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Dec. 28th, 2010 12:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yukieTITLE: My Nation Underground Part I: "Was it like an echo?"
FANDOM: Warcraft III/World of Warcraft
PEOPLE: Aerionn Dawntreader (a somewhat excitable paladin who probably has the elven equivalent of ADD), Rauthien Brightblade (his more calm mentor, possessed of excellent hair), and some ghosts (of various citizens and nobility, benign and malign).
PAIRING: None as such, though Aer and Rauth are snuggly off-duty.
RATING: PG; not much in the way of cursing and such but there is implied violence and it's not really settling!
SUMMARY: Aerionn's first trip to the Undercity is - eventful in more ways than he expected it to be.
WARNINGS: It's creepy. I mean, I made myself someone antsy writing it. And if you don't want to be spoiled for the way the story of Arthas in WCIII ends, don't go on, oh lordie! If you do want to be spoiled, there's a link to the cinema at the end of the fic.
NOTES: Aerionn's pendant delivery run here is a real quest in WoW, 'Journey to Undercity'. Rauth belongs to Kyl. He and his fabulous hair are included with utmost respect and love.
***
It starts out as what he thinks is just a ringing in his ears as they exit the courtyard and cross the drawbridge, ascending the stairs in the ruins proper. It's quiet down here, and sometimes when things are absolutely still Aerionn's mind decides it has to make its own background noise.
He tries to ignore it, and keep following Rauthien. He's never been here before; if he gets lost it'll be just so far beyond a giant pain in the ass to make his way out and back. While he doubts the Forsaken would be very annoyed by somewhat ditzy Sin'dorei tourists, Rauth might worry.
He keeps moving, skirting around the enormous broken bell that obviously tumbled from the carillon above, then stops.
The ringing isn't just his mind's ear. it's not the usual steady little metal 'pinngggg' he's used to.
No. This is the sound of tolling bells. Distant, somewhat unclear, as if he's hearing the echoes of a bell far distant from here.
"Rauth?"
"Aerionn?" Rauth turns to face him, looking bemused. Does he hear it too?
"There are - bells, I think. I mean, I hear bells. Unless my mind's finding a spectacular new way to go to strange."
Rauth presses his lips together. "The city is full of echoes like that. Of what came before. It's not just your mind. Every spiritually-aware person I've known who's come here notices it. This place is…probably the most haunted ground I've ever seen. Aerionn, what you hear is the memory of these bells here."
He points to the fallen bell, then up. Aer follows his finger and then startles.
There were many bells there once, up in that carillon, and for a moment, just a blink, he sees them all - bright brass tolling in the sunset painting them the colour of flame. Then it passes. Now there's only three remaining up there, silhouetted against the grey sky. One's cracked badly, missing a huge piece out of the side. it looks like it might topple down to join its mate here on the floor any day now.
"Lordaeron's bells rang thus the day the prince" - Rauth's tone is very acid - "came home, and tore everything to pieces."
"Arthas." Aer says, or sort of says. it comes out as a dry whisper. "…I'm hearing the day he came back."
"Watch your step," Rauth replies in lieu of an answer.
Aer blinks at him, and does as he's told, looking down as he keeps walking. Then he stumbles, biting off a curse.
Petals are still lying on the floor here. They were pink once or maybe red, but now they look like strange violet bruises on the stone. Did they freeze there or something, in Arthas's wake? Aer can't think of why, after so many years, there should still be petals on the cobblestone from the day Lordaeron's joy was snuffed out for good.
He realizes one has stuck to his boot and shakes it off. "Nnghk."
"If it's too much for you," says Rauth gently, "you should wait here - no, go to the courtyard, find the merchants, and buy yourself something to eat. Or a tea. They sell food for the living here. I'll return the Lady's pendant, and then come pick you up."
Aer shakes his head. "No. I'll deal with it, Rauth. I can't just hide all the time from this kind of a thing - shadows, memories, echoes - whatever. If this is the way it is now - if this is the way I'm going to be experiencing the world now - I better get used to it and learn to glide with it."
Rauth smiles at him, pleased. "Good idea," he says, and Aer lets himself feel smug. He catches up with Rauth, and keeps walking.
The echo of the bells follows them along the road, and it's clearer and clearer to Aerionn now. The air is ringing all around him, he can feel the vibration of the bells down to his bones, and now he can hear the memory of Lordaeron's people cheering for their prince.
Something intangible and cool brushes past him, just visible out the corner of his eye. He catches his breath and keeps walking.
Ghosts or memories of people. He knew he'd see them. They're so CLEAR here, though. Translucent, but crisp and sharp and real as his own reflection in the mirror.
He's never before seen shades like this.
"Al diel shala," he murmurs to them, and wants to take Rauth's hand just to kind of ground himself here and now.
All these people.
Is the memory of everybody imprinted permanently here? Why? Is it just something the Scourge does, etching the echoes of their conquests into walls the way they burnt their sickness into the Dead Scar?
Aer shudders and looks behind himself, half-certain he'll see the echo of Lordaeron's destroyer following in their wake, a hungry shadow with a hungrier sword.
There's no one there but the usual shades. One glances at him curiously (or at something in the past where he's standing now), then moves along.
He murmurs a farewell to them all, and keeps walking; the echoes get fainter as they keep moving further inside.
He tries to steel himself for what might possibly come next. He isn't sure what that might be but he should try to make himself be ready for anything.
He tries, but he's not ready for the throne room. At all.
"Oh no come on why. Why do we have to go through this," Aer says.
"It's the only way." Rauth looks at him. "Are you all right? Aerionn, I meant it when I said I won't think badly of you if you need to stay back. I don't want you forcing yourself to go on if it's going to harm you."
"Nrrrh." Aer closes his eyes, then takes a deep breath in. "I'll deal with it."
He steps forward, and crossing the threshold is like being hit in the face with a bucket of cold water.
There's a bloodstain on the floor, by the throne.
King Terenas's blood.
...yet prisoners they are, good king...
what is the meaning of this - who are you?
humanity is in peril. the tides of darkness have come again.
Here is-
let the eyes be closed
where everything
you no longer have to bear the weight of your crown
fell
i've taken care of everything.
apart.
The voices are everywhere and nowhere and overwhelming. Aer shuts his eyes, breathes slowly, tries to orient himself again and keep afloat as the wave of memory breaks over him.
What is this?
King Terenas. Confused, fear growing, comprehension dawning.
No. Oh no.
The sound of a gloved hand closing tightly on heavy fabric. The whisper of velvet over steel.
No, no, no--
The soft metallic noise of a blade levelled.
A faint indrawn breath.
Stop--
What are you doing, my son?
The answer comes from directly behind Aer.
Succeeding you. Father.
Aer whips around with a curse, panic rising, ready to drive his fist into the bastard undead prince's stomach, knock him back, buy some time, anything, anything to prevent this -
He snaps back into reality when Rauth catches his hand.
"Auh," he says, and clings to his mentor. "Sorry."
Rauth pats his hair. "No need to apologize. You have a mean left, Aerionn. Whoever you thought was after you, I feel sorry for."
Aer laughs nervously. "I would've been dead before I hit the floor." He starts shaking a bit. "If I was lucky. There's - there's worse things than death, much worse."
Like soul-eating blades.
Aer doesn't think he'll ever forget the sound of that blade levelled at Terenas's heart. The sound that came after is one he knows - the striking-down of another. It's something one has to sometimes do as a paladin. Strike down.
He can handle the sound of a person's death.
He can't shake the sound of that drawn blade from his mind. What is it about that sound that's so horrific, that's so much worse than what happened after?
"Aerionn." Rauth puts his hands on Aer's shoulders, looks seriously at him. "Look at me. Remember where we are and when. They're memories. They can't harm you."
"But. Rauth. I heard that - " He's rasping, his throat is too dry. He clings to Rauth's sleeves and swallows. "That time. When - "
He gestures at the stain on the floor.
Rauth's quiet a long time. "…I've heard their voices before, too. Sometimes I catch a word or three of the exchange, but I don't like to pay it much heed; after all, I can't change what's already been and gone."
Aer puts his head on Rauth's chest, listening to his heartbeat, trying to drown out the memory of that single, soft, vicious sound. "I know it's - been and gone, now, but - wow. Oh, wow. That - I feel sick. Nothing's ever been that bad before."
Rauth's still stroking his hair. "What did you hear?" he says softly.
Aer shuts his eyes as the stir of echoes rises again.
"This kingdom will fall," he repeats after the shadow of Arthas, "…And…and from the ashes shall arise a new order that will shake the very foundations of the world."
Rauth hugs him closer. "…I can guess who that is."
"That's actually less disturbing than what I was flailing at."
"…Dare I ask?"
Aer closes his eyes. In the selfsame tone as he heard it: "'I'm succeeding you, father'."
Rauth twitches. "Bastard," he murmurs. "Vicious heartless bastard. Let's go. He's given you enough to deal with already."
Aer keeps his arm around Rauth as they go.
"Shorel'aran, Terenas," he murmurs.
There's no answer, and Aer's relieved.
That means it really is just a memory; Terenas is gone from here.
Then it occurs to him just why this is the case, and he remembers the sound of that blade levelled -
He curls his hand in Rauthien's shirt, and hopes he can get it together before meeting Lady Sylvanas.
***
here's the cinema; the dialogue between Arthas and his father happens again in World of Warcraft, as ambient sound in the Undercity. And here is the echo in the Undercity. This is what Aerionn hears.
"Sin'dorei" translates to "Children of the Blood" - namely, Blood Elves. The two bits Aer speaks in Thalassian (the Blood Elves' mother tongue) are "Al diel shala" (safe travels) and "Shorel'aran" (goodbye). I did that this way because they look prettier, and it's a lovely language to hear spoken.
Rauth's 'he's done enough' refers to Aer's memoryfail, which came about when Arthas and the Scourge attacked Quel'thalas, and a dreadlord chucked Aer into a wall for attacking.
Part II, where Aerionn ACTUALLY GIVES BACK THE PENDANT, is coming XD
FANDOM: Warcraft III/World of Warcraft
PEOPLE: Aerionn Dawntreader (a somewhat excitable paladin who probably has the elven equivalent of ADD), Rauthien Brightblade (his more calm mentor, possessed of excellent hair), and some ghosts (of various citizens and nobility, benign and malign).
PAIRING: None as such, though Aer and Rauth are snuggly off-duty.
RATING: PG; not much in the way of cursing and such but there is implied violence and it's not really settling!
SUMMARY: Aerionn's first trip to the Undercity is - eventful in more ways than he expected it to be.
WARNINGS: It's creepy. I mean, I made myself someone antsy writing it. And if you don't want to be spoiled for the way the story of Arthas in WCIII ends, don't go on, oh lordie! If you do want to be spoiled, there's a link to the cinema at the end of the fic.
NOTES: Aerionn's pendant delivery run here is a real quest in WoW, 'Journey to Undercity'. Rauth belongs to Kyl. He and his fabulous hair are included with utmost respect and love.
***
It starts out as what he thinks is just a ringing in his ears as they exit the courtyard and cross the drawbridge, ascending the stairs in the ruins proper. It's quiet down here, and sometimes when things are absolutely still Aerionn's mind decides it has to make its own background noise.
He tries to ignore it, and keep following Rauthien. He's never been here before; if he gets lost it'll be just so far beyond a giant pain in the ass to make his way out and back. While he doubts the Forsaken would be very annoyed by somewhat ditzy Sin'dorei tourists, Rauth might worry.
He keeps moving, skirting around the enormous broken bell that obviously tumbled from the carillon above, then stops.
The ringing isn't just his mind's ear. it's not the usual steady little metal 'pinngggg' he's used to.
No. This is the sound of tolling bells. Distant, somewhat unclear, as if he's hearing the echoes of a bell far distant from here.
"Rauth?"
"Aerionn?" Rauth turns to face him, looking bemused. Does he hear it too?
"There are - bells, I think. I mean, I hear bells. Unless my mind's finding a spectacular new way to go to strange."
Rauth presses his lips together. "The city is full of echoes like that. Of what came before. It's not just your mind. Every spiritually-aware person I've known who's come here notices it. This place is…probably the most haunted ground I've ever seen. Aerionn, what you hear is the memory of these bells here."
He points to the fallen bell, then up. Aer follows his finger and then startles.
There were many bells there once, up in that carillon, and for a moment, just a blink, he sees them all - bright brass tolling in the sunset painting them the colour of flame. Then it passes. Now there's only three remaining up there, silhouetted against the grey sky. One's cracked badly, missing a huge piece out of the side. it looks like it might topple down to join its mate here on the floor any day now.
"Lordaeron's bells rang thus the day the prince" - Rauth's tone is very acid - "came home, and tore everything to pieces."
"Arthas." Aer says, or sort of says. it comes out as a dry whisper. "…I'm hearing the day he came back."
"Watch your step," Rauth replies in lieu of an answer.
Aer blinks at him, and does as he's told, looking down as he keeps walking. Then he stumbles, biting off a curse.
Petals are still lying on the floor here. They were pink once or maybe red, but now they look like strange violet bruises on the stone. Did they freeze there or something, in Arthas's wake? Aer can't think of why, after so many years, there should still be petals on the cobblestone from the day Lordaeron's joy was snuffed out for good.
He realizes one has stuck to his boot and shakes it off. "Nnghk."
"If it's too much for you," says Rauth gently, "you should wait here - no, go to the courtyard, find the merchants, and buy yourself something to eat. Or a tea. They sell food for the living here. I'll return the Lady's pendant, and then come pick you up."
Aer shakes his head. "No. I'll deal with it, Rauth. I can't just hide all the time from this kind of a thing - shadows, memories, echoes - whatever. If this is the way it is now - if this is the way I'm going to be experiencing the world now - I better get used to it and learn to glide with it."
Rauth smiles at him, pleased. "Good idea," he says, and Aer lets himself feel smug. He catches up with Rauth, and keeps walking.
The echo of the bells follows them along the road, and it's clearer and clearer to Aerionn now. The air is ringing all around him, he can feel the vibration of the bells down to his bones, and now he can hear the memory of Lordaeron's people cheering for their prince.
Something intangible and cool brushes past him, just visible out the corner of his eye. He catches his breath and keeps walking.
Ghosts or memories of people. He knew he'd see them. They're so CLEAR here, though. Translucent, but crisp and sharp and real as his own reflection in the mirror.
He's never before seen shades like this.
"Al diel shala," he murmurs to them, and wants to take Rauth's hand just to kind of ground himself here and now.
All these people.
Is the memory of everybody imprinted permanently here? Why? Is it just something the Scourge does, etching the echoes of their conquests into walls the way they burnt their sickness into the Dead Scar?
Aer shudders and looks behind himself, half-certain he'll see the echo of Lordaeron's destroyer following in their wake, a hungry shadow with a hungrier sword.
There's no one there but the usual shades. One glances at him curiously (or at something in the past where he's standing now), then moves along.
He murmurs a farewell to them all, and keeps walking; the echoes get fainter as they keep moving further inside.
He tries to steel himself for what might possibly come next. He isn't sure what that might be but he should try to make himself be ready for anything.
He tries, but he's not ready for the throne room. At all.
"Oh no come on why. Why do we have to go through this," Aer says.
"It's the only way." Rauth looks at him. "Are you all right? Aerionn, I meant it when I said I won't think badly of you if you need to stay back. I don't want you forcing yourself to go on if it's going to harm you."
"Nrrrh." Aer closes his eyes, then takes a deep breath in. "I'll deal with it."
He steps forward, and crossing the threshold is like being hit in the face with a bucket of cold water.
There's a bloodstain on the floor, by the throne.
King Terenas's blood.
...yet prisoners they are, good king...
what is the meaning of this - who are you?
humanity is in peril. the tides of darkness have come again.
Here is-
let the eyes be closed
where everything
you no longer have to bear the weight of your crown
fell
i've taken care of everything.
apart.
The voices are everywhere and nowhere and overwhelming. Aer shuts his eyes, breathes slowly, tries to orient himself again and keep afloat as the wave of memory breaks over him.
What is this?
King Terenas. Confused, fear growing, comprehension dawning.
No. Oh no.
The sound of a gloved hand closing tightly on heavy fabric. The whisper of velvet over steel.
No, no, no--
The soft metallic noise of a blade levelled.
A faint indrawn breath.
Stop--
What are you doing, my son?
The answer comes from directly behind Aer.
Succeeding you. Father.
Aer whips around with a curse, panic rising, ready to drive his fist into the bastard undead prince's stomach, knock him back, buy some time, anything, anything to prevent this -
He snaps back into reality when Rauth catches his hand.
"Auh," he says, and clings to his mentor. "Sorry."
Rauth pats his hair. "No need to apologize. You have a mean left, Aerionn. Whoever you thought was after you, I feel sorry for."
Aer laughs nervously. "I would've been dead before I hit the floor." He starts shaking a bit. "If I was lucky. There's - there's worse things than death, much worse."
Like soul-eating blades.
Aer doesn't think he'll ever forget the sound of that blade levelled at Terenas's heart. The sound that came after is one he knows - the striking-down of another. It's something one has to sometimes do as a paladin. Strike down.
He can handle the sound of a person's death.
He can't shake the sound of that drawn blade from his mind. What is it about that sound that's so horrific, that's so much worse than what happened after?
"Aerionn." Rauth puts his hands on Aer's shoulders, looks seriously at him. "Look at me. Remember where we are and when. They're memories. They can't harm you."
"But. Rauth. I heard that - " He's rasping, his throat is too dry. He clings to Rauth's sleeves and swallows. "That time. When - "
He gestures at the stain on the floor.
Rauth's quiet a long time. "…I've heard their voices before, too. Sometimes I catch a word or three of the exchange, but I don't like to pay it much heed; after all, I can't change what's already been and gone."
Aer puts his head on Rauth's chest, listening to his heartbeat, trying to drown out the memory of that single, soft, vicious sound. "I know it's - been and gone, now, but - wow. Oh, wow. That - I feel sick. Nothing's ever been that bad before."
Rauth's still stroking his hair. "What did you hear?" he says softly.
Aer shuts his eyes as the stir of echoes rises again.
"This kingdom will fall," he repeats after the shadow of Arthas, "…And…and from the ashes shall arise a new order that will shake the very foundations of the world."
Rauth hugs him closer. "…I can guess who that is."
"That's actually less disturbing than what I was flailing at."
"…Dare I ask?"
Aer closes his eyes. In the selfsame tone as he heard it: "'I'm succeeding you, father'."
Rauth twitches. "Bastard," he murmurs. "Vicious heartless bastard. Let's go. He's given you enough to deal with already."
Aer keeps his arm around Rauth as they go.
"Shorel'aran, Terenas," he murmurs.
There's no answer, and Aer's relieved.
That means it really is just a memory; Terenas is gone from here.
Then it occurs to him just why this is the case, and he remembers the sound of that blade levelled -
He curls his hand in Rauthien's shirt, and hopes he can get it together before meeting Lady Sylvanas.
***
here's the cinema; the dialogue between Arthas and his father happens again in World of Warcraft, as ambient sound in the Undercity. And here is the echo in the Undercity. This is what Aerionn hears.
"Sin'dorei" translates to "Children of the Blood" - namely, Blood Elves. The two bits Aer speaks in Thalassian (the Blood Elves' mother tongue) are "Al diel shala" (safe travels) and "Shorel'aran" (goodbye). I did that this way because they look prettier, and it's a lovely language to hear spoken.
Rauth's 'he's done enough' refers to Aer's memoryfail, which came about when Arthas and the Scourge attacked Quel'thalas, and a dreadlord chucked Aer into a wall for attacking.
Part II, where Aerionn ACTUALLY GIVES BACK THE PENDANT, is coming XD
