Chapter Text
When Anduin woke he realized that something was wrong. Where there was usually the dull hum of voices from the tavern there was instead silence, save for the occasional muffled groan. He pressed his lips together and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before he pushed himself up in the bed. It was difficult, his body ached with every move but he was determined and he was proud when he managed to stay on his feet, his legs remaining under him instead of giving out immediately. He didn’t bother dressing, instead opting for slippers and a robe before he left his room. Pausing outside of his door, he listened; quickly realizing that what he was hearing was their resident dragon— and he sounded utterly miserable.
“Wrathion?” He called out as he limped down the corridor. “Are you going to live?”
There was the sound of a muffled, feminine snort from one of the Blacktalons, although the whine that clearly came from Wrathion quickly overtook it. “No, I am dying. The last black dragon and I am to die hanging over the side of a bucket. This is so undignified.”
Stopping in front of the door that led to the dragon’s room, Anduin raised his hand to knock— and found himself confronted with one of Wrathion’s guards. “I…”
“He’s in the corner. I’m going to go find him some tea. He’s your problem until I get back.” Left shouldered past the prince, mindful of the fact that he was still healing. “Maybe you might be able to convince him he’s not about to die.”
“I am. I am dying. Nothing you can say can convince me otherwise.”
Left rolled her eyes before she pushed Anduin inside, shutting the door behind him. “Good luck!”
Looking around the room, it took a moment for the priest’s eyes to adjust to the darkness, and when they did he realized he could see a whelp with their head in a bucket. Claws clutched at the sides of the roughly hewn vessel, the wood splintered from the pressure; and as he took a step forward he found himself watching as Wrathion retched once more.
“Wrathion, what did you do to yourself?”
“Nothing!” The dragon gasped between heaves. “I have done nothing, and yet I lie here dying.”
Anduin wrinkled his nose, and forced himself to cross the remaining distance between them. As he drew nearer he realized that the far corner of the room was filled with the almost overwhelming scent of candy. He was undeniably confused, but after a moment things suddenly clicked into place. His shoulders slumped down and he gave in to the urge to sigh. “You're not dying, Wrathion. You’re ill.”
“I am a dragon, I am not mortal like you. I cannot become ill.”
Giving in to the urge to sit, Anduin perched at the edge of the bed and leaned forward, chin resting on the top of his cane. “I’m going to ask you one question, and one question only.”
“Then do it now, I fear I will not be a part of this world much longer.”
“How much candy did you eat from the bucket last night?” There was a brief silence and the priest watched with some amusement as Wrathion peered over his claws at him, eyes glowing in the dim light. “And be honest.”
“I do not see what candy has to do with my death.”
“Just answer the question.”
Wrathion whined as he slumped forward, tail hanging down limply. “The bucket.”
“Yes, the candy from the bucket. How much?”
“The bucket!”
Sitting back, Anduin’s eyes widened, his gaze drifting to the dragon’s belly. He was a whelp, he was naturally round, but his stomach was clearly distended— and it all made sense. “Wrathion, you’re supposed to have a piece, perhaps two at a time. Not the entire bucket in one sitting. Light grant me patience, I don’t even understand how you were able to eat that much. The bucket was full when I went to bed!”
The only response Wrathion managed was a whimper as he was ill once more.
The priest watched silently for a moment, feeling the misery that radiated from Wrathion and he shook his head. Wordlessly, he pushed himself up from the bed, limping over to stand behind the dragon. When the whelp didn’t move, he braced his back against the wall, using it to slid to the ground beside him. It hurt, far more than he'd anticipated, but it was worth it. The contents of the bucket didn’t worry him in the slightest, he was a priest, a healer, and that meant coming into contact with sick and injured people. However, as he sat next to Wrathion he felt an undeniable wave of affection creep over him. It was new and unexpected, but he didn’t question it.
“This is your first Hallow’s End, wasn’t it?” When there was no response his suspicions were confirmed, and he regretted that it had not come up in conversation between them. “I think we can say this is not a mistake you will repeat. I speak from experience.” Anduin smiled slightly as he allowed the light to flow through him, easing as much of the pain and nausea as he could. He could feel that there was still more left to purge, but he was able to make him more comfortable for a time.
Wrathion trilled softly as the priest lay his hand on his back and pressed up into the touch, seeking out comfort even though he normally would have protested. “When will this end?”
“I don’t know,” Anduin admitted. “But what I do know is that there’s still more in there. I promise you though, it will end.”
There was silence for a moment as Wrathion raised his head, peering over his shoulder at the priest once more. “Are you certain?”
“Yes, Wrathion. I’m certain. As much as you might think that you’re dying now, you aren’t.” The priest’s chest ached at how utterly lost Wrathion sounded. It wasn’t something he’d heard before, and he hoped to never hear it again. “I will remain here with you for as long as you need.”
Wrathion nodded before he slumped back over the side of the bucket, his body shaking as he emptied more of his stomach. He could not understand why he felt the need to trust Anduin so much, but he did and he did not want him to move.
“You really will stay with me?”
Ignoring the already spiking pain in his own body, Anduin smiled, his fingers moving over the soft scales that covered Wrathion’s back. “I give you my word.”