Chapter One: The Ascension

The battle was over. The Blood Elves and Naga were repulsed and Anub'arak was holding the line against any resurgence. In a final, desperate bout, Illidan had confronted Arthas directly. It had been the hardest battle he'd ever fight, but in the end, Arthas had been victorious.

And yet as he looked at the wounded Demon Hunter, Arthas found he could not bring himself to slay him. Illidan was an exile from his people for doing what had to be done. He'd been betrayed for taking actions that the Druids had failed to do.

He was a hero, scorned by all.

It was something Arthas had though himself to be once. And so he turned away and left him there to live or die as he chose. Turning to the Icecrown Glacier, he'd begun to scale it. He passed through the icy gates and felt a chill blacker and more terrible than any he'd experienced. Every step was heavier than the last, though a voice urged him on.

As Arthas walked upward, he heard the voices of old friends around him. Muradin, Uther, Jaina, their accusations echoing in his ears as he went ever higher.

"You lied to your men, and betrayed the mercenaries that fought for you!"

"Have you lost your mind, Arthas!"

"I'm sorry Arthas, I can't watch you do this."

He shrugged them off. Their condemnations were irrelevant, for he could not leave without reaching this point. Up and up Arthas went until he came before what he had served with faith and loyally he had never felt. A spirit that had been beside him, driving him onward to destroy his enemies. He'd resisted it often, but now he remembered how it had driven him against Sylvanas.

To bend her to his will, to crush her forces. After a campaign of restrained humiliation, it had been satisfying to defeat them. And yet it had resisted when he slaughtered the Blackrock Orcs. How it had torn at him as he wiped out every man woman and child.

Now here was the god so many gave their souls for.

The skeleton of an orc trapped in ice. Or was it a ghost of a skeleton trapped within armor. Yes, there was no true bone there.

"Return the blade…" said the voice of the Lich King. "Complete the circle. Release me from this prison…"

The voices reached a crescendo as Arthas drew back his sword and struck. The blade shattered the ice and the armor fell away. Around Arthas, the glacier began to crack and break. It collapsed around him like a waterfall of snow. The helm fell before him and Arthas was driven to reach down and take it.

Drawing it up, he placed the helm on his head. And Arthas saw blue light as he beheld the world around him.

Then, he was standing within a great hall. Before him were two figures. One was immensely powerful, an orc clad in furs. Yet he was but the face of a far greater being, something Arthas could see only hints of. The other was a boy, sick and starving, but held on by a grim determination. Small mercies had fed him, driving him to draw on still more mercies. Though Sylvanas had been a heavy blow.

"He is gone already." Said the orc.

"You do not have him yet.' Said the boy, giving the orc cold look. A look of furious defiance, born in endless hatred.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" asked Arthas, annoyed at mysteries. "And what is this place?"

The orc looked at him with an expression that told Arthas he knew full well who he was. He was the Lich King, Ner'zhul, incarnated here as he once was. "This place is a domain of spirits. The place where the power of the Lich King resides in full. We are each of us aspects of the Lich King."

"Hardly." Scoffed Arthas. "I've no interest in being a god." He'd no interest in anything.

"It is that trait that led me to choose you, Arthas." Said the orc. "You serve others without regard to yourself. It is why you were known as the best of the paladins. It is why the scourge triumphed over the Legion.

"Together, we have engineered the death of Archimonde and laid low the armies of the Legion.

But we have much work left to do."

"I'm well aware." Said Arthas. "Kael'thas left quite a trail of destruction behind him. If I hadn't arrived when I did, you'd be shards of ice.

"Who is this boy then?"

The orc looked to the boy, who glared back with silent fury. "This is a phantom."

"I am more than that." Said the boy. "I am who you once were. I am your memories of Jaina, your love for your people-"

"I have no time for this." Scoffed Arthas.

But the boy held his gaze. And Arthas found he could not now look away from it. "You don't have to continue like this. You can return to what you once were?"

"Really?" asked Arthas. "And how do you suggest I do that?" He wanted to know the answer, even past his sarcasm.

But the boy was silent.

"I'm waiting." Said Arthas.

"You could repent and throw yourself at the mercy of the paladins." Said the boy, with the air of one who has not considered the question before.

Arthas scoffed bitterly. The paladins had never attempted to free or dissuade me. They'd jumped at the chance to make their self-righteous speeches. "And they would immediately kill me. Judging from my record of kills at this point, I don't imagine the light would be in a forgiving mood."

"Uther taught us that the light could forgive anything." Said the boy.

Arthas doubted it. But even if it was true, it did not matter. "In that case, we might as well ask its pardon while still alive. I see no reason to submit myself to self-righteous priests.

"If they wanted me redeemed they would have tried to redeem me."

His other self was grasping at straws now. "You could go to Jaina, ask her-"

Arthas laughed now, feeling the scorn more than ever. "Jaina is a fool. She abandoned me to go follow the wishes of that rambling madman."

"He was right." Noted the boy matter of factly. "Your lust for vengeance drove your people into his hands."

"Did it?" asked Ner'zhul. "I seem to remember the Alliance turning on you long before that. Uther forced you to trap your men here. If he had swallowed his pride and helped you purge Stratholme we would not have ever come to this point."

"And what of Muradin?" asked the boy. "You left him to die in the snows so you could claim that blade. When did he betray you? What of your men who struggle to survive in Northrend even now? Falric, Marwynn, how did they betray you?"

Where once Arthas was forced to hold the boys gaze, now he could hardly meet it. His thoughts searched over the sight of Muradin recoiling. "…It hardly matters.

"Even if I wanted to return to that life I cannot. The Alliance would simply kill me. If I wished to make amends it would be useless to submit to them.

"As for Jaina, do you really think she'd take me back? And do you really think she has the power to withhold me from the Alliance? Or the desire?

"No, any reunion would be of the tears shed from the other side of the cell variety.

"I think not." He had no intention of dying for the sake of redemption. "Anything else?"

The boy flinched at this. The possibilities were fading away, destroyed by cold logic. One could not do the things they had done and simply walk away. "You could become a wandering warrior, shed the name of Arthas and fight the legion."

"In that case, I might as well become Lich King and use armies of undead to fight the legion far more effectively." Noted Arthas, though it was a good idea. "Do you have any other suggestions? Any that could not be performed better with the use of an undead army?"

"…You could allow the Blood Elves and Naga to flee this land and escape back to their own domains. There isn't any point in killing more of them." Said the boy. "They are a broken people."

It was a start. Arthas smiled. Now we're finally getting to practical solutions. Ones' with no need for you." Then he drew his sword and place it to the throat of the spirit. "Begone, spirit. And take your due place."

The boy did not flinch. He held Arthas' gaze even as he faded. "You will remember me before the end."

Then he was gone. Arthas considered how many of the prophecies with good results had come true. Then he scoffed again. "I doubt it."

The boy was gone. Not dead. But brought into the fold. The desires he represented were not possible. His hopes and dreams were shattered beyond repair. But the aspects which drove those hopes and dreams were now within Arthas.

He felt strong. Stronger than ever now.

Ner'zhul blinked in surprise. "That took significantly less time than I expected."

Arthas looked to him with newfound contempt. 'It isn't the sort of decision that requires half a decade of sleep to come to. Now, as long as we're here, logically I should kill you and become Lich King in my own right."

Ner'zhul stood and clenched a fist. "You won't find it easy. I am a god in my own right. This… orc is but a shell of flesh."

"Perhaps, but I doubt you're any more terrifying than the spawn of that Forgotten One." Noted Arthas. "Can you give me a reason not to kill you?"

"Do you have an actual reason for wanting me dead?" asked Ner'zhul.

The emotions were coming to Arthas, but they were muted and restrained. He'd never been one for self-righteous speeches and any he made would be… hypocritical, to say the least. "You had me obliterate the nation I was one day going to rule. Granted, I feel nothing for all those who've I've slaughtered within. But I still hold resentment at being forced to destroy something that is mine.

"I also have no special love for you. It's also against my job description to not murder someone I have no use for at this stage."

Ner'zhul smiled as power radiated from him. Arthas glowed with a pale light that met the Lich King's blackness. The auras clashed there, driving against one another with neither the stronger. "Amusing.

"Perhaps I should clarify my motives before we go any further with this confrontation."

Arthas drew back his will, as Ner'zhul did the same. "You mean your inexplicable desire to destroy all life?"

Ner'zhul cackled aloud. "You give me too much credit, Arthas. The truth is that I've had very selfish and petty motives from the very beginning. I have no grand vision for a paradise of eternal darkness, as Kel'thuzad put it.

"My goals have been twofold: First, to secure independence from the Legion. To do so, I had to remove Archimonde and ruin his invasion. And then establish a powerful stronghold to prevent further incursions. That has been achieved by our cooperation.

"Second, to achieve a new physical form. Icecrown was designed to fail eventually.

"I also had a secondary goal of ensuring the survival of my species with the invasion of the Legion. Thus why the orcs never had to contend with any undead forces they didn't deliberately engage."

"What about the Blackrock Clan?" asked Arthas. "I killed every man, woman, and child in that place."

Ner'zhul narrowed his eyes. "Just as you seek to avoid slaughtering the human and elven populace when it could be avoided. I suppose you consider yourself avenged in that regard.

"At present, the score between us does not matter. The Scourge is shattered and broken. Illidan's assault has only barely been repulsed. Kel'thuzad is reforming our loyalists at Stratholme as we speak. The Banshee Queen, Sylvanas, is consolidating her forces. The humans are organizing into a new order as we speak. The Scourge will be hard-pressed soon."

"I missed the part where that is my concern." Said Arthas, tempted to walk away just to spite him.

"Well, it is your kingdom." Said Ner'zhul. "I would hate to see you lose another. If you killed me now, you would become the Lich King. But you would not understand how to coordinate the Scourge en masse. And when acting in a strategic capacity you would be unable to command from the front as you prefer."

"So, an alliance." Said Arthas. He could not, in good conscience, abandon Kel'thuzad and those who served him loyalty. Many had sacrificed themselves for his sake, after all."

"Yes." Said Ner'zhul. "I will inhabit your form and take you as a… protégé. Our wills will cooperate to rebuild our holdings and deal with the Legion. I'll have a competent general who is, as of yet, undefeated In the field of battle. Something I will need. In return, I will oversee the gradual reconstruction of the scourge. I will provide you with the armies you will need.

"Eventually one of us will betray and destroy the other."

"I see." Said Arthas. "So only together may we reconstruct the Scourge from the ashes and build an army unlike any other. You'll forgive me if I find it less than inspiring."

"I am perfectly willing to consult you on matters of foreign policy for now." Said Ner'zhul. "But the fact remains, we stand together in this, or not at all."

Arthas considered his options and found them shockingly limited. If he were to establish a place for himself, he would need an army. Finally, he relented and sheathed his sword. "…Very well, Lich King. We'll play your game."

"Then give me your hand in pledge." Said Ner'zhul, offering it.

Arthas took the hand.

The blue energy faded and Arthas opened his eyes to perceive the endless flows of fate and mana. His gaze fell over the landscape, blinking beneath the daylight. He could perceive everything, understand aspects of things he'd never considered. He no longer saw rivers of freezing water, but endless tiny particles called water.

"Now we are one."

It was a lie. But one spoken from both minds for the moment.

Author's Note:

Okay, a bit of context.

This was my original ending for the Mercyverse. Before I decided to have Arthas not go after Sylvanas. When he did that, it set off a row of dominoes that threw things off the rails.

In my original plan Arthas would ascend the Frozen Throne but as a noble demon of sorts.

Since a bunch of people requested I rewrite Wrath of the Lich King, this is the beginnings of my attempt.