Spectre: Chapter might be a bit melodramatic. And a bit rushed if you get my drift.
WeirdBlockPoints: While it's a pretty fun idea to imagine a purified Frostmourne, there isnt't really to purify of it since it's basically part of Ner'Zhul's essence and he is just pure evil.
Aclux: Of course, Jaina certainly won't be the Lich Queen. But Garithos? I might make him the Nral version, if you get what I mean.
Iskandar Hero: I'm still on the fence. On one hand, I think a redeemed Prince Arthas trying to help her get back to her feet from all the trauma sounded pretty swell while the other is basically almost weird since I think Arthas would be a little on edge on basically falling in love with one of his victim.
Zeilke: Oh yes, it appears I sort of forgot that Arthas still has a semblance of sanity when he killed Mal'Ganis. Thanks for the reminder!
Chapter 15: Revelations
Why? Why you did you do it?
It was a question Jaina asked to Arthas as he lay down motionless, but alive as she checked on him right after the healers had been finished. It has been two weeks since they left Northrend, and considering the amount of time spent going there, it's more than likely they'll spend at least half a month at sea.
With turmoil within, she kept looking at his face for any sign of him waking up. Mal'Ganis had been powerful for the three of them to finish off, and Arthas chose to risk his own well-being to pick up the cursed weapon again to make sure no one else, particularly her as she remembered the Dreadlord on the cusp of having her soul claimed runeblade, would suffer its madness.
Again.
Again.
Again.
"Mistakes," he murmured, "that changed the course of history. Mistakes that claimed the lives of those I loved and the very soul of our world."
There was no more doubt about it. Arthas knew what was happening around him and how they played out. From the way he spoke and acted at Andorhal, the way he made extensive preparations to save the population at Stratholme as much as he could. And the way he acted at Northrend...when he finally found the runeblade he sought to destroy.
She knelt beside him, stroking his hair. "Arthas," she whispered, hoping he would hear her somehow. "What have you done? And what do you know?"
The Archmage cradled his head. "Wake up," she pleadingly whispered. "You have a home to go back to where your people need you." She leaned closer. "And I... I need you," she could feel her voice crack when she said those words. The pain he hid, and the pain he had shown her in these past few months all left a fresh memory within her, a sight she wouldn't soon forget.
"I DONT WAN'T TO BE A MONSTER AGAIN"
"I need the man I know you are, not the monster you fear you could become.", she whispered, before she took his right hand, feeling the unnaturally cold skin. Curious with caution, she pulled the glove out slowly where she gasped at the sight of his arm below his elbow, which was gray now tinged with an icy blue hue. "What is this?" she murmured to herself, her eyes wide with concern and curiosity.
She had never seen anything like it before. Which the question immediately came to her mind: did Frostmourne did this?
Her thoughts were interrupted to find Falric entering the sick bay, immediately concerned of her current mood. "Lady Jaina?" he called out. "Is there something wrong
The Archmage's gaze remained fixed on the Prince's right arm as she spoke in both awe and disbelief. "Look at his hand...arm, Falric," she beckoned.
Falric moved closer to her, looking over his prince. "What is it?" he asked in both worry and curiosity.
The two looked on the unnaturally tinged skin of his right arm. "I don't know," she sighed in worry. "The rest of him is as warm as ever, but his arm... it's cold...really cold." Falric's own hand hovered over Arthas's forehead, feeling the warmth in contrast of his arm.
The Captain couldn't believe with what he was both seeing and feeling. "What happened back there?" he questioned inquisitively.
Jaina took a deep breath, looking over his...cursed or infected arm. "It's hard to say Falric," she begant. "Frostmourne...it's not just a weapon or an artifact. It's a prison, a curse. It's the reason why Arthas pursued it, other than rescuing Muradin."
"But...how?", Falric questioned. From his experience from the Second War, he knew magic or some other variant was there. But he never realized as to how dangerous it had been when Arthas pursued it.
She paused for a moment before he continued. "It holds a piece of the Lich King's very soul within it. And Arthas...he...he used it to save me and Muradin from Mal'Ganis."
Falric looked at her in disbelief. "But why?" he asked in a hurry. "If it was so dangerous, why would he risk it?"
The sorceress could not bear to look at the captain. "Because he fully intend to destroy it with all the fibre of his well being," she whispered. "But something happened before he could be able to do so."
"And what was that?" the Captain managed to ask.
"Mal'Ganis," she said, her voice filled with a mix of anger and dread. "He was there, Falric. He stopped Arthas from destroying the blade, calling it unwise...he..." She paused, tightening her grip at his hand despite the cold. "He wanted Arthas to take the blade, but when he refused and claimed that he won't become a pawn to someone called Ner'Zhul, he decided to attack the three of us in the cave."
Falric pieced out what she meant. "The blade," he murmured in shock and horror. "It's...it's cursed."
"When Arthas tried to destroy it first, Mal'Ganis decided to replace him with another one instead when it was clear to him that he would be of any part of whatever schemes they plan", Jaina continued. "Then...we fought him...but we were no match for him..."
Falric leaned in. "Then what?", he softly asked.
Jaina's eyes were filled with regret as she continued. "When Mal'Ganis saw that I was trying to keep Arthas away from him, he had other ideas," she continued her narration. "He said that if Arthas wouldn't embrace his fate, then perhaps someone else would. He tried to force the blade upon me," Jaina paused to take a deep breath, feeling her heartbeat accelerate further from remembering the trauma. "Knowing that I would be the one to bear the curse...or at least have my soul taken from it."
The Captain couldn't believe it. A sword that can rob a wielder or the opponent's soul?
"But Arthas..." Jaina's voice began to break down, thretening to break the dam that her emotions could carry. "He stepped in forward, took the blade, and faced the Dreadlord."
Falric's expression was a mix of shock and horror. "Why?" he choked out. "Why would he risk it all?"
Jaina's gaze remained on Arthas's still form. "Because...he wouldn't let that happen to anyone," she admitted, her own voice breaking down. "He knew that whoever took the blade would curse anyone. And he...he couldn't bear to see that happen. He took the fall for me, Falric. He took on the curse, and risked his own well-being to save me."
Falric looked at Jaina, looking in both anger and in dismay at her. "But why did you let him?" he reluctantly and harshly demanded. "Why didn't you stop him?"
The sorceress looked up at him, looking pained. "Because he didn't want me to suffer that fate," she whispered. "And now..." a sob threatened to escape her mouth. "Now, I fear that by trying to protect me, he's doomed himself."
The two of them went silent. The Captain turned to her, looking for some semblance of hope, but all he found was the reflection of his own fear. "What do we do now?" he asked in complete worry.
"We take him home. To Lordaeron. Dalaran. Quel'thalas. Any place that could help him.", she wasn't sure what she was saying anymore. "But...I don't know if they even know what was going on with him."
Jaina buried her face in the soft cushion of Arthas's bed, sobbing in despair. Falric approached her cautiously and he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, trying to offer what little solace he could. "It's not your fault, Lady Jaina," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You couldn't have known what that blade was capable of."
Jaina looked up at him, her eyes red and swollen. "But I should have," she whispered. "I've studied all my life, I should have known what it was capable off." Falric knelt beside her. "But you didn't," he said gently. "And that's what makes you stronger. He knew that."
"He did what he thought was right," he continued. "What he had to do. He didn't take up that blade for power or for vengeance as he could have for Mal'Ganis, but for us. For all of us."
Jaina nodded, her tears soaking the pillow beneath her. "He's always been that way," she murmured. "Always sacrificing himself for others."
Falric's grip on her shoulder tightened slightly. "And he risked it all to protect you, despite the cost." He paused to look at her. "That's why I consider him to be the best among us."
He stood up. "I have to check on the others and ensure we are on the correct course," he stated as he turned to the door. If there's anything else you need, pleasecall for me."
Jaina offered a weak smile. "Thank you, Falric," she whispered. Falric returned the smile before he turned and left the sick bay, the door creaking shut behind him.
Alone, Jaina leaned closer to the Prince, her hand still wrapped around his cold one. "Arthas," she whispered hopefully. "You made a promise to me once, do you remember? That no matter what happens, you would never push me away again." Her grip on his hand tightened, her eyes searching his still face for any sign of recognition. "And I promised that I would never leave your side," she continued. "Now, I need you to hold onto that promise. I need you to come back."
The silence was deafening to her, but she continued. "I don't know what's happening to you," she confessed. "But...please, Arthas," she begged, trembling. "You can't leave me here alone with all these fears. You can't leave Falric, or Muradin, or any of us who believe in you. We need you."
"I'll be here, Arthas," she promised. "I'll be here. Just come back to me."
Muradin had trouble moving on his own, especially since that blasted Dreadlord did a number on to his ribs. But fortunately, the healers have managed to patch him up, but was also walking with a cane temporarily to support himself. "How fare the waters?" he asked the Captain, who overlooked the sea before him.
"Treacherous but we sail steadfast," Falric replied. "Two weeks more until we reach Lordaeron's shores, if the winds remain in our favor."
Muradin sighed, leaning over the railing. "And Arthas?" he asked in worry.
"The same," Falric replied with the same tone of regret and frustration. "He has not stirred since we left Northrend."
"And the lass?"
"She remains by his side," Falric answered him, admiring the Archmage's resillience. "Day and night, she watches over him, refusing to leave his side."
The two men fell into silence, the creaking of the ship's timbers and the cries of the seagulls above the only sounds that filled the space between them. "What of his arm?" Muradin asked.
Falric looked down at his own hands, remembering the chilling cold that had seeped through his gauntlets. "It's...still as it is, and as cold as ice, and looking as if it decayed in a treacherous snowstorm" he murmured. "But his body is warm, his breathing steady. If we are being optimistic, he was not fully cursed as Lady Proudmoore stated, but he did not leave unscathed."
"Has King Terenas or Lord Uther been informed yet?", Muradin asked.
Falric took a moment to think then shook his head. "No, we have not," he admitted. "We sent no ravens, made no reports. The truth is..." he swallowed hard, "we don't know what to tell them."
Muradin's eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Why not?" he asked.
The knight sighed heavily. "Because if the word reaches Lordaeron that their crown prince has been...infected..." He trailed off, unable to voice the fear that had taken him. "It would be very concerning," Falric continued. "The people need to believe in their leaders, in their heroes. To learn that their prince has been tainted by the same evil who brought the plague to the Kingdom...might even be more problematic."
Muradin nodded as he digested the information. "And the King?" he murmured.
"King Terenas..." Falric paused, then sighed. "If he is to learn that his heir might be lost as well...I fear for his sanity, Muradin."
The dwarf's hand tightened around his warhammer, his jaw clenching. "And Uther?" he prompted.
Falric looked over to the sea as if it would give him the answers he needed. "Uther..." He took a deep breath. "Not yet. We do not know what to tell him."
"You think he'd blame us?"
The knight nodded solemnly. "I do not know what he would do," Falric confessed. "But I fear that the shock and the pain might drive him to question our loyalty, our judgment. And in such a state, who knows what he might do?"
The dwarf nodded. "Then it is best that we handle this ourselves," he decided. "We could only hope that Jaina would be able to talk some sense if they start asking questions."
Falric nodded. Although he was curious at one thing. "Muradin, given that you have taught Arthas when he was a child and have plenty of adventures with him, do you know anything between him and Lady Proudmoore by any chance?"
The dwarf's gaze softened. "Aye," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "These two were an item when they were younger He even told me of it," Muradin continued, "but I never knew for certain. But fate had other plans and they separated abruptly." he murmured. "Even in the darkest of times, that love remained. It was something that kept him anchored to the light, to the good within him. And when we were fighting side by side, I could see it in his eyes, in his determination to protect her. It was as if she was his light in the abyss that he fell into."
Falric nodded. "And now," he whispered, "now she is the one trying to save him."
"It seems fate has a twisted sense of humor," Muradin continued. "But if anyone can pull him back from the brink, it's her. She's strong, that one. Stronger than any of us give her credit for."
The two men stood in silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the prince and the sorceress. The wind picked up, carrying with it the salty scent of the sea and the promise of battles yet to come.
Back in the dimly lit sick bay, Jaina sat beside Arthas, her eyes red-rimmed from a lack of sleep and an excess of worry. His hand remained in hers, her faith unyielding as she tstayed by his side. As she carefully adjusted the blanket over his chest, her gaze fell upon a crumpled piece of parchment that had slipped from his pocket. It was a map of Azeroth, its edges frayed and its surface marred with hastily scribbled notes in both black and crimson ink.
Jaina picked up the map. Where she saw Kel'thuzad's name, the crimson ink stark against the parchment. The name was encircled, with 'capture or kill' written beneath it, the word 'capture' underlined multiple times.
"Andorhal," she said to herself, eyes widening as she remembered their investigation of the plague. The haunted look in his eyes, the way he had spoken of the necromancer with such intensity, the way he had insisted on capturing Kel'thuzad rather than killing him outright.
She thought back in the confrontation Kel'thuzad, the way Arthas had moved with a precision that seemed almost rehearsed, as if he had known exactly where to find the him and what to expect from him. She remembered the way he had studied him. And that was the first time she surmised that he was hiding something from her.
Then, there's 'Baron Rivendare' who is said to be a confidant of Kel'thuzad's Cult of the Damned who also act as Stratholme's Lord Protector, who had been working with the House of Barov in spreading the plague all throughout Lordaeron. What's more, the way Arthas kept close contact with Marwyn, especially when they are at Heartglen, only increased her suspicions "He's been planning this for some time," she murmured, her thumb tracing the line of the city's walls and to the evacuation camp that they have set up beforehand.
'Stratholme' came next with the word 'evacuate' scribbled. She remembered. Arthas did what he could to make sure the plague doesn't spread in the city, succeeding until human error in Rivendare's replacement as the ruler of the city resulted in the plague still spreading in a far smaller scale, but she could remember the regret Arthas displayed, as well as his desperation to save those he still could from those he couldn't. As well as her and Uther being forced to participate to protect those they could still save. And it remained a haunting memory for her.
The next was Mal'Ganis written in an angered manner judging by his handwriting, with the words kill immediately followed by failed and to be killed at Northrend at all costs. She could remember facing the Dreadlord the first time at Stratholme, but when she looked at Arthas, it looked as if he was all too familiar given his contempt and his anger at the Dreadlord, but also being careful in not letting vengeance guide his path. It was uncanny, as if he had faced Mal'Ganis beforehand, but she could not piece out as to how and why.
Her eyes fell upon the most chilling notation of all: 'Frostmourne' with the words 'destroy at all costs' scribbled beneath it. Jaina felt a cold shiver run down her spine. She glanced at Arthas, his chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breath, and her heart ached with the weight of her suspicion. "Could he have..."
Somehow...she came to the conclusion that Arthas knew of all of this and sought different results.
Or that for some reason...he came back from a future that happened to correct these errors. Despite how absurd that sounded.
Jaina carefully unfolded the crumpled parchment, revealing more of Arthas' frantic scribbles. The name 'Frostmourne' was prominent, surrounded by a web of lines and notes that spoke of its power and its curse. Her thoughts swirled like a tempest. The way he had spoken of the blade with such conviction, the cold fury that had burned in his eyes when he saw it sealed—it was as if he had faced it before. And yet, she had never seen this side of Arthas before.
The Archmage felt she had uncovered the biggest discovery of them all. One that made her ask more questions than receive any snwers before.
"He's been through this all before," she murmured in realization. "But why? Why didn't he tell us?" she asked herself, her grip tightening around the parchment. She recalled the countless times he had closed himself off from them. Is this...why he was insistent on keeping everything a secret?
Jaina's heart skipped a beat when she heard the faint rustling of the blanket beside her. The Prince's eyes fluttered open, which she quickly folded the incriminating map and slipped it into her pocket. She turned to him, her eyes brimming with relief and concern. "You're awake," she softly said in relief.
Arthas sat up, disoriented. "Where are we?", he questioned.
"We're on the flagship, Resolute." she replied, her voice calm despite the turmoil in her heart. "We've left Northrend as soon as we can and we're heading back to Lordaeron."
The Prince looked around for a moment. "Frostmourne? And Mal'Ganis?", he asked.
Jaina swallowed hard, her gaze never leaving Arthas's. "When we fled the cavern, Mal'Ganis and Frostmourne were left behind," she confessed where she watch as understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by anger and disappointment.
Arthas's hand shot up to cover his face, his fingers digging into his skin. "Damn it," he whispered in utter frustration. "We had them in our grasp, and now...now they're out there, waiting..."
Jaina reached out to touch his arm gently. "I know," she empathetically told him. "But we couldn't risk it all then. We needed to get you out, to keep you safe."
"Still, we shouldn't have left that to chance...", Arthas mumbled.
He looked down at his right arm, the icy blue tint stark against his pale skin, feeling the unnatural cold emanating from it even through the thick fabric of the blanket. The sight of it brought back the memory of the darkened chamber. He had felt it before, but never so strongly, never so close to the surface. Jaina's gentle voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Your hand," she began in a concerning tone. "It's been like this for two weeks, Arthas. The healers are baffled. They've never seen anything like it."
"I know," Arthas looked down at his glowing right arm, the very essence of the Lich King's power pulsating within his veins. "But it's a risk I was willing to take."
Jaina's gaze was filled with confusion and concern. "What do you mean, Arthas?" she asked tentatively.
"Jaina," Arthas began. "When I held the blade in my grasp, I felt something... something other than the cold." He paused. "It was the Lich King, Ner'Zhul," he whispered, the name leaving his lips like a curse. "He was there, in the blade, trying to claim me once more."
"What? How is that even possible?" she stammered. She had heard that name before. Antonidas had fought his Death Knights during the Second War along with the Sons of Lothar, but from what she knew, Ner'Zhul was an Orc. Not an undead being.
"He's always been there. But this time, it was different. This time, he was so close, I could almost feel his grip around my soul." He clenched his fist, the veins on his hand standing out. "If I had held onto the blade any longer, I fear I would not be standing here before you, free of his control."
The mage looked at Arthas staring at his right arm and hand, as if it resonated with him. "But...how is it you know all of it? And the way you act, especially since it looked like you're familiar with what was happening with your hand."
He took a look at her.
There was no point in keeping any secrets any longer. He knew that she had to know, to make sure the rest are prepared at what's to come, even in spite of the tremendous risks that came along with it. He took a deep breath."Jaina," he began in a trembling. "I've... I've lived through this before. Everything—Kel'thuzad, Frostmourne, the Lich King. Because...I made it all happen..."
He looked at the Sorceress, his eyes becoming fearful as they are pained. "Because I...was the Lich King..."
Jaina felt the blood drain from her face as she stared at Arthas, her eyes searching his for any sign of deception, but all she found was the truth under his features. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. "Arthas, what are you saying?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
It was now or never.
"I am telling you the truth, Jaina," he said in low, regretful tone. "And it was something that...I kept with me to all this time."
"That can't be true, Arthas," Jaina choked out. "You can't have...been the Lich King. There has to be some mistake, some misunderstanding."
But after all she had learned, from him. The map she recovered. And the way he had acted all throughout together. It was all coming together.
But, a monster? Him? Of all people?
Arthas solemnly and sorrowfully looked at her. "There is no mistake, Jaina. I had falle to the whispers of Frostmourne and became the very monster I swore to destroy. I have lived through the destruction of my own kingdom, the betrayal of my mentor, the genocide of my own people. I perished at the very humanity I sought to extinguish. And in my final moments...I found myself returned in the comfort of a Lordaeron that still lives before everything that happened."
Her mind raced with a thousand questions, but she could only manage to whisper, "How?"
"I don't know," Arthas admitted, he wasn't even sure if he could tell him that his father sent him back. "All I know is that...I wouldn't let anything that happened before...happen again..."
Jaina leaned over to the wall of the ship. Is this...why he was so distant to her before? Because he was so ashamed and so afraid of everything that he had done? "How could you tell...?", she uttered out.
Arthas knew he had to explain to her, brushing past his own guilt and self-loathing. "Andorhal...I failed to prevent the grain from being transported to Stratholme...and I killed Kel'thuzad as opposed to capturing him."
"And Stratholme?", Jaina fearfully asked. In spite of the chaos that happened at the city, Arthas saved most of the people inside by preventing them into consuming tainted grain, only marred by human error that happened there.
The Prince bit lip. "...purged.", he admitted with such guilt and pain that she never saw before.
Her hand reached up to her chest. "Arthas, tell me you didn't," she whispered, her voice shaking. The thought of her friend, her confidant, her loved one committing such atrocities was unbearable.
"I did," he admitted with pain and regret. "The purging of Stratholme was beginning. I couldn't bear the thought of losing more people to the Scourge, so I acted in haste and anger. I don't even know what I was doing back there. Other than having my revenge on Mal'Ganis"
Jaina's mind reeled with confusion. "But I was there with Uther," she protested, her voice rising slightly. "We were all fighting together, saving the people we could. How could it have been like that?"
"The timeline has changed, Jaina," he interrupted. "In the version of events I remember, I was alone in that decision, consumed by the desire to purge the city of all life rather than risk the spread of the plague. It was a moment of madness that I can never take back, and one that set me on the path to becoming the Lich King."
The Archmage didn't know what to come up with that sort of confession. "But why? Why didn't you tell us?"
He squeezed his eyes shut in self-loathing. "Because I was afraid," he confessed. "Afraid of what I was becoming, and what it would do to us. I didn't want you to see me like that, to fear me as so many others did."
Jaina felt as though her world had been shattered into a million pieces, each shard a question about the man she thought she knew so well. "But you...you did everything you could to save people," she whispered, her voice shaking. "You fought alongside us, you protected those we couldn't...why would you say you did those things?"
Arthas could no longer look at her directly in the eye. "Because every action has a consequence, Jaina," he answered her. "The choices I made now, in the present, were at least made to mitigate the damage that was caused before..."
The mage could, but barely, put the pieces together. "Then Northrend...Mal'Ganis...and Frostmourne?"
"In my original timeline, Northrend was where it all began," he began to explain. "Where I allowed vengeance to be my judgement. I sought the power to save my people, but in doing so, I damned them all." His gaze drifted to the hand that had once wielded Frostmourne, the very hand that had brought about the downfall of his kingdom. "Mal'Ganis and Frostmourne were tied to my fate, the seeds for the horrors I've wrought. If I can destroy them before eberything else happens...then perhaps everything woud change."
He continued. "But since Mal'Ganis and Frostmourne are still out there...I can only pray that we would find a way to stop it..."
Jaina felt as if a dagger had been plunged into her heart.
She desperately hoped for any hint of deception, but all she saw was the truth and the torment his memories as a monster inflicted on him. "What happened next?"
"After Northrend... everything spiraled out of control." He paused, collecting his thoughts, his eyes distant as if gazing into the abyss of his own personal hell. "Lordaeron fell to the Scourge," he continued, each word a painful reminder of his failure. "The people I had sworn to protect, the lands that were my birthright, all ravaged by the very weapon I sought to destroy."
Her eyes grew wide with horror as she felt his words sinking in like a cold stone into her heart. "Falric and Marwyn," she murmured, her voice cracking. "They were your friends, Arthas."
Arthas nodded painfully as his features showed it. "Falric and Marwyn," he said, the names tasting bitter on his tongue. "They fell in Northrend, by my hand." His eyes grew distant, as if seeing the events unfold before him once more. "In my quest for power, I was blind to the cost. I raised them as Death Knights," he whispered, the words leaving him with a sense of profound loss and guilt. "They were my brothers in arms, my friends...and I turned them into monsters."
Jaina's eyes filled with tears, and she could feel her heart breaking for him. "What about your father?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
The prince's gaze fell to the floor.
Jaina watched as his shoulders slumped, his face in pain as he wrestled with the darkest memories of his past. Tears streamed down his cheeks, leaving trails that glistened in the candlelight. "Jaina," he began, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession, "When I returned to Lordaeron, the plague had already taken hold. Father...King Terenas..." He choked in anguish. "I killed him," Arthas sobbed, the confession tearing him apart. "I killed him with my own hands."
Jaina's heart shattered into a million pieces as she stared at the man she loved and admired. The prince she had known was gone, replaced by a being of sorrow and regret. She reached out tentatively, her hand hovering over his shoulder, unsure of what to say or do. "And Uther?"
"Uther," he uttered his name. "My mentor. I slew him as well," he continued. "To take my father's urn and disposed of his ashes, and replaced them with Kel'thuzad's remains."
The mage felt her world crumble around her. The man before her was not the heroic figure she had known; he was a lost soul, haunted by the atrocities he had committed. "Why would...you do this?" she managed to ask, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own breaking heart.
"I don't even know anymore." His voice was a hollow shell of the commanding presence it once held. "Whatever reasoning that I did drowned in the slaughter. Not even caring what happens next as long as it suited me.I led the Scourge through the forests of Quel'Thalas, leaving a trail of death and destruction in our wake. The elves, once our allies, became our enemies as I sought the power to resurrect Kel'Thuzad as an Archlich."
"Their city, their culture, their very lives...I didn't just destroy, I obliterated it. All for the sake of the Scourge. I defiled the Sunwell and almost brought the High Elves to the brin of extinction."
The mage couldn't believe what she was hearing. She was overwhelmed. Horrified. Angry. Fearful. She couldn't even know what she was hearing anymore.
Jaina's eyes grew wide with horror, her hand moving to cover her mouth as if to hold in a scream that never came. "Dal...Dalaran?" she whispered. "No, Arthas, please tell me it isn't so," she begged, her eyes searching his for any shred of the lie she so desperately hoped to find.
"Dalaran," Arthas painfully repeated. "Jaina, I'm so sorry," he murmured. "In my previous life, I led Kel'Thuzad and the Scourge to the very gates of your beloved city. I watched as they slaughtered everyone in their path, as if the lives of the innocent were mere stepping stones on my path to power." His fists clenched tightly at the thought.
Jaina felt a cold chill run down her spine, her eyes widening in horror at the cruel revelation. "Antonidas...no," she whispered, the very thought of her mentor and the fall of her beloved city too much to bear. "You...you killed them all?"
His grief and regrets threatened to swallow him. "Most of them," he confirmed. "In my thirst for power, I betrayed everything I had ever held dear. The Kirin Tor fell before my blade. Antonidas..." He paused, his voice cracking. "I killed him with Frostmourne, Jaina. I watched the light leave his eyes, the very essence of his being snuffed out like a candle in the wind, only to obtain spellbook."
Jaina felt as if Arthas' words pierced her soul like the sharpest of dagger thrusts. "A spellbook," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of shock and disbelief. "You did all of this... for a spellbook?"
"To summon Archimonde and the Burning Legion," he answered her with a profound sense of self-loathing.
The color drained from Jaina's face as the reality of Arthas' confession sank in. Her eyes was already pleading for any hint that this was but a terrible, twisted nightmare. "This can't be true," she choked out, and she was sobbing. "Please, Arthas, tell me it's not true," she begged, her hands tightening around his arms as if to keep herself from falling apart.
"Every word I've spoken is the truth of what happened in the timeline I was torn from." He reached for her hand, his eyes filled with a hope that seemed almost too fragile to hold. "If you even wish...you could see it for yourself..."
Jaina stared at his hand outstretched hand, her eyes filled with a tumult of emotions. For a moment, she was torn between the urge to slap it away and the burning need to know if his words were true. "You expect me to just...read your mind?" she said, her voice trembling with anger and disbelief.
"If it will help you understand, if it will help you believe... then yes," he replied, his voice steady despite the tremble in his hand. "I have nothing to hide from you now, Jaina. Nothing but the truth."
Jaina took a moment to process the overwhelming revelation. The man she had trusted, the prince she had once loved, had been the harbinger of such unspeakable horrors in another time.
Her heart and was screaming at her to not do it if she wished it to be whole.
But her mind, her unsatiated curiosity and desire to know what happened to Arthas. Why he acted like this. Eventually, it won out.
With trembling hands, she reached out to grasp Arthas's hand, her eyes searching his for any sign that he was lying. His gaze remained steadfast, the green of his eyes piercing hers with a desperation that she had never seen before.
"Very well," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Let me see for myself."
Jaina took a moment to gather herself. Nervouslu, she placed her hand firmly on his forehead, her eyes closing as she began to weave the delicate threads of her magic around his psyche. "Please," he whispered, in anguish, "forgive me."
As she delved into the depths of his memories, the cabin around them faded away, replaced by a whirlwind of images and emotions that assaulted her senses. She felt the weight of his grief, the burning anger that had fueled his quest, and the all-consuming hunger for power that had led him to embrace the darkness.
She found herself in familiar city during a rainy night...and she looked to find Arthas, clearly in discomfort and in a hurry, wait for Uther and herself to arrive. But there was a difference from the environment she saw only weeks ago compared to the one in his memories.
There was no evacuation camp that could have housed refugees in Stratholme. Jaina realizes that, the grain from Andorhal must have arrived without any consequences as she and Arthas had originally destroyed it. She looked to find Arthas anxiously waiting for Uther to arrive along with his knights, and herself. Rather...the person she was in Arthas' original life.
"Glad you could make it, Uther."
"Watch your tone with me, boy. You may be the prince, but I'm still your superior as a paladin"
Jaina couldn't help but notice how strained these two sounded. 'What could have happened at Heartglen before this?'
"As if I could forget. Listen, Uther, there's something about the plague you should know..."
He looked over, horrified as the villagers took the infected grain in the city. "Oh no, we're too late. These people have all been infected. They may look fine now, but it's just a matter of time before they turn into the undead!"
"What?!"
'What makes you say that, Arthas?', she wondered in worry. Compared to this one to hers in the present, this one was more prone to act, whereas the present Arthas extensively prepared for something like this.
"This entire city must be purged..."
A shockwave came into Jaina...is this...what he meant to her earlier?
"How can you even consider that? There's got to be some other way!"
"Damn it, Uther! As your future king, I order you to purge this city!"
Jaina couldn't help but just be shocked at this behaviour. 'Isn't there any other option, Arthas?'
"You are not my king yet, boy! Nor would I obey that command even if you were!"
"Then I must consider this as an act of treason."
"Treason? Have you lost your mind, Arthas?"
"Have I? Lord Uther, by my right of succession and the sovereignty of my crown, I hereby relieve you of your command and suspend your paladins from service."
"Arthas! You can't just-"
"It's done! Those of you who have the will to save this land, follow me! The rest of you... get out of my sight!"
"You've just crossed a terrible threshold, Arthas."
"Jaina?"
I'm sorry, Arthas. I can't watch you do this.
'We...I left him...', Jaina watched in horror, before she heard the screams of mercy and anguish as Arthas and his men began to systematically slaughtered countless people inside the city. She felt her heart broke. 'Was this really the right thing you could do, Arthas', she mournfully professed as a tear left her eye.
In this timeline...Arthas did that because there was no other choice when their fates are sealed. In the present...he used all the means he could to save numerous people from such a fate.
All Jaina could feel was uncertainty and sadness.
As Jaina's magic pierced the veil of Arthas' memories, she witnessed the fateful moment he claimed the cursed blade, Frostmourne. The cavernous chamber where they went through only a few weeks ago echoed with the anguished cries of the dwarven hero, Muradin Bronzebeard, as he lay lifeless beside the young prince.
'I was not there...'she whispered to herself. 'Uther and I...weren't there...'
The scene was a punch to her gut. She watched in horror as Arthas, consumed by anger and grief, raised Frostmourne high and brought it down upon the dark figure of Mal'Ganis, seemingly killing him.
The images grew darker as Jaina's magic delved deeper into Arthas' tortured past. She watched, her heart wrenching, as he stood in the blood-soaked snow of Northrend, the lifeless bodies of Falric and Marwyn lying at his feet. His eyes burned with the cold fire of the Lich King's influence. He raised Frostmourne high, and the air crackled with dark energy as he brought it down upon them with a sickening crunch. Falric and Marwyn's eyes snapped open, their skin pallid and lifeless, their souls forever bound to his will.
'Falric!', Jaina screamed helplessly for their friend who had been a close confidant to the both of them. 'Marwyn!' No!'
What she watched next was nothing short of a massacre as the trio slaughtered the 1st Legion and raised their corpses to become members of his undead army. And she could only watch as Arthas' lips crept up to a manic grin to see that everything is going his way.
Celebrations rang across Lordaeron as their beloved Prince finally returned from Northrend, signifying another victory against the plague that ravaged their lands.
But to Jaina, everything will go worse from here. As she watched Arthas, Falric and Marwyn march to the throne room of Lordaeron.
'Arthas, no...', Jaina begged, even trying to physically stop him, only for the trio to pass through her like a ghost. 'Arthas! Don't do this!"
"Ah my son...", Terenas greeted his heir with open arms.
"You no longer need to sacrifice for your people. You no longer need to bear the weight of your crown.", he gravely proclaimed, that only led Jaina to watch as he began to advance at his father. "I've taken care of everything."
"What is this? What are you doing, my son?"
Jaina's eyes widen in horror.
"Succeeding you, father.", he bellowed just as he plunged Frostmourne into him, killing him. Moments later, Falric and Marwyn began to systematically slaughter everyone in their way, resurrecting them as servants of the Scourge while Arthas walked away to see his work fulfilled. "This kingdom shall fall, and from the ashes shall arise a new order that will shake the very foundations of the world"
From there, Jaina watched in anguish and sorrow as Arthas stood against Uther. Gavinrad the Dire, Sage and Ballador are all dead right behind him, while Arthas pointed Frostmourne at the man he once called his mentor.
"Your father ruled this land for seventy years. And you've ground it do dust in a matter of days.", Uther bellowed in an anguished and angered tone.
Arthas only sneered at him. "Very dramatic, Uther. Give me the urn and I'll make sure you'll die quickly."
The Paladin was infuriated as he was dismayed. "The urn holds your father's ashes, Arthas! What, were you hoping to piss on them one last time before you left this kingdom to rot?"
The fallen prince chuckled at him. "I didn't know what it held. Nor does it matter. I'll take what I came for, one way or another."
'No...no...', Jaina begged, as she could barely hold onto herself.
"I dearly hope there's a special place in hell waiting for you, Arthas", Uther croaked, feeling his life to be in its last legs.
Arthas only stared at him with nothing but malice. "We may never know, Uther. I intend to live forever."
'Please, stop!'
"Finish me...I deserve...a clean death..."
"After all you've put me through, woman, the last thing I'll give you is the peace of death."
"NO! You wouldn't dare...!"
'No...Arthas...I...I...'
"It pains me to even look at you, Arthas"
"I'll be happy to end your torment, old man. I told you, your magics could not stop me."
All Jaina could do now...is watch Dalaran destroyed by a creature beyond her worst nightmares...
'ARTHAS, PLEASE! STOP!'
'Return the blade. Complete the circle. Release me from this prison!'
He struck down the ice and it shatters to the sound of a screech of joy, and the mysterious helm falls to the ground. Arthas dons it, and his eyes move about rapidly under their lids. His eyes open, and glow with radiant blue light.
Now, we are one.
'I...I can't...I CAN'T!'
So you wish to commune with the dead? You shall have your wish...
You won't deny me this, Arthas! I must know! I must find out!
Jaina's hand recoiled from Arthas' forehead as if burned, her eyes snapping open as the connection between their minds severed abruptly. The vivid memories, the sheer depth of his betrayals and the agonizing path he had trodden, left her breathless.
"No," she whispered, her own voice cracking. "No, no, no..." She staggered back, her hands shaking as she tried to find the words to express what she really felt.
Is he truly a monster...?
Jaina stumbled away from her own face began to be drenched with tears. She couldn't bear to look at him, to see the man she had once loved reflected in the eyes of the monster he had become. Her legs carried her out of the room, her sobs being heard through the corridors of the ship. The door to her room slammed shut behind her, the lock clicking into place.
Arthas could only look down on the fllor as he shuddered and sobbed. This is what he feared, he knew it would break her. He knew that the horrors of his past could never be fully erased. He sank his head in his hands, and allowed himself to weep for the first time in a very long time.
In her room, Jaina's shoulders heaved with silent sobs, her body trembling as the visions of Arthas' dark deeds replayed in her mind's eye. Each memory was a dagger to her heart, piercing the very core of her being. Her hand hovered over her chest as if trying to hold in the agony that threatened to spill forth. "Lordaeron," she murmure the name of the homeland a mournful lament on her lips at the mention of the fallen kingdom, ravaged by the very hand she had once pledged to stand beside.
Her thoughts drifted to Uther in his last moment of anguish and defiance. "Uther," she whispered, her voice cracking. "How could you let this happen?"
King Terenas' proud face flashed before her before it was replaced by horror when Frostmourne was plunged into him. "You were supposed to protect him, Arthas" she whispered, anger seeping into her grief. "You were the crown prince, not his murderer.
Her sobs grew louder. "Falric... Muradin..." she whispered through her tears. Her thoughts strayed to the haunting beauty of Quel'Thalas, its gleaming spires and vibrant forests now a distant, tainted memory. She could almost hear the screams of the High Elves as the Scourge rampaged all throughout their homeland. And Dalaran... her home that nurtured her desire to study what she could, destroyed by the very hand of the Legion that he had a hand in summoning. She choked out a sob. "Master Antonidas," she murmured, her mentor's name a prayer on her lips. The image of him, kneeling and later falling before Arthas' blade, was almost too much to endure as she gripped her chest to try to calm herself in vain.
She couldn't understand what she was supposed to feel.
Her anger at his betrayal, her sorrow for the lives he had taken, and the pain of her own loss felt like a crushing weight upon her.
Yet, she knew what why Arthas allowed her to see his mind, because he hoped that she could understand under the pain of regret and self-loathing he had subjected himself into. His wish to change his fate, to save his people and prevent the suffering that had ravaged the world in his previous life, was genuine.
Because if he truly did have a second chance and he was still that monster...why would he bother going through all the effort to avert the events that transpired?
It was a stark contrast to the cold, heartless and merciless Death Knight and later Lich King. She wanted to be furious with him, to fear and despise him as she had back then. But all she could feel was a profound sadness.
"Arthas," she whispered to the empty room, her voice hoarse with the effort of holding back her sobs. "What have you become?" She looked as if expecting him to appear and offer some semblance of explanation or comfort. But he didn't.
Jaina's gaze fell to the floor, her eyes unfocused as the memory of Frostmourne's claiming came back to her. "The blade," she murmured. "You took it to save your people, but it took you instead." She remembered the frenzied look in his eyes, the madness that had begun to take hold as he claimed the cursed weapon.
And then in the present, where he wished to see the runeblade destroyed first and foremost. And would have if Mal'Ganis had not intervened.
Her thoughts went back to the vault. Mal'Ganis had loomed over her, the malicious glint in his eyes promising a fate worse than death. Arthas had watched, heart torn between his love for her and the fear of her succumbing to the same fate he had.
When Mal'Ganis had intended to make her its wielder by having her hold the blade to claim her soul when Arthas adamantly refused to embrace his destiny by wielding it himself.
And against his own wishes, he rushed over and picked up the blade once more to save her from Mal'Ganis. But not out of vengeance as he once had, but of the need of protect her from walking the path he once had.
Jaina's eyes snapped back into focus. "What am I supposed to do?" she whispered painfully. "How can I trust you again?" Her fists clenched at her sides, the anger she felt towards him mingling with the fear of what he could become.
Her fear and anger warred with the belief that had been rekindled by his selfless act of saving her from Frostmourne's curse. She knew that Arthas had picked up the blade to make sure she wouldn't have the fate he went through, risking his sanity and his life in the process. The thought of him walking the path of darkness again was a terrifying. She looked at her room, as if hoping he was there so she could demand answers, to scream at him for the pain he had caused and yet to thank him for the love he had shown her. Her heart was torn, and she didn't know if she could ever forgive him or trust him fully again.
"Arthas," she whispered to the empty air. "Why did you do it? Why did you risk everything?"
There was no response. She knew she needed to confront him, to demand answers and find a way to reconcile the man she had once loved with the monster he had become.
Jaina took a moment to compose herself, wiping the last of her tears and steeling her resolve. She had to face Arthas again, to confront the man she had seen in those memories. She took a deep breath and slowly made her way back to the sick bay, the floorboards groaning under her footsteps.
The sight of him, still on his bed, his shoulders heaving with his own silent sobs, tugged at her heartstrings. She paused in the doorway, watching him for a moment, trying to reconcile the two images of the man she knew. The Arthas who had once been her friend, her confidant, her lover and the monster that had wrought havoc across the world.
"Arthas," she began with a shudder. "What you have shown me, it's... it's more than I can fathom." She stepped closer, her hand reaching out to him, hesitating before finally touching his shoulder. "But I need to understand. Why did you do all of this?"
Arthas looked up, his eyes red and swollen from crying. "For the sake of my people," he rasped after having to relive his own memories. "I thought if I had the power, I could prevent the suffering, save everyone."
"But...", she tried to speak.
"But I didn't.", he bitterly admitted to her. "All I did was the opposite. Nothing I ever do will make up for what I've done...no matter what I do..."
"Arthas...", she spoke again, sounding neutral. "Be silent..."
"But what kind of a man I am?", he sobbed. "A failure of the past in protecting my own people. And of the present where neither Frostmourne or Mal'Ganis are erased. If that is my fate...to be a monster once again-"
Arthas's words were cut off as Jaina's hand flew through the air and connected with his cheek. His head snapped to the side with the force of the slap, and he blinked back the tears, looking up at her in surprise. Her eyes were now filled with a fiery anger that seemed to burn through him.
"How could you," she uttered in a trembling voice. "How could you call yourself a failure, when you've come back to us, risking everything to change what you've done?!"
He stared at her, his hand slowly raising to his cheek, his eyes wide with shock.
"You risked your own life for mine, Arthas," she continued, her own voice rising at every moment. "You've given countless others hope when they had none! You've shown that you can still be the King that you were supposed to be!"
Tears streamed down her face as she took a step closer to him. "I will not stand by and watch you destroy yourself with guilt," she declared as she struggled herself from sobbing. "You are not the monster you were, and I refuse to let you become one again!"
Arthas's own eyes began to well up, the pain of her slap fading away as he took in her words. He looked down at his hands, shaking. "Jaina... I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
"It's not enough, Arthas," she said firmly but her tone having softened "You need to believe that you could change your fate as with the rest. That you can be better than the person you once were."
"But Frostmourne," he reasoned out. "It's still out there, waiting for me to take it up again."
"Then leave it there," she said with a fierce determination. "Leave it in the frozen hell of Northrend where it belongs. And if it does come back, then we'll break it together until it's grinded to dust."
Arthas looked away. "I don't know if I can," he murmured.
"Arthas," Jaina called out as she knelt beside him, her hands still resting on his shoulder.s "Look at me." She waited until he met her gaze, the torment in his eyes mirroring the chaos in her own heart. "You have already proven that you are not the same man who brought ruin to Lordaeron. You've chosen a different path. One that, your intentions are nothing but genuine for all those you hold dear."
He swallowed hard. "But the scars of what I've done..."
"Cannot be erased," she conceded. "But they can be atoned for. You've already started with your every action since we've met again. After you came back to me."
He looked back at her, looking desperate. "But what if I fail?"
Jaina's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Then we'll face that together," she declared. "You don't have to walk alone, Arthas. You never have, and you never will."
"I don't deserve your help, Jaina," Arthas murmured. "Or anyone else's. The lives I've taken, the destruction I've wrought..."
"You think I don't know that?" Jaina's tone was fierce as she met his gaze. "If anything...it's more of a reason why I need to help you more than ever."
He stared at her. "Why?" he whispered, his voice cracking in disbelief. "After all that I've done, why would you stand with me?"
Jaina took a deep breath, her hand moving from his shoulder to cup his cheek. "Because I believe in the good that still lives within you," Jaina solemnly said. "Because I've seen the man you were, the prince who was loved and cherished, and the hero who fought for his people." She paused, her gaze never wavering from his. "And as I said before, I won't leave you."
He remembered.
Even after he did all those things to her world. She continued to persist in believing he was still out there somewhere. Even personally storming Icecrown herself just for an opportunity to speak to him. Even when it was clear he was a lost cause.
Arthas felt his chest constrict as Jaina's words of belief and hope pierced through the armor of despair that had enveloped him for so long. He could feel the warmth of her hand against his cold skin, a stark contrast to the frigid embrace of Frostmourne. The sound of his own ragged breathing filled his ears as he tried to comprehend the depth of her compassion. He had feared that his actions had irrevocably damned him, but in her eyes, he saw a glimmer of hope that he had thought lost forever.
With trembling hands, Arthas reached up to hold hers, "Jaina, I never knew... I never knew that someone could still believe in me."
Jaina's grip tightened around him. "You're not alone, Arthas," she said firmly. "And you'll never will be."
He leaned into her embrace, feeling her warmth as she pulled Arthas closer to her, her heart aching with the pain she felt emanating from him. His shoulders heaved with silent sobs. She wrapped her arms around his broad frame, feeling the tension coiled within him, and held him tightly to her chest, as if by sheer will she could shield him from his own past. Her hand stroked his hair gently, her eyes squeezed shut as she whispered reassurances that seemed to echo through the very fabric of the room.
"Shh," she murmured. "It's okay, Arthas. Let it all out."
It was silent but that's what they needed as the Archmage continued to embrace him tightly. "Let yourself fall apart. And I promise to hold you together."
Spectre: I can't exaclty show the entire memory sequence since that would reach about 5k words more or so. So yeah, Jaina gets a view of Arthas' memories but not exactly all of them. But still decides to stick with him because of both logical and emotional reasons. More divergences will arrive soon!
