Chapter 10: A Lesson in Damnation (part 3)
The presence of Falric and Marwyn at his back should have put Arthas at ease in this unholy place.
It didn't.
His trusted captains, one dead defending his queen, one dead by his own blade.
Both risen by his hands.
Neither had been grateful.
"I had warned you," mused the Lich King, making Arthas twitch at the sudden voice, "I could still alter them to enjoy their service."
"Unnecessary," he muttered, getting a laugh from his dark master.
"Milord?" posed Falric.
Arthas shakes his head and motions to it. "Just... him speaking to me. I'm not sure I'll ever grow used to it."
A grunt of acknowledgement, then silence. No small talk, no desire for it. He's not sure how much they lost of themselves, and he hasn't dared to ask. Not after what he did to them. He is not ignorant of the fact he threw everything away for Jaina. The entire expedition, his men's lives, all of their free will, her own demands for him to kill and free her, that he damned every single one of them in order to try to save his love. He doubts their next meeting will be... civil. If she is anything but furious with him, he'd be surprised.
She'd have every right to be.
He damned them.
He may have even damned the entire world.
Without his soul, he can't even feel guilt over it, any remorse. He wondered, if he had his soul, would he have? In the heat of the moment, he had chosen saving Jaina over anything else. But with time for it sit and set in, what would he feel? Logically, he knows he made the wrong choice. By any outlook not born of the most ridiculous romantic, it was the wrong choice. By far.
He doesn't care.
Even if he had his soul, he doesn't think he'd care.
He still has Jaina.
That's all that matters, that's all that can matter now...
He shakes his head and refocuses: They're being rewarded, both of them allowed to meet for the first time since before their loss to the Scourge, as apparently both him and Jaina are excelling at their lessons. The willingness of taking to those lessons... its easier for him without his soul or most of his emotions, but for Jaina? He has little doubt there was prodding and/or threats involved, no matter how much the Lich King implies she took to it with the skills of a savant. Being skilled at something does not mean one enjoys doing it. Besides, Jaina being skilled at any kind of magic isn't very surprising after fighting alongside her through the Scourge's initial attack of Lordaeran and the Assault on Northrend...
...
Not to mention the sheer devastation she wrought with Frostmourne and access to the Lich King's power in the closure of the battle. Honestly, he's not sure why the Lich King doesn't give her the runeblade. But then again, the Lich King said those who wielded Frostmourne are meant to serve willingly. He isn't sure about the end goal of that, but he severely doubts there would ever be the willingness the Dark Lord wanted from Jaina in regards to that.
If the Lich King hears the thought, he doesn't comment. Arthas doesn't particularly wish to prod that any further, thinking that Jaina not wielding the blade is probably for the better, for her and for the world. He strides through the halls, heading for Jaina, following the nudging directions of the Lich King. He's not sure what he expected when he found her, but...
"What is the point of it though?" says Jaina, sitting at a desk arguing with Kel'Thuzad of all people over necromantic spellwork, "A rapid desperate reanimation is most likely going to degrade the corpse for future use. You started my lessons on reanimation with the intent to make it quick but skilled, not this distasteful butchery."
"Sometimes Acolyte, you will simply need a pile of bodies in front of you and your enemy," Kel'Thuzad answers, "It is... unfortunate to lose potential intelligent Scourge, but never forget you are not a warrior. Not a Death Knight. If an enemy closes the distance with you, you are disadvantaged no matter the spellwork you can use at close range to try and change that. A paladin in a divine shield can charge and beat you into the ground before you can do much about it without protection. You are far more valuable to the Scourge than any mere raised civilian would be."
Displeasure crosses her face, but not surprise. Considering the effort the Scourge put into claiming the two of them, perhaps not shocking that she recognizes this. He is still learning more and more these last few days about the plotting that drove him and Jaina out of Lordaeran to Northrend. A lot of background influence had been thrown around to get him onto the mission investigating the plagued north as Jaina's escort. He had not been aware that Antonidas had been prompted into choosing him to go with Jaina for the Kirin'Tor's investigation. Nor that his father had been slowly talked into the risk of sending him into the plagued north.
The Lich King's reach was far and wide even without the use of the Undead, the plague, or demons. But that was thoughts for later. "Better she have me as a bulwark between her and any threats than mere ghouls."
He doesn't like the thought of coming to blow with his fellow... former brothers and sisters, but he knows it will come to pass.
He watches Jaina stiffen briefly, head sharply turning to gaze on him. From head to toe, she looks upon him in his death knight armor. He might not be able to feel grief and regret anymore, but he can certainly still identify and see it in others. The only thing that changes is the absolute hatred when her eyes focus on Frostmourne. But not for him. A better reaction that he thought.
"Arthas," she greets quietly, rising to her feet.
"Jaina," he replies, nodding.
"Hm, I suppose that will be it for the day," muses Kel'Thuzad, "You have the rest of the day to yourselves. Tomorrow, I believe the Lich King has a joint reanimation planned for the two of you."
"Lovely," comes Jaina's sarcasm, "Dare I ask who or what?"
"The other paladin of your expedition," comments Kel'Thuzad in a bored, lazy tone, "You will need experience in the reanimation, creation, and augmentation of Death Knights after all. You both do."
Jaina grimaces, but Arthas isn't particularly surprised. He supposes in hindsight the only reason Aurius wasn't already raised would be to serve as a lesson. He is curious however about his old mentor and friend. "And Muradin?"
"The Lich King is still debating on whether to have him as a Death Knight, or as an infiltrator into Ironforge," answers the necromancer, "Infiltrating your father's keep will be far simpler than entering Ironforge's depths. The power and augmentation of a death knight would be likely to give him away. Its been difficult, we can admit, to get infiltrators or sympathizers in, but a Bronzebeard? If he can be masked enough, all he needs to do is plague their breweries and Ironforge falls overnight most likely."
Arthas tilts his head in consideration. Idly, he muses out-loud, "When it comes to their ale, dwarves are far more observant than you'd think. Perhaps you'd might infect a few that way, but all it will take is one dwarf complaining about an odd taste or smell to ruin your whole attempt."
Then, as he has to remind himself to do, he considers it from other perspectives. "It may not matter to your master..."
"Our master," reminds Kel'Thuzad mildly.
A flicker of anger rushes through him, but he minds his tongue, letting out a civil, "Our master, but Muradin will never be a willing member of the Scourge if you use him to slaughter his people."
Rather than remark on that, Kel'Thuzad takes several slow, methodical steps, his robes swooshing as he walks up to Arthas and looks up to meet his gaze. "And what of you, Prince Arthas? Shall the Scourge always have your enmity for what is soon to come? You will do so to Lordaeran before he would do so to Ironforge."
Arthas's lips purse. He doesn't immediately answer, because as much as he does not want to slaughter his people, when he thinks of what is to come, his anger rises, and its not only at the Scourge. He thinks of his father, he thinks of Uther, of Antonidas, and he feels rage. They had come so close. He has been a part of the Scourge for a short time, yes, but he has gotten a gauge of their forces. Even with Naxxramas, he fully believes the Scourge would have fallen under the combined forces of Lordaeron's army, the Silver Hand, and the Kirin Tor. Perhaps even a detachment of elves could have been spared if they took the danger seriously.
He and Jaina were abandoned by the leadership of Lordaeran. If they had proper support, especially with the Scourge forces being split up to scour the southern kingdoms, they could have won.
He feels the Lich King picking as his thoughts, like a hand softly trailing fingers inside his skull. There is no reprimand, no comment, not a hint of what the Dark Lord feels at what he lingered on. It is, however, a reminder that he is ever under watch. Ever observed. Even with what is supposed to be the sanctuary of his own mind.
"I don't know," Arthas finally says.
Jaina twitches, but holds her silence.
"I will never rejoice in the slaughter of my people," he says, "But I am not nearly as sanguine about the leadership of my Kingdom."
Jaina twitches again, opening her mouth, then slowly closing it, looking unnerved.
Kel'Thuzad gives a coy, pleased smile. "We can work with that."
The necromancer moves around him, slowly making for the door. "The Scourge does knows how to use both the carrot and the stick after all. Your people will serve the Scourge, one way or another, but perhaps some can be given the chance to serve willingly within the Cult of the Damned, rather than by force as undead. I suppose it depends on you, and our dear acolyte here."
Irritation rushes through Arthas. So not only is Jaina to be held as a hostage for his willing obedience, but even the chance for his people to not be torn to shreds and raised as mindless slaves is used against him as well? He doesn't stop the necromancer from leaving to argue with him. He is being given the day to spend with Jaina, so he will take it and not waste his time with pointless arguing.
Jaina speaks cautiously after the door closes, briefly eying his captains as they stand to the side of the door at rigid guard. "...the leadership, Arthas?"
He doesn't immediately reply, eyes lingering on the stress suddenly so intense on her face. Did his words truly upset her so?
He sighs, and repeats his thoughts. "We came so close. We could have won had they marched with us, Jaina."
"Maybe," she says, "Maybe not. I never expected the demons, and Naxxramas could have potentially evened the playing field."
She is playing devil's advocate, now? In the face of what had happened to them? "You took it out."
"After I picked up that accursed blade," she snapped at him, "Which, I remind you, was a trap. The moment anyone picked that sword up, our defeat became a matter of not if, but when. The only reason I was able to do so much damage as I did is because the Lich King did not initially fight me on it. He fed me his power in-fact. That is the only reason we breached to the Frozen Throne. Otherwise its likely we wouldn't have even taken the third base."
"Fair," he muses, "I still think we could have won with full support."
"I'm not saying we couldn't," she admits, "But I foolishly underestimated the enemy when I knew better. Its entirely possible there are other things and factors I don't know about, disregarded, or did not recognize, that could have endangered our chances even if we had brought Lordaeron's full might. Part of the reason we penetrated as deeply into the heart of the Scourge and came so close to winning as we did was because they underestimated us. If they had taken us as a serious threat they would have fought us as they did in Icecrown the entire way there."
She sighed and sits down on a desk. "The moment the demons showed up I should have pushed for us to retreat and mass teleported us back to the coast to flee. Maybe taken a few demon corpses with us for you to show your father to get them to take the threat more seriously while I tried to gather support in Kul'Tiras. If my parents would even listen to me."
He sets Frostmourne down against the wall near the door and moves over to stand at her side, a hesitating hand moving to rest on her shoulder. He should offer comfort now, right? "Perhaps, but its likely their view of you may have been poisoned by what we had to do at Stratholme, especially if Antonidas, my father, or Uther spoke with them. Don't punish yourself for that."
She reaches up a hand to clasp his gauntlet, a wry smile on her face. "I can imagine the screaming match I would have had with them."
It takes him a moment to force himself to match her smile. "Indeed."
She tilts her head, looking into his face, his eyes, and her smile fades into aching grief. "You can't feel anymore, can you?"
"...no, not aside from negative emotions that I suspect I'm being intentionally allowed to feel," he admits.
She bobs her head in a small nod. "It was the same when I briefly held the blade."
She swallows thickly, her voice cracking, "You... you don't... you don't have to fake it, for me."
He brings her hand up to his lips to kiss. "Who else would I do so for, my Queen? How else will I maintain who I am unless I force myself to remember how I should act?"
She falters. Why is she not happy? Why does his words, his vow, cause her pain rather than relief?
"Shall I cast them aside completely, and be nothing but the Lich King's merciless weapon?" he poses coldly, "One would think you would appreciate what I am trying to do for you."
She flinches from him, her hand slipping from his grasp to wrap around herself.
He reigns himself in, taking a long breath. "I am trying Jaina, but this is not easy."
She glares at him, and fury cracks through her voice. "It would have been easier if you had let me die and went to destroy the Lich King."
Ah, there is the anger he expected. "I doubt either Aurius or I would have been able to channel the light to enough of a degree to destroy the Lich King. I'm not sure if even Uther himself could have drawn enough light within the frozen heart of Icecrown to do the deed. Not alone at least."
She scowls.
He reaches and grabs her chin. "Look at me Jaina. Look. At. Me."
She meets his gaze, lips pursed.
"None of us were prepared for the true depths of the Scourge," he says, "You felt the Lich King's presence, his power. Beyond the Lich King himself, his legions were rushing for us, Kel'Thuzad was there, as was Anub'arak. Who knows if the demons were done yet either. Even if I had refused the bargain, Jaina, we still would have lost."
He lets her go and steps back, sighing. "Jaina... we lost the moment we stepped foot on Northrend without proper support."
Its painful to admit, but obvious in hindsight.
Her shoulder slump. "Without the entire backing of the Alliance, and probably the Horde too, we likely wouldn't have been able to win. Not against the Scourge and the... the demons. We should never have come to Northrend."
Sheer surprise goes through him, no, not just him, the Lich King echoes it. Arthas is... careful in his tone. "The Horde? You would have allied with the Horde?"
"The opportunity never came up, but if it meant the defeat of the dead and the demons? Yes," she answers simply, "I would have."
"I keep thinking I have come to understand the threat she represented," muses the Lich King, "And yet I still keep being surprised. What a fascinating creature your Queen is, for I sense nothing but honesty at her words."
Arthas takes a moment to parse that. "Hrm. You think they would have agreed to do so? After the second and first war?"
"Not right away," she admits, "But after witnessing the dead and the demons firsthand? I think they would have been willing. They already knew something was wrong."
"How so?"
"Arthas, you forget, the Horde... the Horde somehow knew something was coming. The majority fled before the Scourge showed up."
Arthas crosses his arms, frowning in thought. "Curious..."
He hesitates and then sucks up his distaste to ask, "...my lord? Do you have any insight on this?"
The Lich King considers it for a moment. "Not to a great degree. Most orcs fled across the sea following their new Warchief. The few that stayed in the wilds, the few that have been raised, knew little beyond that their warchief had received some message of sorts to flee, spiritual in nature was the passing rumor. It suggests the warchief has shamanistic leanings."
The Lich King chuckles darkly. "He was wise to heed the spirit's warnings and flee. Wise, but it wont save him in the long run."
The Dark Lord goes silent, offering no further comment.
Arthas pushes thoughts of the horde away and refocuses on his purpose. His Queen. "Shall we go elsewhere rather than this dreary classroom?"
"As apposed to the other dreary rooms, hallways, or the arctic outside?" Jaina says dryly.
He pushes a smile across his face. "As you say."
He hates the grief in her eyes when he makes himself smile for her.
He has no idea how to fix it.
He knows it can't be fixed.
They end up deciding to head out in the arctic, not far from the entrance, but enough for some privacy from anyone who isn't the undead lord in their head. Or at least they would have...
"Be mindful my servants," comes the Lich King's sudden sharp voice, "My chief jailor approach. Tread carefully."
He has no idea what he is talking about until a demon much like Mal'Ganis rounds a corner. Its power claws along Arthas's spine, and he knows that Mal'Ganis is nothing compared to the fiend predatorily stalking towards them. Except... the demon has no regard for him, eyes only for Jaina. He makes to put himself infront of her, but she grips his hand tightly and hisses a single word.
"Don't."
The demon stops a short few feet away, its wings stretching above and back briefly before settling. "Lady Proudmoore, I must commend you. Your battle for the Frozen Throne was futile, but impressive. You might be pleased to know the wounds you inflicted on Mal'Ganis ultimately killed him and sent him back to the Twisting Nether. He'll return eventually, but it will be years yet."
"Pity," she says in a clipped tone.
The demons lips curl into a malicious smile. "Would you like to kill him permanently? I could offer that you know. Take you into the Twisted Nether, let you kill him there. His power, his essence yours for the taking to consume."
Jaina jerks slightly. Confused, then frowning, then some kind of understanding crosses her face and all emotion is suddenly gone. Her face closes off. "No thank you. I'll take being a cultist over becoming a demon."
Becoming a demon?!
Arthas readies to draw Frostmourne and drive it through the demon's face, but the Lich King immobilizes him before the thought can even finish. "You foolish Prince, you would kill us all if you dared."
The demon throws his head back and laughs. "How amusing, choosing the Scourge. Of all the choices you could have made in this life, you threw it all away coming to Northrend. You practically offered yourself to them on a platter."
The demon's tone is smug, victorious. Jaina grits her teeth and glares at the demon with hatred that almost rival's the way she looks at Frostmourne. Arthas has the uneasy sense he is missing something. Or maybe that feeling is from the Lich King, he's not sure. The way the two look at eachother... its almost like they know one another. "Who are you, demon?"
Its head turns, regarding him, consideration flickering through his eyes. "You, Prince Arthas, may call me Tichondrius."
A slow, cold smile spreads across his face. "I must thank you, Prince Arthas, for leading this foolish archmage to her doom. Had she not, perhaps she could have become a legitimate threat to the Legion. You have our sincere gratitude."
Arthas grits his teeth, but cannot not rise to the creature's baiting.
The demon rumbles with dark laughter and brushes past them, murmuring, "Now, where is that fool necromancer?"
It leaves them; Arthas lets a hiss escape his lips. "Vile, but powerful. Why was that thing not defending Icecrown?"
"As I said, it is a jailor, not a guardian," comes the Lich King's tone, his grip releasing Arthas, "The Scourge is bound to the Legion the demon heralds from... for now."
Well, that was a loaded statement, and yet... "Kel'Thuzad alluded to this, didn't he? Back in Andorhal."
The Lich King's eyes are upon him full force, the intensity is... uncomfortable.
"He said the Horde belonged to the demons... and apparently the Scourge does as well," if jailor meant what Arthas thought it did, beyond that, without the burning intensity of his emotions, he follows that thought to the natural end he had not understand properly in Andorhal, "These demons are behind the Scourge, they do not support you, they created you. They were behind the Horde and enabled them to invade our world."
"Yes," single word, no elaboration. But there is rage. There is hatred. Resentment. The Lich King chafes under the demon's thumb.
He does not speak the next question aloud. "The Scourge is not loyal to this... Legion."
"No," the Lich King confirms, "We are not."
Arthas has the odd sensation of staring down the Lich King despite not physically being in front of him. "I see."
Useful to know, and Arthas will be very curious to see where that disloyalty to these demon bastards leads. He does not press further yet, but in his mind he wonders... what will happen when the Scourge and Legion confront one another? Is the end of this world going to end up a battle of evils? Evils of this world against evils not?
"Lets go," comes Jaina's clipped tone.
His eyes search hers, but she is already turning away and heading for the entrance. When they arrive, he gives his captains leave to attend other duties the Scourge would demand of them. He steps outside and finds Jaina standing a distance away, staring out into a light snowfall. A gentle, if but chilling wind makes her hair rippled out behind her. He moves to stand beside her, staring out into the white expanse. He allows the silence for a time before he decides to ask, to know...
"Will you hate me forever, I wonder," he says softly, "If I say I don't regret choosing you? That I don't think I would have even if I still had my soul?"
Her shoulders slump, her gaze bleak, "No, because I'm not hypocritically enough to realize that I..."
She trails off and shakes her head, swallowing thickly, tears welling up in her eyes that slide down her face.
That she what? He's not sure she'd have chosen him over the world if that's what she was implying. She had to much principle, was to good, to have ever made the decision he did.
"Its like I said at the base of the Frozen Throne's spire," she said with grief, "We truly do deserve eachother. We..."
Arthas watches as something in his Queen cracks and crumbles.
"We're both monsters."
He moves to support her after a few seconds, to realize he should. Wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his chest and holds her as she cries. All the while though... he doesn't understand. They're both going to become as such one they return to Lordaeron, he perhaps already has betraying her and his men. But...
Why in the world would she think she already was one?
Kel'Thuzad stares at Tichondrius in careful consideration. "I was under the impression that this was to be my role. My purpose."
"Oh, you can still have your little lichdom," mocks Tichondrius, "The High Elves and their Sunwell will need to fall before the summoning commences regardless, but once the time comes, Proudmoore will be the summoner. It is not negotiable."
"I am not sure she is capable of funneling the energies necessary," Kel'Thuzad lies smoothly, "She is still young and inexperienced. Will Lord Archimonde truly risk the Legion's plans on one who is still but a child?"
The dreadlord laughs darkly. "Underestimate the mage if you so wish, little necromancer, but she has all the power and control she needs to do so."
"And the essence?" Kel'Thuzad poses cautiously, watching as the dreadlord's amusement faded, "There are reasons more than the breaking of the High Elves that we aim to rebirth me from their Sunwell."
"Ner'zhul is careless in what details he lets slip," hissed Tichondrius, sneering, "Worry not, Kel'Thuzad, the girl is more than tainted enough, infused enough, to resonate with the required spells properly."
That makes no sense. The infusions they did to defile Jaina are surely not enough to resonate with the demonic spellwork of this magnitude.
"She is a sinner beyond your understanding," says Tichondrius darkly, a hushed whisper escaping his lips, "This will not be the first demonic ritual she has willingly been a part of, deceived into it or not."
Oh.
The Book of Medivh.
The spell that pull them back in time.
That murdered an entire timeline.
Kel'Thuzad had not enjoyed being a part of that despite the fact that he continues to exist. He had been an unwitting passenger, trapped in the book, his clever secret phylactery, but her? Jaina had taken the demon's hand willingly, had helped protect the dreadlord long enough to cast it. Perhaps the demon was right. Its ironic, that one decision damned and sullied her hands worse than his, worse than their Arthas. Technically, that spell resulted in more death than the entire Legion combined.
He wonders mildly how she copes with that fact.
Has she truly understood the scope of her actions?
Of what she helped the dreadlord do?
"I see," he said, carefully noting the Lich King's sharp interest in the dreadlord's words.
"How curious," murmurs the Lich King, "That I recall no demonic ritual in her memories. Perhaps the spellwork to protect her deepest secrets from me is demonic in nature? Yet she strived so harshly against them..."
"He did say she was deceived in some manor," Kel'Thuzad points out.
The Lich King grunts, but doesn't speak further.
"Are we clear, necromancer?" posed Tichondrius.
"Yes, we are clear," said Kel'Thuzad quietly, watching the demon turn and stalk away.
Again and again he fails his promise to his King.
The fact that Jaina is going to be used to summon the Legion is yet another blow that will work to destroy her.
Yet...
Why the focus?
The demon won his little bet with Jaina.
He had selected his target well, used her and got what he wanted.
So why is he still so interesting in her?