Adventures in Azeroth: Homecoming

Author's Note: I apologize for the lack of a lot of description, I am basically running under the assumption you know what Arthas looks like. Just imagine a drow, and you know what Anaemus looks like.

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The tent was dark despite the size. A large pole in the center lifted it high, but save for when a bitter wind blew across the doorflap, there was almost no light. What light there was inside came from a single torch that burned blue and stopped halfway through the room as if hiding from the figure in the center. Anaemus hardened her eyes and refused to cower, though her ears were ringing from the tension in her head. Taking several determined steps forward, the dark elf dropped to one knee, her head drooped low. A dark throne, trimmed in human bones held a sitting figure which exuded raw power.
“My Lord,” she breathed, as much awe and reverence as she could fill two words with. Her eyes flitted up briefly and she found herself, as always, flinching before the mighty figure of the Lich King. The darkness itself wrapped around him like a cloak fringed in unadulterated malice. His heavy armor made no sound though Anaemus knew she could never lift a piece of it. He held the greatsword, Frostmourne in one hand, the point stuck in the ground as he twirled it with the top of the hilt. He said nothing and she could not make out any expression from his obscured features, though his eyes glowed malevolently within his helmet.
“I've returned, lord. After your, “betrayal, came to mind but she said, “withdrawal from the Knights of Ebon Hold-”
A snarl from the fallen paladin told her she was on thinning ice.
“...I was forced to perform the demeaning task of faux redemption, but now I wish to return to your rule. As always, I am bound to your will.”
She held her breath and had her heart still beat, it surely would have demolished her chest. A gloved finger reached out and touched her face.
“So,” a voice raspy and laced with frigid hate, “you fought through the forces of light to come back to me.”
She lifted her head slightly and smiled. Arthas' glove rested on top of her head and she felt joy swell within her.
“Tell me...,” he continued, his voice almost conversational, “...what possible interest do you think a single Death Knight holds for me?!” This last was roared as his arm came across her, sending her flying backwards across the room, her flight halted by a metal column. She screamed as her head snapped back and she fell to the ground, pain wracking her entire body. Her breath came in gasps and icy-blood poured from the side of her mouth, the blue fringes of her eyes glowing brighter. The Lich King remained seated, having used not a fraction of his power to almost destroy her in a single blow. She remained on her hands and knees, head swimming as she tried to process her next move. The wind picked up again, blowing the door to the tent open. From the corner of her eye, she saw the priest she had been “grooming”, held by manacles attached to a pole. The troll was kneeling and appeared to be praying. Arthas had apparently caught Anaemus' gaze and he too turned to the figure.
“Is that...yours?” he rasped. Anaemus pushed herself back onto her knees, one hand against her abdomen where she was certain she was bleeding internally.
“For the moment, my lord. I “acquired” her on my travels.”
“What is she?”
Anaemus managed a thin, empty smile.
“A pet, lord, among other things.”
Arthas sniffed, and Anaemus stiffened, frightened that her levity had gone too far.
“Priest...”he breathed out.
“One of the Shadow when I found her, lord, but since she has come into my service she has returned to the Light.”
Arthas turned again to Anaemus and seemed to be considering something. Then he chuckled, a sound all the more frightening for its lack of mirth.
“A twilight priest in service of a fallen knight, giving life to the bringers of death.” The notion seemed to amuse him greatly. Anaemus inclined her head.
“In service to the Dark Prince.”
Arthas laughed again.
“Good, Death Knight. Break her. When she is ready, she will be of great use to us in the coming battles.”
Anaemus bowed again.
“Yes, my lord, as you command.”
She stood as gracefully as possibly, though hindered by the pain in her side. She paused when she heard him speak again.
“And Death Knight.

Welcome home.”