breathing with magic filling the air and hearts of many visitors with peace and wonder. Even the memory of Kael'thas' face when he had once seen them kissing in a shadowy corner near the library, could no longer lift the boulder inside Arthas' stomach. Not when he knew that it would all have been different, had the elf lost his cotrol –as he expected him to- and turned the human prince into a pile of smoking ashes for stealing a woman he had his eyes set on. One, he may have even been in love with.

Woman... he had loved...

Another set of images flooded Arthas' mind and he would give anything to be able to think about Jaina and Kael again.

Nearly a month had passed since that day, yet Arthas still kept reliving the events following the encounter with Fordring over and over again, thinking whether or not something could have been done differently. And now again, more unwelcome then ever, the memory forced itself into his conciousness...

... He kept running through the halls of Icecrown Citadel, searching frantically for any sign of Keri'el. She was nowhere to be found. Like a drowning man clutching at a straw for his dear life, Arthas stormed inside the study, where they had said their goodbye, rummaging through drawers and books and rolls of parchment before spotting a glitter in the corner of his vision. He picked up a dark violet glob, lying on a vanity. The only thing left of her. The fact, that the magic she used to transform the place still existed must have had some meaning.

A gust of wind washed over him the moment he touched the thing, followed by blinding light as the orb burned brightly and rose inches above his opened palm. And when he regained the ability to see, he was no longer where he had been moments ago. Not even anywhere near the place. Snowy white brows knitted together as he looked about, finding himself in the middle of a vast grass field, standing under a giant tree. Its leaves rustling, whispering in the wind. A strong fragrance of exotic flowers hit his nostrills and he could not help himself, taking a deep breath. This place was... he could not find words to describe the sensation. It made him feel... what exactly? Yes, it made him feel. He was alive. He was himself. He was... human. Arthas closed his eyes, face held out to the breeze. It swooped around him, playing with long white mane, glittering now like a freshly fallen snow in the golden sunlight. Scent of life, blossoming all around him -red, orange, pink, violet, blue... all the colors of the rainbow surrounded him, called to him, coaxing him to lay down, fold hands under his head and succumb to the inviting arms of dreamless sleep he had been denying himself for so long.

Arthas resisted with great difficulty and turned his eyes away from the flower bed in bloom. In a distance there were mountains, enclosing around the clearing as if trying to shield it and everything withing from the ouside world. This place seemed vaguely familiar. Arthas felt the same sensation as the first time Keri'el appeared – the answer laid at arm's length but whenever he attepted to reach it, it slipped right through his fingers.

The breeze suddenly shifted and Arthas embraced its gentle touch on his skin. Like a lover, it caressed his handsome face and something about that feeling reminded him of Keri'el's soft hands. As if someone ordered him to do so, he blinked... and there she was, wrapped in crimson and gold velvet curling around her ankles, feather-light cloak and loose strands of firey hair billowing behind her. Beautiful, like sun rising over Lordamere Lake, Keri'el walked towards him, slowly, gracefuly and where her bare feet touched the grass, more flowers sprung from the earth and blossomed with life.

Arthas frowned slightly, he had this close-to-the-truth notion he could not properly explain.

And then she paused and he saw her smile softly and wistfuly and the sight felt like something ominous lurking within his body, settling itself in the region of Arthas' Adam's apple. He stretched his arms to embrace her, to find out if she was indeed as real as she seemed to be and her smile faded as she stepped back without a word or a sound.

Puzzled, Arthas looked into her eyes. They were different somehow. Not the blue, brightly glowing eyes of a death knight, but a very unusual mixture of ruby and gold, pupils vertical slits. Finally his mind grasped the truth, just a few moments before he was -yet again- blinded by dazzling flash of light and all he glimpsed were her features, prolonging and changing. Limbs curling in odd angles, fingernails growing and sharpening, skin hardening, cloak and hair joining to make out a pair of leathery wings while her body grew in size, soon exceeding his own by far.

And then it was over as quickly as it had begun. Arthas gasped. Even though part of him already knew, his mouth nontheless fell open.

A huge, magnificent, ruby-red dragon stood there on the very spot Keri'el occupied only seconds before. Its scales glittered in the sunlight. Horns, embroidered with what looked like golden jewelery, growing out of it's head and running down it's spine to the very tip of it's tail. The dragon's shiny, black claws were each the size of Arthas himself, long, slender snout barely inches from his own face. Silvery smoke came out of it's nostrills as the beast spoke.

„This is what I am." It had said in Keri'els voice. „What I used to be. My name is Karaelstrasza."

With a lonely look of her lizard eyes, reflecting intelligence, wisdom and experience of ages, she stretched her wings, stretching from over the treetop almost to the foothills to their right before folding them again, sitting on her strong, hind legs.

There was a moment of awkward silence, when they only stared at each other, unable think of anything to say. Arthas frowning under the scrutiny of a pair of bright, flaming eyes. Was this supposed to scare him off? That he had shared not only bed but his own being with a dragon? An undead dragon at that? Lately, however, there seemed to be very few things that could surprise him and even less able to freak him out. He was the Lich King, the General of the Damned, after all.

Brows knitted together in a frown, mind set, face determined Arthas looked full into the lizard-like face. This time, he is not going to dance to her tune. No more running away.

„Am I supposed to run for my life now?" his own raised voice surprised him. He felt a hot, short surge of anger for no particular reason. „This is what you expect, no? When one sees a dragon, one should take to his heels."

She did not answer. Arthas rubbed his temple with a sigh, the anger slowly fading away.

„I have to admit there were some things you said that did not quite correspond to my knowledge of the high-elven race. But you can not honestly expect me to start screaming like a little girl and run for the hills. Maybe most humans would do such a thing... but not me. Not after what we have been through." the words sounded much better in his head. Arthas could not help himself thinking about those lovey-dovey novels his sister used to read all the time. He always despised them.

The dragon's head lowered, so that he could now clearly see the slightest flicker of her scales. „Basically all you want to say is: I am head over heels in love with you." she laughed in a booming voice that strangely echoed through the air and watched his ears turn slightly pink. Then she sighed and her words once again had a sharp, serious edge to them. „When we love or hate‚ 'tis for all eternity. However, I would never have expected such strong bond to form between one of us and a mortal. To have feelings of this magnitude should not even be possible for your kind. I am... startled by the turn of events."

„What can I say? Everyone kept telling me these passions will be my undoing!" he winked and grinned, overcome by happines such as he had not experience in years.

Sudden urge made him reach out with his hand and touch her soft, crimson snout. It was surprising that with all the hardened, impenetrable scales that made dragons such formidable oponents as well as favourite prey for treasure hunters foolish enough to think they can take on something so royally tough to kill, this felt more like patting a horse. Smooth, soft and warm. A preposterous thought flashed through his mind. What it would be like to have a pet dragon?

Suddenly, Karaelstrasza nugded him and Arthas stumbled, his train of thoughts forcefuly severed. It was already too late for any kind of defense, when he saw jaws full of spike-like teeth closing in on him and in the back of his mind a self-preserving instinct told him to roll out of harm's way. There was nowhere to escape, however. Huge black claws blocked his way on both sides as the dragon pinned him to the ground. Arthas shrunk himself to fit underneath a huge, front leg, though being crushed seemed no better then being eaten. And then, as unexpectedly as he was slammed to the ground, Karaelstrasza lifted her paw, watching the small human clinging onto one of her fingers, tooth and nail.

„Found you!" came out a voice. She seemed to be enjoying herself a great deal.

Despite the fact that he had absolutely no idea what was this all about, Arthas laughed. A huge, glitering, gold and ruby colored eye filled his view as she held the petite creature dangling before her lizard-like head.

„Now I am supposed to start screaming and run for the hills, right?" Arthas asked matter-of-factly and peered down to calculate if the fall would break every bone in his body with or without killing him in an instant.

He did not fall, however. From a close proximity, the prince could see a ruby snout coming closer again, the dragon's teeth bared in a broad time Karaelstrasza's strong jaws closed around him. In the gentle gesture, like mother returning a runaway youngling back inside the nest, she lifted him onto her back.

Arthas almost slipped down one of her giant scales, as she spread her leathery wings again, reared up and bounced off the ground, leaving two enormous foot-prints in the emerald green grass Wind pressed him against the dragon's body as she soared ever higher into the sky. He gripped his arms tightly around the nearest horn, slipping his legs underneath her scales.

„Now you are supposed to start screaming and hold on for your very life!" she laughed in that booming voice of hers and made a huge circle for him to get a good view.

Never before had he felt so insignificant and so small. Riding on a back of a dragon, the size of Sindragosa herself, Arthas could feel the taste of true freedom. Now, from high above, he recongnized the great tree and vast space of Ruby Dragonshire. However as they were getting further south, the land became less and less familiar. Snow, dead trees and long abandoned, half-buried ruins were gone. Instead there were cities and villages of stone and wood scattered across the lush forests as far as an eye could see.

Somehow Arthas knew this was how Azeroth had looked like ten thousands years ago, before the destruction of the Well of Eternity. One giant continent inhabited by night elves, furbolgs, dwarves... It felt like he now became a part of history. He remembered Karaelstrasza teaching him the legends of the ancient races, but he would never have guessed she could have actually been there when it all happened. And how did they get here now?

He asked and she explained calmly, her voice resonating in his mind, this was the inner world of her soul. She wanted him to know where she had come from and why and could not bring herself to tell him directly before she died, occupied with so many things, there simply was not enough time. But now she will make everything right.

And so they talked for hours. No words, just images, emotions and a gentle flow of her thoughts inside Arthas' open mind. She had told him about the abduction of the Dragon Queen Alextrasza, which led to the long-lasted enslavement of the red dragonflight and how the remaining dragons recognized the work of an ancient artefact known as the Demon Soul, forged by a fallen dragon Aspect Neltharion ten tousand years ago. How her brother, Korialstrasz –posing as an archmage of the Kirin Tor- revelaled that Deathwing himself had been pulling the strings all along, hiding among nobility in Lordaeron's capital behind the visage of the famously charming Lord Prestor, working his way up by persuading Terenas to give him his daughter's hand in marriage. Arthas felt relief that in the end his father did not make that fatal mistake, remebering how miserable Calia was when he ordered her to marry a stranger she did not like in the slightest. Although a princess marrying a dragon sounded almost like a fairy tale.

Karaelstrasza's story turned to her almost getting killed when trying to take on Deathwing all by herself. For she lost her mate as well as all of their younglings to the aspect's madness and only the intervention of her brother and his human friend Rhonin prevented her from throwing her life away for nothing. And when Alextrasza was freed and Deathwing shut out deep within the fortress of Grim Batol, the existence of Keri'el, the high-elf was no longer necessary. So she left Lordaeron and its young crown prince and returned to her own kind, never, however, taking another mate or having any other offspring.

And then the Scourge came. And it was then when she fully realized the strength of the magical bond between herself and Arthas. The ancient magic of life her kind possessed saved her from loosing her mind to the Lich King's whispers, but since she could no longer stay with her brethren either, she followed Arthas to Northrend on both occasions –when he recovered Frostmourne and when the Lich King recalled him to ensure their survival- and stayed hidden deep within the labyrinths of old Nerubian kingdom, using the bond between them to store the soul of Arthas Menethil to save the prince from his fate.

They began loosing height. Arthas -pondering what he had just learned- slid back a few meters before grabbing firmly on one of the dragon's scales and almost falling off her back again while she landed with a thud on a darkened seashore. No... it was not a sea.

Arthas's feet hit the ground and he walked toward the edge of the bank. It was not because of the darkness around, these waters actually were pitch-black to begin with. And from a closer look he realized the substance had nothing to do with water at all. It whirled and spinned, forming a tiny maëlstroms, violet lightning hitting its surface here and there every few seconds, though there was no storm. Arthas looked up to the sky. He could not remember when it had turned so dark and unwelcoming.

When he turned his eyes on his companion again, however, there was no sign of the dragon. Instead a high-elven woman stood there, frowning, looking into the black lake's depths.

„The Well of Eternity." she said bitterly. „The heritage of the Titan Lords and the doom of Azeroth." Her eyes met with Arthas'. „This is where we say goodbye, my prince. You know what you have to do now." Keri'el drew closer to him, a soft, sweet scent of flowers made Arthas' head spin. Her right hand touched his cheek and their lips met. The kiss was tender, yet demanding and he could feel the jolt of desire in the pit of his stomach mounting as her left palm pressed against his chest. When they parted he found himself breathless. „The might of the red dragonflight stands by your side." Keri'el whispered into his lips. „Use it. Fight for your freedom!" and she pushed him away, hard.

Arthas stumbled, waved his arms to regain balance but could not prevent himself from falling into the swirling depths of the Well of Eternity. The magical substance enveloped him, closed around him. It filled his mouth and lungs as he tried to take a deep breath before he went down, and formed inside his chest, exactly where Keri'el placed her hand. A sharp, blinding pain shot through the whole of Arthas' body, yet he could not let it out. And as he sank deeper and deeper, crushed by the raw magical energies that threatened to drown him, an image appeared before his eyes – charred body, lying in the middle of a burning battlefield. It's skin was crackled and every fracture burned with a dragon's flame that cleansed the plague that ought to have killed the man. But somehow it did not...

Subconsciously, the Lich King's hand came up to his chest. It was still there. The rhytmical thumping of a living heart, exactly where it should be, had he not ripped it out five years ago. He could only guess Keri'el had used what little magic remained in her to hide the heart she had brought in the safest of places, for the lockbox was no longer there when he woke up back within the cold, darkened walls of Icecrown Citadel. Nor was the enchanted study itself.

Arthas could still taste the hot, wet, salty tears pouring down his handsome, marble-white face back then, which he could not supress even if he wanted to. His whole body shaking with sobs. Hand, wrapped in leather and metal, fiercely hitting the ice-covered floor -it cracked, adding a fresh type of pain. For what felt like a milionth time back then, he cried his eyes out. And the tears turned into glittering, icy diamonds even before they touched the ground...

That was the last time Arthas felt that way. Karaelstrasza had gone for good and took a piece of him with her. Something that made Arthas vulnerable, though not enough to rob him of his humanity again. Since then, he became the Lich King once more and now he could no longer be swept away by any of the emotions he experienced in her presence.

Or maybe he just shut those feelings out to protect himself from the pain? He did not know. The only thing important is, that any moment now, his enemies are going to march into his sanctuary, hoping, they could find Frostmourne unguarded and they will surely attempt to get as much information out of it as possible. Of course, not even Jaina –especially Jaina- would be so stupid as to touch the runeblade itself. Sylvanas made sure of it after her visit just a few days ago with her own personal army of five. There was no way the others would not know what she had discovered. However, given all the good relations between the Horde and the Alliance, Varian was bound to send his own forces to verify the Banchee Queen's story. He would rather die than trust something said by Thrall or any of his little lackeys. It is just the way the king of Stormwind thinks. Still holding onto the old hatred towards the half-orc that had assassinated his father or anyone of her race.

The little shamanistic powers Arthas inherited from Nerz'hul told him, however, that if Azeroth stays divided, it will only lead to it's destruction. If not by the Scourge, then in the hands of something even more sinister. And there were more than enough creatures still lurking deep within the earth, waiting for their turn to rise to power again.

And as Arthas' thoughts began wandering the fields of wild speculations, sudden chill sobered his tired mind. They have arrived.

The Lich King closed his eyes and he could see them. Seven small creatures, looming from the shadows towards a bright blue column of light, illuminating the Halls of Reflection. From Arthas' perspective, he was the one suspended in midair within it, however the expression of fear, surprise and longing on his visitors' faces told a different tale. They were looking at the cursed runeblade –Frostmourne, revolving lazily high above a pedestal in the middle of the Hall, embroidered with skulls and runes. And what the sword sees, the Lich King sees.

Arthas shivered involuntarily as his gaze fell upon the leader of the intruders. The very last person he would expect –or desire- to meet here.

Ruler of Theramore Isle, Lady Jaina Proudmoore.