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If only life was as simple as it should be, if it ended with death as it was supposed to, how many lives would be saved? How much suffering would be prevented?
No matter how hard Thassarian tried to be a mindless killing machine, he couldn’t escape thoughts like these.
It didn’t matter how many innocents he slaughtered. At some point far away in the past, he stopped counting. But the remains of his humanity still clung to him and tormented him with unwanted thoughts.
He tried to tell himself that he’s not at fault, that his will is not his own anymore, but it didn’t help, it didn’t ease the crushing weight of guilt, not even in the slightest.
Humans fell to his runeblade, men, women, even children; and the blade seemed to have some sort of sentience, enjoying the slaughter, to Thassarian’s disgust.
To his displeasure, as time went by, it became difficult to tell where the blade’s bloodlust ended and where his own began; in other words, it started to feel like the blade was an extension to his body rather than just a sharp piece of metal.
As unsettling as it was, in time, he learned to accept it, even embrace it. After all, slaughtering hundreds of innocent people is much easier if you feel twisted pleasure from doing so. The guilt still lingered, but its voice was getting quieter as if it was dying.
It was then when Thassarian realized that his last remains of humanity were slipping away from him, and as much as he tried to grasp them and hold onto them, they slipped between his fingers like grains of sand, the image of it in his mind reminding him of an hourglass counting the time he has left.
If he never found him again, he would probably have faded into nothingness, his mind shattered to pieces, his body only sentient enough to murder and tear apart all the living.
Perhaps it would have been a blessing, to let go of everything that made him Thassarian. To embrace the darkness, the empty abyss that gnawed at his mind, threatening to swallow him whole.
But he will never know what that emptiness would have felt like because he once again found someone who he lost, a special person for who it is worth to resist the damnation. A beautiful elf that made Thassarian remember all that he was in life, all that he lost.
Koltira. They have met before, when Thassarian was still alive. One of them a human and one an elf. It was clear that any companionship between them would be strictly forbidden because their races weren’t exactly friendly, yet – when they stumbled upon each other in a peaceful shade of trees in a lush forest – they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other, something was drawing them closer.
Was it fate? Or a mere coincidence?
Their time together was short but all the more precious. Sweet moments stolen at nights when they both snuck away from their people.
Moments that promised more than just a friendship. Fleeting touches that lingered too long, hearts beating too fast in their chests in anticipation when they sat next to each other, much closer than simple friends would. Gazing in each other’s eyes for long moments, seeking answers. Both of them unsure if their feelings are mutual, both scared to make the first step and pull the other into a much-needed kiss.
If only they had more time, they would surely become something more. They had a special kind of connection. When together, they were both feeling something they never felt before.
But the war separated them, cut them apart like a blade. They promised each other to meet again, to survive. To steal more precious moments alone under their tree where they always met. Failure was not an option – they couldn’t bear to even imagine losing the other to this cruel war. There was an unspoken promise lingering between them: If we meet again, if fate doesn’t separate us, then we shall become more than just friends. Both of them were ready to confess their feelings if they were lucky enough to get another chance.
It was nothing but sad, the way the war continued. How were simple living people supposed to fight against undead monstrosities? Even the veteran soldiers were terrified, no to mention the new recruits, yet none allowed themselves to show it, they marched as one and died as one for their kingdom.
Thassarian had very little battle experience, but he weighted it out with fearlessness and courage. He was a perfect soldier, obedient, passionate, ready to die for his homeland. But his youth made him a little reckless sometimes. He never gave up on his dream to rise up in the ranks of the army, despite being told that it’s just not meant for him, that his personality is not suited to lead.
Perhaps that’s why he was so desperate to prove himself, so when there was an opportunity to sail to Northrend with Prince Arthas and a handful of other soldiers, he went for it without a second thought.
The horrors of the Scourge that he witnessed there did nothing to shake his determination, so when Prince Arthas went missing along with Faldric, Thassarian made the stupidest decision – he went to search for them all alone.
Later on, he cursed his own stubbornness, realizing that maybe, if he took a few trusted men with him, he might have had a chance. When he saw Faldric, he knew that something was terribly wrong. Thassarian was frozen in place with fear, terrified by the dark aura that the captain seemed to emit. Nothing could prepare him for the shock and sharp pain when Faldric’s blade stabbed through his chest.
At least I found him, he thought. He was a good soldier after all, completing his task at any cost.
He felt cold, all warmth was escaping him. Blood was leaving his body too fast, painting everything crimson, and he knew that he was dying. With his last breath, he whispered:
„Why?“
But he got no answer.
If only he knew that it was not the end but the beginning, he would have prayed for death to claim him, embrace him eternally, and never let go.
When the twisted magic brought him back to life and forced him back into his cold body, he thought it was just a nightmare, because something so horrible can’t possibly be real.
But it was, and the horror got worse and worse. He marched to Loarderon as a part of Arthas‘ undead army.
He thought it couldn’t get any worse, but soon after he watched the prince murder his father, Thassarian was forced to kill his own mother. It surprised him how easy it was. After all, he was a soldier, the only thing he was good at was obeying orders. It was natural for him. Even if he tried to resist, it would be impossible. Arthas‘ grip on his mind was iron.
When he marched with the Scourge to the elven capital, he didn’t think of Koltira, not at first. The memories from his life remained, but they were a bit hazy, a little confusing. They seemed unimportant.
Only when he saw him again in the middle of the bloodshed, all the feelings poured back into him, and the memories were set alight once more.
How beautiful Koltira was in the midst of the battle, how graceful. His long hair swaying when he struck with his sword, fearlessly cutting down ghouls and other monsters. Thassarian was frozen in place, bewildered.
At least Koltira didn’t seem to recognize him. That was a blessing. They promised each other to survive and meet after the war, but Thassarian was no longer alive, and the broken promise saddened him more than his death itself.
As if fated, they met once more, away from the bloodshed. It was only the two of them, two soldiers of the opposite sides of the war, meeting by chance once more. Koltira finally recognized Thassarian. The heartbroken expression on his face will haunt Thassarian until the end of his days.
„What did they do to you?“ Koltira asked, voice trembling. „Fight it. I can sense a soul within you, fighting to be freed. Join me, Thass. Break free!“
Thassarian felt like he was dying all over again. Oh, how he wanted to fight the Lich King’s grip on his mind, to resist… If not for himself, then for Koltira who seemed to be the only one who didn’t give up on him yet.
„You do not know what you are talking about. Leave, before I slay you.“ Thassarian’s voice was cold and hollow, unlike anything he sounded when alive. Inside of him was a mess of feelings, fighting to get a hold over him, but the Lich King’s grip held Thassarian’s soul in unbreakable chains. He tried to fight it many times, tried with all of his strength, but failed every single time.
And Koltira understood. He didn’t press on or ask any questions, he understood that his dearest friend is not in control of himself, and no matter how much he wanted to help him, he was powerless, and it wouldn’t be any good if he ended up killed by Thassarian here.
Koltira sensed Thassarian’s new power and he was sure that if they fought, he would be defeated. And not only because of the difference in their strength. He would simply be unable to fight with all of his might against someone so dear to him, no matter how twisted and changed he was. He still believed that somewhere inside this undead monster, there’s Thassarian, the same one as he knew and loved. It hurt him so much to be powerless to set him free.
„Thass,“ he said when he was leaving. „I do not care what you became. I still want to be with you when this is over, no matter how foolish such a wish is.“
And those words reached Thassarian, lit a fire within his tormented soul, gave him hope, but it still wasn’t enough to free him from the Lich King’s grasp.
Thassarian sincerely hoped that the elves would win the war, but it was impossible. They were slaughtered like animals, and Thassarian was hoping, praying that Koltira would run away.
He didn’t. Thassarian would have done the same, he would rather die for his homeland than flee, even if victory was damn near impossible.
And just like that, they faced each other on the battlefield.
Koltira fought bravely, but he had no chance against Thassarian’s new, undead strength.
And when he knelt down, defeated, with Thassarian’s runesword pointing at his neck, he didn’t beg to be spared. All he said was:
„Do it. Be a mindless pawn and forever damn your soul.“
Fool, Thassarian though. My soul was damned the moment they denied me the peace of death and raised me as this monster, this cursed inhuman existence.
And he did it, his runesword pierced Koltira’s chest, his regret swept away by cold emptiness, and he thought:
At least you don’t have to witness any more horrors, at least you get to be free.
He gently laid Koltira down and held him as he was dying, and there was no hate in Koltira’s eyes, no blame, just sadness as he swiftly drifted away. Thassarian wanted to say goodbye, to kiss him like he should have all that time ago, but Arthas was watching and he couldn’t show any more weakness. He discovered that his undead body was unable to cry because if he could, he would be sobbing at that moment.
Perhaps Arthas noticed that they knew each other, and saw their strange connection. Or he saw potential in Koltira and admired his battle skills. It didn’t matter what the reason was. He decided that to let such a good soldier rot in earth would be a waste.
When Thassarian was ordered to raise Koltira as a Death Knight and his brother in undeath, he tried to resist the command, more than when killing him. Because he wanted to spare him of this fate that was worse than death.
But no matter how he tried, he couldn’t resist the will of the Lich King, and Koltira’s dead eyes opened once again.
Alas, his dearest Koltira was not granted the peace of death. It pained him, hurt him in places he considered long dead.
Thassarian couldn’t bear to look into those beautiful eyes that now burned blue with Lich King’s magic. All he expected to find in them was hatred. Yet the newly risen death knight stayed at his side and didn’t say as much as a word of complaint about what was done to him.
Thassarian knew that it was the Lich King’s control, otherwise, Koltira would have surely tried to kill him for good. It unsettled him, to see someone he knew twisted and turned the same way he was.
It broke his heart to see Koltira march alongside him, slaughtering his own people. It didn’t suit him. He was so gentle in life, so sweet. What he became was a disgrace to all that he was.
Thassarian wanted to apologize, to explain that it wasn’t his own choice to do this to him, that it wasn’t him despite the crushing weight of guilt; yet he knew it was pointless, for Koltira already experienced the Lich King’s grasp on his mind, and understood that neither of their minds and bodies belonged to them anymore.
It was a damned existence, but Thassarian found out that it was easier to bear this fate when one could share it with someone who was cursed in the same way.
It was nothing like the times they spent together alive, yet there were similarities. Fleeting touches when nobody was looking, too innocent to be mistaken for anything more than accidental, yet lingering for just a bit longer than what would be considered normal.
Thassarian’s cold fingers brushing away messy strands of hair from Koltira’s face. Two Death Knights staring into each other’s eyes, never talking, yet sharing all of their pain through their deep gaze. As if reading each other’s minds, they were both thinking about the past, about what they could have had if only one of them was as brave with confessing feelings as in battle.
But it’s too late now, they both thought. There was no place for such tender emotions among the dead. There was only death and decay.
Still, they started sneaking away to steal some moments alone. They couldn’t help it. They both felt like the feelings they had for each other were buried under ice, under the crushing weight of what became of them, but still, no matter how dim and distant, the feelings remained. It seemed to be the only thing that the Lich King didn’t succeed in taking away from them.
What felt lightweight and beautiful in life was a heavy burden in undeath. The buried feelings only served as a reminder of their eternal torment that they cannot escape from. It was maddening, but it was impossible to let go of it, no matter how much suffering it brought to the two of them.
They endured it all together, without light or hope. It felt like it was the two of them against the whole world. There was some beauty to be found in all the slaughter, dark satisfaction brought to them by the runeblades they wielded. But they both refused to give in and become mindless killing machines. Only for the sake of each other.
When humanity seemed to be slipping away from them, all that it took was a look in each other’s eyes, and the feelings they still had for each other seemed to save their souls from the gnawing maw of darkness.
They never considered the option of ever breaking free of the Lich King’s hold, so when it happened, they felt lost, unsure what to do.
It occurred during the battle at the Light’s Hope Chapel, where the Light was powerful enough to make Arthas retreat. It was like a miracle, and the present Death Knights were able to shake off his grasp and break free of the Lich King’s control.
Freedom didn’t feel as good as they expected it to. They felt lost. Without a place to go.
It was then when they realized that they are going to need to part their ways once more.
Because of their races, one of them belonged to the Alliance, and the other to the Horde. Their factions were unfriendly and they were expected to join them and fight against each other. How cruel was fate, how it always weaved a path of suffering for the two Death Knights.
At least they got to say goodbye. The tree where they used to meet when they were still alive was no more, the whole forest was burned down. They still sat there, among charred remains of beautiful scenery, and they reminisced of the past.
They stayed silent for a long, long time. Koltira was the first one to speak, breaking the comfortable silence they shared.
„I guess this is a goodbye.“
They both didn’t want to think about it. It was such a horrible thing, to part once again. Their freedom was returned to them, but at what cost? If separation was the price they had to pay for it, then freedom be damned, they’d rather spend their lives enslaved, but together.
„Koltira,“ says Thassarian. He can’t help how cold and hollow his voice sounds in undeath, but there’s still a softness to it, gentleness hidden underneath layers of darkness that suffocate him.
„At least let us have a proper goodbye,“ he adds, moving closer to Koltira. The elf looks as beautiful in undeath as he did in life, at least in Thassarian’s eyes. His expression is soft, expectant.
Thassarian pulls him into an embrace and kisses him softly. Koltira wraps his arms around Thassarian’s neck and deepens the kiss. It’s hungry and messy as if they wanted to make up for all the lost years. Somehow, they end up on the ground, limbs tangled, fingers finding their way under the layers of armour.
„More,“ Koltira says breathlessly. „I want more of you.“ It’s intoxicating, his head is spinning.
Thassarian slowly removes Koltira’s armour as well as his own, bit by bit, piece by piece, leaving them both bare for each other’s eyes.
Thassarian’s insecure about how his body has changed in undeath, but he trusts Koltira enough to be vulnerable in front of him. And Koltira finds him beautiful and perfect.
Thassarian kisses the scar on Koltira’s chest, where his sword took the elf’s life.
„I will never forgive myself for killing you,“ he says with a voice full of sorrow.
„I forgave you long ago. If I knew that my death meant that I can be by your side forever, I would gladly choose to die by your hand, anytime.“
Thassarian wishes that he could cry, he’s so touched by such a declaration. Why did their forever last for such a short time? Why can’t they get a happily-ever-after ending?
Thassarian doesn’t know what to say. He’s on top of Koltira, caging his fragile-looking body with his own. The elf has surrendered himself to Thassarian, wholly and completely, and Thassarian almost wants to hold back and resist. After all that he has done to Koltira, all the suffering he brought to him, how can the elf still trust Thassarian? How can he offer himself to him like that?
„Thassarian,“ Koltira says thoughtfully. „Do you not want this? Do you not want me?“
Thassarian is shocked. He did get lost in thoughts, but for entirely different reasons. How could he not want what he has been yearning for for years?
„Koltira, I want you, I need you, I just-…“ he sighs. “I don’t want to hurt you.“
Koltira laughs, but it’s soft and warm, not mocking.
„I’m a Death Knight. I won’t break. You don’t have to hold back with me,“ he says. Still, he looks so fragile under Thassarian. Like he could shatter under the gentlest touch.
Thassarian decides to continue because he knows that despite his fragile appearance, Koltira is strong and fierce, and surely, he’ll be able to withstand his touches.
It’s both sad and beautiful, when they touch and explore each other’s bodies. Thassarian misses the warmth of life, misses a constant heartbeat in his chest. No matter how right this feels, there’s still wrongness lingering underneath. Koltira’s chest is still, not rising with steady breaths. They both got used to undeath long ago, but in a moment of sweet intimacy, they mourn the loss of their lives once more.
Nothing can bring back life to Koltira’s cold body, but Thassarian doesn’t mind, he embraces him and while kissing, he presses his hardness inside Koltira, moaning at the intimacy of it. Ever since he died, pleasures of the body didn’t really come to his mind. He’s happy to discover that such things are still possible in undeath, although they feel very different.
Koltira’s insides are cold but welcoming, but it’s not the physical connection that makes Thassarian lose his mind, it’s the closeness, the intimacy. Having his body and soul laid bare for Koltira to see, hoping to be accepted and loved.
Koltira closes his eyes, and Thassarian stills, asking:
„Does it hurt?“
Koltira smiles softly. „Yes, but continue. Claim me, I want to be yours,“ he replies.
And Thassarian hesitates but complies. He pushes deeper into Koltira, as deep as possible. A soft moan escapes his lips. It feels amazing, and Koltira seems to be enjoying himself too. His face shows pain or pleasure or a mix of both, as he groans:
„Harder, please.“
All the sensations feel dull compared to what they had felt like in life, but the emotional side of it makes up for that.
Thassarian loses all of his control. He wanted to hold back and go slow but it’s not possible, the tightness of Koltira’s insides feels delicious around his member, and he leans down for a kiss while pulling out and thrusting back in right away.
Koltira is a mess, moaning and shaking, and Thassarian drinks up all of those sweet sounds from his lips. Koltira looks so beautiful under him, lost in the moment, head filled with Thassarian and nothing else.
„Ah, yes,“ Koltira moans out between hard thrusts that rock his whole body. He feels connected to Thassarian, but not only with his body. It’s as if their souls intertwined and became one. How can something so pure happen between two damned and forsaken individuals?
Koltira swaps their positions, rolling them over to straddle Thassarian. He slowly rides his hard cock while kissing him deeply. It’s gentle and emotional, it’s everything they both longed for during all those cold, lonely years.
They bring each other to completion. Koltira doesn’t even need his cock to be touched, the stimulation inside him is enough to bring him over the edge.
„Thass, I’m gonna-“ he cries out and Thassarian doesn’t last any longer than him. When he feels Koltira tighten around him and moan louder, he thrusts his hips up to reach deeper inside him and finishes soon. It feels… different than in life, but it’s still overwhelmingly good. Koltira collapses on top of him, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him again.
„I can’t bear leaving you again,“ Thassarian admits later when they recover.
„We will meet once more,“ says Koltira. „Not even death could separate us. There will be time one day when we can be together.“ He says it with utmost certainty. Thassarian kisses him deeply.
„I will never forget you. I promise,“ says Thassarian.
They wish to stay like that forever, embracing each other, feeling close and safe. But their time has run out.
„It’s time,“ says Koltira. Thassarian reluctantly lets go of him. They help each other get dressed.
It’s time to leave, to face the cold reality of the unwelcoming world alone once again. They kiss for the last time and Thassarian begins to walk away, slowly, unsteadily, regretting every step he takes that brings him further away from the love of his life.
He feels emptiness and coldness filling him with every step. As if the warm and human parts of his soul were left with Koltira. As if he was leaving a part of himself with the elf, the only part of himself that he doesn’t despise.
His steps get slower and slower. He can feel Koltira watching him, his gaze burning into his back. And then he hears footsteps, soft and quiet.
Suddenly, Koltira has caught up to him, and he’s hugging him from behind, so tightly that if Thassarian needed to breathe, he would be unable to.
„Don’t go,“ Koltira whispers. It sounds desperate, his voice sounds cold and hollow in undeath, yet at this moment, he managed to sound fragile and vulnerable.
„I can’t lose you again. I don’t care about wars and factions. I only want to be with you,“ he adds.
Thassarian closes his eyes and sighs. How can he say no, when every step he takes away from the elf makes him feel like his heart is being torn apart? For long, he thought that there was no place for love among the undead, but the feelings that well in his chest prove that wrong.
„Koltira,“ Thassarian says with an equally quiet and gentle voice. He finally turns around and kisses the elf deeply. It lasts for several long moments. They’re locked in a tight embrace, clinging to each other desperately.
„I was a fool when I thought I could just leave you behind. I don’t care if the whole world is against us, all that matters to me is you.“
Koltira’s eyes are soft and gentle, just like his expression. He refuses to let go of Thassarian, fearing that if he would break the embrace, their tender moment would end and Thassarian would change his mind and leave.
But no such thing is happening. When they finally let go of each other, they walk away together, hand in hand. If even death couldn‘t sever the delicate connection between them, then certainly, nothing in the world can separate them.
The future is uncertain, but no matter what it brings, they will face it together.