Blonde Children (A World of Warcraft Fanfic)

Changes

"Thank you, Falric. That will be all for the evening." The king's most trusted guard bowed and exited, the heels of his plate boots clicking on the marble floors of the hall with every purposed step.
The weary ruler sagged back into his throne, sighing with content, as the soft light from the setting sun yawned through the door, casting shades of orange and yellows on the stone pillars.
Outside the trees were dusted with the first layer of winter's frost. He closed his eyes in quiet appreciation of the moment of solace. Soon he would retire to bed, where he would be robbed of his sleep once more.
The nightmare was haunting him again. He hadn't dreamt it since he was young, though lately it seemed to have returned to congest his thoughts.
It was always the same dream. He sat at the head of a table in a grand dining hall lit with crackling torches, and before him stood a vile green orc with a skull painted on its face. And next to the grotesque creature stood a small boy, sickly and bonde. The roof was to come crashing down on them, bringing about something awful, what and how he never knew. But each time he found himself in the dream again, he always saved the boy. It was just instinct, to protect the innocent with his very life. That was the oath he took the day he was sworn in as a paladin. And each time he did the orc said the same thing.
       "Your power would have been eternal."
The words frightened him. He could never figure out the meaning of the dream, and part of him didn't want to. But all the tinctures and blessings in the world could not rid him of its unrelenting presence.

King Arthas Menethil, Paladin of the Light, and Ruler of Lordaeron, raised a thoughtful hand to stroke his beard, letting go of his worry. If the dream would come, let it come.
Eager for a distraction, he glanced out the window where the last few rays of light were following the sun beyond the horizon.
The sight put a thought into his head. He found himself thinking back to all those years ago, back in the time of the plague, when his hair was still long and bright as corn, gleaming in his youth. His face wrinkled for a moment as thoughts of one particular winter veil celebration when he ended his relationship with Jaina Proudmoore sprung unto his mind like a weed. It was then followed by soft reminiscing when he recalled the months thereafter in which he reconciled with her and their relationship began anew. Their special memories were still fresh in his mind, even decades later.

-13 Years Earlier-

Prince Arthas sat at a table in a chair that creaked with wear against the white walls of the ironically named Violet Citadel, the magi headquarters of Dalaran.
His face was newly shaven and still creased with lines from worries only recently gone. He glanced across at his companion, Jaina Proudmoore, as she stared into a warm cup of her favorite tea.
The two hadn't been alone together since they departed for their dangerous journey months ago.
They had returned to Dalaran after defeating Ner'zul, the Lich King, stopping the plague and destroying the cursed runeblade Frostmourne. Upon their glorious return, the two young nobles were named heros and in turn, became celebrities among all classes of citizens in Lordaeron.
After hearing the news of the pair's unbelievable success, Jaina's superiors summoned her immediately to Dalaran to recount her experiences.
She had insisted that Arthas join her, and Archmage Antonidas begrudgingly allowed it. Now the two had traveled to the wizard capital of Azeroth to tell of their venture and revere in their praise.
The archmage put down her empty cup and a magical floating teapot was quick to refill it, quite familiar with the blond woman's passionate love for tea. It then floated off, leaving the steam to rise in curls of jasmine aroma to her nose.
"Jaina, now that we have a moment, can we talk about... -us- again?" Arthas' voice cut through the admittably awkward silence.
She ran a finger around her ear, stowing away a stray lock, and looked up from her tea, her big blue eyes fixating on him. They hadn't talked about their relationship since that fateful winter morning long ago.
"Arthas, are you sure you're ready to talk?" She asked, all sense of casualty gone. "And that it's the right time for that matter?"
The young mage quickly glanced around the disheveled room. Bookshelves blocked her view of the walls as cabinets spilled over with scrolls full of infinite amounts of worldly knowledge.
Archmage Antonidas did not have time for such things as order in his waiting chambers.
"I am. Jaina, I know said I wasn't ready before, and that's because I was so unsure about myself, and what kind of man I was to become." His tone was apologetic, but she gave nothing away. "We were far too young. We had so much of our lives ahead of us. I was worried..." The prince's sea green eyes glistened with sincerity. When she said nothing, he grimaced.
Perhaps his inquisition came too late.
"Arthas.." She said finally, her tone surprisingly soft. The mage shook her head and gave a small smile. "Don't you ever think for one second I would let you fail me, or your kingdom." Arthas visibly relaxed.
Maybe there was hope afterall.
Suddenly the doors of the conjuring room flew open, and the Archmage shook his fist to scowl at a particular black crow making a hasty exit. He then turned his attention to the two, his aged eyes lighting up at the sight of them.
"Ah, Prince Arthas, Lady Jaina, please, come in. I'm told you bring good news." Jaina noticed he was especially courteous today, for no doubt the news of the king's son and his own apprentice's achievements had reached Dalaran long before they did.
They spent hours recounting their ventures and discoveries to the archmage, answering his endless questions. Even strangely specific ones such as what time of day was Ner'zul defeated, and what type of grain was used as the carrier of the plague. But Jaina never doubted her master, and Arthas knew better to question such a powerful man. Many hours paased before the two began to tire from talking, and as they finished, Antonidas stood to commend them both.
"You've done your kingdom a great service, Prince Arthas. Your father must be very proud." Arthas smiled at the thought. "And Jaina, your actions exceed all expectations of an apprentice. You've been a very popular topic of conversation here... even so by the High Council." He added. A smile overtook her at the thought, and it pleased Arthas to see her so happy.
"I shan't keep you long, however. I know you are both highly expected by King Terenas, among many others. May I just say, thank you both for your courageous actions. Light knows how many lives and kingdoms you may have spared a horrid fate."
The two glanced at each other, smiling.
"Thank you, archmage." Said the prince.

That evening, an escort service was formed that would accompany the young nobles to Lordaeron.
When the prince and apprentice left the citadel, they were met with hundreds of people all waiting impatiently to meet the returning heros. After having to practically fight their way through the masses of swarming citizens, the two slipped away to find a moment's peace.
They returned to their given chambers where they washed and redressed to spend the rest of the day as Dalaran's most honored guests.

As Jaina finished brushing her long hair, she heard a cheery knock at the door. On the other side of the threshold stood a clean and casually dressed Arthas, offering to accompany her as they went looking for privacy from the public eye.
They found it in the gardens, where the bright flowers were in bloom, filling the air with a sweet and somewhat magical fragrance as the sun set over the shining city. Arthas reclined on a bench, subdued by the lulling environment and cease of commotion.
Jaina sat next to him, peculiarly close, though not close enough to arouse suspicion from intrusive onlookers.
Though after some time she eventually gave into the temptation and rested her head on his shoulder. He accepted her warmly, and drew her near, relishing in her close presence.
The smitted paladin looked over and noted how the warm surroundings framed her perfectly. He sighed in awe of how beautiful she looked, the sunlight gleaming in her hair, her bright eyes sparkling in the light, her tanned skin soft and flawless. To him she was perfect.
After a moment she caught his eye.
"What are you thinking about?" She asked.
"Your hair. It's beautiful." He said simply.
She smiled, and thought about making another comment about the possible hair color of their children, as she had done once before, a long time ago. But she quickly thought again, and withheld.
"Thank you." The young woman smiled wistfully.
He looked back to the glorious display of the setting sun, as another moment passed.
"You're right. They would most certainly be a bright and shining blonde." He sighed.
She looked at him questioningly.
"Your children." He explained, purposefully saying 'your' instead of 'our'. "They would indeed be fair-haired." He caught a tinge of pink on her face as she looked away.
"Arthas, I-" She began.
"Wait." He said softly as he got up and slipped into the bustling streets of Dalaran.
She sighed in half parts content and confusion. She allowed her mind to submit to the sound of chirping birds and ringing chimes among the soothing breeze.
"I hope your prince is treating you well." A smooth, sultry voice came from behind her. She immediately knew who was speaking, and tensed slightly.
The tall, slender blood elf strode around the bench and stood before her, towering over her short human form.
He dawned red-and-gold silk finery that was customary for one of his kind.
"Oh, hello Kael'thas." She said, pleasantly surprised.
"I heard you and the young prince conquered the notorious Ner'zul and dismantled the cursed blade Frostmourne." He raised a lengthy eyebrow.
"Yes, we did." She simply said, unsure of his intent. "What are you doing here Kael?"
He smirked at the casual familiarity of his name.
"When I heard news of your wondrous accomplishments, I simply had to commend you in person. After all, Lady Proudmoore, you and I were once quite close."
"Come now Kael, there's never been any need for formality between us."
He gave a small smile.
"Of course, Lady Jaina."
"But, I thank you, and I must say, I'm glad to see you again, especially after coming so close to death in Northrend. It made me realize so much."
"Well, you've certainly received the praise you both deserve." His face seemed passive. "However the high elves of Quel'Thalas have no time to ramble in minor troubles such as plagues. We have much more important things to do, and I'm afraid they call upon my leadership so urgently that I cannot give you the extended welcome I would prefer to."
"You won't be staying?" She asked, standing up, almost level to him.
He nodded.
"It seems certain events have conspired in my brief absence that require my attention. It was quite fortunate I was able to come at all."
"Well, good luck Kael. I hope we meet again soon, and under better circumstances."
He smiled back tightly.
"As do I, Lady Jaina." And as he turned to leave, Arthas reappeared out of the crowd with a bushel of ripened goldenbark apples in his hand, Jaina's favorite. The sight of the lean blood elf standing so close to her unnerved him as he approached.
"Kael'thas. Nice to see you again." His formality was palpable.
"And you as well, your Highness." The sides of the elf's mouth pricked up in a faint smile. "I was just telling Lady Proudmoore how impressed I am at your recent accomplishments. You two seem to work well together."
"Oh, yes of course." Arthas said, secretly relieved.
"I regret that I cannot stay longer to learn more about your experiences, however. I must take my leave for Silvermoon in the morning."
Arthas then straightened his stance, and regained his mannerisms. "Well, do send my regards to your father."
"So I shall. And Prince Arthas," Kael'thas neared him and leaned in close. "Take care of her." He whispered. And when he leaned back, the elf's face was calm, but in his eyes was a shadow of anguish.
Arthas nodded.
"I will."