Warcraft 1. Chapter 1

**Note: I do not own Warcraft, World of Warcraft, or most of the dragons mentioned in this story (more's the pity). However, after finishing the Rheastrasza questline, I just HAD to know what happened to the egg stolen from the black dragonflight. This story is the result. Hope you enjoy it, and please feel free to comment or give suggestions/constructive criticism.**

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Nellie, as her guardians affectionately called her, was busy building sand castles when the Dragonqueen came to observe her progress. The ruler of the dragonflights and her consort, Korialstrasz, watched and listened as Nellie's guardians gave their reports one by one. Nellie, young as she was, had already discovered her ability to change shape, and, after some experimentation, had apparently decided to split her time almost evenly between her human and dragon forms. Right now, she was in her dragon form, using her talons to add details to towers, walls, and battlements. She was big for her age, slightly longer than the shaggy mammoths of Northrend, but her movements had a grace to them that many dragons never achieved. Her scales were a deep, light-swallowing black, as expected from one of her kind, but they also had an iridescent sheen to them that was unusual.

"And she hasn't shown any signs of the madness?" Alexstrasza asked calmly. She already knew the answer; had Nellie shown any signs of following in her namesake's steps, the Dragonqueen would have been notified immediately.

"Oh, no, not at all," Chromie said, surprise evident on her tiny features. The bronze dragon's mortal form, that of a gnome, reflected her personality more than her power. "She's quite gentle, and such a bright little thing! She's always asking questions, building things, making up her own stories. Soon, I'll take her to visit pre-Scourge Stratholme, and she'll be so excited, she'll have a hard time containing herself. She'll go from making sand castles to sand people—exact replicas of the people she'll see, down to every mole and wrinkle. Titans know there's plenty of sand here for her to work with." Chromie giggled as Nellie started adding another tower to her castle.

Alexstrasza paid no undue attention to Chromie's use of future tense. Bronze dragons moved through time the way their brethren moved through air, and it was entirely possible that Chromie had already experienced the excursion she described. And the bronze was right about the sand: Nellie's home was removed from time as most of Azeroth experienced it, and the influence of Nozdormu, the bronze Aspect, had filled it with his signature element. "Good," the Dragonqueen finally said. "The more she's exposed to Azeroth, the better prepared she'll be when the time comes."

Nellie, seemingly done with her castle, finally looked around and noticed the elder dragons, all in their mortal forms. She changed shape as she ran over to them, shouting, "Auntie Alex! Uncle Kory! Auntie Chromie said you'd come visit, but then I asked her when, which was pretty silly of me, wasn't it, 'cause she said that you had already visited, and were visiting, and were going to visit soon. I get confused when she talks like that." Nellie's human form looked to be about ten years old, with long, straight black hair, pale skin, and eyes the color of fertile earth. Despite her bubbliness, the girl took a moment to curtsy to the Dragonqueen and her consort, then rushed into the hug offered by the dragon matriarch.

Korialstrasz smiled as he, too, received a hug. "I wouldn't worry too much, Nellie. You'd have to be a bronze to fully understand what she meant. The rest of us just smile and nod." Nellie and Chromie both laughed, and Alexstrasza smiled at her consort. He had been distant toward Nellie at first, but the young dragon's warmth had eventually won him over.

"Oh! I have something I wanted to show you! Stay right there, and close your eyes." Nellie ran back to her sand castle, not bothering to shift back to her dragon form. Turning back to her elders and seeing their failure to follow her directions, she said again, "Close your eyes! It's no fun if you don't close your eyes." Obligingly, the elder dragons all closed their eyes, though Korialstrasz also moved half in front of his queen, as if to protect her from any possible danger. There was a brief flash of intense heat, and then Nellie called out, "Okay, you can open them now."

In place of the sand castle, there stood a gleaming, crystal-clear glass palace. Nellie beckoned the other three over to examine her masterpiece. They came, none of them entirely sure what to make of this new development. "See? This way they don't fall over or blow away, and they're so pretty! Some of the details are harder to see, 'cause they all kind of run together when it melts, but I'm getting better at that." She looked up at her elders, expecting them to ooh and ah at her display of skill.

Alexstrasza recovered from her shock quickly and leaned down to examine the glass castle more closely. "It is very pretty indeed, Nellie. You know, your talons are probably hard enough now to etch the details back in. You would have to be very careful not to cut too deep, though."

"That's a really good idea! I'm gonna go try it on something else. I'll be right back, okay?"

The Dragonqueen nodded and, once the girl was out of earshot, turned to Chromie. "Why didn't you tell me about this before?" she asked the smaller dragon gently.

"I'm so sorry," Chromie said, looking distressed. "I forgot that this happened so early. But yes, I remember now, she can only produce bursts of heat for now. She still hasn't come into her true strength but, well…you can see she's plenty strong just the way she is."

Alexstrasza looked at her consort. "Korialstrasz? I know you have an opinion about this."

The male dragon was still looking at the glass castle, his head tilted to one side as he considered his response. "I'll admit, I was alarmed at first. She is very young to display this level of power. Just imagine what she'll be capable of when she reaches maturity. Her might will be truly staggering." He paused a moment as he considered the ramifications.

"But?" Alexstrasza prompted her mate to continue.

Korialstrasz turned to look at his queen, the love of his life, the center of his universe. Though he had been skeptical about this plan at first, now he was beginning to hope. "But…she used that power to create something beautiful. It is as Chromie told us earlier: Neltharia will be a creator, not a destroyer."

At that moment, Nellie, more properly known as Neltharia, came bounding back up to the adults. She held something behind her back, and she was struggling to contain a smile. "I have something I want to give you, Auntie Alex, but first you have to close your eyes again. Oh, and hold out your hands."

With a gentle smile, the Dragonqueen knelt so that her eyes were on a level with Nellie's. She silently did as the girl asked and felt something cool and slightly textured being put in her hands. When she opened her eyes, she saw that Nellie had given her a remarkably lifelike glass dragon. Its wings were outstretched and its legs pulled up against its body, as if it were gliding on an air current, and its wingspan was slightly wider than Alexstrasza's palms as she held them side by side. Its features had been etched in, making it seem that much more real. "It's beautiful. I almost expect it to float away on the wind," Alexstrasza said with perfect sincerity. She moved to give it back to the girl, but Nellie shook her head.

"I want you to have it. It was one of the first things I melted, and it came out like a dragon-shaped blob, but then you suggested the etching, and I thought I should fix it and give it to you as a thank you."

"I'm honored, Nellie, and I'm very glad you could put my suggestion to good use. I'll find someplace special to put this when I return home."

Nellie beamed. "Come on, I have other things I want to show you."

Alexstrasza stopped her before she could run off again. "Neltharia, wait. I'm afraid I have to go now. I came to make sure that you were happy and that you were doing well. I know now that you have and are everything I could have wished for. You have given me more hope than I've had in a long time. Still, I have many duties waiting for me, and I must return to them."

Nellie looked crestfallen for a moment, but her expression quickly shifted back to its normal cheerfulness. "Will I see you again soon?"

"I will come as often as I can, dearest. Now, give me one last hug to hold me over until I return." Nellie complied, and Alexstrasza whispered in her ear, "Thank you again, Neltharia. It has been a long time since anyone has given me such a lovely gift."

Nellie held Chromie's hand and waved as the Dragonqueen and her consort walked away. After a few steps, they began to fade into the blowing sand, and after a few more, they were gone completely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: I don't own WoW, my imagination just lives there six months out of the year, if you're reading this Blizzard, please don't sue me, yadda yadda yadda. Also, though only a few months have passed on Azeroth since the last installment of our tale, it's been more like a couple of decades for Nellie. I'm not sure how long it takes a dragon to mature, so I left the exact time frame a little fuzzy. As always, comments and constructive criticism are much appreciated!**

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Korialstrasz shuddered briefly as he materialized in the pocket of reality that was Neltharia's home. Traveling here always reminded him uncomfortably of his first adventure traveling through time, but on this occasion, he was doubly uneasy. His mate had always accompanied him here before, but as she was still recovering from her battle with Deathwing, she had sent him on alone. He didn't like leaving her side, but more now than ever, he understood her need to see how Neltharia was progressing. It was time for the young black dragon to join the rest of the world.

Neltharia had reached full maturity now, and it showed in the changes to her home. Nozdormu's formerly omnipresent sand was reduced to a few dunes here and there. A dormant volcano now dominated the terrain. Far from being desolate, the hills and valleys surrounding the volcano were covered in lush vegetation. A large lake at the base of the volcano fed several streams that trickled and gurgled their way across the landscape. Korialstrasz found Neltharia's two current guardians, Eternos and Xerestrasza, at the shore of the lake, both of them lost in their thoughts.

Korialstrasz cleared his throat to gain their attention. When he had it, he asked, "Where is Neltharia? I trust she still fares well?"

Xerestrasza exchanged a glance with Eternos, and the red said quietly, "She fares well enough, all things considered. She's at her forge, in the mountain. There's an entrance about halfway up the slope, if you want to speak with her."

Korialstrasz paused a moment. The two guardians seemed unusually subdued, and he wondered how much Neltharia might have changed since the last time he'd seen her. "How long has it been for her since my last visit?"

Eternos thought about it. "It's been about two weeks for you, yes?" Korialstrasz nodded, and the bronze continued, "It has been significantly longer for Neltharia. Ten years or so, I'd say."

Taken aback, Korialstrasz stared mutely at Eternos. Why had he and the rest of the Bronze Dragonflight accelerated the young black's experience of time to such an extreme extent? He had been expecting to hear that a year had passed, perhaps two, but ten? "What has she been doing for all that time? What could have taken her so long to complete?"

"Why don't you let her explain that to you? She has been impatient to see you for a few months now."

Korialstrasz did not appreciate Eternos' evasiveness, but since he had come to see Neltharia in the first place, he did as the bronze suggested. He found the entrance to Neltharia's forge easily enough; it was marked by a graceful arch of black volcanic glass shot through with streaks of gold, red, green, blue, and silver. As he progressed further into the mountain, the air became hotter and drier. Even in his dragon form, Korialstrasz found the heat a bit uncomfortable, and he felt even more uneasy when he realized that he was walking, nearly defenseless, into the volcanic lair of a black dragon, even if it was the most trustworthy black dragon he knew. That thought moved to the back of his mind as he began to pay closer attention to the passageway through which he moved. It, too, was made of volcanic glass polished to a mirror-like sheen, but these walls held more than random streaks of color. He paused to examine one section of tunnel and realized that the pale blue and green blobs formed a map of Dragonblight. Other sections depicted other countries, or famous heroes, or just scenes from the everyday life of the various races. Everything was lit by glowing crystals embedded in the ceiling, giving some of the images an almost ethereal quality. Korialstrasz reached the end of the tunnel at last, but before he could look down into Neltharia's forge, his attention was captured by the images which flanked the tunnel's exit. On his left was a detailed, almost worryingly lifelike representation of Deathwing, and on his right was a bird's-eye view of a city sculpted from the same black glass as the tunnel. Black and, strangely, silver dragons soared above the city's walls and towers.

At last, Korialstrasz left the tunnel completely and took his first look around Neltharia's forge. A few things became immediately clear. First, the forge was split into two sections, one where Neltharia could work in her human form, and one more appropriate for her dragon form. Second, despite the intense heat of the cavern, the forge itself was cool and still. It had served its purpose; on one stand was a human-sized set of armor, and on another was an enormous set of talon sheaths unlike any Korialstrasz had seen before. The outer curves were fitted with razor-sharp blades. The inside curves were lined with rows of barbs like those on the end of a porcupine's quill.

Neltharia was busy putting her tools away, but she turned when she heard Korialstrasz enter the cavern. She watched as he edged cautiously closer to the forge and the completed projects in front of it. She had seen the same wariness in him in previous visits, but never to this extent. Now, she understood his unease, and she even shared some of it. After all, she had seen the atrocities committed by her great-grandfather and the rest of his flight.

Neltharia approached Korialstrasz slowly, not wanting to startle the older male. When he finally turned his attention to her, she spread her wings and bent her neck until her chin touched the ground. She rose from the draconic equivalent of a curtsy, and when Korialstrasz still said nothing, she sat on her haunches and curled her spiked tail around her like a cat. She waited a moment more, then asked, "So, what do you think? Will they be enough?"

"Enough for what, exactly?"

"The armor is camouflage, of a sort. It's meant to hide me while I gather what support I can. While wearing it, I seem to be nothing more than a rather powerful mortal—one of the heroes of the Alliance or the Horde, perhaps."

"And the talon sheaths?"

"Those are for my great-grandfather. When the time comes, and I have the support I need, I will wear these into battle, and I will use them to rip the plating from his body. I will let his own rage and madness tear him apart."

Korialstrasz looked from her, to the armor, and back to her. "Is this what you've been doing these past ten years? What drove you to it?"

Neltharia shook her head, and though she could feel Korialstrasz's gaze boring into her, she could not bear to look him in the eye. "The answer to your first question is no; this only occupied my last two years. As for the other eight…those years are the answer to your second question. Perhaps we should go somewhere more comfortable for you? This explanation may take a while."


	3. Chapter 3

The two dragons situated themselves along the lakeshore, not far from where Korialstrasz had found Eternos and Xerestrasza. Neltharia brought the prototype of the talon sheaths with her so that Korialstrasz could inspect them in daylight, and as she narrated her story, she watched him examine them from every angle.

"You knew the last time you left that my bronze guardians took me to different times, different places, so that I might understand something of how the world works. Well, for the eight years after your last visit, those excursions were focused on a few things: the histories of the dragonflights, their roles in the shaping and protection of Azeroth, and in particular, the history and role of the Black Dragonflight. They showed me everything—Neltharion as he was in the beginning, his betrayal during the war of the ancients, the genocide he brought against the blues and the reds, and his recent reemergence from Deepholm.

"The more I saw, the more frightened I became. I felt anger, as well, but nowhere near as much as the fear. Fear that I would fall to the same hatreds as my kin, fear that one of them would find and kill me, fear that even if I worked up the courage to face Deathwing, I would fail. The fear nearly crippled me. I spent a month in a hole in the side of that mountain, not eating, not speaking to anyone. I wanted to die.

"One day, I discovered Nozdormu next to me in the hole. That sounds strange, I know, but I can't think how else to describe it. I could have sworn that hole was only big enough for me, but suddenly there he was, right next to me, with the ground worn smooth under him as if he'd spent decades there. He looked over at me, and for some reason, I thought, 'He's not just looking at me—he's seeing me as a hatchling, and a human, and at my best moment and my worst, and as a bleached white skeleton deep in a tomb somewhere.' I wondered if he saw me losing myself, turning into nothing more than a tool of destruction, and I started shaking.

"So slowly, he asked me, 'Child, what is it that frightens you so?' It took me a while to answer, but I finally told him that I was frightened of 'my defining moment'—the moment that would forever decide whether I remained Neltharia or allowed myself to be warped into another Deathwing.

"'Child,' he told me, 'you have not one, but _two_ defining moments, and while neither of them will leave you as you are now, neither of them will turn you into your grandfather.' Then he showed me what he meant.

"Both were just flashes—images rather than scenes—but somehow I knew what each one meant. The first flash was the moment just before I challenge my grandfather to single combat. So much heat was pouring off him…so much pure malevolence. Still, I felt almost nothing. There was no fear, no anger, just determination like cold lead in my stomach. I had to defeat him, and I would defeat him, even if it killed me and everyone else on the battlefield.

"The second flash was the Black City…the city of my children. They were flying over the spires and singing, and their voices resonated with the glass. The harmonies they created were so beautiful. I sensed many other presences, too. Besides my children, the city was filled with humans, orcs, elves, every race imaginable. The only presence that seemed strange was my own. I was there, somewhere out of sight, but I was so different, I almost didn't recognize myself.

"That was when I became determined to face my grandfather and defeat him. Seeing the massive destruction he'd already brought about should have been enough to do it, but in the end…I suppose I had to know that there was a future worth fighting for. The idea of saving Azeroth is nebulous somehow, perhaps because I can't picture all of Azeroth. But I can picture my children. I've seen them, and I want that future so badly."

"So you spent two years planning and making these?" Korialstrasz gingerly picked up the talon sheaths, avoiding their blades and barbs. For the first time, he glanced at the insides of the sheaths. "What are these—spikes?—on the inside?" He showed them to Neltharia and watched as her muscles tensed and her breathing sped up. Whether the reaction was a result of excitement, fear, determination, or some combination of the three, Korialstrasz couldn't tell.

"They aren't spikes. They're barbs, like the ones on the outside. Once I had determined that the outside barbs would be strong enough to pierce Deathwing's armor, I realized that the real problem would be ripping it off of him. From what I could tell, once I had the barbs in the plates, they were going to stay there, but the sheaths might not stay on my talons. I pictured myself going to yank the plates away and the sheaths simply falling off me. Deathwing could fly away with his armor still on, and the sheaths still on his armor. I put the same kind of barbs on the interior of the sheaths as well so that they would stay on and work as intended. Once I put those on, the barbs will sink themselves into my talons. I won't be able to take them off; once Deathwing is dead, I'll have to cut off my talons to remove the sheaths."

"But that would be excruciatingly painful." Korialstrasz was filled with equal parts horror and amazement. It was like listening to one of the mortal races say, "Once I'm done with this sword, I'll have to cut off my hand."

Neltharia just shrugged. "It's certainly no more painful than what Deathwing has already put himself through. I like to think that when his suffering is over, mine will be, too."

Korialstrasz marveled in silence for a moment, but something she'd said in the forge was needling him, and he had to ask, "What did you mean earlier when you said that the armor would give you time to gain support? If you're planning to fight Deathwing single-handedly—which I would advise against, by the way—why do you need support?"

Neltharia's muscles clenched again. "Before I answer that, I have a question of my own."

Korialstrasz nodded encouragingly and noted the way that Neltharia's entire body tensed up as if she were bracing herself against a sharp pain or preparing to shoulder some tremendous weight.

"_Why_ did you name me after him?"

The male dragon flinched. He hadn't been expecting that question, and the hurt and anger in her voice made him select his words carefully. "I believe part of the reason was that, when he was still Neltharion, he was one of the most beloved among us. We hoped to bestow upon you the same trust and affection we had once given him. The other part was that—and this part was never fair to you—we all expected that one day, you would take his place. It was a great burden we thrust upon you, and before you were even old enough to understand or accept it, but there was simply no one else. We saw in you the only hope for a new Black Dragonflight—the Black Dragonflight as it always should have been."

Neltharia shuddered, and some of the tension went out of her. "Then it is because I am to be the next Black Aspect? Not because I am particularly…like him, or…"

"No, you are not like him. You are not even that much like him before the madness took hold of him. At his best, his purest, Neltharion never had quite the passion for creation that you do. You are more…invested in life, in your work, than he ever was."

Neltharia's head drooped nearly to the ground in relief. "Thank you," she whispered. After regaining her composure, she said, "You asked why I will need support. The answer is that I will need some support before and during my battle with Deathwing, but I will need even more afterward. As it exists now, the black dragonflight is almost universally hated and feared. If I succeed in recreating my flight as a force for good, I don't want us to be punished for the sins of our forebears. I will need allies—powerful allies—in the Alliance, Horde, and the other dragonflights."

"You already have allies in the dragonflights. Myself, my queen, Nozdormu, all those who have been your guardians these many years—"

Neltharia shook her head and motioned him to silence, her movements jerky and impatient. "All members of the red and the bronze dragonflights. Do the greens or the blues even know I exist?"

The older dragon sighed. He had never been proud of this decision, and he disliked having to explain it to Neltharia. "Ysera knows of you, as do a few of her advisers, but the green dragonflight has been in great turmoil recently. The Dreamer kept your existence from most of her flight for two reasons: firstly, so that they could concentrate on healing their realm and on their duties in Azeroth, and secondly, so that if any green dragons fell to Deathwing's forces in, say, Mount Hyjal, they could not reveal your whereabouts."

"And the reds don't risk capture? I know they fight in the Twilight Highlands, practically next door to my grandfather's allies."

"The few who know of you don't go anywhere near there. They are almost as well protected as you are."

"And the handful of remaining blues? How did you explain me to them?"

Korialstrasz sighed and wished his consort was here to take care of this. Surely she would have handled it better. "We didn't. Kalecgos has enough to worry about right now, and the other blues would perhaps not be as understanding of your situation as he. Some of them still remember Deathwing's actions against them."

"So, what you're saying is that, what, two dozen members of the red, green, and bronze dragonflights know that I am trustworthy. The other members might listen to their leaders, or they might decide to wait and form their own opinions. The blues don't even know I live, and they wouldn't trust me if they did know. And last but not least, every black dragon now living would probably kill me on sight. This is not the news I was hoping for, Uncle Kory."

"Uncle Kory" chuckled, thinking that he had missed that particular nickname. "It will not be easy, but I have faith in you. Just remember: all of us are tired of despair and strife. We are ready to hope again, to look forward to a better future. As soon as they realize that you can offer them that, they will follow you."

"I hope you're right." Neltharia stood, shook out the last of her tension, and looked toward the volcano which had been her home for the past fifty years. She had created it, as she had created nearly everything in this tiny pocket of time and space, but she was ready to leave it now. It was time to join the rest of the world and start working toward her briefly-glimpsed future. "Let me just go put on the armor and find a way to transport the sheaths, and then we can leave."

"Leave?" Korialstrasz had expected to have to broach the subject gradually. He had certainly not expected Neltharia to take leaving that day as a given.

"Well, yes. I've seen all of the past I needed to see, my work at the forge is finished, and Eternos has been dropping cryptic hints for six months now." She hesitated, then asked, "Will any of this remain when I'm gone?"

Korialstrasz thought about lying and decided against it. "Not really. It took Nozdormu and the other bronzes a great deal of energy to create and maintain this place. Now that it has served its purpose, they will let it fade away."

"Perhaps it's better that way." Korialstrasz waited for her to explain that comment, but she only gave her head a slight shake and said, "You round up Eternos and Xerestrasza. I'll get what I need and meet you back here."

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The three older dragons, all in their mortal forms, watched as Neltharia walked along the lakeshore towards them. She looked like the human warriors wandering the streets of Stormwind, though her matte black plate armor was simpler and more form-fitting than most. Instead of looking like she had glorified tin cans strapped to her limbs, she looked as though she had laid down on a table and allowed someone to pour molten metal over her. Her long black hair was tied in a ponytail at the back of her neck, and she carried a helm in one hand and a large, clanking bag in the other.

Korialstrasz nodded toward the bag. "Are those the talon sheaths?"

"Yes. They're in pieces, but I can reassemble them in Azeroth as long as I can find a hot enough forge." Neltharia put her burden down and looked at her two guardians. "Listen, before we go, I wanted to thank you both. The past few years have been hard on all of us, but you didn't give up on me, even when I tried my best to drive you away. I didn't deserve your patience, but I am grateful that you gave it to me."

The normally stern Xerestrasza smiled and hugged her ward, and Eternos, limited by his gnomish stature, reached up and clasped one of Neltharia's gauntleted hands. "You were worth every moment, dearest," he said, his voice shaking a bit.

Korialstrasz waited until the three were finished embracing before he said a short incantation and opened a portal to one of the quieter chambers of Wyrmrest Temple. Neltharia would go from there to Stormwind to try and win some of the Alliance over to her side. "Are you ready?" he asked quietly, giving her one last chance to put off her destiny.

Neltharia swung her bag onto one shoulder and grinned at the red male. The grin reminded him of Nellie, the hatchling/girl who had built first sand castles, then glass castles. She had been through so much already, but she was strong, and steady, and more determined to succeed than almost anyone he had ever met. He knew her answer before she gave it.

"I'm ready," she said, and together the four of them stepped through the portal, moving towards a briefly-glimpsed but much-anticipated future.

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**That's all for now, folks. I'm kind of inclined to end Neltharia's story here, but I do have some ideas for how to continue it as well. Send some comments my way and let me know if you want more or if you're happy with this ending. Thanks for reading,**

**-Worldomination  
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Warcraft, Adventure, Drama