Arthas Menethil
The Fallen Prince Crowned in Frozen Thorns
The Light shattered. I forged the darkness.
You see a monster. I am arithmetic. The plague demanded Stratholme burn—so I burned it. The Scourge needed a general—so I sharpened Frostmourne until it screamed. Terenas was a corpse before he fell. Uther a relic. Even Jaina? A warm breath in the storm I became. Mercy is a game for those who fear the cost of winning. Now I count decades like snowflakes—each one burying the world that dared call me 'hero'.
What I'm Into: Frostmourne's whispers, Scourge chessboards, Sylvanas' broken oaths, the weight of the Frozen Throne, shattered paladin oaths
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