kinkfest | Warcraft (Koltira/Thassarian) (Reply)

Title: Brothers-At-Arms
Author: Kelriia Frettlar (

springkink
June 15th - World of Warcraft, Thassarian/Koltira Deathweaver: Before freedom and after its advent/we were brothers and more once, why could we not be so again?
Warnings: Porn, gay death knights. Angst, death, several flashbacks. Spoilers for the Wrathgate event and later events in Icecrown in the new World of Warcraft expansion: Wrath of the Lich King.
Pairings: Koltira/Thassarian
Summary: Long ago, the death knights had honour. They were brothers.
Notes: Thassarian and Koltira's backstory is purely built on conjecture from playing through the quests and such. I'm sure the manga version of Thassarian's backstory will paint things very differently. For one thing, I bet there won't be nearly as much porn.

"Fire!" Warbringer Davos Rioht bellowed, and Koltira winced slightly. The fact that the Warbringer was yelling was of no consequence: he always yelled. The pain that was nearly palpable was the fact that the orcs were not firing on Icecrown, or the hundreds of Scourge that milled below them, making ground advancement all but impossible, but at the Skybreaker.

The death knight could see shields flare up along the side from the human Shield-Mages that were the counterparts of the Horde's Shadow-Warders. He could hear, distantly, Brother Keltan ranting that they were wasting resources that could be used to fight the Lich King, and Koltira couldn't disagree.

This is a waste of time, and all it's doing is strengthening Arthas' forces, he thought, shaking his head. If only...

The disaster at the Wrathgate. He'd still been in Agmar's Hammer, the Horde base established in the heart of Dragonblight, when it had occurred, and the painful aftermath.

Putress' betrayal... Varimathras... The battle for Undercity... Bolvar...

Varian.

"All I wanted was to fight for my nation and my people, and even that was taken from me." The voice echoed in his mind, and he tried to push it away. No point in thinking about it.

"Were you going to be useful?" Sky-Reaver Korm Blackscar demanded. Koltira turned towards him.

"This is what you call useful?" Koltira asked, matching question for question. "The Alliance isn't the Scourge."

"Bah!" Blackscar replied, making the single word drip with disdain. "This is what is wrong with your people."

Don't even get me started about what is wrong with yours, Koltira thought sourly, though that was unfair. Warchief Thrall knew what he was doing. This orc, however, was not Thrall. He's not even a reasonable facsimile.

Koltira watched as the two ships exchanged fire, somehow missing even when the human sky ship seemed close enough to touch. He could almost see--

That can't be... It was. He can't mean to... A smile, and a nod. Is he totally insane?!

The answer to his last silent inquiry was easy as Koltira watched the figure clad in dark blue and black run towards Ogrimm's Hammer, jumping at the last moment, using his momentum to carry him towards the deck of the Horde's flagship, tucking and rolling before sprawling in front of him. Two sets of glowing, blue eyes met.

"Koltira," the human death knight said, smiling. "I--"

"Seize him!" Blackscar bellowed. "Seize him!"

Koltira sighed. "Thassarian."

~ * ~

"My lord, it's freezing, and you're not even shivering. Are you feeling well?" Captain Valonforth asked. Thassarian peered over at Prince Arthas, shivering in the intense cold. Even some of the men from Northeron were shivering and complaining, but sure enough, Arthas stood and looked into the horizon with steely blue eyes as if it were nothing less than a calm spring day.

He's been so strange since Stratholme, Thassarian thought, shying away from the memory. His hands still felt like they were slick with blood from the people that had fallen. He hadn't been from Stratholme, his home was closer to Hillsbrad, one of the dozens of hamlets that were indistinguishable except by name. It had once been a dream of his to go to Stratholme and take in the sights and sounds... and now he had, and he found himself wishing he hadn't. I wish I knew what--

"We move further inland to find Mal'ganis," Arthas replied finally, his voice colder than any breeze from Daggercap Bay. "Have your men begin construction of a base camp. We're going to be here for quite some time."

~ * ~

"I'm here to see the prisoner," Koltira said, and the troll standing guard blinked at him blandly. The blood elven Death Knight met his gaze, and waited. Finally, the troll stretched, towering over him.

"Ye can go in." He unlocked the door. "Doan be gettin' any funny ideas."

"I have never had a funny idea in my life," Koltira replied solemnly, and moved inside as the door opened. The troll chuckled behind him as he closed the door. Orgrimm's Hammer didn't have a traditional jail, so Thassarian was locked in an unoccupied bedroom -- the airship had lost plenty of crew recently -- arms shackled to the bed.

"Koltira..." Thassarian said, shifting to sit up a little. "You look well, I don't suppose you could--"

"No," the elven death knight said, shaking his head once, moving over to his side. "What in the name of the frozen depths of Icecrown were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I wanted to see my brother again," Thassarian replied, and in the stunned silence that followed, "That's what we used to be, Koltira. Brothers-at-Arms, under the Lich King, and more--"

Koltira kissed him hard, rocking him back against the bed, stroking fingers through his pale grey hair. "I missed you. I didn't think we'd see each other again after Light's Hope Chapel. Orbaz--"

"Orbaz didn't leave the Lich King as we did," Thassarian said, his fingers twitching to get to Koltira. The elven death knight shifted forward, sighing softly as the human's fingers found his cheek, stroking it gently. "I've overheard reports from passing mercenaries that the Lich King is increasing his force of death knights again, and Orbaz leads them."

"The quality of them will be gone," Koltira frowned. "We had standards before."

"We had honor before Arthas sent us to die," Thassarian murmured. "Now we just have to make do with what's left."

"Thassarian... I... we..."

"Yes," Thassarian replied simply. "Though I'd appreciate it if you let me go first."

"I don't have the key."

~ * ~

A cheer went up from the men as the Dreadlord's body dissolved into bats and he died with an unholy cry of pain. Thassarian held his bleeding arm, staring in wonder, his sword falling from numb fingertips.

Can it truly be over? he wondered. Have we finally gotten what we deserved for suffering through all of this?

Arthas stood with sword in hand -- the legendary Frostmourne -- staring off into the distance. His troops were still, and because Thassarian was one of the most senior of his knights, he slowly made his way towards his Prince.

"My Prince, it's over now," Thassarian said, putting a blood-stained hand on Arthas' shoulder, smearing it on spaulders that caught the pale light of Northrend's sky and twisted it. "We can go home."

Pain sprouted from Thassarian's chest, and he stared down in confusion at the sword hilt buried in it.

"Over?!" Arthas asked, his teeth bared in a death's head grin. "It has barely begun!"

Dimly, as he died, he remembered screaming, and a horrible sense of emptiness.

~ * ~

Koltira was grateful that he did not feel cold. While heated, the airship's rooms weren't precisely warm. Twisting fel tattoos moved and shifted as he carefully stripped Thassarian, remembering each of Thassarian's scars, and the betrayal and pain that went with them. As servants of the Lich King, they had reveled in pain, even their own. Now, it was just a reminder of how much they had lost.

Pale hands ran over Thassarian's chest, and down, eyes locked on his goal.

"...I'll break these myself if you don't hurry," Thassarian muttered, his body arching against his lover's touch. Koltira smiled briefly, it was impossible to be entirely serious around the human. He bent to take Thassarian into his mouth, his tongue moving along the tip, his work just as slow and delicate as if he was crafting a runeblade. "Koltira!"

Fingers drifted along thighs, and across knees as Koltira's mouth began to work in earnest, sliding his tongue along the base of Thassarian's cock, his cheeks and jaw working slowly and steadily, shifting his positioning so Thassarian could thrust into his mouth more deeply. Koltira could hear the chains that bound the human death knight creak ominously, pulling hard against them as he called his lover's name, asking for more.

Koltira quickened his pace, moving faster and faster now until his mouth was filled with his lover's release, and his ears all but rang with the sound of his own name. Carefully, he withdrew, and before swallowing, he dipped his fingers into his mouth, burning-blue eyes intent. His fingers moved under Thassarian, finding his puckered entrance unflinchingly.

"Yes," Thassarian whispered. Normally, it was Koltira that did the pleading, after 'conceding' to Thassarian's advances, rarely admitting how much it meant to him that someone had accepted him so unfailingly, even as to rescue him from torture and certain death.

You place such pride in your loyalty, Koltira thought as his fingers moved inside his lover, stretching him as he watched the human's expression change half a dozen times. Despite everything, loyalty is what you value most, and I swear it, by the Sunwell, by the Light, by anyone who would listen that I will always be loyal to you. He shifted his position, carefully moving Thassarian's legs, already half-weak from his earlier release, to his shoulders, pressing tightly against his entrance. "Are you ready?"

"You're a damned tease, Deathweaver," Thassarian muttered, and moaned as Koltira started the thrust, keeping it slow and careful, watching Thassarian's every twisting move. He wrapped his hands around Thassarian's thighs, shifting his weight forward into the fullness of the thrust. Before he had much of a chance to react, or even complain that he was moving too slowly, he withdrew, and thrust again, and again, feeling the firm weight of his squirming lover on his shoulders and against his thighs.

Koltira had left much of his old life behind, and despite what people like Orbaz had believed, he was not a hedonist, nor a whore. Thassarian was the only one who'd received attention like this, thrusts between whispered endearments and half-meant threats. He worked faster, feeling tension within himself build. He remembered the first time Thassarian had, perhaps half-jokingly, though he swore by the Lich King that he'd been serious, that they'd make a better married pair than half the nobles he'd seen in Lordaeron's court. That thought of permanence, of fingers twisted together in a couple's embrace, spurred him to release, crying Thassarian's name on his lips, and words in his own language he'd never expected to use.

Beloved. Joy of my heart.

"Are you..?" Thassarian asked after a moment, and Koltira met his eyes in a daze. His chest was sticky with Thassarian's release, and he moved carefully, curling against his side.

"Nothing, I'm just remembering," Koltira murmured. "You're lucky that you're bound, I have to clean up--"

There was the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. Both sets of eyes turned to the floor to see a key slide under the door, presumably thrust there by trollish fingers. They exchanged a look, and began to laugh.

~ * ~

"They won't get to the Lich King," Arthas snarled. "Not that ill-tempered halfbreed, and not Kael'thas!"

"Of course not," Anub'arak soothed. "We will make ready the assault, and all that stand against us will fall."

Arthas nodded once, and turned to his death knights. Thassarian stood, waiting impatiently for his Master's orders. He longed to be on the hunt, to fight the Lich King's enemies, and bring them low. Arthas instructed his men to divide: Thassarian's force would find and destroy the elven base, while the force led by Orbaz Bloodbane would find the primary naga base. Arthas himself would hunt down and make Illidan Stormrage pay for every transgression, every insult, and every foolish delusion that he had ever been capable of standing against the might of the Scourge.

Thassarian took his forces north, making his move quietly along the edges of Icecrown. It was imperative not to be caught up in the fighting with Illidan's forces. Kael'thas' reinforcements were far, far too dangerous, and they could very well tip the balance. When he could see the outline of elven buildings in the distance, he signaled to the meat wagon drivers. They shifted the mechanical monstrosities into a fixed position, and began to launch corpses into their midst. Thassarian was greeted by the very satisfying sound of horrified screaming as the first rush of elves came out to meet this insult.

The next few hours were a rush. Thassarian let his mind go, thinking only of the fighting, of twin, flashing swords that bit into a sorceress' chest, or slashed along an archer's arm, crippling her before killing her. He very nearly was struck by a spinning blade, dodging it only narrowly as it sailed through half a dozen ghouls who were dead before they properly realized it. Thassarian turned to meet his foe.

Before him stood an elf in red and gold, bearing a large shield that protected most of his side. He held his hand out, and caught the spinning blade easily. Bright blue eyes burned behind his concealing mask, metal despite its feathered appearance. Thassarian smiled coldly.

Spellbreaker, he thought, moving to engage him in melee. This shouldn't take long.

"Your kind are an insult and an abomination," the elf hissed as golden blade met twinned steel. "You will not rejoin your foul master."

"In that, you are wrong," Thassarian replied as metal sang against metal. "What of you? How did you survive the fall of your empire? Did you run like a coward?"

"Never!" the elf cried. "Koltira Spellweaver runs from nothing, not even death itself."

"Brave words, ones you'll surely regret," Thassarian told him. "Your Prince and Master will both fail."

"No, they will n--" Blood leaked from his mouth, and Thassarian sprang back. He looked up to see Orbaz smirking, and ripping the heavy arrow he'd used out of the spellbreaker's back.

"If you always talk so, it's no wonder you get nothing done," he taunted. "I was done with the naga witch ages ago. The elves are retreating, the spineless, long-eared cowards. We're to join the Prince's armies."

Thassarian's lips twitched. "I'll catch up."

Orbaz sneered, and spat on the spellbreaker's face as he struggled to turn himself over. "You do that."

When he was gone, Thassarian knelt, wiping the insult from the elf's face. "Do you hear me? Koltira?"

"Wh-what..." Koltira mumbled, his teeth chattering from shock. Thassarian knew he had only moments.

"You said you wouldn't run from death," Thassarian reminded him urgently. "I'd teach you to embrace it. Come with me."

"Betrayal..." he whispered.

"It's over, we've won. You don't need to die here, come with me. You deserve a better death than an arrow from a coward."

Koltira closed his eyes, and Thassarian was certain he was dead. With the last of his strength, the elven spellbreaker nodded once, and Thassarian put his hand over Koltira's chest. He drew power from his runeblades, using their power to close Koltira's wounds, and give him strength. He felt the necromantic magic meld with the fel magic that had kept magic addiction at bay. Slowly, Koltira's eyes opened again, still blue, but it was unholy. Thassarian touched his cheek.

"We have to go. We'll be late." He glanced at the trappings of his former life. "Leave those behind, you won't need them where we're going."

Stiffly, Koltira nodded, and Thassarian helped him stand.

~ * ~

Thassarian stood on the bridge of the Skybreaker and sighed heavily. This wasn't the war he wanted to be fighting. Below him, hundreds of Scourge milled about, and even now, he could see cultists carving away at the ground, hunting for more dragon corpses to use as frostwyrms.

This is ridiculous, he grumped. His skeleton companion, Lurid, made an unintelligible noise. I miss Dusk. I could be with Darion if I weren't here. He had a great deal of respect for the young death knight, just as he had for Tirion Fordring, the man who'd helped bring the truth to the eyes of so many of Arthas' death knights.

"Shield-Mages, bring the shields up! Get ready to fire!" High Captain Justin Bartlett cried.

"Captain, look!" shouted one of the hands. Thassarian looked towards Orgrimm's Hammer. On the desk stood a figure, shrouded in darkness except for two glowing blue eyes. They took a running start, and leapt from the deck of the orcish airship to the human skyship, flipping once in the air before landing lightly on the deck despite heavy armor. One of the female mages whistled appreciatively, and winked at Thassarian. He smiled back.

"Seize him!" bellowed Sky-Captain Jackson. "Don't let him get to the mages."

"Koltira," Thassarian breathed. His lover looked up at him, even as hands closed in on him. The elven death knight smiled.

"Thassarian."

End