Arthas was like a man possessed, riding to the coast without pause. He commandeered ships, pointed them resolutely north, and stood at the prow of the flagship until land was well out of sight. "Clair." He stated, and I moved up beside him.
"Arthas." I breathed, staring at the blue on blue world around me. I had never been on a ship before, never seen the ocean or an unending sky like this. "My brother… where do we go?" We had created carnage in eastern Lordaeron; surely we should stay to repair it….
He rested an arm over my shoulders, thoughtfully. "The force behind the Plague awaits us in Northrend. We end it there. We cut off its head before it strikes again."
"A worthy cause." If the instigator of Stratholme's demise waited for us, then indeed, let us go north to meet it. If destroying it would help balm the pain on my soul, then I would see it downed… If destroying it would see Uther stand tall again…. But the hell must be seen through to the finish before we could rebuild what we had destroyed.
"You are beautiful, like a finely wrought blade." Arthas stated, and I gazed at him dubiously. I had never been beautiful, and was less so now than ever. I was still fresh from carrying and birthing Bayard, my harness latched loosely over places it should be tight across. I had wiped off the worst of the blood, but it filled the engravings with a dark maroon, and stained the leather black. It also smelled, or maybe that was just me. "I regret…" He gave me a wry smile, the ghost of my brother Arthas in it. "That I was too drunk to truly remember being with you."
I frowned at the words. Not at the flippancy of the topic, because no one truly spoke of what we had done, each of us sought lighter conversation when we spoke of anything, but because I knew he'd ask me again. And again, I would comply.
He turned away from me, his gaze northward. "It is a crime to ask it of you…again." He told the breeze, the sea, everything but me. "You are Baudoin's. Not mine. I was a fool the first time, and double a fool now… But I need you, Clair."
It was that simple. He did, and I knew it. "I will clean up and be in your stateroom when you are ready for me." My words were calm, but then, I'd been nothing but calm since my mind had grasped what would be asked of me coming into Stratholme. I had participated in the massacre of thousands… going into Arthas's bed was a small sin.
We pushed ever north, and the world grew cold. Lordaeron was hardly balmy, but this… this was a deep cold, that didn't want to shift no matter what. It was cold sleeping next to Arthas, cold on the decks and cold below. I wanted to go home, except I didn't have one of those anymore. Brill…no. From what I'd seen, I could guess what remained there. Stratholme, I'd helped burn to the ground.
I had been gloriously shining at one time, garbed in finery, now I wore clothing that had started out this trip as blankets, pieced together with my incompetent tailoring. And as a final joke, I wore Arthas's signet ring binding my finger, a token from him after the first night. I glanced at it… it was mithril, heavy and moon bright, with the blazon of Lordaeron inset with dark, perfect sapphires. I had the son. I had the ring. Pieces were falling together now, after what she'd seen, Jaina would never let Arthas touch her again. There would be no children, no marriage. After Stratholme, Arthas would never be King of Lordaeron, if there was even a Lordaeron left. It was not fair that I'd seen so much, but was denied seeing that which would have stopped this. I snarled, lashing out and flinging a mug against the wall, narrowly missing Arthas seated at the tiny table across from me.
He raised dark eyes to me, contemplative. "You rage, my dear." He noted calmly, easily. "Why now?"
"Why was I shown things that made no difference, but not shown that which would? Why was I shown that Jaina would not be your wife, but never why? Why was I shown that Anelas would be your only, but never why?" I dropped to my knees, before him, and he was silent. All I heard was the incessant creak of the planks, and the whispering boom of the wind in the sails above me. "I was always shown just enough to get me in deeper, but never enough to avert this…"
