Warcraft (Arthas/Kael)
Jul. 29th, 2007 04:28 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
the--ivorytower.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
kinkfestTitle: Dichotomy
Author: Kelriia Frettlar (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
the__ivorytower)
Fandom: Warcraft
Prompt: July 26th - 42. Warcraft, Arthas/Kael: Hatesex - "I'll never let you go if you promise not to fade away"
Disclaimer: So very much not mine.
Warnings: Very questionably consensual sex, yaoi, possible squick factor.
Pairings: Death Knight!Arthas/Kael
Summary: Pity the living, for the dead come back to haunt them.
Note: My apologies for this being late.
~ * ~
"I only need a few more minutes..." Kael muttered, mostly to himself. His elven ears could pick up the sound of breaking wood and crackling fires. He winced. Dalaran a massive, magical city, constructed for mages, by mages, with the distinct purpose of enhancing magical attunement while giving them a sanctuary to work unimpeded. It was not constructed to repel invaders, despite what had happened in the Second War. Once Antonidas' magical barriers had failed, there was nothing stopping the undead from invading.
He'd gotten word about Quel'thalas only days ago -- he shied away from the gaping, open wound that was the memory of his fallen home and kingdom -- and now, it seemed that the undead had come for this place too. He didn't know if he regretted taking a few days before marching to the nearest Alliance outpost or not. On one hand, he would get caught and surely be killed by the Scourge. On the other hand, if he could just recover a few of these precious tomes, it would be worth the delay. He glanced up, surveying the ruin of the library.
What an utter waste, Kael thought regretfully. More knowledge than anyone could hope to absorb, all about to be des--
He could hear steps coming closer. The person coming towards him did nothing to disguise their steps, and they rattled as they walked, heavy footfalls on floors used to delicate, light steps. Kael glanced through the bookshelf, preparing to summon a great inferno that would incinerate them. His eyes widened, and he dropped the books he was holding.
Arthas! What the-- I'd heard rumours, but this..!
On the other side of the bookshelf, Arthas grinned at him, a death's head, pale as the snows of Northrend. He reached forward, and shoved the bookshelf onto Kael. Still stunned, Kael found himself slammed against the floor, pinned by the heavy bookshelf, and many of the tomes he'd been trying to save. Arthas pulled the bookshelf off again, and tossed it aside.
"I'll destroy us both," Kael vowed, struggling to stand. He could feel fire surging in his veins, longing for it to be called out. "I won't let you turn me into--"
Arthas kissed him, digging spiked gauntlets into his shoulders. Kael found himself deeper in the pile of books, spines digging into his back. Kael shuddered, because Arthas felt cold. Horribly cold, but not dead. What little word had come back from the survivors of Scourge attacks had stated that Arthas had never died, only sold his soul to the Lich King for the power to save his people. Kael appreciated irony, though this time he might die from it. He jerked his head away from Arthas.
"I won't let you kill yourself, elven prince," Arthas told him. "Why are you still here? For books? I thought you'd have gone limping back to your former homeland by now."
"You destroyed my home," Kael snarled. Arthas was peeling off parts of his armour -- Oh, skulls, very creative -- and tossing them casually to the side. "I'll kill you."
"Better people than you have tried, Kael'thas," Arthas replied, grinning at him.
"Just kill me and get it over with." This was awkward and uncomfortable. There was a book digging into the base of his spine. From the feel of the cover, it was the invocation tome for fourth year students -- he wears clothes under his armour, why would he bother, he doesn't feel heat or cold -- and he tried to scramble back -- Of Might And Magic, third year book on combat magic, that hurt -- and then he--
Arthas had his hands on him, and his body remembered. It rembered being cornered, pressed up against walls or tables or Instructor Goldensword's desk. It remembered the feeling of rough lips and brutal kisses and his body remembered what it did in return: he moaned. Around him, he could still hear the crackling of fires, the destruction of the second oldest human city in existence, the gibbering of the undead.
Arthas pressed cold hands between his legs, pushing them apart. Kael shuddered even as he hardened. He sought to distance his mind from this, to pretend it wasn't happening -- why do I still enjoy this, he's an evil monster, not to mention a complete as--
"You can't escape this," Arthas hissed softly. He took one of Kael's hands, and opened it, palm up, expectant. Kael conjured oil to it, and Arthas dipped his fingers in it, pushing into Kael to stretch him. "Remember where you are."
Dalaran. Library. Arthas. Quel'thalas... oh, by my ancestor's spirit.
"Where is she, Arthas?" Kael managed as Arthas replaced his fingers with his cold, hard length, and pushed into him with a snarl.
"Gone," Arthas replied, thrusting hard. Kael clung to Arthas, inner fire creating a barrier against the pervading, invading iciness. Arthas shuddered, and Kael realized that perhaps Arthas' sense of temperature wasn't quite as dead as he'd believed. "She's gone."
"What did you do to her?" Kael's hips bucked upwards as Arthas slammed into him, biting his lip and wincing. Arthas' eyes were wide and wild.
"She left me to this. She betrayed me," Arthas snarled, moving faster than Kael could match, inhuman strength and speed bring tears to Kael's eyes for a moment before the elven prince screamed. The release, like the act itself, was a mixture of hot and cold.
"You betrayed everyone," Kael told him as Arthas pulled back, and Kael could see that the former human's chest was heaving, though he couldn't identify for what reason. There should have been no strain in this, and he doesn't really need to breathe, so could it be... pain? Regret?
"I did what I had to," Arthas said finally. He dressed, what little humanity he had left disappearing behind the trappings of his station as the Lich King's first death knight. "Get out of here."
"I'll just kill myself," Kael promised. "I'll destroy as much of your army as I can."
Arthas grabbed him, pulling him off the pile of books and into his arms. Kael struggled. "Then I'll make you one of my own. I cannot allow you to die, Kael'thas, so I will force you to live."
"No... I won't let you--" Kael began, but Arthas' arm tightened, and there was an excruciating pain that flared up along his ribs.
"You can choose to live by your own hand, or die by mine," Arthas hissed in his ear, as ominous and prophetic as death itself. "Make your choice."
Very, very slightly, Kael shook his head. He would live. Arthas let him go, and without another word, stalked out.
Kael stared at his shaking hands. I am going to kill you so hard that the entire world will feel it.
~ * ~
Noah Olden dug through the piles of books, selecting this one and that. He couldn't allow so much knowledge to be destroyed. There was nothing more he could do for his people, as a doctor or as a mage of Dalaran.
What an utter waste, Noah thought regretfully. More knowledge than anyone could hope to absorb, all about to be destroyed by the marauding undead, who cannot possibly appreciate all of this.
The human frowned, listening to the crackle of fires and the cracking of stone and wood. His hearing was not acute.
"Take him," he heard from behind him, and the last thing he saw was the face of the traitor prince, Arthas Menethil, grinning down at him.
The End
Author: Kelriia Frettlar (
the__ivorytower)Fandom: Warcraft
Prompt: July 26th - 42. Warcraft, Arthas/Kael: Hatesex - "I'll never let you go if you promise not to fade away"
Disclaimer: So very much not mine.
Warnings: Very questionably consensual sex, yaoi, possible squick factor.
Pairings: Death Knight!Arthas/Kael
Summary: Pity the living, for the dead come back to haunt them.
Note: My apologies for this being late.
~ * ~
"I only need a few more minutes..." Kael muttered, mostly to himself. His elven ears could pick up the sound of breaking wood and crackling fires. He winced. Dalaran a massive, magical city, constructed for mages, by mages, with the distinct purpose of enhancing magical attunement while giving them a sanctuary to work unimpeded. It was not constructed to repel invaders, despite what had happened in the Second War. Once Antonidas' magical barriers had failed, there was nothing stopping the undead from invading.
He'd gotten word about Quel'thalas only days ago -- he shied away from the gaping, open wound that was the memory of his fallen home and kingdom -- and now, it seemed that the undead had come for this place too. He didn't know if he regretted taking a few days before marching to the nearest Alliance outpost or not. On one hand, he would get caught and surely be killed by the Scourge. On the other hand, if he could just recover a few of these precious tomes, it would be worth the delay. He glanced up, surveying the ruin of the library.
What an utter waste, Kael thought regretfully. More knowledge than anyone could hope to absorb, all about to be des--
He could hear steps coming closer. The person coming towards him did nothing to disguise their steps, and they rattled as they walked, heavy footfalls on floors used to delicate, light steps. Kael glanced through the bookshelf, preparing to summon a great inferno that would incinerate them. His eyes widened, and he dropped the books he was holding.
Arthas! What the-- I'd heard rumours, but this..!
On the other side of the bookshelf, Arthas grinned at him, a death's head, pale as the snows of Northrend. He reached forward, and shoved the bookshelf onto Kael. Still stunned, Kael found himself slammed against the floor, pinned by the heavy bookshelf, and many of the tomes he'd been trying to save. Arthas pulled the bookshelf off again, and tossed it aside.
"I'll destroy us both," Kael vowed, struggling to stand. He could feel fire surging in his veins, longing for it to be called out. "I won't let you turn me into--"
Arthas kissed him, digging spiked gauntlets into his shoulders. Kael found himself deeper in the pile of books, spines digging into his back. Kael shuddered, because Arthas felt cold. Horribly cold, but not dead. What little word had come back from the survivors of Scourge attacks had stated that Arthas had never died, only sold his soul to the Lich King for the power to save his people. Kael appreciated irony, though this time he might die from it. He jerked his head away from Arthas.
"I won't let you kill yourself, elven prince," Arthas told him. "Why are you still here? For books? I thought you'd have gone limping back to your former homeland by now."
"You destroyed my home," Kael snarled. Arthas was peeling off parts of his armour -- Oh, skulls, very creative -- and tossing them casually to the side. "I'll kill you."
"Better people than you have tried, Kael'thas," Arthas replied, grinning at him.
"Just kill me and get it over with." This was awkward and uncomfortable. There was a book digging into the base of his spine. From the feel of the cover, it was the invocation tome for fourth year students -- he wears clothes under his armour, why would he bother, he doesn't feel heat or cold -- and he tried to scramble back -- Of Might And Magic, third year book on combat magic, that hurt -- and then he--
Arthas had his hands on him, and his body remembered. It rembered being cornered, pressed up against walls or tables or Instructor Goldensword's desk. It remembered the feeling of rough lips and brutal kisses and his body remembered what it did in return: he moaned. Around him, he could still hear the crackling of fires, the destruction of the second oldest human city in existence, the gibbering of the undead.
Arthas pressed cold hands between his legs, pushing them apart. Kael shuddered even as he hardened. He sought to distance his mind from this, to pretend it wasn't happening -- why do I still enjoy this, he's an evil monster, not to mention a complete as--
"You can't escape this," Arthas hissed softly. He took one of Kael's hands, and opened it, palm up, expectant. Kael conjured oil to it, and Arthas dipped his fingers in it, pushing into Kael to stretch him. "Remember where you are."
Dalaran. Library. Arthas. Quel'thalas... oh, by my ancestor's spirit.
"Where is she, Arthas?" Kael managed as Arthas replaced his fingers with his cold, hard length, and pushed into him with a snarl.
"Gone," Arthas replied, thrusting hard. Kael clung to Arthas, inner fire creating a barrier against the pervading, invading iciness. Arthas shuddered, and Kael realized that perhaps Arthas' sense of temperature wasn't quite as dead as he'd believed. "She's gone."
"What did you do to her?" Kael's hips bucked upwards as Arthas slammed into him, biting his lip and wincing. Arthas' eyes were wide and wild.
"She left me to this. She betrayed me," Arthas snarled, moving faster than Kael could match, inhuman strength and speed bring tears to Kael's eyes for a moment before the elven prince screamed. The release, like the act itself, was a mixture of hot and cold.
"You betrayed everyone," Kael told him as Arthas pulled back, and Kael could see that the former human's chest was heaving, though he couldn't identify for what reason. There should have been no strain in this, and he doesn't really need to breathe, so could it be... pain? Regret?
"I did what I had to," Arthas said finally. He dressed, what little humanity he had left disappearing behind the trappings of his station as the Lich King's first death knight. "Get out of here."
"I'll just kill myself," Kael promised. "I'll destroy as much of your army as I can."
Arthas grabbed him, pulling him off the pile of books and into his arms. Kael struggled. "Then I'll make you one of my own. I cannot allow you to die, Kael'thas, so I will force you to live."
"No... I won't let you--" Kael began, but Arthas' arm tightened, and there was an excruciating pain that flared up along his ribs.
"You can choose to live by your own hand, or die by mine," Arthas hissed in his ear, as ominous and prophetic as death itself. "Make your choice."
Very, very slightly, Kael shook his head. He would live. Arthas let him go, and without another word, stalked out.
Kael stared at his shaking hands. I am going to kill you so hard that the entire world will feel it.
~ * ~
Noah Olden dug through the piles of books, selecting this one and that. He couldn't allow so much knowledge to be destroyed. There was nothing more he could do for his people, as a doctor or as a mage of Dalaran.
What an utter waste, Noah thought regretfully. More knowledge than anyone could hope to absorb, all about to be destroyed by the marauding undead, who cannot possibly appreciate all of this.
The human frowned, listening to the crackle of fires and the cracking of stone and wood. His hearing was not acute.
"Take him," he heard from behind him, and the last thing he saw was the face of the traitor prince, Arthas Menethil, grinning down at him.
The End
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