Heart of Ice

Lyeald lay in the fields, her eyes closed as the sun warmed her body through her thin robes. Nearby she heard her son playing with the large cats that were kept here as pets while the rangers in training watched and laughed good naturedly. Keron stretched a lazy hand across her middle and leaned into her ear.



“The others are watching Gilt, we could find a place more...private.”



She smiled and squinted her eyes open, seeing his face with light shining around it. With a chuckle he helped her to her feet and then nodded to the rangers who nodded in return with understanding. Gilt didn't notice his parents leave, he was too wrapped up in what he was doing.



They walked hand in hand to the beach, behind a large rock outcropping. Lyeald padded towards the water, letting her robe drop from her before diving into the cool water. She swam out a bit and turned around to see her husband running in after her. She ducked under the water and swam around, playfully trying to evade him, but he caught her by the foot and pulled her up to him.



Keron pressed his lips to hers, entangling her tongue with his own while his hands roamed down her back side. She moaned when she felt his erection against her stomach and wrapped her legs around his waist, teasing the tip of his cock with her own sex. He lifted her up higher and suckled on one of her breasts, holding her by the ass.



She let him for a few minutes, closing her eyes and humming with approval, but she had more immediate needs. She dropped back down and led him towards the shore where she lay on her back in the sand, the waves still lapping around her. He followed her down and kissed her deeply while positioning his cock at her entrance.



Lyeald gasped as he slowly pushed his way in, hitting her in the right spot, knowing exactly what she wanted and needed from him. Soon he was thrusting in and out of her, the friction between them causing a blissful heat to rise within her. She gripped the sand beneath her as she came, calling his name. He followed soon afterwards, spending himself within her before collapsing onto her. She wrapped her arms around him as he panted into her ear.



Several minutes later, they were returning to the field. Gilt looked up when he saw them coming and ran over to them.



“Mother! Father!” he cried as his father swept him up, “I hit the target! I didn't get a bullseye, but I hit it and without any help too.”



His parents cooed at him with praise and support as the little family made their way back to the city. The sunset reflected off the towering crystal spires, cascading down into the streets in a dazzling light that rivaled any magic the elves could make for themselves. Thousands of high elves called this their home, and it seemed a paradise on earth.



As they walked back, she saw her parents, her sisters, friends, fellow priestesses. They all stopped and talked together about little things, about how much her son had grown, how beautiful the city was that day. By the time they arrived at their house, Gild had fallen asleep on his father's shoulder. They carefully laid him to bed, handing him is favorite toy, which he clutched close to his chest as he peacefully slept.



Lyeald lay back in her bed, looking up through the large window at the head of her bed, as the stars shined on above her. Keron lazily rubbed her clit, and sucked on her breast, eliciting a purr from her. She rolled on top of him, slowly taking his cock into her and riding him nice and slow. He arched beneath her, telling her he loved her. She picked up her pace and closed her eyes, feeling the cool night breeze flutter against her sweat slick skin, the hands of her beloved gripping her hips, his voice calling her name and felt a profound sense of bliss.



It didn't last though, the cool breeze became a bitter cold that invaded her whole being and the gentle sounds of lovemaking slowly became harsh orders being barked nearby. She clung desperately if without hope to her dream, but in the end, knew it was useless. Reality was calling her back.



The sun was out, but instead of a warming glow, it was a harsh light reflected off the white snow. She was buried under several furs and was still too damned cold. Instead of being in a soft bed looking up at the stars, she was in a bunk at Crusader Pinnacle. For the first time in years, it came crashing down on her again, what she had lost when Arthas destroyed Silvermoon. Her family, her home and her innocence. Sadness and pain welled up in her from where she had buried it years before and soon she was sobbing, curled into a ball and letting it all wash over her.



It was like reopening a wound, but as painful as it was, she felt it was right. Long ago she had blocked her pain with anger and revenge, but now that that had cooled she was left with the pain. It would not be buried this time. Ever since the Cathedral, three days earlier, the dreams had been relentless, wearing her down until finally she had to let it wash over her. She missed them, her husband and son, her family, the life she once had.



After a few minutes of free flowing tears she felt better. The pain was still there, but at least it was being addressed. She couldn't have that life back. It was gone. She could only make a new life for herself.



Wiping her eyes she got out of bed and got dressed, carefully doing up her hair and putting on her equipment. She had spent most of this time at the station, waiting to see if Tirion would recover. Everyone was tense and nervous that the great Paladin had finally outdone himself, and there was a general anxiety about what would happen should he now die.



Lyeald wasn't particularly worried, and believed he would recover. So it was no surprise to her at all when she stepped out into the morning chill and saw him standing out on the overlook, as if nothing had happened.



He turned as she approached and nodded at her with respect. The other Crusaders, looking nervous after the health of their commander, drew back to let her stand next to him. She stared out into the vast whiteness of Icecrown, trying to decide what to ask him.



“I don't see this as a defeat,” Tirion said, sensing what was on her mind “now I know, Arthas Menethil really is gone.”



“I don't see how that helps,” she said, “I thought you had hoped to redeem him.”



“There was that hope,” he said looking out into nothing, “I know it would be hard for you to understand, but there was a time when he was a good man, a true paladin. But the overwhelming odds against him shook his faith in the light, and the forces of darkness found him lost and desperate, easy prey.”



Lyeald did not immediately answer but instead looked out doubtfully.



“I understand that that may sound a little too familiar to you,” he said after a moment. She looked at him sharply about to retort, but found she couldn't. She sighed, feeling very tired suddenly. He was, after all, right. She had lost her faith in the light, had turned to darkness because it was a quicker way to power, to get what she wanted, what she needed.



“I do not think you will go that far though,” he said after watching her for another moment, “I may not approve of what you do Lyeald, but I can tell you have your limits.”



That was cheering at least, she thought. She may consort with demons, drain the souls of her enemies, but at least she wasn't about to tear out her own heart. Not yet anyways. Maybe not ever, she realized. She had seen Arthas and had not sold herself to her demons to destroy him. She did have limits it seemed.



“Will we ever win?” she asked in a small voice. The vastness of the land seemed to go on forever, and it was full of Arthas' army, and for every man or woman they lost, it became bigger. Was there victory against such a foe?



“We will,” he said with a smile, “we've seen his heart, we saw him wounded. It may not have been enough to finish him off, but it shows us there is a glimmer of hope.”



She stifled a dismissive snort, and instead tried to focus on that hope. She had long believed that power was the way to victory, but look at what it had done to those who followed that philosophy. Arthas, Illidan, Kael...all of them had become slaves to it and had to be destroyed. What was left to them but hope?



A loud squawk distracted her, and she looked up to see a dragonhawk circling above, coming in for a landing. This was a regular occurrence but for some reason, this one grabbed her attention. She smiled when she saw that the rider was a troll, in full plate padded with fur to keep him warm, and a long nasty blade on his back.



She excused herself from Fordring, who nodded with a smile at her, and went to meet the new arrival. He jumped off the flying beast and stamped his feet into the snow a few times to get his blood pumping. Her heart leaped when he flashed his brilliant smile upon seeing her.



“Typical,” he said when she was close enough, “I hurry to git up ere and find ya've taken all de fun.”



She laughed and wrapped her arms about his waist as he pulled her in for a kiss. The cold no longer bit into her bones, she could feel warmth and comfort filling her instead. The vast hopelessness of Icecrown no longer seemed to matter to her, because he was here.



“Don't worry,” she said when they parted, “there's lots more fun to be had here.”