With a swift left swing, Arthas decapitated the last Ice Troll. It's head landed on the thick snow, the blood pouring painted the snow red.
Panting, the Menethil grab his rune blade from the ground and throw away the spear he took from one of the Ice Troll.
Without any thoughts, he continues his path.
The blade glows, vibrating from his hold. Seemingly unpleasant, but Arthas could careless. He will reach the encampment, some sword's feelings can go to hell for all he cares.
The snow however, doesn't seem to be slowing down. It only gets heavier, making it harder for the Prince to move.
"Trying to hold me back, Frostmourne?"
Ner'Zhul, heard him but he didn't respond. He will end the Prince's life here, before he could reach the encampment. Alas, his prison limits him and could only have control of the snowstorm.
It has been three days since Arthas started his journey back. And exactly three days he hasn't used the rune blade's power.
It was impressive for Ner'Zhul, to see the Prince going barehanded against four armed Ice Trolls. His way of fighting, wild and unpredictable yet always in control. But destiny arrives, all the same.
After another day of travelling,
Pale faced, his once golden hair that falls to his shoulder now dirty white. The Prince couldn't stop now, not after he regained of what's left of his will.
Each step he took, gets heavier however.
He continues on, though before he could take another step, he fell on his knee. Exhausted written on his face, his breath quickens. His body's freezing.
He tried to hold on but the green from his eyes flickers away.
'Alas, Prince Arthas Menethil. Your fate, arrives.'
Ner'Zhul darkly chuckled, his laughter echoed in the Menethil borne surrounding.
Arthas fell on the snowy ground, his eyes closing. Darkness creeping upon the lifeless Prince. Under his last breath, he muttered,
"Jaina..."
And when all hopes seems to fades, the cloud's torn apart and descended the Light, upon it's redeeming servant.
'Impossible..! How are you still blessed by the Light!?'
The runic blade vibrates even stronger, 'So be it, Prince. However, when you wake up, you will see your men, ravaged by my army.'
Ner'Zhul growled from the hissing Light upon it's touch. The glowing Frostmourne then faded, a sign of the Dark Lord immediate absence.
From the far distance, a figure emerge from the heavy blizzard. "Your Highness...!!!"
Jolted, the necklace she was holding slipped and fell on the floor. The Proudmoore Princess halted on her tracks.
"Arthas...?"
She softly called to no one, and a sudden sadness gripped her heart. Her breathing unstable, her mana fluctuate.
She picked up the necklace with care and held it on her chest while her eyes glowed. Her mana flaring wildly as if disturbed.
The Princess tried to control her mana, but the sorrow, brought so much discomfort.
Her face grimmed, she opened the necklace and a picture of Arthas was kept inside. She closed her eyes, feeling uneasy for her Prince.
There was no denying it, a major part of her regretted leaving him, she could've helped him make a better decision. She could've helped him contain the plague from spreading out.
Hell, she would've helped him in the culling.
But her morals overwhelmed her true feelings. She is still someone who could not bear killing innocents, children even. To watch her lover slaughtering them, is even worse. Thus, she left with a heavy heart.
Though because of her decision, she severed whatever is left of their relationship herself. Knowing or without knowing.
Tears dropped from her face, hoping for the safety of her Prince as she wasn't sure if she could overcome the agony and torment in her heart, if he were to meet a terrible fate.
"Captain...!!"
The frantic scream of a footmen snapped Falric back to reality, giving the footmen his attention.
"At ease, boy. What happened?" The Captain asked, his muscle tense, worrying another attack of the undead.
For months, they have been barely surviving. The aftermath of their last raid on Mal'Ganis has been taking a huge toll on them.
It did not help with the fact that their only means of escaping Northrend, was destroyed by the mercenaries, damning them in the frozen hell. They made sure the mercenaries paid with blood for what they did.
At first, it wasn't all that bad, until their Prince disappeared wth no trace. The snowstorm were too heavy for them to go out far and search for the Prince.
Thank the Light they were the 1st Legion of Lordaeron, if it were to be a normal person, they would've fallen into insanity and frozen to death.
"It's the Prince!"
Falric shot up from his chair, hope filled his once dreadful face. His feet quick to run outside the military tent only to meet the unconscious Prince carried by his footmen.
He looked different, no more the blonde, only a few locks and the rest are dirty light grey. His face, no more the immature Prince from Lordaeron, now carries a face of someone who lives through hardships his whole life. Rugged and unkempt.
After carefully searching for any vital signs. He felt it, the beating of the Prince's heart. Though faintly.
"He's alive, barely. Quick, carry him to the priests!"
His command swift, and not a second spent before they rush to the medical tent.
"The rest of you, back to your post!"
The footmen scurried back, but there was no denying it that they were overjoyed from the Prince's return.
The moment Arthas wakes up, his head was immediately attacked by headaches. His mind fuzzy and his vision blurry.
He winces in pain, scrunching his face. A hand suddenly reaches out to his shoulder
In an instant, the Prince abruptly jumped, immediately being on his guard. Reaching for his blade, only to find he was not wearing his armor. Nor is his weapon anywhere near his sight.
"Prince Arthas! It is I, Falric!" The Captain pleaded.
He took a moment to register his face, until he realised it was his old friend. The one of the few who stayed loyal to him no matter his decision.
"Falric?" The Prince called his name in disbelief. He thought he was already done for, buried under the storm of endless blizzard.
The last thing he remembered before he closed his eyes, were darkness. Trying to reach him while he's on his last breath.
'What happened, then...?' He wondered, still bewildered.
Falric let out a sigh of relief, "Your highness, we are so glad you have returned. But, what happened to you, Prince Arthas? You seems different, your Highness."
The Prince gives Falric a tired glance, "The blade. It changed me."
Eyes widened, Falric paled, remembering the blade that was sheathed besides the Prince. It's appearance alone brings chills towards them.
An unfortunate priest grabbed the sword while they were taking off the Prince's armor. The poor lad kept saying he saw endless carnage and atrocities.
Falric took it upon himself to keep the sword away from anyone, and hid it. Until the Prince wake up, he will not let the sword out.
"What sort of blade was that, your Highness?" Curiously asked the Captain.
The Prince sat on the bed, he scowled at the mention of the sword again, "It will do no good, shall it fall under the wrong hands, Falric. The blade, carried upon itself, destruction."
His eyebrows furrowed, his fist tightened. "If-- if it wasn't for the Light. I would've been the very first to fall under the blade's curse."
Sweats trickled down from the Captain's forehead. But he gulped down his unknown fear, "Whatever shall we do now then, Prince Arthas?"
Raising his head, the Prince's gaze met the Captain, "I need to know the situation first."
The room turned grim however, when Falric frowned and curses, "The damned undead have been relentlessly attacking our encampment..!!"
He took out a map and presented it to the Prince, "They have been attacking our west lately, the same direction we found you, Prince Arthas. Their forces are growing with each attacks, while ours, slowly plummeting..."
The latter took the map, he keenly observed the map and carefully think for a strategy.
"How long until the next attack?"
Falric were silent for a few seconds, "About... Four days, your Highness. Last attack took them five days. The next one, we predicted they will double their forces again."
Arthas could see how the Captain visibly shaking from mentioning the upcoming attack. The horror and despair they went through for months endlessly. He sees it all just from Falric's darkened face.
He gritted his teeth, he wishes he was there for them just how they stayed and fight for him against Mal'Ganis.
He wanted to tell his men that it is alright now. But he knew and realised that it never was. They were still trapped in Northrend, he regretted what he did, he truly did.
However, with enemies at their door. He must stand, now or never, and lead his men once again.
"Falric, bring the blade to me." He muttered.
"What!? But your Highness, you said it yourself, the blade is cursed!" Falric exclaimed, his tone rising.
"Exactly because of that, I will wield it! The Light will guide me once again, that, I am confident."
He looked down on his hand, a faintly golden hue surrounded his body. It seems only he could see it as Falric didn't seem to take notice of it.
Nonetheless, the Light is with him, so long as his faith is strong. So long as he fights for what is right, the Light will guide him.
"Prince Arthas..."
With one last glance over the Captain, Prince Arthas left the tent. "There is no other choice, Falric. For I will bear the burden of the curse, to protect what is left of us."
End Of Chapter
To be honest, I only have a rough plan and route for this fanfic. I haven't truly gone into details myself. But I think you guys got the jist of what kind of fanfic this is.
Also, the pairing haven't been decided yet and probably won't until-- Idk, maybe after 60 chapters? We'll see.
Oh yeah, one thing about me tho; I'm not really that knowledgeable in writing someone's actions. So, expect some awkwardness.
Reply to the reviews;
Yeah, I'm actually quite upset that there's not a lot of Arthas fanfic with HIM as the mc. So I thought, fcck it, Imma write one with my mid level writing skills xD
I'm broke, so I don't think I can do any commission T-T
