Arthas, the Betrayer who murdered kings and fathers, the one responsible for the Sunwell's destruction, the monster who transformed all of Lordaeron into an undead graveyard—that infamous name, the Lich King, which made all living beings tremble!
Indeed, this was the grim path Arthas was originally destined to walk, his ultimate fate to be slain in Northrend's Icecrown Citadel by the first paladin, Tirion Fordring, wielding the Ashbringer. There, the Betrayer's life ended, his crimes forever etched into the annals of Azeroth's history.
Simply contemplating this gave Arthas a pounding headache—he was, by all accounts, Arthas of Lordaeron, yet in a profound way, he was not that Arthas. When he was born and first opened his eyes, the words spoken by the adults around him were incomprehensible. He recalled being held by a crowned man until a familiar sound, his own name, registered.
"Arthas!"
Arthas had been born into Lordaeron's palace, yet a segment of his thoughts and memories clearly stemmed from an unknown origin. He distinctly recalled an existence from another world. This duality was one of two secrets Arthas harbored, known to no one but himself. He lived each day with heightened vigilance and caution, not because Lordaeron's palace was dangerous, but because his very identity felt precarious. His princely identity offered Arthas no security; instead, it intensified his sense of impending crisis.
The planet of his birth was named Azeroth. It comprised several vast and resource-rich continents, and Arthas was the Prince of the most powerful human kingdom, located on the Eastern continent. On the surface, it sounded idyllic, but the reality was disturbingly grim. The fate of this planet, viewed through the eyes of Arthas, a semi-outsider, could only be described as despair upon despair.
Their supreme Gods, the Titans, had long since fallen, their souls imprisoned and tormented by the Burning Legion of the Fallen Titan Sargeras. This corrupted Titan ceaselessly desired Azeroth's destruction. Sargeras could not yet descend upon Azeroth, but that offered little comfort. Arthas knew that within twenty or thirty years, the Burning Legion and its master would inevitably arrive.
Beyond the endless demons of the Burning Legion, Azeroth itself harbored another peril. Deep within the planet, sealed away, lay the Ancient Gods—entities equally terrifying and insurmountable for mere mortals. These malevolent Gods were like maggots clinging to bone. The Guardians and seals left by the Titans had long been eroded by their influence, becoming porous like a sieve. Should anything go awry, these Ancient Gods alone possessed the power to annihilate all life on Azeroth, transforming it into their earthly divine kingdom.
With their powerful allies vanquished, and their homeland ceaselessly plagued by internal strife and external threats, one might assume a so-called Child of Destiny would emerge—defying fate, mastering potent techniques, and vanquishing all formidable foes. Unfortunately, while Azeroth possessed a relatively developed system of transcendent power, mortals remained just that—mortals, in their inherent capabilities. To the Ancient Gods and the Legion, even Azeroth's demigods were merely slightly larger ants.
What was worse, even the five Dragon Aspects, inheritors of the Titan Guardians' powers and responsibilities, were compromised: one completely insane, another a mentally unstable Blue Dragon King, and the remaining three largely abstained from worldly affairs. They would likely only intervene when the Burning Legion arrived or when the Ancient Gods' threat became dire.
And the largest, most absurd threat Arthas currently faced stemmed from one of these very Dragon Aspects—the Bronze Dragon King, Nozdormu. This Dragon King, guardian of Azeroth's timeline, was obsessed with the so-called "correct" timeline. Should he or his Bronze Dragonflight discover Arthas, they wouldn't wait for others to intervene; they would immediately eliminate this "abnormal" Prince.
Thus, for nineteen years, Arthas had walked a cautious path, striving not to deviate too much from the events the original Arthas was supposed to experience. Yet, he knew this was largely self-deception. He was certain he would not tread the path of corruption, making it only a matter of time before the Bronze Dragonflight discovered him. Given their methods, they would likely seek out a moment when his divergence began, a time when he was still relatively weak, and then either eliminate him or erase his memory. Arthas could accept neither fate.
However, after nineteen years, Arthas hadn't even encountered a toy dragon, let alone a Bronze Dragon. He began to wonder if the Bronze Dragon tasked with guarding his timeline was simply slacking off, perhaps asleep? Fortunately, Arthas's own power had grown considerably strong. He was confident he could handle an ordinary Bronze Dragon, but if an Ancient Dragon from Nozdormu's era were to appear, he would become meat paste.
While the thought of hiding for as long as possible had crossed his mind, Arthas was not one to sit idly by and await death or salvation. Though he outwardly claimed inactivity, he had, in fact, meticulously laid various plans for the future. The first step, once he had gained the ability to protect himself and formally become a paladin, was the official implementation of Arthas's long-prepared plans. His ambition was not merely to survive the coming disasters; Arthas also hoped to achieve more, specifically to restore Lordaeron to its former strength.
Although Lordaeron remained the strongest Human Kingdom in recent years, facing Arthas's hypothetical enemies, it would, at best, endure but a day longer than other kingdoms before succumbing. King Terenas was aging, and compared to the wise and decisive monarch he had been over a decade ago, the old King now, while still autocratic and formidable in council and diplomacy, significantly lacked in cunning and foresight. Coupled with the trauma of the orcish invasion and the subsequent burden of building and maintaining numerous orc internment camps, Lordaeron's national strength had, in recent years, been fortunate merely to maintain itself without declining.
This stability was largely due to Arthas presiding over many important affairs, and perhaps this was the greatest redeeming quality of old King Terenas's later years—his increasing trust in his son. Though this trust, in the original destiny, would ultimately plunge both him and the entire Kingdom into the abyss, everything was different now. Arthas had already halted Lordaeron's gradual decline, and now, provided the immense burden of the orc internment camps could be resolved, it was only a matter of time before Lordaeron surpassed its former strength.
This was a critical component of his grand strategy. Controlling a human kingdom, and even the alliance across the entire Eastern Kingdoms continent, would prove immensely advantageous for his impending endeavors. As for the orcs, Arthas felt utterly indifferent. Perhaps, under the leadership of their soon-to-emerge new chieftain, they could become valuable cannon fodder in the coming war against the Legion? The blueprint in Arthas' mind, as he sat at the banquet, grew increasingly clear—resolving the orc problem would serve as a vital stepping stone for his own ascendance.