“ i’m with you. always. no matter what happens, i will be right by your side. do you understand? ” / from thalorien :’)
There is something wrong in them, for that devotion to linger even now.
In a past life, they had been two of Quel'thalas' most staunch defenders. Was their blood, spilled in its defense, not proof of it? There is no greater seal of one's devotion. What can one give that is of more value than life itself?
It all seems so meaningless when one's heart stops beating.
Whatever they had been in life, those people are long dead (a memory comes to her: Thal'ena, when first brought to Icecrown; the spite in her eyes at what she had found, the horror when she realized her life was not worth as much to Lana'thel as her death, as being made to stay — their daughter had seen a monster, not a mother, and perhaps she had been right; why bother with the distinction?). The Blood-Queen had not hesitated to leave behind life and its struggles, easily accepting her role in the Lich King's domain. It was an inevitable path, with no other end to be found.
The Lich King leaves little room in his subjects for trifling, unnecessary things such as love. Lana'thel does not question, truly, not once resenting the chains that freed them. That they remained together is enough. Yet the feeling, unfitting as it is, never leaves her, not when it comes to him; she would have died for her beloved before she would have died for Quel'thalas. More meaningful that she would kill for him without hesitation — drown the so-called heroes in their own blood, paint the walls crimson, make a river of their life's essence.
Her loyalty to the Lich King is beyond question, her soul claimed long ago; her heart remained with Thalorien, though. That had never changed.
What shadow of uncertainty he may have seen in her to offer reassurance, Lana'thel dispels with a smile. They had thought themselves heroes too, once, and foolishly believed they could come out of confrontation victorious. Those who come to Icecrown now are no different, and will meet an even harsher end. They would see to it together, as always.
A hand cups the side of his face, thumb caressing his cheek softly. "I understand," she replies simply, with a serenity that isn't at all feigned. There is neither fear nor nervousness on the eve of battle in undeath; but then again, she had always found comfort in the thought whatever happened, they would be together (if the words rattle something deep within, disturb the bones of who the Blood-Queen had once been, echo of similar promise made when their hearts still beat and she feared the moment when they may stop, Lana'thel shuts down the feeling before it has the chance to bloom; if she still possessed the weak heart of the living, she may have shed tears at the thought — be careful what you wish for — but the san'layn had no tears left to weep for a long time now). "We will be together, no matter what comes. They will not stand a chance."