Pure of Heart

Back again already, I'm hoping to wrap this up soon so I can pick up on my next story, which is already a brewin in my head. Please keep the reviews coming, my ego is a starving beast in need of sustenance.



************************************



Thalgar had a plan. Actually he had several, all of which were running in tandem and the slightest slip up of any would earn him the unparalleled wrath of Arthas. Except this one, this was more for his own personal dignity. Every time he had had a meeting with Felara, she had driven him crazy. Not just in her complete inability to act professionally, but also because she aroused him in doing so. Worse, she knew it.



So now, an hour before his meeting, he was alone in his quarters, his robe lying on the chair next to the bed. He grasped his large cock with both hands and began rubbing it up and down. He fantasized about all the females he had been with, but none seemed to be doing it for him this morning.



He grinned wickedly, why the hell not?



In his fantasy, he had Felara bent over a table and was thrusting into her with all his strength and rage. She screamed with a mix of pleasure and pain, her nails raking into the wood, her whole body shuddering. It was wonderfully violent and satisfying and in what seemed like no time at all, he came with a loud growl.



After he had caught his breath, he went to wash up, feeling very satisfied. Let her prance around all she wanted, he had already spent himself, it would be awhile before he could get up again. He finished washing up, pulled back on his robe, and strode down the hall, feeling supremely confident.



He walked into her quarters, stopped and gaped.



She was fully clothed, sitting on her chair in attention, just like she was supposed to be. Her robes covered up most of her flesh, and weren't form fitting at all, and her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Thalgar stared at her, and thought he might have seen the twitching of a smile on her stern unresponsive face.



Damned her.



“Thalgar,” she said in a clear, commanding voice, “it is time to begin the final test.”







The last few days had not been pleasant. Although he was sleeping and eating, Meleager found it hard to do so in peace. He compulsively sniffed all of their food, making sure it was clean. He found he was watching himself and Calyn carefully for symptoms of the plague, driving himself to sheer paranoia over every little thing.



Sleeping was becoming a struggle too. Every time he tried he was sent back into the nightmare. Blood was dripping from his fingers, there was screaming, dead children and fire. Worse, the memory of it shifted. In his dreams he would come out of the house to find that Calyn had eaten some of the poisoned food from the shed, and he would chase her down like a mad thing, hacking her to pieces while she cried and begged him to stop.



Every waking moment had been filled with self doubt and accusation. Had he done the right thing? What if he had been wrong? Had he even tried to heal them?



Worse, he remembered the culling of Stratholme, and how Arthas had had to make the same decision. Was he now no better than the Lich King himself? The other Paladins of the Silver Hand had refused to take part in it, and had left. He had never really thought about it before, but how hard a decision it must have been for all of them, Arthas included. Was that the path to damnation? He was doubting himself, for the first time since taking up holy orders, he was doubting his faith in the light, in doing what was right and staying true.



Calyn had been watching him with concern the whole time. The night it happened, she had taken him back to the cave they had been in the night before, and sat him down. She had taken off his armor and washed him with some melted snow. By the time she was finished, he had stopped crying and stared intently into the fire, lost in his own nightmares. She had rested her head on his back with her arms around him, whispering that it would be ok.



They hadn't moved on since, and Calyn was beginning to voice concern about his health, and about the captives they had been tracking. She did so gently, and as soothingly as possible. On the third evening, she knelt in front of him and took his head in her hands.



“Meleager,” she said, “we should go home.”



He roused himself and looked down at her.



“Home? Back to Howling Fjord?”



“No,” she said quietly, “Back to Stormwind.”



Stormwind, he thought. That was home. That was where things were simple. He could rest there, he could be sure of himself again. He could be a true hero again.



But what of the captives?



“You've done all you can for them,” she said when he asked, her voice tinged with sadness, “besides, you sent a message to the fort remember? They will be upon the trolls soon and free the captives. Please,” she said stroking his cheek, “please come back before I lose you completely. Let's go home, we can be together, there's nothing here for us but each other.”



She kissed him desperately, and he found himself melting to her. Soon his arms were around her and he was hungrily devouring her mouth. He was practically tearing at her clothes, while her hands fumbled with his, and in no time they were both naked on the blankets, moving together with near perfect rhythm.



Last time he had been careful to not frighten her and be gentle. This time he wasn't thinking straight enough for that. He needed her, right then and there, and she seemed all too eager to oblige. He quickly thrust himself into her, causing her to yelp in surprise, but soon his thrusts were eliciting excited moans and encouragement.



“Yes,” she cried, “make me yours....make love to me forever!”



Her hands tore at the blankets below and she was sobbing as she was wracked with waves of ecstasy. The sight of it pushed him over the edge and he came hard in her with one last powerful thrust. He groaned and fell onto her her, shaking from the sudden physical exertion and the aftershocks. He could hear her heart pounding as her breath raced. He rolled off of her and wiped some of the sweat off his face, and for the first time in days, felt like a human being.



Calyn rested her chin on his chest and looked at him blissfully. He smiled at her and ran his hand through her hair. She closed her eyes and purred, taking his hand into her and kissing it. Her tongue slipped out of her mouth and ran along his fingers.



“Mmmmm, make love to you forever?” he asked finally allowing himself a smile.



“Mmmmhmmmm.”



He sat up, taking her onto his lap and kissing her fully on the lips. Her hands ran through his hair, while held her by the hips. She felt amazing, and he thought he could spend eternity just making love to her.



“Then I am yours forever, Calyn,” he whispered against her mouth.







The next morning, they had slept in, this time without nightmares from either of them. The sun was already bright in the sky when Meleager stepped out of the cave, stretching his limbs after the long inaction. He felt better. Not back to his old self, but the healing process had begun. He still had a twinge of guilt about the captives, but as Calyn had said, the fort would've by now gotten his message and gone into action.



Within moments they were packed up, and headed out. Meleager had decided to head further north, where he knew an alliance fort lay. From there they could get a flight to the Borean Tundra and from there, go home. It had been years since he had been back to Stormwind, and it would be good to go home.



They took a different path from the last time, and were making good progress. Just before noon, they had reached a cross roads, and as he was about to take the fork to the fort, he heard a rider approach from the other road.



He was pounding towards them fast, and although he was still aways off, Meleager could see from his heraldry that he was an alliance messenger. A young man, no more than 16 maybe, and he was sheet white as he was pushing his horse hard.



Meleager hailed the boy down with a wave and a shout, and he came to a rather clumsy halt.



“What news?” he asked.



“Trolls! A whole band of them! They're a mile down that road, they have captives they're going to sacrifice! I have to get to the fort to let them know!”



Meleager froze. They were just a mile down the road? He had been this close to them for days and hadn't even realized it.



“There should be an alliance force looking for these trolls.”



“We haven't gotten any orders,” the youth said, “and a large part of our garrison was pulled to Howling Fjord, they say the Horde is raiding outposts and farms. Its going to be war soon!”



Meleager's heart was now racing, but his thoughts were coming as clear as day. He knew what he had to do. He was ready to do it.



He dropped off the horse and grabbed his saddlebags, telling the boy to do the same. The messenger and Calyn looked at him in confusion.



“You still have three hours hard ride to get there, your horse is already tired, mine will get you there faster. Tell them to send anyone they can and as fast as possible.”



The boy at last comprehended and got off quickly making the switch. Calyn slid off of Meleager's horse and made to follow him, but he stopped her.



“Take her with you,” he said sternly to the messenger.



“What?”



“Calyn, please, I know what I have to do.”



“No,” she said, tears forming in her eyes, “no, you can't.”



“There is no one else, the soldiers from the fort will take hours to get there, and may be too late. If I can do something I have to.”



He grabbed her by the arms and kissed her passionately, holding her closely and realizing that it may be the last time. She sobbed into his mouth, but wrapped her arms around his neck, returning his kiss.



“Please don't do this,” she whispered when they parted. Her eyes were filled with tears and her voice cracked.



“I'm sorry,” he said, “but I have to do this.”



He hugged her close again, and then reluctantly let her go.



“Now please,” he said, “go, be safe.”



She kissed him one more time, and then got back up on the horse behind they messenger. Meleager watched them ride off, and then jumped up on the other horse and rode off. He understood now, more clearly than ever, what being a paladin truly meant. It was about sacrifice, about giving oneself up for others, without fear or regret.



He was ready.





The other horse stopped less than a mile down the road, and the rider whistled. Two trolls came out of the underbrush and met him and the girl.



“Don't be worryin girl, we be taking care of you now.”