Stirrings in Lordaeron

A/N: Hello readers, thank you to those of you that read and reviewed. Quite honestly I didn't have any expectations of receiving any for just a random idea I needed to write down but the positive feedback was very encouraging and greatly appreciated. Wasn't quite sure how long I would go with this story but more than likely there will be warnings not covered in my original summary so please keep that in mind. Also if you haven't noticed already, this is somewhat AU, as a meeting between Jaina and Arthas never occurred after he became a Death Knight in Warcraft 3, so don't go all lore police on me please.

-

'Oh my dear, sweet Jaina...'

Jaina blushed faintly and giggled as Arthas smoothed the blonde tresses away from her face, cupping her head gently to let his lips seal with hers.

She reluctantly pulled away after a few moments as the Prince's hands had begun to wander in a familiar fashion, letting out an involuntary sigh.

Arthas lay next to her in the grass under a shady oak at their secret meeting spot near the edge of the Alterac Mountains, away from civilization and their constant pressing responsibilities.

“Is there something wrong?” He asked, furrowing his brow as he noticed her faraway look.

Her blue eyes returned to the Prince's handsome face, lifting her fingers to delicately trace the fine contours of his jaw.

“No, it's just...”

Her words trailed away, but the unsaid meaning was clear enough to the both of them.

“... I hate that we have to come out here. That we have to hide... us. That we can't just carry on a normal relationship. Everything we do is under constant scrutiny, doesn't it bother you?”

Arthas' countenance hardened as he looked away to a distant area of no great importance. “How can you ask me that? Would you ask me to not be Prince? To not have a duty to Lordaeron and it's people? They need a strong leader, someone who can lead our forces into battle, someone they can trust in and admire the steadfastness of. Tell me that you would toss aside all of your political influence and studies just for the sake of not being scrutinized...”

“No no, I don't want that.” She quickly argued, sighing again and lowering her eyes. “I just wish... we could have both. Do you understand?”

The Prince's face softened a bit and he began to nuzzle Jaina's neck, planting light kisses along her throat. “It is a pleasant fantasy, yes. Though if we are going to be indulging in fantasies I can think of a few that would be far more interesting...”

Jaina squealed playfully, Arthas' free hand coming up to begin unlacing the ties of her robe. She murmured happily as his lips trailed down her collarbone to her soft breasts, bared to the elements, smooth and pale. He kneaded the warm flesh of one with his fingers while laving his tongue across the pink nub of the other.

“Can we-” she asked shyly between excited gasps, “can we pretend to be someone else?”

Arthas looked up at her hungrily from under his brow, her nipple still in his mouth sending a surge of heat between her legs.

“Someone else?” He rumbled lowly.

“Yes...” she panted as the liquid cerulean gazed up at her. “I do not want to upset you by wishing for things that, mmm, cannot be... so perhaps we should just, uhhnn, imagine instead. That way... when we return,” she breathed, “I might be able to handle it better.”

“Very well,” he chuckled deep in his throat. “Who shall we be then?”

She whispered something in his ear, and he nodded his assent, quickly undressing them both.

As he sank into her warm folds, their normally tender love-making was more frantic, a jarring edge in Arthas' chest that he desperately needed to curb. If only she knew how much he had really dreamt of the things she'd spoken about, secretly wished that they could survive simply on love alone and not have to worry about the foolishness of being Prince. No matter how hard he trained or studied it was never good enough for his father, always demanding the best to the heir to the throne, declaring endlessly that if he were to be King someday he would need to be become the paragon of perfection.

Jaina writhed beneath him, clutching helplessly to his back as he thrusted seemingly without regard for his partner. She was taken aback by his sudden passion, quickly crying out her release, thinking it had something to do with their fantasy game.

Arthas came quickly after with a grunt, collapsing atop his lover unceremoniously. He looked down at her content face, laced with a dreamy smile.

“We'll always be together, won't be Arthas? I know there are politics and my studies and our duties but...”

“Shh...” he murmured against her golden hair, knowing what she meant by the statement. “Of course we will.”

Things would never be simple between them, but perhaps one day when he was king and he had this wonderful, brilliant woman at his side they could finally be themselves and the halls of Lordaeron would be full of laughter and music and freedom instead of...

Blood.

The streets of the kingdom of Lordaeron ran red with blood. The unknowing denizens and diplomats and emissaries had been slaughtered like cattle shortly after the Prince's triumphant return from Northrend with tales preceding him of the glorious battle that had ended the life of the demon responsible for the new 'plague' that had emerged.

And this time, it wasn't grain that transformed their lifeless bodies into unthinking minions of the Scourge, but rather a raise of Arthas' hand and a flourish of Frostmourne, the dark powers of the Lich King extending across hundreds of miles of oceans and land and into the mortal body of his chosen champion who laughed gleefully as they stumbled to their feet in various states of decay and dismemberment to dutifully serve him and his cause.

It was almost with affection that Arthas raised his army, crooning softly to his new 'subjects' that cared not at all for human necessities or fear or for why they were fighting, only that they existed for one purpose alone: to obey.

The Prince was a glutton, saturated with power, testing his energies to the limit almost daringly to see how far they would go.

Every moment was ecstasy, every soul consumed by Frostmourne a triumph. The kingdom was his, the people were his... but still yet...

He wanted more.

There were those that had hindered him, misguidedly had tried to stand in his way to greatness, and he wanted to see to it that they were punished. Slowly.

Unfortunately, Terenas had been the exception as he had many loyal subjects and it was a necessary precaution to take the castle swiftly and decisively to ensure that little to no outside word could be given. Of course he knew that news of his army and subsequent taking of the kingdom was inevitable, but he needed just long enough...

Yes, there were others that needed seeing to. And she would be arriving soon.

Shortly after landing back in the Eastern Kingdoms Arthas had sent a runner to Dalaran to deliver a message to Jaina Proudmoore. The sorceress likely had heard rumors, unsubstantiated facts and fears and no doubt was working tirelessly with Antonidas on ways to counter this new threat, but still he knew... she would come.

Despite their falling out after their youthful tryst had become all too real and close for the Prince's liking, despite the recent turn of 'events' at Stratholme and despite whatever horrors she may have heard within the safe confines of her magical city, she was still HIS Jaina. She would not be able to resist once she heard of his peril.

He could barely suppress his grin and physical excitement. He tried to calm himself, knowing the time drew near.

Outside the castle walls he waited at their old meeting place, fully expecting her to teleport in alone to the very spot. She had always been so sentimental and soft... and infamously late. It only gave him time for his eagerness to build, ridiculously giddy at the fun he would have, exacting the revenge that she so justly deserved.

With a dark smile still gracing his pallid lips, the telltale signs of teleportation sounded behind Arthas. A brief flash of light, the dim reflection of the blue runes that manifested on the ground against the stone and surge of wind alerted the Prince of her presence.

Cowl pulled low over his face and back turned, he hunched over slightly with his face buried in his hands.

“Arthas?” Her sweet voice came.

“Oh, Jaina...” he scant but sobbed into his armored gloves, glad that he had decided to cover his face for he was still grinning madly.

He heard her take a timid step forward through the grass. “What's going on, Arthas? I had heard... things... of your return... of King Terenas...”

“Oh Light Jaina!” Arthas fallaciously cried again, shoulders shaking. “It's so horrible, father has been ill... and... I don't know what else to do... and...”

Gasping for air, he felt her inane need to comfort him, and disguised his pleasure with a sound of immense pain when her hand tentatively touched his shoulder.

“It's all right, Arthas. Tell me what happened.”

Turning abruptly he wrapped her in a fierce hug, holding her slender body to him in desperation. Jaina was stiff in his arms at first, taken aback by the sudden surge of emotion and familiarity with which he embraced her after the travesty at Stratholme, but she quickly recovered and returned the gesture.

She murmured reassuringly, “It's going to be all right, please, tell me what's going on?”

The Prince gave an exaggerated sniff, gently pulling back while still maintaining his grip around the woman. As his face was slowly revealed beneath the darkened hood she drew in a startled breath.

“Arthas! What's happened to you?” Jaina stammered as she took in his altered visage.

He forced a grimace. “Northrend was not kind to me.” Casting his eyes downward with mock guilt. “The battle with Mal'Ganis was a triumph, but the men don't know how that place took its toll on me...”

Reaching up with sympathy covering her face, Jaina delicately stroked a lock of the newly-white tresses that had once been so brilliantly gold.

“I'm so glad you're here Jaina, I-I... I don't know what I'd do without you.”

She smiled up at him warmly, a foolish girl squandering her intellect and falling for his pathetic ruse. He felt a flow of heat in his loins.

“I'm here for you Arthas. Nothing could keep me from you.”

He let an iota of warmth touch his eyes before pulling her close again and kissing her deeply, wrapping her securely in his arms again, almost too-tight against the harsh planes of his armor.

Again startled with the sudden passion, Jaina resisted for only a moment before yielding to the cool lips of her former lover.

The necromantic magic began to slowly work through the sorceress' vulnerable body, too wrapped up in the disillusioned emotions she thought she was experiencing to notice. Dark energy snaked through her, weakening muscles, slowing blood flow, vaguely numbing the brain... traveling through the hands and lips of one Prince Arthas that ended their kiss to gaze down into the ebbing face of Lady Proudmoore.

Holding her rapidly waning form against him, he crooned softly into her hair, tenderly stroking her sagging back. “Shh...shhh... Jaina... it's all right. Let the sleep come...”

“We'll always be together, Jaina. Didn't you know that?”

-

She awoke in a daze.

Jaina was vaguely aware of her condition. Her arms ached, her head throbbed, her vision was blurry. She remembered being with Arthas, embracing him outside the castle... had she fallen ill?

Blinking several times the mage squinted into the darkness but her view wasn't improved... until she went to wipe the sleep out of her eyes and realized that her fingers and hands were securely bound over her head.

Lids widening in sudden panic, Jaina glanced above to realize she was strung up to the ceiling like a piece of meat, and that she was completely naked in a dark place that smelled rank.

“Hello? Arthas!” She tried to yell only to find that she barely had a voice, as though her throat hadn't been used in years.

It was then she heard a sound... a snicker. And the sounds only grew louder, whispers and scrapes and tittering laughter. The minute noises in the near darkness was like an overwhelming cacophony to the distressed sorceress who was franticly shaking and looking about for their origin in the mysterious prison.

She desperately tried to work her fingers free, knowing that a few quick waves of her hands and she could be free of the darkness and away from this horrid place but to no avail... whoever had done this had known of her spellcasting ability and had purposefully seen to it that it was impossible.

The fierce whispering ceased when the sound of heavy footfalls came, echoing from a corridor that could have been mere feet or a mile away to the disoriented woman.

Please oh please don't let it be him... say it's not him, oh please Light no....

“Oh, my dear... sweet... Jaina...” a voice drawled.

So hollow, so frigid, dispassionate...

Her blood ran cold.

She could hear the smile in his tone, like a child with a new toy.

“You'll have to excuse my behavior earlier, I wasn't quite myself.” And he laughed as though it was an immensely funny private joke.

How could his voice sound so much like Arthas, and at the same time have undertones so sinister and dark, as though his evil twin were speaking the same words at the same instant? The sorceress' forehead broke out in a sweat.

Arthas let out a deep breath through his nose. He wanted to savor this moment... drink in the fear riddled across her fair face, wallow in the shame and guilt she would no doubt feel before it was all over. Taking in another gulp of air he could have sworn he smelt her tension.

He let the moment drag on as she fruitlessly tried to work her throat and limbs from their previously corrupted stupor, preferring to revel in her discomfort as long as possible. Stepping forward he placed his mouth next to her ear, cool breath softly wafting across her skin.

“My dear, you seem unsettled. Is everything all right?”

Jaina couldn't control her quivering. She knew this was the man she loved, but something was terribly, terribly wrong...

Feeling himself harden at her reaction, he pulled his face away and she nearly sobbed with relief.

“Ahh, I suppose you're wondering what's happening exactly. Why you're here, what occurred in Northrend, if the rumors you've heard are true...”

Arthas laughed aristocratically. “Now now, my sweet. You know you can't believe everything you hear.”

A single gloved finger trailed daintily down her spine, stirring each individual hair that made Jaina involuntarily twitch.

“No, know that whatever you heard... it's much, much worse.”

Torches were suddenly lit with a theatrical flair that only royalty could accomplish, no matter how tainted. Jaina squinted against the brightness, turning her face away only momentarily before her eyes adjusted and she realized that they had an audience.

If she had been capable of recoiling in horror she would have... there were, creatures... undead things, half-mangled bodies, fleshless skeletons with empty eye sockets that were no less unnerving despite their gazeless faces. They sat staring in her direction, not even necessarily fixed on her but their very presence and stance was enough to make her weak.

But there were humans too... living, breathing men and women who watched the fair-haired prisoner with a mixture of emotions. Outright contempt and disgust, lustful leers on others, reverence... They were all clad in black robes, some with painted faces and marks of the Scourge evident across their skin to label them as members of the Cult of the Damned: the sect of the living started by Kel'thuzad to aid the Scourge and distribute the tainted grain that had started the whole mess to begin with.

Jaina whimpered futilely, turning her face away and squeezing her eyes shut.

“Come now,” Arthas sneered, moving up behind her and wrapping one leather-clad hand around her throat. “You don't enjoy the attention? You don't think it's glorious to be humiliated?”

He applied a slight pressure and she emitted a strangled cry. His pants were growing increasingly tight, seeing her strung up, the powerful sorceress reduced to nothing more than a trembling sack of refuse, bared to the world for all to see and no pedestal of greatness to hide behind.

The Prince placed his other hand on the woman's hip, squeezing roughly before gliding upwards across her ribcage and brushing the side of her breast, teasing and tickling the sensitive flesh just enough to make her shiver.

“You betrayed me... did you know that?” He whispered dangerously in her ear and Jaina had never felt such fear.

“At Stratholme... when I needed you most. You humiliated me in front of my men, turning your back when I needed you most. Oh no, 'I'll always be there for you, Arthas, I'll do anything for you, Arthas' does that sound familiar?” He mimicked mockingly. “When it came down to a real decision, Lady Proudmoore is no where in sight. It would be unseemly if she got her hands dirty.”

She couldn't say anything to defend herself, only tears sprouting from her sky-shaded eyes informed him that she was listening, and he grinned again, lowering the hand from her throat to brush down across her chest and belly to her core.

He roughly jammed a still gloved finger into her pussy to find it predictably dry.

“Oh that just won't do at all.” He chided darkly when she moaned in discomfort. “I ensure that you're going to feel every ounce of shame and betrayal that I did that fateful day. I want to you experience total degradation and be broken beyond repair. You'll regret til the day you die turning your back on me, Jaina.”

Arthas hissed her name in such a way that made her skin crawl, unable to stop the tears that were flowing down her cheeks in waves.

Smirking, the Prince beckoned to a nearby Cultist. She stepped forward, her head bowed respectfully to her master who merely nodded to her.

She was a young woman with large brown eyes rimmed with purple markings and skin that was strangely pale and at the gesture she robotically fell to her knees in front of Jaina's naked, suspended form.

The sorceress tried to squirm away but found that she was held quite still in Arthas' grasp as the woman began running her tongue in long, languid strokes across her slit. Wide, wet licks back and forth across her pussy sent Jaina's mind reeling, wondering what he was trying to accomplish by this.

Large hands from the body behind her moved up and began to massage her breasts, plucking at her hardened nipples as warm lips closed around her clit and began flicking the tongue at the bundle of nerves. Jaina only began to cry more, helpless to move and helpless to resist the heat building between her legs and the coiling tension building in her abdomen.

Arthas snickered again, voice low in her ear. “What's the matter? Shameful, isn't it. That you're enjoying being probed like this, like a common whore. Even in this foul, disgusting place surrounded by filth and plague and rot while you're being watched by this riffraff you can't help wanting to be fucked, enjoying this bitch lapping between your legs.”

Jaina looked up, and noticed that many of the Cultists were openly masturbating to the scene, stroking their hardened members, fingering themselves beneath their billowing robes. And the undead were still there, zombies staring lifelessly into nothingness. She could only sob more as the woman grabbed her hips and began licking more fervently, murmuring with her own pleasure.

The breath in her ear was ragged, and hoarsely barked, “Enough!” before angrily shooing the Cultist away.

Hands disappeared, and she heard the sounds of his heavy belt coming undone, and sorceress' quivering began anew.

Arthas couldn't remove his armor fast enough. He wanted to degrade this proud, noble woman in such a way her arrogant self-importance was driven away, so she would feel dirty and used, betrayed just as he had when their 'promises' of love sounded eternal and true.

Grabbing hold of her waist he roughly pushed his cock inside her now wet entrance. He groaned long and loud so she could hear it well, relishing in her pain and defilement. It was... refreshing almost, he thought to himself as he began to pound into her body relentlessly. He already knew her body, and touched it intimately before, but now, taking her like this, helpless and defenseless was like experiencing it in a whole new way.

Fingers dug into her hips, bruising the fine, healthy flesh as he ground his pelvis into hers, his cock aching with unquenched need, her muscles clenching as her body was wracked with cries of anguish, forced to watch the sneering faces of the Prince's subjects touching themselves to the spectacle before them.

“Do you want to pretend that you're someone else now, Jaina? Would that make you feel better?” Arthas panted between the wet sounds of his dick ramming into her and their flesh connecting rapidly.

She groaned in response, and the sound was so pitiful and weak that he couldn't control himself. He suddenly came violently, grunting like an animal with the force of his orgasm, spilling all he had to give into her bruised hole.

He slammed back in several more times, unable to stop, smirking gleefully as to elongate the suffering. Gasping briefly and coming down from his high, Arthas gathered Jaina into his arms close with his cock still inside of her.

The gesture was taunting and full of endearment at the same time as he nestled his chin against her neck and shoulders, icy blue eyes shining brightly.

“Oh Jaina...” he murmured happily. “I'm so pleased that we had this little talk. I was afraid things might not work out between us after, well... you know.”

Arthas hugged her close, before lightly caressing her face as to wipe away her tears.

“Don't worry, we'll have plenty of time to rectify your mistakes together.”

Jaina whimpered.

He chuckled. “What? You didn't really think that was it, did you? Oh sweet, silly Jaina...”

The Prince cast his gaze out over the Cultists, some shuddering from their ministrations, others still gazing at the vulnerable woman with glazed eyes and unsatisfied lust.

“This is just the beginning. I meant it when I said we would be together always...”

Extracting himself from her abused body, Arthas composed himself, quickly redressing and fastening his belt before nodding almost imperceptibly to the eager humans. Moving off to the side and leaning casually against the wall he watched as several approached, one quickly moving to spread her ass cheeks apart, another pushing fingers inside her pussy, others reaching greedily to fondle her breasts. He sighed contentedly with a wistful smile on his lips.

Jaina tried to scream but found that she was quite unable.