Disclaimer: I don't own the Warcraft franchise or any major lore characters, I only own the OCs and the plot of this story. If I did, Arthas would not be Lich King or dead.

Summary: The story begins when Arthas meets Medivh after the battle for Hearthglen and his culling of Stratholme in Warcraft III: Reign of Chaos, and goes all the way to the opening world event in World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King.

Chapter I: Road to Stratholme

The rain was pounding against the massive pine trees the man ran past, and pounded his face and body. Had he not been wearing armor; the young man surely would have been soaked to the bone. He was tired, but kept going anyway. He had to, his people were falling in droves to a ruthless enemy that used a mysterious plague not only to wipe out large masses of people. No, he had learned a far more horrific truth: the plague wasn't just meant to kill the unfortunate souls infected, but it was to convert them into mindless undead. His name is Arthas Menethil, Crown Prince of Lordaeron, and Knight of the Silver Hand, a Paladin of the Holy Light.

This knowledge had come in a way already wearing on the Prince's weary mind. Not even a day ago, Arthas had narrowly avoided defeat while fighting the forces of the undead at the town of Hearthglen. Upon learning that infected grain shipped from the neighboring town of Andorhal arrived, Arthas witnessed first-hand how the undead were able to amass so quickly. Seeing his people suffer as they did under the plague tore at his very being. At times, Arthas wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees and weep for the people he could not save, but a grim resolve kept him moving,

It also didn't help that he was barely holding on at Hearthglen until his mentor, Uther the Lightbringer, arrived with reinforcements. The feeling of failure in his inability to protect his people, as well as his very near defeat and being saved by his teacher was a blow that Arthas' pride could not handle. He had, regrettably, then lashed out at his mentor, whom was quick to chide him for letting his wounded pride speak for him.

As he was running through the forest, both to make haste to the city of Stratholme, and to clear his head, a large raven flying overhead caught his attention. Soon, the raven landed and transformed into an elderly man whose face was obscured by a deep cowl. He looked vaguely familiar to Arthas, but he couldn't quite place the familiarity. He then realized he had seen the stranger before: at the throne room in Lordaeron City. His father had dismissed the man as a rambling prophet. However, Arthas shook off the feeling. When the stranger spoke, his voice sounded highly enigmatic, as if he was harboring a secret.

"Greetings, young prince. We must talk."

Wonderful, Arthas thought, another distraction I don't need right now. His reply was short and in a way, cold.

"I don't have time for this."

Undeterred by Arthas' short rebuttal, the stranger pressed on.

"Listen to me, boy. This land is lost. The shadow has already fallen, and nothing you do will deter it. If you truly wish to save your people, lead them across the sea, to the west."

As he said these words, the stranger began to depart, as if the young Prince would just do as he said exactly without question..

This lunatic wants me to abandon Lordaeron to its fate? That's not going to happen. Arthas thought to himself. He then shook his head before glaring at the figure's retreating back.

"Flee? My place is here, and my only course is to defend my people!" Arthas stubbornly exclaimed.

He's just as stubborn as his father is. What a shame. The cloaked stranger thought as the younger man reminded him of the old king. As though the stranger had expected Arthas to reply, he stated with a strange note of resignation,

"Then your choice is already made. Just remember, the harder you strive to slay your enemies, the faster you'll deliver your people right into their hands."

With that cryptic warning, the stranger shapeshifted back into a raven and flew away, leaving Arthas to wonder what the hell had just happened, as well as planting a small seed of doubt into his mind. However, Arthas had the feeling that someone else was nearby, and shook himself from his thoughts. His suspicions were correct when a young woman about Arthas' age appeared seemingly from nowhere at all. Her name: Jaina Proudmoore, a lifelong friend of Arthas', and the woman he loved dearly. However, his anger over the attack that he had barely held out on in nearby Hearthglen, the anger over the deaths of so many of his people, and now this crackpot old fool with the audacity to ramble to Arthas about running away from his people finally boiled over; and unfortunately, Jaina happened to catch the brunt of it.

"I'm sorry for concealing myself, Arthas. I just wanted to -" Jaina began.

"Don't say it!" Arthas growled, cutting her off. Inwardly, Arthas flinched at his tone, feeling guilty for lashing out at Jaina when she deserved none of his aggression. However, he hid that reaction under his fatigue and frustration.

Jaina, however, still needed to say whatever was on her mind. "I sensed tremendous power about him, Arthas. Maybe he's right. Maybe he does know what will happen."

Arthas seemed unconvinced, and coldly replied, "Nothing he can say will make me abandon my homeland, Jaina. I don't care if that madman has seen the future. Let's go." With that said, Jaina realized that there was no point arguing and went silent. Arthas, on the other hand, felt a pang of regret for snapping at Jaina.

What I need is some sleep. I probably would not be in such a mood if I got some shuteye for about six or seven hours. Arthas told himself. His position to Jaina allowed him to conceal the remorseful expression that crossed his face. He truly did feel bad about lashing out at Jaina, since she had done nothing to deserve his anger. Incidentally, it also hid his view of the saddened look that crossed Jaina's beautiful face.

He then stomped off to the main road, leaving Jaina behind. "I wish you would just talk to me Arthas. Maybe I could help you if you would just take these burdens off your shoulders." Jaina muttered to herself before following him at a distance. It pained her to see her best friend slowly fall apart. Arthas and Jaina then followed the road to Stratholme, not knowing that someone was already there waiting.

End of Chapter I.
There is the first chapter! Enjoy and drop a review. This is my first Warcraft fanfic so praise or flame, it matters not to me.

1/1/18 Edit:

Let me begin this note by bidding anyone reading this a Happy New Year. I have recently decided to try and get back into writing again, and figured that after posting a new chapter for one of my other active stories, I should make good on what I wrote in this story's description. So, here I am, at nearly 3:30 in the morning, editing my very first fanfiction story ever written.

Keep in mind that when I first wrote this story, I was in high school, and life got in the way of my writing. I won't bore you with the details, but know that I will be going back through every chapter of this story and making corrections or adjustments as needed. I do not have a set schedule for updating, so do not expect them to come quickly. The new school quarter for the community college I am attending will be starting on the second of this month, so most of my time will be spent studying.

That being said, I hope that you enjoy the story if you are new, and if you are already following this story, I offer my most sincere thanks for sticking around for the nearly six years since I updated this story.

Until next time, happy writing and Happy New Year,

Leo