Wrathion isn't particularly fond of being... summoned.
Not that he doesn't feel hope at the opportunity to speak with Anduin again, after how their little reunion went, but being unceremoniously punched and so tersely spoken with does tend to put a dragon on edge.
He doesn't want to be punched again, and he won't stand for being treated like a minion of the Alliance. The Alliance should be grateful for his help! They should all be thanking him for his advice, his research, his efforts!
Admittedly there is a... degree of repentance to be had, but still.
When Wrathion returns to Stormwind Keep it is with less confidence than his first entry. Shaw paces along the hall with him, as if he needs guarding at every step, and Wrathion feels his hackles rising. He paints on a smile, but part of him has already begun to catastrophise. Is he being brought back for yet another round of chiding? Is Anduin going to have him arrested?
"Your Majesty," Wrathion, wariness evident in his tone as he paces his way back into the throne room. "Will the Speaker be joining us again?"
Is this a matter of N'Zoth, of the wound? Or is this personal? Wrathion wants to prepare himself appropriately.
Anduin almost believes he's missed the opportunity, that others would begin to filter back into the throne room with nothing but disappointing news, speaking up only to say that Wrathion had already left and could not be found. Just that thought has Anduin inwardly cringing; how is he meant to speak with Wrathion about Lunatia if the other has already gone to fight Old Gods?
It's difficult to sit still on the (not so comfortable) throne of Stormwind as he waits for news, though it's even more so difficult to resist the urge to look jubilant upon catching wind that Wrathion is on his way back. Finally. The last few hours have felt like an eternity stretching out before Anduin's very eyes. The sheer relief upon seeing Wrathion sauntering into the throne room is almost frighteningly overwhelming. There's hope yet, though as to what Anduin is hoping for he doesn't know. As long as Wrathion is here they can fix anything or at least make sense of how they've wound up back in this place after a stint in the other world.
"The Speaker?"
Anduin stares blankly, momentarily caught off guard by the question. He'd barely even given Magni a second thought since returning home and the flash of guilt on Anduin's face is quickly replaced as he clears his throat.
"I believe he has a lot to attend to in these trying times." And now Anduin is staring intently, scrutinizing Wrathion for any kind of reaction. He doesn't care that there's just a heavy moment of silence, or that Genn and Shaw aren't quick enough to hide the concern over their King's actions. If only they knew just how Anduin was really feeling, how quickly his heart is beating just seeing Wrathion again. What if he'd come home and Wrathion had stayed? Sure, others had said it didn't work that way but it had been a concern for a short while and no matter how silly or small it may have been, it had still been there.
A full minute passes in silence. Wrathion hasn't made any kind of comment or given anything away in regards to Lunatia and Anduin furtively glances in Genn's directions. Maybe he won't say anything because there are others around? No, that doesn't seem right, Wrathion would say something even if it was just a hint.
"I just wished to make sure you had everything you needed.... for the upcoming trials...."
Wrathion squints at Anduin, as if he's solving a particularly tricky puzzle.
He is.
The puzzle is why the man's demeanour has changed so suddenly. Is it guilt, for the punch? Surely not. He'd deserved it, to an extent, and it made sense that Anduin would need to vent a little emotion after their absence. Has he gotten over it all so quickly? Wrathion thought humans normally took long over that sort of thing, as impatient as he felt.
Anduin is looking at Genn, for some reason. That doesn't help. Wrathion is beginning to feel as if he's missing something, and that's frustrating.
His eyes narrow, calculating.
"I'll be sending out my agents first, of course, to gather information. I believe Magni is interesting in making sure the forges are working, along with MOTHER."
So for now, he has everything he needs. He doesn't particularly know, yet, what else he will need.
Wrathion seems to have everything in control which is more than can be said of Anduin right now. If he asks everyone to leave them to talk alone it will look suspicious, that and Anduin knows Shaw and Genn would never allow it. But there's also no way the young King can just openly talk about everything or anything that had happened; not only does the idea of another world sound ludicrous, but with other things.... Well, Anduin knows he'd have a lot of concerned people wondering why their King seemed to be speaking nonsense.
That and Genn would struggle. All those dreams of heirs suddenly dashed. Anduin isn't sure the old man's heart could take it.
"I see. If there is anything you require please do not hesitate to ask. It would be remiss of us not to offer that much at the very least." Anduin pauses, somewhat conflicted from the frenzy of thoughts racing through his mind. It's almost as if Wrathion doesn't know? How could that be? They were both there and Anduin knows that it wasn't some strange dream. But then Wrathion would have hinted at something by now and all he's doing is standing there looking as if he's trying to figure out where the catch is.
"Anything at all, no matter the time." Anduin resists the urge to sigh, instead clenching his jaw to stop himself from babbling. This is ridiculous but if Wrathion doesn't get the hint then what else can he do? Genn looks like he's already planning to have the medics come and check the King over for fever or Old God meddling. Shaw just looks vaguely thoughtful. The whole thing is a mess and Anduin is wondering if he's changing the timeline by offering more help? Did he offer help to begin with or is he now doing things completely different?
The only thing Anduin Wrynn knows is that his headache is going to last for some time.
"If you have any concerns please feel free to voice them."
None of them are related to what Anduin can do to assist him.
His eyes flick between Genn and Shaw, curious, then back up to Anduin as he considers this.
"Of course," he says evenly, "likewise, if you have concerns of your own I am willing to listen."
Perhaps that is it? Perhaps Anduin has something he desires to ask, and is hoping for a prompt? Or else, perhaps allowing him the space to talk will reveal more about his state. Enough that Wrathion can calculate the right course of action.
Concerns of his own... Anduin resists the urge to laugh at that one. Oh he has concerns alright, ones that are currently pointing out to him how one-sided this all seems to be right now. He'd like to think he's just over thinking it, that it's simply Wrathion playing it cool because of an audience, but there's that small niggling doubt gnawing away at the back of Anduin's mind. What if?
He needs to get Wrathion alone but the way of managing it is a bit of mystery right now. Anduin could order everyone to simply leave for ten minutes, or ask Wrathion to take a walk with him, but then Shaw would undoubtedly be listening in somewhere. Being a King never truly meant being alone unless he was in his room and asking Wrathion to join him in his room at this precise moment would raise quite a few eyebrows.
Hilariously, N'Zoth is the least of Anduin's problems today and he idly wonders how he's managed to get into this mess. Everything about Lunatia is still so vivid in his mind it's difficult to think that it wasn't real and Anduin simply refuses to believe as such. All they'd gone through back there, it would be wasted if it had been nothing more than a dream.
Anduin realises he's been staring again.
Curse this day.
"One last question before you leave; have you been elsewhere other than Stormwind the last few days?"
Wrathion lofts an eyebrow, curious, then frowns. Slowly, his body language stiffens -- head lifting, posture straightening out, fingers flexing and curling.
"Silithus, of course," he says, and the tone is mild still. Cool, collected despite the flight instinct beginning to kick in. As if this is no longer a casual conversation between friends, but a formal address. "Am I on trial here? I would quite like to know if I am."
After all, it's beginning to feel like that. He's been called back, questioned if he needs anything additional and now about his whereabouts. Wrathion can feel the discomfort crawling through his veins, the memory of Anduin's fist hitting his face, the memory of being under house arrest. The memory of the last Black Dragon who walked the halls of Stormwind with its presence.
Perhaps it had been unwise to come here.
Edited (Where did that T come from? no!) 2020-10-20 11:15 (UTC)
There's a reaction there from the question, but Anduin is unable to determine just what has caused it. Had it been Lunatia related then it wouldn't have looked so bad, whatever Wrathion isn't saying is probably something Anduin doesn't want to hear. The priest merely opts to pretend he saw no reaction for now, shaking his head at the question and doing his utmost to keep his expression calm; a far cry from smacking Wrathion in the face. That event happened not so long ago yet after time away it feels as if it had been forever.
"No, you are not on trial, it was simply a question and one for my own curiosity, nothing more."
Anduin wonders what else he can say. He's been dropping hints and even outright asked in a manner that has Genn and Shaw trying not to look like they were listening intently. Dropping it would be the easier course of action but that small part of Anduin, the Wrynn side of him, stubbornly digs his feet in. Drop it? Give up? Surely not! How could he give up on such a wonderful being??
Still it's looking to be a bit difficult with how things are going. Anduin knows they'd had a frank discussion in the hot springs, but if that had all been a dream then those topics hadn't actually happened or been spoken of. Wrathion has made no kind of motion back home that would lend credence to their talk on feelings.
Anduin glances around the throne room again, wondering how he can even begin to approach this, to start digging to see if things had truly been real. Perhaps starting from the beginning would help.
"I do admit there was one motive for inviting you here. To apologise, for hitting you in the face. It was uncalled for and I for one do not wish to repeat said experience."
There's a flicker of surprise at that. Wrathion feels like he has emotional whiplash, one moment afraid Anduin has changed his mind and is about to take him in -- the next? A direct, personal apology. Something different to apologising for his conduct to the champion who happened to be present.
It does nothing to lessen the tension Wrathion feels. If anything, his discomfort ratchets up. He can feel the eyes of Anduin's other advisers on him, and as much as he wants the apology to be genuine he feels as if he's waiting for the but. For the catch, the small print.
"I --"
He doesn't want to have this conversation publically. He doesn't want to have this conversation at all, in truth, Wrathion hates the crawling feeling of vulnerability. In public, though, it's much worse. The Black Prince cannot afford to show weakness, when his every action is picked apart.
There's no shame in admitting a mistake, if only because Anduin has had a longer time than he should have to think it over. He won't go on about it though, the apology is there and his point is made. It would be all too easy to argue that no, Wrathion hadn't deserved it, but then how would Anduin be able to explain what would look like a sudden change of heart to everyone else so quickly? Things will be easier if he simply just changes tactic, he knows he can't change anything right now nor should he be asking Wrathion to stay for a meal. Changing things could have the worst kind of impact and Anduin is certain Wrathion had not mentioned anything so cordial before leaving to deal with N'Zoth.
Anduin has no idea what it going on in regards to Lunatia. Dream or otherwise it seems that Wrathion has no idea what is going on and to start talking about it would serve no purpose than to frustrate everything all the more. Just looking at Wrathion, knowing that he can't just run over there and pull the other into an embrace is killing Anduin and the young man wonders if this too will fade in time or if he'll eventually be driven mad?
There's also the hope sent quickly in the direction of the Light that Genn spares him the heir talk for one meal.
"It is not my place to change your mind on that, but I do know right from wrong." Anduin pauses, drumming his fingers lightly on the arm of his seat. Not for the first time in his life he wishes he could just throw royal protocol out of the window. It isn't as if Stormwind would collapse!
"I shall not keep you. I have the utmost faith that you, our champion and the others will return. Should you require anything in terms of supplies then speak with the Quartermaster and they shall see it done."
Anduin talks as if he knows without a doubt there will be victory, the confidence in his tone the only thing that isn't wavering right now. He just wishes he could be as confident about other things, just giving Wrathion the option to escape is like a vice around his heart as if starting to grieve for something that may never have happened in the first place.
When did that happen? Why? Wrathion reels, on the one hand eager for praise but equally uncertain where it comes from. He picks apart the thought process, trying to arrive at where Anduin has. What has caused this easing of his temper so quickly? What does it mean? Was his temper cooling already, regardless, and the flare truly had been N'Zoth's influence? He obsesses over it, fingers flexing, but only allows a short nod in reply.
"Of course. I will endeavour to meet your expectations, for all our sakes."
After all, should they fail the consequences... well, they don't bear thinking about.
Wrathion returns to the Chamber of Heart. He waits, he plans, and he thinks.
He thinks about the angry furrow of Anduin's brow, about the way he asked have you been elsewhere other than Stormwind the last few days?
What did it mean?
He can't afford the distraction, but the distraction is there anyway.
Wrathion is distracted, anyway.
Distance does help, at least.
Magni focuses on the Titan forges, and Wrathion sends out his agents -- although if his suspicions are correct, they will find nothing. Azeroth's champions work to help them understand the darkness, and then?
Then the darkness finds them. It nearly swallows the chamber, swallows away Ra-den, and Wrathion is left wondering if he truly is making the right choices. If the sacrifices of others will always feel so hollow.
Xanesh only seems to add to that.
Once upon a time Wrathion had believed the circumstances of his birth might lead him to be more able to resist the whims of the Black Empire, but it seems he has been... overconfident.
Now, all that is left is Ny'alotha itself.
They've explored N'Zoth's dark vision's extensively, strengthened protective enchantments, tested and discussed and now there is... only this. There is only one final assault, to take the fight to N'Zoth. To end it all, put an end to the Old God who twisted his father into a force of destruction. The prospect is... unnerving, but there's no time for nerves. Only action, and only success.
There is, perhaps, time for one thing. Anduin should know that they are making this final assault, and... there are other things he should know too.
He sends Right back to Stormwind with the letter, saying it all in person feels... too much. The possibility of harsh rejection before such a journey feels too heavy. Hopefully, it's still enough.
Anduin;
Warfare rarely accomplishes the intentions of its architects. Weighing up the price of a victory is more difficult than I once imagined. In the coming few days, I will escort your champions into the heart of Ny'alotha. I hope to return them all to you, whole and intact. I hope to return with them myself, but these things are never certain.
There are things that must be said before then.
I know this was never what you wanted. It was never what I wanted for you either, my friend. I never intended for your father to die, for the chaos that followed, but I have kept my word. I told you we would face a terrible threat together, and here we are. Whatever you think of me, everything I have done has been for Azeroth.
Medivh once said to me: 'I can never change the actions of my past, but I can forge a new legacy to leave behind.'
If I fall facing N'Zoth, I can only hope I have done that. That I have helped to forge a new legacy for the Black Dragonflight and its original sacred charge: the defence of Azeroth. The end of the Old Gods.
I hope to see you again soon. I hope to live up to the faith you have placed in me.
Distance doesn't help Anduin any, instead it simply reinforces the fact that everything is different despite nothing having changed for anyone else. Anduin isn't certain if he should be annoyed something has been lost or annoyed that he'd settled into things so easily. His mind is all over the place and it's difficult to settle back into things, to focus on the oncoming threats with the same level of attention he had previously. Every so often his mind wanders, thinking to what Wrathion could be doing before he catches himself.....
The others have noticed of course. Genn is the first to voice concerns over how distracted Anduin is and the young man has waved the concerns off more than once with some brief excuse. Shaw, on the other hand, suspects and says nothing, instead only giving Anduin the odd occasional mention that if he needs talk about anything....
It's almost claustrophobic and Anduin despairs a little that his home could feel such a way. He knows it will pass over time but for now things feel messy; one moment Anduin is morose then the next he's annoyed at how fate seems to have shafted him. The letter — as well intentioned as it may be — does nothing but further that annoyance. It's almost as if they're having the same conversation again, to go over the same angst repeatedly. But then there's a small flicker of hope; Anduin wonders if they're saying the same things despite one of them not remembering then surely that should mean something? That things could still go the same direction?
Anduin is pretty sure by this point no-one could torture him better than he's torturing himself these days. He knows he needs to respond to that letter and the young King doesn't delay, not wishing to let the disarray stretch on any further.
Wrathion,
It is good to hear that you and the champions are headed in the right direction and there are few concerns here. I believe they will all come back with you there by their side to keep watch.
I also understand your words and what it is you wish to conveny. I know that you did not have such intents in your mind when making your decisions, that you simply did what you felt was right for Azeroth. Sometimes we lose sight of the bigger picture and do not consider it so easily when things happen.
My grandfather apparently felt that Medivh was a wise person, those words merely confirm it.
I do not believe you shall fall against N'Zoth, you will come back to see the legacy you have begun to forge for the Black Dragonflight with your own eyes.
— Anduin
With that Anduin sits back in his chair, running a hand over his face and wondering just when this madness ends. Just waking up in the morning is difficult without Wrathion around to share that start of the day with. He still manages to smile when handing the sealed letter over to be delivered, though anyone looking close enough will notice just how tired it is, most putting it down to one tired King with a lot of things on his shoulders.
With any luck Wrathion will be back soon and Anduin can figure out just what it is he should do, if anything. Back in Lunatia they hadn't specifically talked time frames so it could be any amount of time when Old Gods were concerned....
Wrathion reads the letter over several times, trying to grasp any hidden subtext from it.
He still can't.
Anduin had been so angry, then suddenly he hadn't been. His letter gives no clue for how this change of heart came to be, but it speaks of understanding. Something about it feels... odd, as if he's still missing something here, but then again perhaps Anduin simply did not want to say too much in a letter which might be intercepted. That would be wise.
Wrathion sighs, puts it away, and comforts himself with the idea that Anduin is confident they will succeed.
The journey through Ny'alotha is long, and immediately begins with a rough blow. He'd known there was a risk of it, had known N'Zoth longed to turn him, yet it still stung to see Azeroth's champions so easily buying in to the ruse.
There is no time to dwell on it, however. They press on, facing agents of N'Zoth -- trying to maintain contact with Magni and MOTHER. It's a long, exhausting expedition. Away from them, on the surface, little seems to change.
Then, slowly, it does.
N'Zoth's grip begins to ease until, finally, one day a weight lifts.
Magni comes to confirm it: they did it. N'Zoth the corrupter is no more! Yet Wrathion -- Wrathion is not with him. Magni makes excuses, of course, the poor lad is tired. He's in the Chamber of Heart, recovering still. He'll be sure to pass on a message, that Anduin would like to see him.
It isn't strictly a lie. Wrathion is tired.
He's tired, and he feels -- feels strange. He's free, finally, but now... now that his goal has been achieved he feels... he's not certain. Relief? It's a strange, muddled sensation. Something he isn't used to. He's resting, listening to the faint sounds of the Chamber of Heart, when something else happens.
Memories. At first, Wrathion feels real fear. His head feels as if it's about to implode and the memories make no sense. Are of a place he doesn't recognise, of unfamiliar things -- and of Anduin.
Anduin.
Once the headache begins to ease Wrathion makes his excuses and packs quickly, unfolding the letter he's had tucked into his coat and quickly re-reading it. There's nothing that tells him if Anduin remembers or not, but the only way he'll find out is by asking. It's dark outside, but the portal takes him to Boralus where he can easily jump to Stormwind -- and in truth Wrathion has unfinished business with the king either way. Hopefully he can forgive the later hour of his visit, but it had seemed... urgent, after everything.
It doesn't take long before the news of N'zoth's defeat finally arrives in the form of one Magni Bronzebeard. Anduin can't keep the smile from his face, the sense of relief that he's not ruined something through his actions a weight from his shoulders. Wrathion isn't there though, he's apparently tired and resting and Anduin can't deny a small part of him is still disappointed the other hasn't shown his face despite efforts to put such thoughts to the back of his mind.
Stormwind and the Alliance are jubilant, of course (and the Horde most likely are too). An Old God has been dealt with, there is no longer a war with the Horde looming for the time being...things are looking up. Anduin makes sure to get his people to work on setting things up to celebrate the champion and others upon their return, thrilled that things have gone the right way and yet there's still a sense of dread that lingers. Now that N'Zoth has been dealt with what else looms around the corner? These days it's been one calamity after another and Anduin pauses outside to glance at the strange new star in the sky.
Things should be peaceful for a while now, right?
One can only hope and after a gentle scolding by Genn for apparently stressing too much, Anduin finally decides to retire for the evening. Everything else can wait until morning. Or so the plan was; word reaches Anduin's ears that someone is approaching and the young King opts to stay put for now, curious to see who it is at this time of the evening. It's only when Wrathion is closer to the Keep that the information reaches Anduin's ears on the identity of said visitor and his shoulders stiffen ever so slightly, smile only a little more tired than it has been.
This place is home but it seems intent on torturing him so.
"Show him in to the kitchens, I will speak with him there." May as well eat something as they talk about the demise of N'Zoth.
The kitchens is not, admittedly, where Wrathion had expected to be meeting Anduin.
He won't complain, however, since he is hungry.
Wrathion is still more... dishevelled than his usual appearance. It's subtle, but his hair is not quite so artfully styled. His posture still carries a weight to it. His expression still furrowed. Nothing about him outwardly speaks of injury or even stress, but to someone who knows him the change is enough to be noticeable.
He follows his guide into the kitchens, eyes flitting around curiously, then stops as he spots Anduin.
Ah.
He had a plan, of course, but even meeting in the kitchens is already a derailment of that plan.
Still, he can make do.
"Anduin," he greets softly, "is this where all Stormwind's official business is now performed?"
The Kitchens are not the most ideal place to be holding a meeting, yet Anduin feels it's the right choice to make right now. His mind is still trying to settle after a long day of dealing with people and in all honesty he's peckish. Not for the first time the head cook gives Anduin a pleading look as if silently asking the young King to let him do his job. It doesn't work and soon enough they disappear to attend to other things, somewhat perplexed that the King of Stormwind seems intent on getting his own food today.
How does Anduin explain to anyone that he had gotten used to sorting his own food whilst away in another world? That he was used to dealing with his own stuff without the need of someone else doing it for him? Sometimes it's just better to let others be puzzled.
As soon as Anduin hears Wrathion's voice he pauses, grip on the knife he's slicing a loaf with tightening ever so slightly before relaxing. Will he ever get used to this? Anduin had felt he was getting a grip on things but now it feels just as fresh as it had the day he'd come back, a sadness that just didn't seem to want to quit and it takes a moment and a deep breath before Anduin looks over. At least his poker face is much better, expression nothing but his usual contemplative look.
"Wrathion. I apologise however I have done nothing but conduct meetings in the Throne Room, I felt a change of scenery was in order to keep things on their toes. I believe congratulations are in order?"
The news of N'Zoth has reached everyone who needs to hear it, but Anduin wouldn't mind hearing it from Wrathion himself if he'll tell it.
Wrathion studies Anduin thoughtfully, paces carefully closer and rests one hand idly on the counter. Nails tap thoughtfully against it, betraying agitation despite his otherwise cool exterior.
"And yet the High King himself does not seem pleased with me."
The interaction feels... awkward, suddenly. The lack of ceremony, the way Anduin almost feels more focused on the bread than him. Wrathion cannot help but wonder if he is... out of place here. If his presence is an irritation. Perhaps he had... misjudged. His nails keep tapping thoughtfully, and Wrathion slants his eyes away from Anduin -- darts them around the kitchen for inspiration.
Things do feel a little awkward and Anduin silently blames himself for it. He may be concerned and tormented over strange memories of a different world but it is cruel of him to take such frustrations out on Wrathion. The tapping of fingers only serves to solidify that thought and Anduin takes another breath, this time the smile on his face more natural than the last.
"I am more than pleased, Wrathion. I apologise, the last few days have been long ones but they have not been as difficult as yours must have been."
Anduin looks around the kitchen, following Wrathion's gaze and noting that there's nothing standing out. The cook has left him to it though Anduin would guess that Shaw would not be far away. There's no doubt that Genn shouldn't be too far behind if word reached the worgen's ears. Anduin knows that the protectiveness comes from a good place but he also knows that Genn would never recover if he knew just how well Anduin could handle a dragon these days.
He slices some more bread before plating it up along with some slices of cheese. For a moment Anduin can all too clearly see a woman threatening Wrathion's unruly hairstyle and the memory of it has his lips twitching. Dream or not that had been a great time and the thought that there's no returning almost pains him. Lunatia undoubtedly carried on though and Anduin knows that the others he had met there would be getting on with things, just like he ought to be doing.
"If your timing was inconvenient then the guards would not have let you pass. As for the kitchen it is as I said; unless you wished to speak your piece on ceremony?" Anduin pauses as he quickly debates something in his mind. "Did you want something to eat?"
"Ah, how could I say no to a royally prepared meal?"
Or, more accurately, snack of some sort it seems.
"I would be honoured, of course, to be served by you."
Served, somehow, said with the air of someone who is thinking about a great deal more than food. He closes the last of the distance between them, leaning against the counter beside Anduin as he studies his hands and the bread he's plating.
"Although it appears standards in Stormwind have dropped significantly. Has the budget been reduced?"
It would be all too easy to say no but Anduin says nothing of it, instead turning his head slightly to stare at Wrathion for his comment about being served. That had sounded almost suggestive. If only!! Anduin's gaze briefly sweeps across Wrathion, top to bottom before focusing back on the task at hand, expression unreadable for now. Slicing bread is easy but making the pieces even? Apparently that's a skill and one distracting enough to stop the young man's mind from taking more from the comment than what was meant.
Doesn't help much. They aren't the best slices.
"The budget has not been reduced, I simply did not wish to inconvenience the Cook at this time of day." Anduin slices some more bread as he looks a little sheepish. "I am still learning to cook so for now a snack will have to suffice. A more fitting meal can be arranged in the morning with the others present."
Maybe this way he can have five minutes alone with Wrathion before Genn starts breathing down his neck again.
Not even some nice salted ham? He is a dragon, after all.
How tragic.
Wrathion sneaks his fingers over to snatch up a piece of cheese, deciding that waiting is for other people.
"Perhaps you'd have done better to buy something. It's worked before."
He recalls, warmly, Anduin bringing him food from the Caihong district after their... incident. Recalls that, in the moment, they'd barely eaten any of it at all. It had, in a sense, still worked. It had brought them together, regardless of both their concerns.
Speak with Genn, he's the one eating all of the salted ham when he thinks no-one is looking. Old man isn't as stealthy as he believes himself to be. Anduin watches as a piece of cheese is unceremoniously swiped, not at all surprised by the action or fussed. There's enough cheese to go around.
The memory of bringing food has a smile gracing Anduin's face as he opts to slice another piece of bread. The food in Lunatia had just been that good, so were the memories attached with said things and —
Anduin freezes.
Had he just heard that right? Or was Wrathion talking of something else and his own mind is simply grasping at straws? Best to just clarify so Anduin can sleep at night and not fret over what could have been.
Wrathion studies Anduin sideways, sliding his claw-tipped fingers over to steal another piece of cheese while the king is frozen. It means something, he thinks, this reaction. The question is, does it mean what he hopes? Does it mean the memories stay within them both? Or is it simply some expression of confusion over what he's saying? He doesn't... think so, surely if Anduin was confused he'd simply just ask what he meant or laugh him off.
Yet he cannot be certain.
"Buying food," Wrathion says simply, feeding himself cheese thoughtfully and letting that hang. "Even if perhaps my preference is a little spicier than yours."
There, another subtle clue. If Anduin doesn't know what he's talking about, he can pass it off as a simply a memory based on Pandaria. Yet he hopes -- he hopes he doesn't have to.
Anduin can hear his own heartbeat in his ears, the rushing of blood as his mind goes into overdrive. It sounds as if Wrathion is talking of Lunatia rather than Pandaria but it's difficult to discern the truth just by hearing those words. Not for the first time in Anduin's life does he wish someone would just spit it out! He can definitely relate to his father's ire for such things.
"Yes well, you have had more opportunity to eat such things than I." Anduin wishes he could just outright ask about Lunatia, to query if Wrathion knows. But what if he's wrong? There's been no inkling or intuition that the black dragon knew these things prior. Has something changed or is it simply someone's tired mind playing tricks on them again? Anduin knows that the latter is more likely and he ignores the sad twinge in his chest at such a thought. There have been too many days wishing for such things.
Anduin sighs audibly, a rare instance of irritation gracing his features as he pointedly sets about arranging the slices of bread and cheese on a pair of plates. The last thing he needs is Wrathion teasing him about something unaware it means something wholly different! This whole thing had been a bad idea and Anduin silently chides himself for it. Maybe he should go back to Ironforge for a time, clear his head with some studying with the dwarves.
Wrathion feels another wave of anxiety, his mind picking apart every little detail. Is he going about this all the right way? Is he not? Has he made a mistake?
His lips press into a line, brow furrowing in thought.
"I had thought you might wish a full report on Ny'alotha," he says finally, "and... I had hoped we might talk more... personally, too. If you do not have the time, I understand."
Since he's gone from being offered a sandwich to being redirected to talking about business, perhaps Anduin's patience is failing. Wrathion knows that he does test people's patience. He's grown better about it, he thinks, but it isn't a talent he's lost entirely. The last thing he wants is to drive Anduin too far away.
Anduin watches every move Wrathion makes, taking note of how the other seems to be concerned over something. There had been a small hope that Wrathion knew of Lunatia and yet no-one has said anything yet, paralysed by a fear that it would cause more harm than good.
He's forgetting something, Anduin has that naggling feeling in the back of his mind, letting him know that there's something important he should be remembering. It's just difficult. Parts of Lunatia are clear as day and some parts not so much. The memories of some conversations are fading with time and as hard to recall as it is to catch running water with fingertips.
"Of course." Anduin has never felt so disinterested in a report before, but then he has known the outcome for longer than Wrathion has at this rate. He keeps his attention on the food, assembling two large sandwiches for the pair of them before motioning towards the table and chairs. It's normally the one the cooks and servers sit at but right now Anduin doesn't mind. Sometimes it just feels better to pretend there are no airs and graces.
Sometimes it's just better to spit things out. Varian had always been good at that, Genn seemed to sometimes let his own patience run out. Anduin can't help but wonder if they were both on to something because sometimes these days it just seems easier to cut to the chase. He just wishes his body would get that message rather than feeling like an anxious mess and Anduin takes a seat, seemingly disinterested in his own food.
Cut to the chase. What was the worst that would happen? Wrathion would think he was weird but maybe Anduin could laugh it off? Say it was a joke?
"Tell me what it is you wish to talk about personally."
Wrathion crosses to the table and stands behind a chair, fingers drumming along the back as he thinks.
"I had hoped for a little more... grandeur for this, but I suppose the kitchen will have to do."
At least a little... recognition, ego boosting. Possibly Anduin flinging himself at him in relief that he's alive and well, thanking him at length for braving all the terrible dangers of Ny'alotha.
This is, in truth, as underwhelming as it is awkward.
"The Black Dragonflight has a dark and twisted history, one filled with uncountable suffering both of its members and the denizens of Azeroth who were caught in its troubles. With the fall of N'Zoth I hope to forge it a new legacy, to live up to its original task -- the protection of Azeroth. You and I both know it faces many threats, even with the Black Empire in ruins. I came back here, Anduin, with the hope that you would see I have been true to my word. With the hope that we could begin again, once more, and that you might one day hold me in the high esteem that I hold you."
More grandeur. That comment hits home enough to bring a guilty tinge to Anduin's cheeks. Here he was treating Wrathion like a secret, just a quick talk in the night where no-one else would (or should) be listening in. He knows he's been hoping that Wrathion wouldn't be talking business, that the other would suddenly proclaim his interest and that they could both take it from there.
But this isn't a storybook. This is someone who has just come back from the most nightmarish of wars to announce that through their hard work they had won. Knowing what the outcome would be doesn't make that feat any less and Anduin knows he's guilty of complacency, if anything. Wrathion deserves better than a sandwich in the kitchen and Anduin puts his own food down, suddenly not as hungry as he had been. It's hard to forget that they aren't as close as they had been and that the more personal touch could be seen as lacking.
Anduin gets to his feet, not keen on sitting down when he should be giving Wrathion his full attention and for the first time that night blue eyes manage to fix on the black dragon without quickly flitting away to something else.
"You have started more than that, my friend. Whilst the Black Dragonflight has been a problem in the past it has also had it's fair share of troubles. It's time people started to let go of prejudices; they do more harm than good, believe me. Tomorrow when others are awake I shall call a meeting in the war room. You are invited."
He hesitates. Now would be a good time to say something, anything about Lunatia! If nothing is said Anduin knows he'll lay awake at night regretting it forever and there may never be another time the pair of them aren't being stalked by Greymane like this. But how? Anduin sighs, the smile that appears across his face a genuine one.
"I apologise if my enthusiasm seems low. It is just that I dreamed of you telling me these things, of this outcome with N'Zoth."
Well, it is at least always nice to be told someone has been dreaming of you.
Wrathion returns the smile, a little hesitant.
"The High King of the Alliance calling a meeting just for me, a humble citizen?"
Hardly humble. He thinks a moment, then slowly circles around the table.
"But it is not their approval I seek, Anduin, only yours."
He reaches out, carefully moving to take one pale hand in his. The skin is cool under his touch, and Wrathion can feel his heart race even as he tries to project an air of confidence, of control. As if he's fully assured of his position, as if the nerves crawling over his skin don't exist.
"As I recovered in the Chamber of Heart I thought only of you. I had a vision we were in a vast city on a world with three moons, buildings built up high toward the sky. I had hoped you dreamed the same."
Edited (no i wanted this icon) 2020-12-10 13:45 (UTC)
The humble comment gets no verbal response from Anduin, only faux unimpressed look. There is nothing about Wrathion that is humble, even the form he chooses is anything but. Before he can say anything on the matter, Wrathion is suddenly on the prowl.
"Only my approval?"
Anduin knows Wrathion already has it, but only through the merits of being in Lunatia. Had they not spent time together then , talking things through, Anduin wonders if it would have taken much more time here. He could already agree that the defeat of N'Zoth is more than enough and yet it does not undo the past. Lucky for Wrathion that Anduin remembers and it takes everything in him not to curl his fingers around those suddenly at his hand.
"Wha — "
The words stop dead when Wrathion speaks of a city in a world with three moons. Instantly Anduin's mind points them out, names them and Wrathion is talking about them. He wonders if it's a joke, some kind of teasing and yet he knows that he hasn't whispered a word of Lunatia to anyone in Azeroth.
Anduin knows he's staring. It's hard not to when someone speaks words that one could only dream of. Did it mean Lunatia was real? That it had happened? That Wrathion had happened?
Suddenly he remembers to breath, drawing a shaky breath and struggling to find words. Anduin had expected to have a sandwich and talk shop, not be blindsided by talk of another life.
Wrathion's eyes widen briefly, then the smile creeps over his features again -- more genuine. He takes another step forward, crowding Anduin up against the table.
"You remember," he prompts, and his other hand lifts to Anduin's face. He traces the backs of his fingers down it slowly, acclimatising himself to the touch. "Then you can guess what I want to know, Anduin."
They were close, in Lunatia, very close. Here, now? When Anduin has his duties once more? Wrathion is well aware there are... complications. Aware that he is a complication. While they were in Lunatia, Anduin had insisted that things didn't matter. That nobody else was there, and that by all accounts they wouldn't remember their time in the city -- so why worry? Yet here, now, there are together and they both remember. Wrathion cares little what the rest of the population of Stormwind or the Alliance think of him, but Anduin? Anduin would be the one who truly suffers. The decision has to be his.
Anduin leans back against the table as Wrathion crowds him up against it. He can hardly believe what he's hearing right now. He's spent so long convincing himself that the whole thing had been a dream, something his tired mind had made up that Anduin had never truly considered what to do had it been true.
But why now? Blond brows draw together a little as he tries to figure it out. Back in Lunatia they had talked about things that Anduin hadn't known were going to happen but Wrathion remembered experiencing. Which meant —
He didn't remember because he hadn't been to Lunatia.
The realisation quickly hits and Anduin opens his mouth to say as much, pausing when Wrathion touches his face. He doesn't even think twice about leaning into the touch, eyes briefly closing as he relishes it. How he's missed Wrathion. To think he'd been all for putting it down as a dream and trying to forget about it!
"Mm. I suppose I can guess."
What would they do now? If Anduin went the logical route he knew that it would be tricky to keep Wrathion around. Genn would lose his shit and Anduin would almost be able to understand it. Though would it truly be a bad thing? No, it would not. At what point did he get to be happy, to do something for himself for a change? Just because others did not experience much happiness did not mean they got to drag their king down with them.
It's a harsh though and Anduin almost feels guilty for it. Almost. Right now he's more interesting in reaching out to rest a hand at Wrathion's sternum. What would his father think if he was still around? There would be lots of words, probably expletives and naturally shouting. But Anduin knows no matter how angry Varian got, he would try to understand if only because his son's happiness was at stake. Had it been closer to after the Onyxia incident Anduin has no doubt that Wrathion would have been swiftly dealt with.
That thought alone brings a grin to Anduin's face.
"What I would like to understand is how long you're intending to stay in Stormwind for?"
He might, of course, have to leave now and then -- but so would Anduin. That isn't the point. The point is that he wants to be with him, to stay by his side. His fingers creep up to nudge blond strands back off Anduin's face, then slide back down to tilt his chin up as he leans in to brush their lips together. Perhaps, in this instance, being in the kitchens is a blessing -- so long as nobody walks in on them of course. That would be... unfortunate, for Anduin at least. Wrathion can't say it particularly bothers him, since he'd rather as many people as possible know his claim on the young king. Dragons are not particularly good at sharing, and he himself is no exception.
Neither is he particularly patient, in this instance.
Anduin can't help the mumbled reply, relishing in every little touch Wrathion has to offer right now. He had missed this so much and every day believing Wrathion would never know had been torturous, dulling the young King's edges ever so much. He should stop to think about this, to figure out how they were going about this but the moment the black dragon kisses him all thoughts go out the window as Anduin kisses back. If someone walks in on them he'll have to order them to forget what they saw, or something, he'll figure it out!
The kiss is broken only for Anduin to frame Wrathion's face with his hands, resting his forehead lightly against the other's as he just takes a moment.
"You have no idea how long I have waited for this. Why did you think I had called you back to Stormwind before you left with the champion?"
Wrathion considers that a moment, considers the warm feel of Anduin so close. Of his hands, their foreheads touching.
"I'm here now," he offers. He hadn't remembered back then, had thought Anduin was still angry at him. Was confused by the change of heart. Now, though, now he remembers. His hands slide down Anduin's back, around his sides and hips possessively. He pushes at Anduin a little, encouraging him to hop up onto the table. "I have no intention of making you wait."
Really, Anduin can have as much of his attention as he desires as soon as he wants it.
Wrathion being there right in this moment was what was important and Anduin gives the smallest of nods as he scoots back up on to the table, making sure to pull Wrathion up against him as soon as he's able to. Anduin loves just how possessive the other is in tone and actions, shivering ever so slightly as hands slide to his hips. At this rate they're probably going to give some poor cook a heart attack and Anduin can barely bring himself to care about the absolute scandal it could cause.
"I missed you and I have no intention of waiting."
Absolutely not. The last stretch of time with Wrathion has been torturous enough. Not only that but there had been so much self doubt going on and general disappointment that Anduin hadn't known if he was coming or going! And now here they are, together without a care in the world and for once Anduin knows that everything is going to be okay. His hands are already shifting to twine lightly in thick, dark locks as Anduin leans in for another kiss, this time not as gentle as he nips at Wrathion's lower lip.
Wrathion wouldn't begrudge him anything, least of all a kiss.
He leans into it, arms circling around Anduin to hold him close, and he feels a primal thrill thrush through him. Anduin is his, and now they are free of that strange city and able to be together in their homeland. Now, can he fly Anduin on a tour of Pandaria should he wish. They could lay together in the keep, or out in the grass, or anywhere they feel like.
Well, perhaps Anduin's role might offer some resistance to those ideas -- but Wrathion is a dragon! He would be perfectly safe with him.
He breaks the kiss again, breaths coming more heavily, and offers a low growl of satisfaction.
"There may no longer be chroma between us," he murmurs, "but I can still please you."
Confidence, of course. Why wouldn't he be able to?
Such confidence is all part of Wrathion's charm; though Anduin would never admit that out loud, he knows that Wrathion would be insufferable if he had any idea how much the young King loved it. Now that Wrathion remembers everything, he's starting to feel like everything will be fine again, that the future could hold as much good in it as it did bad.
There are no thoughts to the future though when Anduin hears that low growl, feeling it go straight to his groin as arousal begins to take hold. They shouldn't. Not in the kitchens where anyone could walk in and yet just that thought has Anduin shifting his legs to loosely wrap around Wrathion's waist. Roles? What roles?
Anduin breathes his next words out, unwilling to give either of them any space as he does so.
"As if you need to ask. I'm yours." There's another brief kiss, this one almost chaste as Anduin leans forwards to whisper in to the dragon's ear. "You've kept me waiting."
Wrathion's eyes half-lid at the whisper, a low, rumbling sound somewhere between a purr and a growl slipping out in response.
Kept him waiting, Anduin says, and the legs wrapping around him fire something deep in Wrathion that's more animal than his human guise.
"Did I?" he prompts, and his hands drop to hook under fabric -- to gently seek out the warm skin of Anduin's back and sides. "Well then, far be it for me to make you wait longer."
He drops his face to Anduin's neck, grazing teeth lightly along the soft skin there. His scent is intoxicating, familiar, makes desire tighten in him. He can imagine it, already, imagine pulling Anduin free of all his clothing and pressing him down across this table.
Damn straight he'd been waiting. The time spent since returning from Lunatia had been an absolute nightmare for Anduin's libido. He'd gone from having a ridiculously attractive boyfriend to straight up nothing and the amount of times Anduin had made sure to keep water cold when bathing just to get over it had been ridiculous.
The teeth at his neck draw a shudder from the young King as his view of the world narrows to just the two of them in the moment. He loves this, he missed being able to forget all the rigmarole and responsibilities that came with his life. it's selfish but absolutely vital, Wrathion is needed and Anduin can feel himself growing hard as he starts to think along the same lines as his partner. The table will be fine, they can go upstairs later, afterwards when they have all the time in the world.
Anduin just can't seem to help the small noise of frustration leaving his lips as he starts to fiddle with Wrathion's belt.
Rich, coming from a man normally encased in a suit of armour. Wrathion laughs, reaching to undo the sash holding his coat closed and unfastening a few buttons at the top.
"It's important to look the part," he murmurs, and moves to set his gloves aside on the table. Exposed hands reach out, guide themselves under Anduin's shirt again so bare fingers can make contact with his skin. "Something I know you understand."
He leans in again, catching Anduin into a slower kiss as slides one hand down to tease at his waistband. He can feel the heat pouring off Anduin's body now, can smell his arousal taking hold and it fuels his own into a frenzy of passion. He can feel his skin prickling, the sensitivity he has to every pass of Anduin's hands over his body even through layers of fabric.
Anduin revels in the feel of warm hands against his heated skin, groaning low into the almost lazy kiss to convey his appreciation. He instinctively shifts to try and somehow get closer against Wrathion when he feels fingers at his waistband, his body craving each and every single touch all the more. Words by this point feel like a waste and Anduin breaks the kiss in an attempt to wrestle Wrathion out of his coat, hands fumbling in sheer desperation. There are so many things he wants to do, to explore every inch of gorgeous skin before taking his time to follow the actions with his mouth and enjoying what noises he can pull from Wrathion...
"Off." The coat gets an impatient tug as Anduin pants out a single word. He's just aching to feel warm skin against his own, to lose himself in the heat of Wrathion's embrace and he can't help but be a little demanding about it.
Wrathion laughs lightly as he draws back, finishes unbuttoning his coat and shrugging it off. He drapes it over the back of a chair, leans back in and presses his face into Anduin's neck. Teeth graze skin once more, sharp against the frantic hammer of his pulse, and latch on enough to bruise this time. His hands press back under soft fabric, pushing into the warm muscles of his back. Anduin's strength now that he wears heavy armour and wields a sword is... more appealing than Wrathion had expected.
"Mine," he murmurs, and teases kisses back up and along his jaw. He's beautiful, so beautiful, and Wrathion has no intention of sharing him. Not if he can help it.
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Not that he doesn't feel hope at the opportunity to speak with Anduin again, after how their little reunion went, but being unceremoniously punched and so tersely spoken with does tend to put a dragon on edge.
He doesn't want to be punched again, and he won't stand for being treated like a minion of the Alliance. The Alliance should be grateful for his help! They should all be thanking him for his advice, his research, his efforts!
Admittedly there is a... degree of repentance to be had, but still.
When Wrathion returns to Stormwind Keep it is with less confidence than his first entry. Shaw paces along the hall with him, as if he needs guarding at every step, and Wrathion feels his hackles rising. He paints on a smile, but part of him has already begun to catastrophise. Is he being brought back for yet another round of chiding? Is Anduin going to have him arrested?
"Your Majesty," Wrathion, wariness evident in his tone as he paces his way back into the throne room. "Will the Speaker be joining us again?"
Is this a matter of N'Zoth, of the wound? Or is this personal? Wrathion wants to prepare himself appropriately.
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It's difficult to sit still on the (not so comfortable) throne of Stormwind as he waits for news, though it's even more so difficult to resist the urge to look jubilant upon catching wind that Wrathion is on his way back. Finally. The last few hours have felt like an eternity stretching out before Anduin's very eyes. The sheer relief upon seeing Wrathion sauntering into the throne room is almost frighteningly overwhelming. There's hope yet, though as to what Anduin is hoping for he doesn't know. As long as Wrathion is here they can fix anything or at least make sense of how they've wound up back in this place after a stint in the other world.
"The Speaker?"
Anduin stares blankly, momentarily caught off guard by the question. He'd barely even given Magni a second thought since returning home and the flash of guilt on Anduin's face is quickly replaced as he clears his throat.
"I believe he has a lot to attend to in these trying times." And now Anduin is staring intently, scrutinizing Wrathion for any kind of reaction. He doesn't care that there's just a heavy moment of silence, or that Genn and Shaw aren't quick enough to hide the concern over their King's actions. If only they knew just how Anduin was really feeling, how quickly his heart is beating just seeing Wrathion again. What if he'd come home and Wrathion had stayed? Sure, others had said it didn't work that way but it had been a concern for a short while and no matter how silly or small it may have been, it had still been there.
A full minute passes in silence. Wrathion hasn't made any kind of comment or given anything away in regards to Lunatia and Anduin furtively glances in Genn's directions. Maybe he won't say anything because there are others around? No, that doesn't seem right, Wrathion would say something even if it was just a hint.
"I just wished to make sure you had everything you needed.... for the upcoming trials...."
Light have mercy, what is going on here?
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Wrathion squints at Anduin, as if he's solving a particularly tricky puzzle.
He is.
The puzzle is why the man's demeanour has changed so suddenly. Is it guilt, for the punch? Surely not. He'd deserved it, to an extent, and it made sense that Anduin would need to vent a little emotion after their absence. Has he gotten over it all so quickly? Wrathion thought humans normally took long over that sort of thing, as impatient as he felt.
Anduin is looking at Genn, for some reason. That doesn't help. Wrathion is beginning to feel as if he's missing something, and that's frustrating.
His eyes narrow, calculating.
"I'll be sending out my agents first, of course, to gather information. I believe Magni is interesting in making sure the forges are working, along with MOTHER."
So for now, he has everything he needs. He doesn't particularly know, yet, what else he will need.
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That and Genn would struggle. All those dreams of heirs suddenly dashed. Anduin isn't sure the old man's heart could take it.
"I see. If there is anything you require please do not hesitate to ask. It would be remiss of us not to offer that much at the very least." Anduin pauses, somewhat conflicted from the frenzy of thoughts racing through his mind. It's almost as if Wrathion doesn't know? How could that be? They were both there and Anduin knows that it wasn't some strange dream. But then Wrathion would have hinted at something by now and all he's doing is standing there looking as if he's trying to figure out where the catch is.
"Anything at all, no matter the time." Anduin resists the urge to sigh, instead clenching his jaw to stop himself from babbling. This is ridiculous but if Wrathion doesn't get the hint then what else can he do? Genn looks like he's already planning to have the medics come and check the King over for fever or Old God meddling. Shaw just looks vaguely thoughtful. The whole thing is a mess and Anduin is wondering if he's changing the timeline by offering more help? Did he offer help to begin with or is he now doing things completely different?
The only thing Anduin Wrynn knows is that his headache is going to last for some time.
"If you have any concerns please feel free to voice them."
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As it happens, Wrathion has plenty.
None of them are related to what Anduin can do to assist him.
His eyes flick between Genn and Shaw, curious, then back up to Anduin as he considers this.
"Of course," he says evenly, "likewise, if you have concerns of your own I am willing to listen."
Perhaps that is it? Perhaps Anduin has something he desires to ask, and is hoping for a prompt? Or else, perhaps allowing him the space to talk will reveal more about his state. Enough that Wrathion can calculate the right course of action.
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He needs to get Wrathion alone but the way of managing it is a bit of mystery right now. Anduin could order everyone to simply leave for ten minutes, or ask Wrathion to take a walk with him, but then Shaw would undoubtedly be listening in somewhere. Being a King never truly meant being alone unless he was in his room and asking Wrathion to join him in his room at this precise moment would raise quite a few eyebrows.
Hilariously, N'Zoth is the least of Anduin's problems today and he idly wonders how he's managed to get into this mess. Everything about Lunatia is still so vivid in his mind it's difficult to think that it wasn't real and Anduin simply refuses to believe as such. All they'd gone through back there, it would be wasted if it had been nothing more than a dream.
Anduin realises he's been staring again.
Curse this day.
"One last question before you leave; have you been elsewhere other than Stormwind the last few days?"
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Wrathion lofts an eyebrow, curious, then frowns. Slowly, his body language stiffens -- head lifting, posture straightening out, fingers flexing and curling.
"Silithus, of course," he says, and the tone is mild still. Cool, collected despite the flight instinct beginning to kick in. As if this is no longer a casual conversation between friends, but a formal address. "Am I on trial here? I would quite like to know if I am."
After all, it's beginning to feel like that. He's been called back, questioned if he needs anything additional and now about his whereabouts. Wrathion can feel the discomfort crawling through his veins, the memory of Anduin's fist hitting his face, the memory of being under house arrest. The memory of the last Black Dragon who walked the halls of Stormwind with its presence.
Perhaps it had been unwise to come here.
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"No, you are not on trial, it was simply a question and one for my own curiosity, nothing more."
Anduin wonders what else he can say. He's been dropping hints and even outright asked in a manner that has Genn and Shaw trying not to look like they were listening intently. Dropping it would be the easier course of action but that small part of Anduin, the Wrynn side of him, stubbornly digs his feet in. Drop it? Give up? Surely not! How could he give up on such a wonderful being??
Still it's looking to be a bit difficult with how things are going. Anduin knows they'd had a frank discussion in the hot springs, but if that had all been a dream then those topics hadn't actually happened or been spoken of. Wrathion has made no kind of motion back home that would lend credence to their talk on feelings.
Anduin glances around the throne room again, wondering how he can even begin to approach this, to start digging to see if things had truly been real. Perhaps starting from the beginning would help.
"I do admit there was one motive for inviting you here. To apologise, for hitting you in the face. It was uncalled for and I for one do not wish to repeat said experience."
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It does nothing to lessen the tension Wrathion feels. If anything, his discomfort ratchets up. He can feel the eyes of Anduin's other advisers on him, and as much as he wants the apology to be genuine he feels as if he's waiting for the but. For the catch, the small print.
"I --"
He doesn't want to have this conversation publically. He doesn't want to have this conversation at all, in truth, Wrathion hates the crawling feeling of vulnerability. In public, though, it's much worse. The Black Prince cannot afford to show weakness, when his every action is picked apart.
"As I said, I suppose I did deserve it."
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Anduin has no idea what it going on in regards to Lunatia. Dream or otherwise it seems that Wrathion has no idea what is going on and to start talking about it would serve no purpose than to frustrate everything all the more. Just looking at Wrathion, knowing that he can't just run over there and pull the other into an embrace is killing Anduin and the young man wonders if this too will fade in time or if he'll eventually be driven mad?
There's also the hope sent quickly in the direction of the Light that Genn spares him the heir talk for one meal.
"It is not my place to change your mind on that, but I do know right from wrong." Anduin pauses, drumming his fingers lightly on the arm of his seat. Not for the first time in his life he wishes he could just throw royal protocol out of the window. It isn't as if Stormwind would collapse!
"I shall not keep you. I have the utmost faith that you, our champion and the others will return. Should you require anything in terms of supplies then speak with the Quartermaster and they shall see it done."
Anduin talks as if he knows without a doubt there will be victory, the confidence in his tone the only thing that isn't wavering right now. He just wishes he could be as confident about other things, just giving Wrathion the option to escape is like a vice around his heart as if starting to grieve for something that may never have happened in the first place.
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When did that happen? Why? Wrathion reels, on the one hand eager for praise but equally uncertain where it comes from. He picks apart the thought process, trying to arrive at where Anduin has. What has caused this easing of his temper so quickly? What does it mean? Was his temper cooling already, regardless, and the flare truly had been N'Zoth's influence? He obsesses over it, fingers flexing, but only allows a short nod in reply.
"Of course. I will endeavour to meet your expectations, for all our sakes."
After all, should they fail the consequences... well, they don't bear thinking about.
Wrathion returns to the Chamber of Heart. He waits, he plans, and he thinks.
He thinks about the angry furrow of Anduin's brow, about the way he asked have you been elsewhere other than Stormwind the last few days?
What did it mean?
He can't afford the distraction, but the distraction is there anyway.
Wrathion is distracted, anyway.
Distance does help, at least.
Magni focuses on the Titan forges, and Wrathion sends out his agents -- although if his suspicions are correct, they will find nothing. Azeroth's champions work to help them understand the darkness, and then?
Then the darkness finds them. It nearly swallows the chamber, swallows away Ra-den, and Wrathion is left wondering if he truly is making the right choices. If the sacrifices of others will always feel so hollow.
Xanesh only seems to add to that.
Once upon a time Wrathion had believed the circumstances of his birth might lead him to be more able to resist the whims of the Black Empire, but it seems he has been... overconfident.
Now, all that is left is Ny'alotha itself.
They've explored N'Zoth's dark vision's extensively, strengthened protective enchantments, tested and discussed and now there is... only this. There is only one final assault, to take the fight to N'Zoth. To end it all, put an end to the Old God who twisted his father into a force of destruction. The prospect is... unnerving, but there's no time for nerves. Only action, and only success.
There is, perhaps, time for one thing. Anduin should know that they are making this final assault, and... there are other things he should know too.
He sends Right back to Stormwind with the letter, saying it all in person feels... too much. The possibility of harsh rejection before such a journey feels too heavy. Hopefully, it's still enough.
Anduin;
Warfare rarely accomplishes the intentions of its architects. Weighing up the price of a victory is more difficult than I once imagined. In the coming few days, I will escort your champions into the heart of Ny'alotha. I hope to return them all to you, whole and intact. I hope to return with them myself, but these things are never certain.
There are things that must be said before then.
I know this was never what you wanted. It was never what I wanted for you either, my friend. I never intended for your father to die, for the chaos that followed, but I have kept my word. I told you we would face a terrible threat together, and here we are. Whatever you think of me, everything I have done has been for Azeroth.
Medivh once said to me: 'I can never change the actions of my past, but I can forge a new legacy to leave behind.'
If I fall facing N'Zoth, I can only hope I have done that. That I have helped to forge a new legacy for the Black Dragonflight and its original sacred charge: the defence of Azeroth. The end of the Old Gods.
I hope to see you again soon. I hope to live up to the faith you have placed in me.
- Wrathion
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The others have noticed of course. Genn is the first to voice concerns over how distracted Anduin is and the young man has waved the concerns off more than once with some brief excuse. Shaw, on the other hand, suspects and says nothing, instead only giving Anduin the odd occasional mention that if he needs talk about anything....
It's almost claustrophobic and Anduin despairs a little that his home could feel such a way. He knows it will pass over time but for now things feel messy; one moment Anduin is morose then the next he's annoyed at how fate seems to have shafted him. The letter — as well intentioned as it may be — does nothing but further that annoyance. It's almost as if they're having the same conversation again, to go over the same angst repeatedly. But then there's a small flicker of hope; Anduin wonders if they're saying the same things despite one of them not remembering then surely that should mean something? That things could still go the same direction?
Anduin is pretty sure by this point no-one could torture him better than he's torturing himself these days. He knows he needs to respond to that letter and the young King doesn't delay, not wishing to let the disarray stretch on any further.
Wrathion,
It is good to hear that you and the champions are headed in the right direction and there are few concerns here. I believe they will all come back with you there by their side to keep watch.
I also understand your words and what it is you wish to conveny. I know that you did not have such intents in your mind when making your decisions, that you simply did what you felt was right for Azeroth. Sometimes we lose sight of the bigger picture and do not consider it so easily when things happen.
My grandfather apparently felt that Medivh was a wise person, those words merely confirm it.
I do not believe you shall fall against N'Zoth, you will come back to see the legacy you have begun to forge for the Black Dragonflight with your own eyes.
— Anduin
With that Anduin sits back in his chair, running a hand over his face and wondering just when this madness ends. Just waking up in the morning is difficult without Wrathion around to share that start of the day with. He still manages to smile when handing the sealed letter over to be delivered, though anyone looking close enough will notice just how tired it is, most putting it down to one tired King with a lot of things on his shoulders.
With any luck Wrathion will be back soon and Anduin can figure out just what it is he should do, if anything. Back in Lunatia they hadn't specifically talked time frames so it could be any amount of time when Old Gods were concerned....
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He still can't.
Anduin had been so angry, then suddenly he hadn't been. His letter gives no clue for how this change of heart came to be, but it speaks of understanding. Something about it feels... odd, as if he's still missing something here, but then again perhaps Anduin simply did not want to say too much in a letter which might be intercepted. That would be wise.
Wrathion sighs, puts it away, and comforts himself with the idea that Anduin is confident they will succeed.
The journey through Ny'alotha is long, and immediately begins with a rough blow. He'd known there was a risk of it, had known N'Zoth longed to turn him, yet it still stung to see Azeroth's champions so easily buying in to the ruse.
There is no time to dwell on it, however. They press on, facing agents of N'Zoth -- trying to maintain contact with Magni and MOTHER. It's a long, exhausting expedition. Away from them, on the surface, little seems to change.
Then, slowly, it does.
N'Zoth's grip begins to ease until, finally, one day a weight lifts.
Magni comes to confirm it: they did it. N'Zoth the corrupter is no more! Yet Wrathion -- Wrathion is not with him. Magni makes excuses, of course, the poor lad is tired. He's in the Chamber of Heart, recovering still. He'll be sure to pass on a message, that Anduin would like to see him.
It isn't strictly a lie. Wrathion is tired.
He's tired, and he feels -- feels strange. He's free, finally, but now... now that his goal has been achieved he feels... he's not certain. Relief? It's a strange, muddled sensation. Something he isn't used to. He's resting, listening to the faint sounds of the Chamber of Heart, when something else happens.
Memories. At first, Wrathion feels real fear. His head feels as if it's about to implode and the memories make no sense. Are of a place he doesn't recognise, of unfamiliar things -- and of Anduin.
Anduin.
Once the headache begins to ease Wrathion makes his excuses and packs quickly, unfolding the letter he's had tucked into his coat and quickly re-reading it. There's nothing that tells him if Anduin remembers or not, but the only way he'll find out is by asking. It's dark outside, but the portal takes him to Boralus where he can easily jump to Stormwind -- and in truth Wrathion has unfinished business with the king either way. Hopefully he can forgive the later hour of his visit, but it had seemed... urgent, after everything.
All he can do is hope he will be seen.
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Stormwind and the Alliance are jubilant, of course (and the Horde most likely are too). An Old God has been dealt with, there is no longer a war with the Horde looming for the time being...things are looking up. Anduin makes sure to get his people to work on setting things up to celebrate the champion and others upon their return, thrilled that things have gone the right way and yet there's still a sense of dread that lingers. Now that N'Zoth has been dealt with what else looms around the corner? These days it's been one calamity after another and Anduin pauses outside to glance at the strange new star in the sky.
Things should be peaceful for a while now, right?
One can only hope and after a gentle scolding by Genn for apparently stressing too much, Anduin finally decides to retire for the evening. Everything else can wait until morning. Or so the plan was; word reaches Anduin's ears that someone is approaching and the young King opts to stay put for now, curious to see who it is at this time of the evening. It's only when Wrathion is closer to the Keep that the information reaches Anduin's ears on the identity of said visitor and his shoulders stiffen ever so slightly, smile only a little more tired than it has been.
This place is home but it seems intent on torturing him so.
"Show him in to the kitchens, I will speak with him there." May as well eat something as they talk about the demise of N'Zoth.
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He won't complain, however, since he is hungry.
Wrathion is still more... dishevelled than his usual appearance. It's subtle, but his hair is not quite so artfully styled. His posture still carries a weight to it. His expression still furrowed. Nothing about him outwardly speaks of injury or even stress, but to someone who knows him the change is enough to be noticeable.
He follows his guide into the kitchens, eyes flitting around curiously, then stops as he spots Anduin.
Ah.
He had a plan, of course, but even meeting in the kitchens is already a derailment of that plan.
Still, he can make do.
"Anduin," he greets softly, "is this where all Stormwind's official business is now performed?"
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How does Anduin explain to anyone that he had gotten used to sorting his own food whilst away in another world? That he was used to dealing with his own stuff without the need of someone else doing it for him? Sometimes it's just better to let others be puzzled.
As soon as Anduin hears Wrathion's voice he pauses, grip on the knife he's slicing a loaf with tightening ever so slightly before relaxing. Will he ever get used to this? Anduin had felt he was getting a grip on things but now it feels just as fresh as it had the day he'd come back, a sadness that just didn't seem to want to quit and it takes a moment and a deep breath before Anduin looks over. At least his poker face is much better, expression nothing but his usual contemplative look.
"Wrathion. I apologise however I have done nothing but conduct meetings in the Throne Room, I felt a change of scenery was in order to keep things on their toes. I believe congratulations are in order?"
The news of N'Zoth has reached everyone who needs to hear it, but Anduin wouldn't mind hearing it from Wrathion himself if he'll tell it.
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Wrathion studies Anduin thoughtfully, paces carefully closer and rests one hand idly on the counter. Nails tap thoughtfully against it, betraying agitation despite his otherwise cool exterior.
"And yet the High King himself does not seem pleased with me."
The interaction feels... awkward, suddenly. The lack of ceremony, the way Anduin almost feels more focused on the bread than him. Wrathion cannot help but wonder if he is... out of place here. If his presence is an irritation. Perhaps he had... misjudged. His nails keep tapping thoughtfully, and Wrathion slants his eyes away from Anduin -- darts them around the kitchen for inspiration.
"If my timing is inconvenient..."
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"I am more than pleased, Wrathion. I apologise, the last few days have been long ones but they have not been as difficult as yours must have been."
Anduin looks around the kitchen, following Wrathion's gaze and noting that there's nothing standing out. The cook has left him to it though Anduin would guess that Shaw would not be far away. There's no doubt that Genn shouldn't be too far behind if word reached the worgen's ears. Anduin knows that the protectiveness comes from a good place but he also knows that Genn would never recover if he knew just how well Anduin could handle a dragon these days.
He slices some more bread before plating it up along with some slices of cheese. For a moment Anduin can all too clearly see a woman threatening Wrathion's unruly hairstyle and the memory of it has his lips twitching. Dream or not that had been a great time and the thought that there's no returning almost pains him. Lunatia undoubtedly carried on though and Anduin knows that the others he had met there would be getting on with things, just like he ought to be doing.
"If your timing was inconvenient then the guards would not have let you pass. As for the kitchen it is as I said; unless you wished to speak your piece on ceremony?" Anduin pauses as he quickly debates something in his mind. "Did you want something to eat?"
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"Ah, how could I say no to a royally prepared meal?"
Or, more accurately, snack of some sort it seems.
"I would be honoured, of course, to be served by you."
Served, somehow, said with the air of someone who is thinking about a great deal more than food. He closes the last of the distance between them, leaning against the counter beside Anduin as he studies his hands and the bread he's plating.
"Although it appears standards in Stormwind have dropped significantly. Has the budget been reduced?"
If all he's eating is bread and cheese.
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Doesn't help much. They aren't the best slices.
"The budget has not been reduced, I simply did not wish to inconvenience the Cook at this time of day." Anduin slices some more bread as he looks a little sheepish. "I am still learning to cook so for now a snack will have to suffice. A more fitting meal can be arranged in the morning with the others present."
Maybe this way he can have five minutes alone with Wrathion before Genn starts breathing down his neck again.
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How tragic.
Wrathion sneaks his fingers over to snatch up a piece of cheese, deciding that waiting is for other people.
"Perhaps you'd have done better to buy something. It's worked before."
He recalls, warmly, Anduin bringing him food from the Caihong district after their... incident. Recalls that, in the moment, they'd barely eaten any of it at all. It had, in a sense, still worked. It had brought them together, regardless of both their concerns.
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The memory of bringing food has a smile gracing Anduin's face as he opts to slice another piece of bread. The food in Lunatia had just been that good, so were the memories attached with said things and —
Anduin freezes.
Had he just heard that right? Or was Wrathion talking of something else and his own mind is simply grasping at straws? Best to just clarify so Anduin can sleep at night and not fret over what could have been.
"What has worked before?"
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Wrathion studies Anduin sideways, sliding his claw-tipped fingers over to steal another piece of cheese while the king is frozen. It means something, he thinks, this reaction. The question is, does it mean what he hopes? Does it mean the memories stay within them both? Or is it simply some expression of confusion over what he's saying? He doesn't... think so, surely if Anduin was confused he'd simply just ask what he meant or laugh him off.
Yet he cannot be certain.
"Buying food," Wrathion says simply, feeding himself cheese thoughtfully and letting that hang. "Even if perhaps my preference is a little spicier than yours."
There, another subtle clue. If Anduin doesn't know what he's talking about, he can pass it off as a simply a memory based on Pandaria. Yet he hopes -- he hopes he doesn't have to.
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"Yes well, you have had more opportunity to eat such things than I." Anduin wishes he could just outright ask about Lunatia, to query if Wrathion knows. But what if he's wrong? There's been no inkling or intuition that the black dragon knew these things prior. Has something changed or is it simply someone's tired mind playing tricks on them again? Anduin knows that the latter is more likely and he ignores the sad twinge in his chest at such a thought. There have been too many days wishing for such things.
Anduin sighs audibly, a rare instance of irritation gracing his features as he pointedly sets about arranging the slices of bread and cheese on a pair of plates. The last thing he needs is Wrathion teasing him about something unaware it means something wholly different! This whole thing had been a bad idea and Anduin silently chides himself for it. Maybe he should go back to Ironforge for a time, clear his head with some studying with the dwarves.
"What was it you wished to report?"
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Wrathion feels another wave of anxiety, his mind picking apart every little detail. Is he going about this all the right way? Is he not? Has he made a mistake?
His lips press into a line, brow furrowing in thought.
"I had thought you might wish a full report on Ny'alotha," he says finally, "and... I had hoped we might talk more... personally, too. If you do not have the time, I understand."
Since he's gone from being offered a sandwich to being redirected to talking about business, perhaps Anduin's patience is failing. Wrathion knows that he does test people's patience. He's grown better about it, he thinks, but it isn't a talent he's lost entirely. The last thing he wants is to drive Anduin too far away.
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He's forgetting something, Anduin has that naggling feeling in the back of his mind, letting him know that there's something important he should be remembering. It's just difficult. Parts of Lunatia are clear as day and some parts not so much. The memories of some conversations are fading with time and as hard to recall as it is to catch running water with fingertips.
"Of course." Anduin has never felt so disinterested in a report before, but then he has known the outcome for longer than Wrathion has at this rate. He keeps his attention on the food, assembling two large sandwiches for the pair of them before motioning towards the table and chairs. It's normally the one the cooks and servers sit at but right now Anduin doesn't mind. Sometimes it just feels better to pretend there are no airs and graces.
Sometimes it's just better to spit things out. Varian had always been good at that, Genn seemed to sometimes let his own patience run out. Anduin can't help but wonder if they were both on to something because sometimes these days it just seems easier to cut to the chase. He just wishes his body would get that message rather than feeling like an anxious mess and Anduin takes a seat, seemingly disinterested in his own food.
Cut to the chase. What was the worst that would happen? Wrathion would think he was weird but maybe Anduin could laugh it off? Say it was a joke?
"Tell me what it is you wish to talk about personally."
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Wrathion crosses to the table and stands behind a chair, fingers drumming along the back as he thinks.
"I had hoped for a little more... grandeur for this, but I suppose the kitchen will have to do."
At least a little... recognition, ego boosting. Possibly Anduin flinging himself at him in relief that he's alive and well, thanking him at length for braving all the terrible dangers of Ny'alotha.
This is, in truth, as underwhelming as it is awkward.
"The Black Dragonflight has a dark and twisted history, one filled with uncountable suffering both of its members and the denizens of Azeroth who were caught in its troubles. With the fall of N'Zoth I hope to forge it a new legacy, to live up to its original task -- the protection of Azeroth. You and I both know it faces many threats, even with the Black Empire in ruins. I came back here, Anduin, with the hope that you would see I have been true to my word. With the hope that we could begin again, once more, and that you might one day hold me in the high esteem that I hold you."
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But this isn't a storybook. This is someone who has just come back from the most nightmarish of wars to announce that through their hard work they had won. Knowing what the outcome would be doesn't make that feat any less and Anduin knows he's guilty of complacency, if anything. Wrathion deserves better than a sandwich in the kitchen and Anduin puts his own food down, suddenly not as hungry as he had been. It's hard to forget that they aren't as close as they had been and that the more personal touch could be seen as lacking.
Anduin gets to his feet, not keen on sitting down when he should be giving Wrathion his full attention and for the first time that night blue eyes manage to fix on the black dragon without quickly flitting away to something else.
"You have started more than that, my friend. Whilst the Black Dragonflight has been a problem in the past it has also had it's fair share of troubles. It's time people started to let go of prejudices; they do more harm than good, believe me. Tomorrow when others are awake I shall call a meeting in the war room. You are invited."
He hesitates. Now would be a good time to say something, anything about Lunatia! If nothing is said Anduin knows he'll lay awake at night regretting it forever and there may never be another time the pair of them aren't being stalked by Greymane like this. But how? Anduin sighs, the smile that appears across his face a genuine one.
"I apologise if my enthusiasm seems low. It is just that I dreamed of you telling me these things, of this outcome with N'Zoth."
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Wrathion returns the smile, a little hesitant.
"The High King of the Alliance calling a meeting just for me, a humble citizen?"
Hardly humble. He thinks a moment, then slowly circles around the table.
"But it is not their approval I seek, Anduin, only yours."
He reaches out, carefully moving to take one pale hand in his. The skin is cool under his touch, and Wrathion can feel his heart race even as he tries to project an air of confidence, of control. As if he's fully assured of his position, as if the nerves crawling over his skin don't exist.
"As I recovered in the Chamber of Heart I thought only of you. I had a vision we were in a vast city on a world with three moons, buildings built up high toward the sky. I had hoped you dreamed the same."
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"Only my approval?"
Anduin knows Wrathion already has it, but only through the merits of being in Lunatia. Had they not spent time together then , talking things through, Anduin wonders if it would have taken much more time here. He could already agree that the defeat of N'Zoth is more than enough and yet it does not undo the past. Lucky for Wrathion that Anduin remembers and it takes everything in him not to curl his fingers around those suddenly at his hand.
"Wha — "
The words stop dead when Wrathion speaks of a city in a world with three moons. Instantly Anduin's mind points them out, names them and Wrathion is talking about them. He wonders if it's a joke, some kind of teasing and yet he knows that he hasn't whispered a word of Lunatia to anyone in Azeroth.
Anduin knows he's staring. It's hard not to when someone speaks words that one could only dream of. Did it mean Lunatia was real? That it had happened? That Wrathion had happened?
Suddenly he remembers to breath, drawing a shaky breath and struggling to find words. Anduin had expected to have a sandwich and talk shop, not be blindsided by talk of another life.
"You speak of Lunatia."
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Wrathion's eyes widen briefly, then the smile creeps over his features again -- more genuine. He takes another step forward, crowding Anduin up against the table.
"You remember," he prompts, and his other hand lifts to Anduin's face. He traces the backs of his fingers down it slowly, acclimatising himself to the touch. "Then you can guess what I want to know, Anduin."
They were close, in Lunatia, very close. Here, now? When Anduin has his duties once more? Wrathion is well aware there are... complications. Aware that he is a complication. While they were in Lunatia, Anduin had insisted that things didn't matter. That nobody else was there, and that by all accounts they wouldn't remember their time in the city -- so why worry? Yet here, now, there are together and they both remember. Wrathion cares little what the rest of the population of Stormwind or the Alliance think of him, but Anduin? Anduin would be the one who truly suffers. The decision has to be his.
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But why now? Blond brows draw together a little as he tries to figure it out. Back in Lunatia they had talked about things that Anduin hadn't known were going to happen but Wrathion remembered experiencing. Which meant —
He didn't remember because he hadn't been to Lunatia.
The realisation quickly hits and Anduin opens his mouth to say as much, pausing when Wrathion touches his face. He doesn't even think twice about leaning into the touch, eyes briefly closing as he relishes it. How he's missed Wrathion. To think he'd been all for putting it down as a dream and trying to forget about it!
"Mm. I suppose I can guess."
What would they do now? If Anduin went the logical route he knew that it would be tricky to keep Wrathion around. Genn would lose his shit and Anduin would almost be able to understand it. Though would it truly be a bad thing? No, it would not. At what point did he get to be happy, to do something for himself for a change? Just because others did not experience much happiness did not mean they got to drag their king down with them.
It's a harsh though and Anduin almost feels guilty for it. Almost. Right now he's more interesting in reaching out to rest a hand at Wrathion's sternum. What would his father think if he was still around? There would be lots of words, probably expletives and naturally shouting. But Anduin knows no matter how angry Varian got, he would try to understand if only because his son's happiness was at stake. Had it been closer to after the Onyxia incident Anduin has no doubt that Wrathion would have been swiftly dealt with.
That thought alone brings a grin to Anduin's face.
"What I would like to understand is how long you're intending to stay in Stormwind for?"
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He might, of course, have to leave now and then -- but so would Anduin. That isn't the point. The point is that he wants to be with him, to stay by his side. His fingers creep up to nudge blond strands back off Anduin's face, then slide back down to tilt his chin up as he leans in to brush their lips together. Perhaps, in this instance, being in the kitchens is a blessing -- so long as nobody walks in on them of course. That would be... unfortunate, for Anduin at least. Wrathion can't say it particularly bothers him, since he'd rather as many people as possible know his claim on the young king. Dragons are not particularly good at sharing, and he himself is no exception.
Neither is he particularly patient, in this instance.
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Anduin can't help the mumbled reply, relishing in every little touch Wrathion has to offer right now. He had missed this so much and every day believing Wrathion would never know had been torturous, dulling the young King's edges ever so much. He should stop to think about this, to figure out how they were going about this but the moment the black dragon kisses him all thoughts go out the window as Anduin kisses back. If someone walks in on them he'll have to order them to forget what they saw, or something, he'll figure it out!
The kiss is broken only for Anduin to frame Wrathion's face with his hands, resting his forehead lightly against the other's as he just takes a moment.
"You have no idea how long I have waited for this. Why did you think I had called you back to Stormwind before you left with the champion?"
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Wrathion considers that a moment, considers the warm feel of Anduin so close. Of his hands, their foreheads touching.
"I'm here now," he offers. He hadn't remembered back then, had thought Anduin was still angry at him. Was confused by the change of heart. Now, though, now he remembers. His hands slide down Anduin's back, around his sides and hips possessively. He pushes at Anduin a little, encouraging him to hop up onto the table. "I have no intention of making you wait."
Really, Anduin can have as much of his attention as he desires as soon as he wants it.
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"I missed you and I have no intention of waiting."
Absolutely not. The last stretch of time with Wrathion has been torturous enough. Not only that but there had been so much self doubt going on and general disappointment that Anduin hadn't known if he was coming or going! And now here they are, together without a care in the world and for once Anduin knows that everything is going to be okay. His hands are already shifting to twine lightly in thick, dark locks as Anduin leans in for another kiss, this time not as gentle as he nips at Wrathion's lower lip.
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He leans into it, arms circling around Anduin to hold him close, and he feels a primal thrill thrush through him. Anduin is his, and now they are free of that strange city and able to be together in their homeland. Now, can he fly Anduin on a tour of Pandaria should he wish. They could lay together in the keep, or out in the grass, or anywhere they feel like.
Well, perhaps Anduin's role might offer some resistance to those ideas -- but Wrathion is a dragon! He would be perfectly safe with him.
He breaks the kiss again, breaths coming more heavily, and offers a low growl of satisfaction.
"There may no longer be chroma between us," he murmurs, "but I can still please you."
Confidence, of course. Why wouldn't he be able to?
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There are no thoughts to the future though when Anduin hears that low growl, feeling it go straight to his groin as arousal begins to take hold. They shouldn't. Not in the kitchens where anyone could walk in and yet just that thought has Anduin shifting his legs to loosely wrap around Wrathion's waist. Roles? What roles?
Anduin breathes his next words out, unwilling to give either of them any space as he does so.
"As if you need to ask. I'm yours." There's another brief kiss, this one almost chaste as Anduin leans forwards to whisper in to the dragon's ear. "You've kept me waiting."
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Kept him waiting, Anduin says, and the legs wrapping around him fire something deep in Wrathion that's more animal than his human guise.
"Did I?" he prompts, and his hands drop to hook under fabric -- to gently seek out the warm skin of Anduin's back and sides. "Well then, far be it for me to make you wait longer."
He drops his face to Anduin's neck, grazing teeth lightly along the soft skin there. His scent is intoxicating, familiar, makes desire tighten in him. He can imagine it, already, imagine pulling Anduin free of all his clothing and pressing him down across this table.
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The teeth at his neck draw a shudder from the young King as his view of the world narrows to just the two of them in the moment. He loves this, he missed being able to forget all the rigmarole and responsibilities that came with his life. it's selfish but absolutely vital, Wrathion is needed and Anduin can feel himself growing hard as he starts to think along the same lines as his partner. The table will be fine, they can go upstairs later, afterwards when they have all the time in the world.
Anduin just can't seem to help the small noise of frustration leaving his lips as he starts to fiddle with Wrathion's belt.
"Why must you insist on so much clothing?"
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"It's important to look the part," he murmurs, and moves to set his gloves aside on the table. Exposed hands reach out, guide themselves under Anduin's shirt again so bare fingers can make contact with his skin. "Something I know you understand."
He leans in again, catching Anduin into a slower kiss as slides one hand down to tease at his waistband. He can feel the heat pouring off Anduin's body now, can smell his arousal taking hold and it fuels his own into a frenzy of passion. He can feel his skin prickling, the sensitivity he has to every pass of Anduin's hands over his body even through layers of fabric.
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"Off." The coat gets an impatient tug as Anduin pants out a single word. He's just aching to feel warm skin against his own, to lose himself in the heat of Wrathion's embrace and he can't help but be a little demanding about it.
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Wrathion laughs lightly as he draws back, finishes unbuttoning his coat and shrugging it off. He drapes it over the back of a chair, leans back in and presses his face into Anduin's neck. Teeth graze skin once more, sharp against the frantic hammer of his pulse, and latch on enough to bruise this time. His hands press back under soft fabric, pushing into the warm muscles of his back. Anduin's strength now that he wears heavy armour and wields a sword is... more appealing than Wrathion had expected.
"Mine," he murmurs, and teases kisses back up and along his jaw. He's beautiful, so beautiful, and Wrathion has no intention of sharing him. Not if he can help it.