Chapter 4: Breaching North

She came north.

Of course she came north.

Kel'Thuzad sighed wearily, pulling on his beard as he watches, kneeling down on a cliff face overlooking the land bellow, as Arthas and Jaina lead their expedition onto the shores of Northrend, cautiously making their way off their ship. Why in the world had he expected any of his warnings to be heeded? Its not as if he hadn't directly warned them against coming north, against the rumors of Frostmourne. He had taken an insane risk then, trusting that Ner'Zhul wasn't paying as much attention to him rather than setting things up elsewhere.

The illusion of trust and obedience was a chain he had to cautiously wear, because it could be used to strangle him if bucked.

But all of his careful setup and planning seemed to be for naught, because Jaina Proudmoore was making the exact same mistakes her prince had in another life. Just with her tagged on this time. Actually... he squinted, was that less ships than before? Good gods, what was she thinking? No, foolish question, she wasn't. Tichondrious had chosen his target well. Proudmoore was a damaged, compromised woman. For all the raw power and potential she had, the cracks to her psyche and soul were all too apparent. Only death and enslavement would find her here in the cold north.

"She was my heart, Kel'Thuzad, even after I tore it out. I made so many mistakes... if there is one thing I can do, for her, for all the pain I caused her... as I lay here dying, my soul my own again, my last wish is for you to protect her."

He was going to fail his king's last request, and there was legitimately nothing he could do about it.

He stills his thoughts when he detects Ner'Zhul's mental approach, feeling a phatom overbearing presence weighing on his shoulders that peers out his eyes with his own body. "My champion has come."

"He has indeed," offered Kel'Thuzad, "Though, not as alone as we thought he would."

Ner'Zhul tilts Kel'Thuzad's head downward in a casual display of command and control. "Proudmoore and a paladin... Rivendare's spawn?"

"Indeed."

"I suppose Rivendare can have the paladin as a token to play with," mused Ner'Zhul, "As for Proudmoore, such loyalty to my champion demands its own rewards. She will be a powerful servant, she will serve for my glory, she will toil for the dead, for obedience, she will hunger. Arthas shall become the first and most beloved of my Death Knights. She will serve him, willingly or not, as she will serve me, and she will find it... joyous."

It had been a very long time since Kel'Thuzad had first heard Ner'Zhul's malice, a very long time since he had been heavily affected by it. Yet sometimes, Ner'Zhul could still manage to send a shiver down Kel'Thuzad's spine. "Perhaps, perhaps."

That causes Ner'Zhul to shift his attention from them to him. "You disagree?"

"You have implied before that you desire Arthas as a... willing champion," said Kel'Thuzad diplomatically, "Jaina has stood alongside him against everything he has faced, and if reports are to be believed, been exiled from Lordaeran for it. How you treat Proudmoore may have a negative impact on Arthas's willingness, not that I suppose you truly need it in the long run."

Oh but he did if he wanted the Prince to merge and become the King. That however is a thought he keeps hidden deep within.

Ner'Zhul regards him for a long moment before shifting Kel'Thuzad's head to look back downward, power enhancing their ca-joined vision to see the closeness between them. They stand side by side, united, giving out orders to make their base camp. "I suppose such bonds will have to be tested then, so see if they can be broken before he takes up the blade. Albeit, testing them when their forces are so paltry will be an effort in restraint."

"I'm not so sure," mused Kel'Thuzad, "Mal'Ganis is still smarting from Proudmoore's parting shot. I dare say that pushing her to grow and struggle may fetch us an even more powerful ally in the long run, as will making our soon to be Death Knights even more powerful."

Or make them strong enough to survive what is to come.

He can feel Ner'Zhul considering his words down the bond connecting Master to Servant. "Perhaps, but I do not wish to frighten our little lost lambs from my pastures yet, not before the lands digs into them to feed. Do you wish to give them greetings?"

Did he wish to lead the first attack wave was what that translated to.

Kel'Thuzad shook his head. "They came for Mal'Ganis, its best I not distract them from their goal chasing after me, Proudmoore was rather eager to kill me when we first met. She may end up giving chase, and killing me may be enough to sate their appetite if things grow to dire here for them to handle."

"I suppose," mused Ner'Zhul, not particularly caring, "I still find myself curious, Kel'Thuzad, why you chose to live through this phase."

Because hiding his thoughts as a soul bound to the Lich King rather than a physical entity was a difficulty he didn't think he could manage. "There has been a few unexpected happenings that make me believe a more physical guiding hand may be appropriate."

"The dreadlords have been overly watchful since the Scourging began, unfortunate and unexpected," agreed Ner'Zhul, "As was pulling a large portion of the Scourge to slip south for Ironforge and Stormwind so early. I do not like being split so thin. Had the Prince and his consort convinced their foolish king to strike north with everything they had, I am unsure if we could have survived."

"The foolishness of mortal men and their politics," said Kel'Thuzad, shaking his head.

"Another reason the Scourge having no voice of dissent, only obedience in their suffering, is for the best," said Ner'Zhul mockingly, "Those like you may serve with some allowance for free will and thought so long as their aims do not endanger the Scourge..."

Kel'Thuzad shivers as he feels a phantom touch, like Ner'Zhul is petting him as a favored pet before gripping inside of him, his spine, in a painful ice cold grip. "...I will be sure to remind them, as I remind you, that you still belong to and obey me. Do not think I have forgotten your first thoughts of usurping me when you made your way to the Throne. I can still so easily strip you of thought, turn you into a mindless one all while still claiming your service."

"I was a foolish man then," gritted out Kel'Thuzad, "Have I given you a reason to doubt me since? Have I not feverishly served you?"

"You have, you have," said Ner'Zhul in malice filled gentleness, mock placation that amused the disembodied voice, the petting sensation returning, "And so long as you continue to do so, you will have your promised immortality, an existence beyond your comprehension, as one of my prime lieutenants, from Arch-Necromancer to Arch-Lich of the Scourge."

Oh he was looking forward to that again.

"I wait with baited breath," said Kel'Thuzad before glancing down in consideration at Proudmoore. The chances of her and Arthas leaving this alive or with their wills their own was going to dwindle rapidly the further they got in. Perhaps damage control was in order. "And it occurs to me the vacancy I am leaving, how kind of your champion to bring a potential replacement with him."

If she was valued, there was less of a chance for her to be stripped of her mind.

Ner'Zhul glances at Proudmoore for a moment before laughing darkly. "How considerate indeed..."

"I don't like it," muttered Arthas, moving down the path towards a clearing in the dark looming woods, "Its too quiet."

"Well, just be on your guard then-," began Jaina before feeling...

She yanked Arthas backwards as a bullet tore through where he had just been walking.

"The hell!?" yelled Arthas, "Who the hell is shooting at us? Take cover and ready yourselves!"

The footmen ready themselves, rushing forward, only for a familiar voice to ring out, "Bloody hell! Hold yer fire lads, they're not undead!"

So, they had met up early then.

"Muradin?" poses Arthas as a number of dwarves peek out from a carefully hidden and barricaded area, "Muradin Bronzebeard? Is that you?"

"Damn boy," says the dwarf with relief, "I never imagined that you'd be the one to come to our rescue!"

"Rescue? Muradin, I-I didn't even know you were here," answered Arthas awkwardly.

"Just the same lad," begins Muradin before pausing and tilting his head to Jaina, "Lady Proudmoore."

She gifts a strained smile. "Not much of a lady anymore, but its good to see you again."

Muradin frowned. "Not a... oh boy, there a gonna be a story why that's tae case lass? Why are you two up here?"

"Why are you?" she poses back.

"Easy, easy," said Arthas, making motions of peace before them, "No need for tensions between friends."

Arthas hesitates then, considering what to say, but Jaina doesn't even think about mincing words, "Surely you've met the undead if your greeting to us was any indication."

Muradin winces. "Aye lass, I have."

"There was a invasion of Lordaeran," answered Jaina, "A plague of undeath meant to kill or corrupt the populace. Stratholme is gone, as are several villages in the northern parts of the kingdom."

Muradin grits his teeth. "Damn, I've saw tae undead moving and growing here, but I didin think it was anythin on that scale. Bloody hells."

"Were here to put an end to it," said Jaina firmly, harshly, "We could use any help we could get."

Muradin nods slowly. "Ya'll have it then."

Then he frowns, glancing at their numbers as the men move in to set up base around Muradin's own little camp. "Though yer numbers seem..."

"My father," says Arthas with frustration, "Refuses to see the danger of letting the Scourge continue and wishes to bunker down. We disagreed."

"Oh boy," muttered Muradin, "Lad, are you here in defiance of yer father's own orders?"

"Is that going to be a problem?" challenged Arthas.

Muradin mulled it over for a moment. "So long as you keep my involvement on the down low after, I like havin access to Lordaeran ale after all."

That gets a laugh out of Arthas. "Perhaps tonight you can have some, I know the men had to have snuck a few bottles with them."

"Aye, so I will, but for now, I've got a base of my own men up north cut off by the undead," said Muradin.

"Do you by chance have a map and coordinates, or a good picture of it in your mind?" asked Jaina.

"Yeah, but why... oh, Archmage," said Muradin, a huff escaping him, "Can you git all of us there?"

"In a few trips easily," said Jaina, glancing at Arthas, "Why set up our own base when we can just teleport and build upon theirs?"

"I like your thinking Jaina."

The battle that commences as Jaina teleports their group in set by set is... rather easy all things considered. Their men spill out of the dwarven base with a cry of fury and vengeance against the undead. They wash over the defenses the Scourge had summoned in outside the base. Paltry all things considered, a minor necropolis and a few spirit towers. They blow through it and rally, surging quickly at both Arthas and Jaina's prodding towards a nearby encampment of the undead they are warned about.

The Lich commanding it is a unwelcome surprise, but only a brief one, before Jaina lobs a massive ball of fire at it and blows it apart, a fire elemental spawning out of the blast and charging at the nearest undead. She arcs a chain lightning over the heads of the melee combatants, blowing holes through a ring of necromancers before they can even begin to reanimate the dead. She bombards the spirit towers with sheets of piercing ice while the dwarves and the footmen cut and shoot the undead down.

They drop the undead base in ten minutes flat, and Jaina is honestly surprised by how clear cut and clean that victory was. She nods to herself satisfied, watching Arthas and Aurius tend to their wounded with the holy light.

She approaches Muradin. "Have your men pack up your base camp, we're pushing north."

Muradin looks up at her. "Already lass?"

"The days only begun," answered Jaina, it had hardly been two hours since they landed, and she knew Northrend's day and nights, they had plenty of time to find a new location further in, "We need to penetrate deep and fast, find and eradicate the heart of the Scourge before a proper defense can be mounted..."

Ner'Zhul is silent as Kel'Thuzad watches the living push rapidly north. "Well then."

Proudmoore certainly knew how to not keep her head down and avoid drawing Ner'Zhul's gaze. Blowing apart a lich in a single spell as a supposed apprentice archmage was a great way to get the Lich King's undivided attention. She's only going to dig herself a deeper grave, and yet...

"She is driven," mused Ner'Zhul in dark consideration, weighing and judging, "Perhaps more than my Champion. I can feel her hate and loathing, her pointed determination, and yet... her mind is oddly well shielded. She is more skilled and powerful than I had thought, she should already have been named a full Archmage. Perhaps she was due more of my attention prior to now than I gave."

...and yet, it was obvious to Kel'Thuzad, knowing that she knew of Ner'Zhul's existence, to know exactly what her goal was here. At Jaina's full power in her prime, perhaps she could have fought Ner'Zhul, weakening slowly as he was after pushing Frostmourne out of his prison and leaking energy, especially had she waited until Illidan had done his little spell again. But here and now? Ner'Zhul is deceiving in his immobile prison. Ner'Zhul has no physical defenses outside of his minions, but the mental and magical power he wields is well beyond most mortal means to fight. Kel'Thuzad knew better than to underestimate mortals, the so called Heroes of Azeroth had constantly caught every opponent they faced offguard after all. Kel'Thuzad had not enjoyed being destroyed twice by them.

But all he sees here are the odds stacked against Jaina.

"Considering her banishment," continued Ner'Zhul, "Her mind could be... guided, to resent and hate her former colleagues."

Kel'Thuzad is still a little vindictive about his own banishment. "Her killing her own master would be delightful."

Ner'Zhul laughs. "It would indeed, as would her leading the attack that destroys Dalaran."

That... would likely fracture Proudmoore more than she already was, but if it reaches that point, there would be little he could do about it.

He looks over the marching forces once more, a frown on his face. Her only chance is for Ner'Zhul to underestimate her, badly, and Kel'Thuzad is admittedly at odds with that happening. At least, until he's become a Lich anyway. Then he has no need of the current Lich King, aside from him to die and leave Kel'Thuzad unbound. He would not say no to having his true King back again, he honestly missed the trust and respect he shared with Arthas than the mocking ownership of Ner'Zhul.

"She is dangerous," said Kel'Thuzad softly.

A soft, sad, unwanted breach towards his promise.

But Kel'Thuzad is a selfish, greedy being. He will try to fulfill his true King's asked promise, but not at the cost of his own lichdom.

It will be the only warning he will give Ner'zhul.

Ner'Zhul hums. "Perhaps. She is likely to bleed more of my forces here than I had intended to sacrifice to my Champion. It will make the return from Northrend more difficult, in that, she will make up the difference."

Oh, she'd more than make up the difference.

In fact, there was a lot that happened in the future that Jaina Proudmoore had been a critical part of; The Hyjal Alliance being the most important one coming up, or rather, it was her that had led Lordaeran's survivors across the sea. If not her, would anyone take that journey? If it were only Orcs and Night Elves at Hyjal, if they even allied, could they hold back Archimonde long enough? Does Jaina not realize her own importance to these events? That if she fell to the Scourge, there would be absolutely drastic consequences?

If Archimonde won at Hyjal, the Scourge would remain as slaves to the Legion, cast from the Twisting Nether by Kil'Jaeden from one world to the next on their burning crusade.

He feels a mental scowl from Ner'Zhul, "They are pushing forward north more than intended. I had planned that they would stay at the overtaken base, its position was carefully chosen to be defensible and near to Frostmourne's cavern, the perfect allure before Mal'Ganis struck and surrounded them, forcing them to seek the blade. I will need to have Frostmourne moved north as well."

Kel'Thuzad nodded in agreement. "And more of a trail left for the dwarf to follow..."

The push out of the Howling Fjord midway through the second day. Jaina can faintly recognize some landmarks, but, Northrend had changed in the years between now and the invasion of Northrend. Pleasantly, there is not a Vrykul in sight. They enter into the Dragonblight, and Jaina looks west. The sight of Wyrmcrest Temple is blocked by what would eventual be the mountain that Wintergarde Keep would be built upon. She considers idly if she could get the dragons to help her...

But no.

Medivh's warning rings in her ear.

If she ran into a Bronze Dragon there, they would be able to tell she had come back in time, and it would all be over.

There was no guarantee the dragons would be 'bothered' to help her anyway.

So they continue north, coming upon a Scourge base being hastily constructed blocking the entrance into Crystalsong Forest.

"Don't let them get their defenses up!" yells Arthas, "Charge! In the name of the light!"

Jaina doesn't immediately follow the charge, eyeing meat wagons and dark casters along the cliffs above the pass. There is a line of abominations spilling out to block the way. Hordes of ghouls crawling along the ground. The Scourge are trying to contain them here, and the defense isn't to be taken casually. If they had delayed their swift advance and allowed the Scourge to set up base, this would have been a deadly battle. Instead, Jaina lobs an elemental bomb up the cliff, exploding a meat wagon, the elemental it spawns leaping at a acolyte. She teleports up the cliff herself and works on destroying the Scourge their forces below can't really get at. Lightning arcs from her finger tips, chaining down the line of dark casters, meat wagons, and skeletal archers, with no way for them to maneuver or run out of the way.

Its a slaughter, especially when she's cleared the cliff face and rains down spells from above on the backline of the Scourge below with no way for them to get at her. They break through the defensive line and destroy the in-progress base, banishing buildings being summoned in, or destroying the few that were summoned. There were more casualties this time compared to the last base, but still, not what Jaina expected. The land should be absolutely teeming with undead. Assault waves should number in the hundreds of undead, bases teeming with a thousand at least. Each battle should be absolutely grisly and hectic...

Was she... was she overestimating their numbers? Overestimating the early Scourge? Even without all the dead of Lordaeran, she'd have thought Northrend would offer more...

A cheer goes up as the last undead is cut down, the troops already moving to start a burn pile to deny the Scourge reanimating their undead.

"Caught em with their pants down we did lad," laughed Muradin as Jaina teleports back down.

Arthas chuckled, good natured, a grin on his face, confidence and pride clear. "That we did old friend. I don't think they were expecting us to push so hard and so quick."

Muradin nods. "Aye, there was a lot of undead gathering here. Had they gotten it all set up..."

He shakes his head. "Would have had to find a way around, or find that artifact to breech this."

Arthas blinked. "Artifact...?"

"We originally came here seekin rumors of a Runeblade called Frostmourne."

Jaina's soul shivers at that dreaded word. Arthas's eyes sharpen. "A Runeblade? Here?"

"Aye lad," said Muradin, "Though the closer we came to finding it, tae more undead we found instead. I'm to old tae think that mere coincidence."

"You think Mal'Ganis doesn't want us to find it?" mused Arthas, an odd look in his eyes that Jaina finds unsettling.

"Its odd though, isn't it?" interrupted Jaina, trying to set Arthas against the idea, "If there is some kind of powerful Runeblade here, why wouldn't Mal'Ganis use it himself? He's certainly got enough undead that he could easily scour the lands to find it."

Arthas frowned a little. "You think its just a rumor?"

"A rumor, or a trap," she advises.

He looks dissatisfied with that, with her. "I don't know Jaina, we need everything we can get to defeat Mal'Ganis and the Scourge, weren't you worried on the way here that our forces wouldn't be enough?"

"Well, that was before we crushed through the first several bases with little problem," said Jaina, moving to step forward and place a hand against Arthas's chest, "We have everything we need to end this, my Prince, right here."

His hardening expression melts into a smile, he gently grips her wrist and pulls her hand up to kiss her knuckles. "That we do. Still..."

He glances at Muradin. "Keep some of your men investigating the possibility while the rest of us focus on pushing against the Undead."

Jaina doesn't like it, doesn't like anything involving Frostmourne, but she doesn't have a reason to keep pushing on it that won't seem like paranoia. For now, she will watch and wait and intervene when necessary... and enjoy the hushed awe on her prince's face as they move into Crystalsong Forest, enthralled by the vivid crystal landscape. They set up camp a bit into the woods, and then Jaina gets another surprise.

The Decrepit Flow, the fortified dam, isn't there.

The fortification of Icecrown hasn't even been started yet.

As such, a lot more of Crystalsong Forest is submerged, and the Mirror of Twilight lake is much, much bigger than she remembers.

But that's aside the point...

They have a clear path straight into Icecrown.

And the next day, they shove through the undead and step foot into the heart of the Scourge...

Dreadlords are distasteful beings to be around.

Especially this conceited arrogant work.

"Is the great Lich King afraid?" mocked Mal'Ganis, "Of two paladins, an archmage, and a dwarf?"

"Afraid? No, intelligent, yes," snapped Ner'Zhul, "Was it not you who advised me of the dangers of pushing Frostmourne from this prison? My powers slowly ebb. But beyond that, they should never have breached into Icecrown. You ripped over half of my forces away to begin Scourging the lands of Ironforge and Stormwind, this weakness is directly your fault."

"Calm yourself Ner'Zhul," soothed Mal'Ganis, "You are in no danger. Should it come down to it, you always have Naxxramas as a trump card."

The disdain Ner'Zhul emanates can be missed by no one. "So you refuse to clean up your own mess? The objective is to convert the boy into a willing tool, not simply kill him."

Mal'Ganis let a deep growl escape his throat. "Willing tool or not it does not matter to the Legion, but fine, if you are so terrified of these mortals, I will take a more personal approach. Its not difficult to summon a few infernals nor open a portal or two for demons to add to the pressure. He will have no choice but to seek your blade, and in doing so, fall right into our hands."

Mal'Ganis vanishes through a green portal, leaving Kel'Thuzad alone with an irritated Lich King. He can feel the psychic pull, Ner'Zhul is recalling all Scourge scattered across Northrend to Icecrown. Even Naxxramas is being flown the long way around to return to the Frozen Throne, to avoid being seen or detected by Arthas's forces. Jaina's only chance had been to catch Ner'Zhul offguard, to make him underestimate him.

She had done the exact opposite, the expedition blowing through defenses and traps and native hostiles along the way from the Howling Fjord to the entrance of Icecrown with minimal casualties in days when it should have taken weeks with their forces limping along. Jaina herself was frequently on the forefront, blowing away fortifications, obliterating clusters of undead, and always, always, going for Scourge casters and range units with her lightning. She is single-handedly turning fights that should be disastrous, or at least somewhat even, into landslide victories. Whats more... these battles should leave Proudmoore exhausted, mana drained heavily with her rate of spellcasting, yet she keeps on going barely winded. There is something about her that he's missing, that he didn't have the chance to understand in the future. This combined with a pair of paladins there to heal the wounded and resurrect the dead has allowed them to maintain their strength and numbers.

Arthas is still far more entwined with the light than he had been the first time, it still readily answers his call.

The prince and the archmage were currently clearing out a base near what would have one day been the Decrepit Flow. Ner'Zhul had been adamant that was the furthest they would allow the humans. Icecrown today did not have a fraction of the defenses that the Icecrown of the future would have. The only true defense the Frozen Throne had was a ring of Obelisks that were enchanted to seal access to the peak that bore the Lich King. Along with any Scourge forces defending them.

Kel'Thuzad is very, very nervous that Jaina is going to make it there, and Ner'Zhul has long since stopped considering her a trifle little archmage. Jaina is not going to let herself be stopped by anything short of death, and if she actually starts to take the obelisks, Ner'Zhul is going to drop his plan of converting Arthas in favor of saving himself, unleashing everything he has in response...

"How is she drawing upon the Laylines beneath Northrend?" ponders Ner'Zhul, making Kel'Thuzad startle, because he had not been aware of that, "Its almost as if she's doing it subconsciously, but that is more of an Elven trait..."

"Well," said Kel'Thuzad, briefly scrambling for a cover for Proudmoore, "It would seem Prince Sunstrider has been naughty."

"Oh?"

"They were once somewhat interested in one another in Dalaran," said Kel'Thuzad, vaguely recalling and embellishing upon the incident, "I believe the report was that Arthas and Kael'Thas were confrontational over the young Archmage's heart. It would seem Sunstrider has taught things to Proudmoore that he should not have."

Please don't look into it, please don't look into it...

Ner'Zhul grunts in frustrated acknowledgement. "Antonidas was a complete and utter fool to let this girl slip through his fingers. She is far more powerful, skilled, and dangerous than any around her age and status should be. That however could come back to bite us. She will be capable of activating the obelisks around the Frozen Throne if they breech that far, and Arthas has yet to truly search for Frostmourne."

"Perhaps he needs more of a push," suggests Kel'Thuzad, eager to get Ner'zhul's focus back on the prince rather than the archmage.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Naxxramas is too much for them as a whole," agreed Kel'Thuzad, "But a single champion of the dread citadel? I am rather fond of Patchwerk."

Ner'Zhul contemplates it. "Yes, along with the Mal'Ganis's incursion, it should be enough to force Arthas's hand into seeking the blade."

Perhaps, or more hopefully, Jaina would get the hint that Naxxramas was right around the corner and take this last chance flee Northrend. Because this IS the last chance. If she initiates a battle for access to the Frozen Throne, then it will be all or nothing.

A Symphony of Light and Darkness where there will be only one winner...