Disclaimer: Everything in this story belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. There will be spoilers for Arthas: Rise of the Lich King in this fanfic.

I removed this story from this site because I didn't like the direction it had taken and, frankly, I don't have a lot of time to write anymore. But I've been contacted by several people who would like it back up… and I don't see any reason why I shouldn't repost what I still have from the original story. The later chapters have been lost (unless someone out there saved them) which is probably a good thing as I wasn't happy with them. Some elements will be the same and some will be completely different.

Also, please be warned that this is an Alternate Universe story, and as such many of the events that take place here will NOT be canon. Fair warning. Not everyone will be completely in character, etc. etc. It won't keep diehard lore fans happy, that's for sure.

As for everyone else, I hope you enjoy the story.

"No one can seem to deny you anything," she murmured, repeating the words she had said to him the day of their first kiss, "least of all me."

He clutched her to him then, a sudden cold shivering over him, though he had no idea why. "Don't deny me, Jaina. Don't ever deny me. Please."

She looked up at him, eyes glittering in the cool moonlight. "I never would, Arthas. Never."

- Arthas: Rise of the Lich King

The Shadows Grow Longer

Chapter One

For several hours she trekked up the high cliffs southwest of Valgarde. A crisp wind ruffled her hair and countered the sweat on her forehead as cool air filled her lungs. Across Daggercap Bay ruins of an ancient settlement peeked through the mist and coniferous trees, leering dragon-like heads attached to roofs of buildings revealing themselves the higher she went. Directly below, smoke from campfires billowed into the air in tiny gray clouds. Occasionally a barge docked at the port close to the fires. Fjord rock falcons rode the breeze over the open water, little brown specks in the air careening from cliff to cliff.

Winded, she stopped a moment and admired the view. Such beautiful birds, she mused, noticing the falcons. A nice change from the black crows and sea gulls that invade Theramore anyway.

Upon reaching the top of the cliffs she was delighted to be greeted by a herd of shoveltusks. Rather strange creatures but oddly enduring. As curious about her as she was them, the animals maintained a respectable distance but did not seem overly bothered by her presence. The calves bucked and played, providing endless entertainment as they ran around their mothers. The only thing that irritated her was the shape of New Agamand and its menacing towers looming to the northwest. But never mind. She was not here to guess what Sylvanas and her Royal Apothecary Society were up to. Not today.

She found a shady hollow overlooking the cliffs and parked there, stretching out in the grass, not caring as her garments stained green. Her hands settled behind her head. The sun bathed her in a warm light and she sighed. How long had it been since she'd had a moment to herself in a place like this? Not since she'd gone on picnics with Arthas years ago, back when Lordaeron was whole and the world an easier place to live in.

With a sigh, she decided that Rhonin had been right. She'd needed to get away. Rhonin. A frown crossed her mouth, memories of the scene in Violet Citadel a few days prior invading her peaceful reverie.

"Prisoner? Ha! With its bindings shattered, its influence unchecked, it's gonna come after us, and we're gonna be the prisoners!"

"…we stand to lose everything if we do not stop fighting and work together!"

"A true Warchief would never partner with cowards!"

"I'm done with your Horde. May this 'death god' take you all."

Another sigh escaped her, this time one of exasperation. What could she have done to change the outcome of that ill-fated meeting? Could she have kept Thrall from walking into the Violet Citadel so early? Held him and Garrosh at bay with conversation? Or perhaps she could have found a way to gently tell Varian that Thrall was about to enter instead of porting in and out like a madwoman. Anything would have been better than what had happened, with Wrynn teleporting out of the room in a huff and Hellscream insulting Thrall.

She'd failed. Surely she could have done something differently.

Afterwards, Rhonin had seen right through her as she stood stoically on the balcony. "You need to stop taking responsibility for things you have no control over," he'd confronted her. "I know you well enough now, Jaina. I can tell when you take a burden onto your shoulders that no one should be lifting. Don't do it now. There was nothing you could have done, no words you could have said that would have convinced Wrynn to join forces with the Horde. There was no action you could have taken to keep Garrosh Hellscream from attacking. Blaming yourself for things you cannot control will help no one, least of all you."

"I know," she replied, shifting uncomfortably. "It's a bad habit of mine." Has been for years. Ever since Stratholme. But really, I could have -

"Don't do it now," he repeated. One of his large hands gripped her shoulder. "Not over this."

"I won't." A small smile crossed her lips. Liar.

Still, the man had insisted that she take some time for herself, and that was precisely what she was doing. Only to appease him, of course… until she actually found herself alone under the light blue sky of the Howling Fjord and realized he was right. She had been pushing herself too hard ever since the Battle for Undercity a few weeks previous.

At least she'd done something right during that particular battle.

If only the Alliance and Horde would all put aside their personal differences for a short time, just long enough to rid Northrend of its evils…

Evils. First the Lich King and now Yogg-Saron. Really, how could the situation get any worse? Who presented the greatest threat at this point? Numerous adventurers from both the Horde and the Alliance now focused their attention towards the situation in Ulduar, the dark presence there too dire to ignore. But what about the Lich King? What was he doing in regards to the situation? If Yogg-Saron posed a threat, wouldn't the Scourge be attacking Ulduar instead of continuing to infest the lands of Northrend, attacking the outposts and infecting the inhabitants? Was the Lich King content to sit back and let his enemies take care of the Old God? Or did he in fact have some sort of hold over Yogg-Saron?

Jaina Proudmoore didn't know the answer to this, and it frustrated her to no end. Would they regret focusing so many military forces on Ulduar instead of Icecrown? Or was Ulduar truly the bigger menace at the moment? She chose to believe it was.

Still, no matter whom the biggest threat at the time, nothing would ever truly get done in this land of ice and snow unless the Alliance combined forces with the Horde. She genuinely liked Varian Wrynn, understood his hatred and pain, but the man needed to let go of his personal grudges and look at the bigger picture at least for a little while. Thrall, she could tell, was equally embarrassed by the actions of Garrosh Hellscream.

Thank the Light for Thrall; diplomatic, even-headed Thrall. She wished the Warchief could have come along with her, but he'd departed for Orgrimmar after the meeting and she hadn't had a chance to speak with him since. Not as if he could have come anyway, she knew, and she missed their secret meetings in The Barrens. She wished for all of this to be over so things could go back to the way they were, with no Lich King, no Yogg-Saron-

But if it isn't the Lich King or Yogg-Saron, it would be someone or something else. The world will never be safe.

Her jaw ached. Jaina realized she'd been grinding her teeth and forced herself to relax. Not today, she sternly reminded herself. Today is for you. Take the opportunity since the Light only knows when or if you'll get another one. And she pulled a book that focused on counter-spells from her pack. The breeze caressed her hair and she lay back in the shade of a great pine tree, allowing herself to forget time as she lost herself in her book, just as she used to do when she was but an apprentice in Dalaran who thought only of studies and magic, never of ruling a settlement or of Old Gods and Scourge.

Rain drops woke her. Jaina didn't remember falling asleep, so engrossed had she been in her book; she'd simply taken a break, enjoying the feel of the sun on her skin, and must have dozed off. Now several hours she could have spent reading were wasted. Ugh. She disgusted herself sometimes.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. The shoveltusk herd had gone.

A cold tremor shook her. Groggy and moody, she pulled herself out of the hollow and squinted at the dark sky before packing her book away and heading towards the cliffs, the situation at Ulduar weighing heavily on her mind once more. What were they going to do? If no alliances would be made, they were all doomed, be it by the hand of the Lich King or of Yogg-Saron.

The sorceress made it a little less than halfway down when the heavy rain started. Mud coated the already treacherous trail, and she wasn't going to take the chance of falling or breaking a leg so she focused her energy, allowing a white nimbus of mystical power to surround her body, concentrated on the location she wanted to materialize at, and teleported herself off of the mountainside.

Her sudden appearance in the middle of the crowded bar area at the Valgarde inn startled several drinking adventurers. A drunk gnome gaped at her from on top of a table, and two human men watched for a moment, intrigued by the woman who had appeared from thin air, before turning their eyes downward and continuing their conversation.

The bartender raised an eyebrow in her direction but didn't bother to stop filling a glass with beer. Several others in the dining area studied her for a good while before they returned to their bowls of soup.

Slightly embarrassed, Jaina nodded politely at them all and wrapped her wet cloak tightly around herself. She was glad for the anonymity; only Rhonin and Magistrate Randavarr knew she was visiting, and it was a great relief to be completely out of the public eye for once. Here she was just another adventurer coming to conquer the Howling Fjord, not the Archmage and ruler of Theramore. The freedom in that fact was delicious.

She headed towards her room, eager to get out of her wet things. Her room here was shared by other guests, something rather unappealing to Jaina, and had bunk beds all in one large space rather than the small single bedrooms she'd grown used to in her travels. Someone on a nearby bunk was already asleep, and she didn't want to disturb him so quickly she pulled a new robe and leggings from her bag and went to the small bathroom area shared by all guests to change, making sure to lock the door once inside. She'd just finished changing clothes and had again arrived downstairs for something to eat when the alarm was sounded.

"Invaders incoming! Prepare the cannons!" shouted a frantic voice from the port. "Fire a warning shot!"

The two men at the bar leapt out of their chairs and headed for the door to see what the commotion was about. The barkeeper frowned and put down the glass he was cleaning, prepared to follow them. The drunken gnome, oblivious to all around him, kept dancing on the bar.

Jaina followed them outside. Not planning to get involved in the fight unless she absolutely had to as was her custom, she concealed herself with a cloaking spell and remained a distance behind the men.

Cries ranging from fear to excitement rang across Daggercap Bay as adventurers and Valgarde defenders alike seized weapons and clamored towards the northern wall of the keep. Dwarven builders were still reconstructing the old wall and a hole gaped like an open door halfway through the barrier there, inviting whatever ran wild around the woods at night inside. And in this case there was a different kind of threat in the woods besides wild animals.

In Dalaran there had been a briefing with Brann Bronzebeard and the Explorers' League concerning the half-giant men called Vrykul who assaulted Valgarde Keep constantly and resided in various parts of the continent. Jaina learned that this strange "seed race" was thought to be extinct for thousands of years until attacks began from Utgarde Keep; no one knew how or why these people returned but they proved themselves a tremendous threat to the Alliance when it was discovered that they worshipped the Lich King as a death god. Apparently a "King Ymiron" led them. The scholars of Dalaran in the Violet Hold froze one in suspended animation for further study.

The lines of defense were formed. Anticipation was thick in the air.

"Fire a warning shot!" howled an officer. "Fire a damn warning shot!"

"Don't let those monsters get through the gate! Stand firm, soldiers!"

"The Dragonflayer Clan will fall!"

Rabid gray worgs galloped forth from the woods, drooling with murderous fervor. Alongside them the huge wild men charged the line. Axes and spears glinted in the moonlight as they were carried across the river and towards the keep, the weapons sharp and deadly, and deep, guttural voices screamed phrases that could barely be understood.

"Battle hard, brothers! Rouse our sleeping kin with the echoes of war!"

"My life for Ymiron!"

Feral cries mingled with their battle shouts. "For the Death God!"

"The val'kyr surround us, brothers and sisters! Glory comes to those who sacrifice all for the Lich King!"

Val'kyr? Jaina's fingers massaged her temples as though trying to force information out of them but nothing came - well, after all her attention was probably focused on some Scourge attack or another at the time if the word had been mentioned in her presence before. She didn't remember hearing anything about creatures called "val'kyr" and made a mental note to inquire about them once back in Dalaran.

A ball of fire burst through the air and exploded upon the Valgarde defenders as Vrykul atop proto-drakes assaulted the fortress. Eyes watered and smoke clogged the lungs of the men and dwarves. As the fires from above multiplied, it became a strain to see incoming attackers before they were already upon the line. Pieces of the broken wall flew through the air as proto-drakes hit the wall with their talons; soldiers who couldn't see through the smoke where struck down by them.

Still the fighters stood strong. Using shields to protect themselves from the fire and their enemy's arsenal, they pushed the Vrykul out of the fort and into the woods past the river. Cannons fired upon the proto-drake riders who flew off to the west once they realized their ground assault failed.

"They're in retreat!"

Cheers rang out from the victorious. The fires were put out, creating even more smoke, but no one cared as men clapped each other on the back and raised their weapons in celebration. The few wounded were taken to the medical tents nearby.

As she solemnly looked upon the many corpses of half-giants and worgs, the still-concealed Jaina frowned. If only there had been a peaceful solution…so few of those these days, it seems. Guards took up positions on the wall and the adventurers returned to their drinks, but she slipped through the hole in the wall, careful not to thread on the bodies of the dead, and stood at the river's edge.

Past the water faint lights flickered in the darkness, the reflections dancing across Lake Cauldros. While the Vrykul were defeated for now, it was certain that nearby Wrymskull Village teemed with life. But how had these once-extinct people come back? Why? Obviously the Lich King had something to do with it but his reasons certainly weren't clear. Did this King Ymiron and his followers truly revere that monster as their death god?

Curious about these giant warriors and determined to see their living quarters up close, Jaina briskly trotted along the stone laden banks of the lake towards the settlement just north of the keep.

She could not have known that she was watched.