Chapter Text
Stormwind was burning, and there was nothing Anduin could do to stop it.
Anduin was, in fact, being dragged away from his city by a man he both barely recognized and would know anywhere. The striking profile was difficult to forget, even backlit by fel-fire as it was. He'd abandoned the turban Anduin knew him to wear before in favor of letting his black hair fall freely over his shoulders. He'd removed all traces of white from his clothing, instead choosing darker colors with a familiar crimson sash.
His eyes were the same, though, glowing red even by the light of sickly green fel flames. Anduin would recognize that gaze no matter the circumstance.
Somehow, some way, Wrathion had come to spirit him away from Stormwind as it burned.
The initial shock of the Black Prince's appearance was starting to wear off, though the shock of the Burning Legion's attack on Stormwind was still strong. "We need to go back," Anduin said, shaking off some of the lassitude that had let Wrathion drag him from Stormwind Keep and out into the wilderness.
"We can't go back," Wrathion responded, tugging on Anduin's wrist.
The human planted his feet and refused to budge. "I can't leave my people to burn," he insisted.
Wrathion only tugged harder. "You're useless to your people if you die by a Legion blade," he said through gritted teeth. "Your father made me give my word that I would keep you safe, and that's what I intend to do."
That gave Anduin pause, and he stumbled forward a couple of steps as Wrathion continued to pull him away from the city. "My father sent you?"
The dragon nodded. "He summoned me to get you safely out of the city before the Legion could get to you."
"Why are we going this way?" Anduin demanded. "Why not evacuate to Ironforge?"
"Ironforge has fallen, too," Wrathion replied somberly. "We need to get you as far away from the city as we can manage, then we can regroup and decide what to do. Come on."
Anduin's blood ran cold. If Ironforge had also fallen… This was a coordinated assault on the people of Azeroth. "That's even more reason for me to go back!" he protested. "My people need—"
Wrathion stopped and whirled around to face Anduin. His expression was stormy. "Your people need you alive," he reiterated, eyes blazing. "If you want any hope of helping them, you need to keep breathing, which is what I am here to ensure you do. Now come on."
The prince cast his gaze back towards the city. The sickly glow of fel-fire painted the skyline a lurid emerald. He wanted to protest. He wanted to scream at Wrathion that they had to go back, damn it. But he knew that Wrathion wouldn't relinquish his grip on Anduin's hand.
And, worse, he knew Wrathion was right.
Anduin turned back to his companion for the foreseeable future. "Alright. Lead the way."
*
The draconic runes on Wrathion's wrist shimmered like an oil slick on top of water. They spelled out a name—perhaps the most important name in Wrathion's life: his soulmate's name. It had taken Wrathion some time to learn to decipher them, having never had a proper teacher for the draconic tongue, but he'd managed it eventually.
The name was a little baffling; it didn't fit the naming conventions of any of the flights that Wrathion was aware of. But ultimately, he had more pressing things to deal with than a peculiar name written on his wrist (dealing with rooting out the madness that had its claws in his own flight was a full-time job), so he pushed his curiosity aside for the time being.
The Tavern in the Mists was a fine base of operations for the Black Prince to use: it was quiet, it was remote, and no one asked questions. He made sure of that, mostly through the proper application of coin, but sometimes through the proper application of force. Things became a little more interesting when the Horde and the Alliance showed up on Pandaria's shores, though.
Wrathion's wrist began to itch—or a sensation like that—before the human even arrived, accompanied by his guards. It was the first time he'd ever felt such a sensation, and it raised more curiosity than concern at first. When he took off his glove and pushed up his sleeve, the runes on his skin glimmered with a faint light that only grew stronger as time passed.
His soulmate drew near.
He pulled his glove back on and tugged down his sleeve before venturing to the tavern's main level to investigate. The almost-itching intensified as he strode down the stairs until he was having a difficult time resisting the urge to rub at the area with his other hand. He scanned the tavern's entrance, looking for any evidence of his soulmate when his eyes alighted upon the blond-haired human on crutches.
He was sweating with the effort it took to get into the Tavern in the Mists on said crutches, his face flushed and hair a little tousled. That he was accompanied by several guards who could have clearly carried him up the stairs spoke volumes to his tenacity. Or his idiocy. But when he met Wrathion's crimson gaze with his own bright blue eyes, he smiled.
He couldn't perform the bow that propriety would normally require of meeting someone new, but he ducked his head instead and said, "I'm Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind. It's a pleasure to meet you."
The not-quite-itch at Wrathion's wrist dissipated as though dispelled by the human speaking his name. Speaking the name that was emblazoned on Wrathion's skin, two glyphs flowing together, one after the other: An-duin.
He gave no outward indication that the name meant anything to him, instead executing a flawless bow in response. "You stand in the presence of Wrathion, the Black Prince," he said as he straightened back up to his full height. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance as well," he added after a moment of carefully studying the human before him.
How this human's name came to be branded on his skin was a question that would dog Wrathion for quite some time. Everyone knew that dragons bore the names of their soulmates on their wrists, of course. That was a settled matter. But it was also common knowledge that humans—most mortal races, in fact—lacked soulmates entirely.
Wrathion barely registered the pleasantries that he and Anduin exchanged during that first meeting, as filled with static as his head was. His brain buzzed with dread; that his soulmate was a human and not a dragon at all… Could it be some quirk of his 'unique' birth? Or was it some sort of cosmic joke?
It didn't matter. Soulmates didn't matter. Wrathion had a purpose to fulfill, and a dalliance with this Anduin Wrynn would only make things more complicated.
(None of that stopped Anduin from worming his way into Wrathion's heart anyway.)
*
They got as far from Stormwind as their feet could carry them, as far as Anduin's strength lasted, but they could only go so far before the human could go no further. "Wrathion," he said, "we have to stop."
Wrathion turned back to look at him, eyes glowing with obvious concern. "Is something the matter?"
The question startled a bitter, bitter bark of laughter from Anduin, because what wasn't the matter? His home had been the site of what was likely a full-scale invasion by the Burning Legion; he'd been dragged away from his people by someone he'd once trusted but who had betrayed him; and Light only knew what had happened to his father. And now he was on the run.
His companion's expression grew even more worried. "Anduin?"
"Humans don't have the constitution that dragons have," Anduin stated, exhaustion clinging to his words now that the bitterness had passed. "If you want us to keep going, you'll have to carry me."
"Alright," Wrathion said, the worry on his face smoothing away a little. He still looked concerned, but it was less urgent. "If I changed forms and tried to carry you, we'd likely draw unwanted attention. We're probably far enough from the city that we can pause for a few hours."
'Pause.' As if their flight from Stormwind were an inevitable thing that they could only briefly put on hold and not stop. Anduin winced.
Either not noticing Anduin's discomfort or politely not drawing attention to it, Wrathion continued, "I think we should be far enough away from the city that we can start a small cooking fire… Can I trust you not to immediately go back the way we came if I leave you to find something for us to eat?"
"I'm not hungry," Anduin said immediately. The thought of trying to eat anything at the moment made his stomach lurch.
"You'll need to keep your strength up," Wrathion responded, his tone gentle. "Without being able to fly and without horses, it will be a hard trek to get you out of danger."
Anduin scoffed. "Get me out of danger? For all we know, the whole world could be burning. If the Legion is assaulting Stormwind and Ironforge, there's every likelihood that nowhere is safe."
"My Blacktalons maintain many different safehouses in many different places," Wrathion said. He kept his words as gentle as his previous statement, which caused Anduin to deflate a little. "I know for a fact that there is one not more than a few days' travel from here and that it has not been compromised."
"So then I'm meant to simply hide in the countryside until… when?" There was a quiet desperation to Anduin's tone. "I can't do that, Wrathion. I can't let my people suffer while I just hunker down, away from the danger that they could not escape."
"Your father wanted you to live, not throw your life away," Wrathion replied. "We'll figure out our next move once we've had some time to breathe. But for now, you'll need to eat to maintain your strength for the road ahead."
"Fine," Anduin said, defeated. He couldn't argue against his traveling companion's logic, especially not as tired as he felt. "I'll… gather some wood for a cooking fire."
"And I'll see what kind of game I can find. Hopefully the fel disturbances haven't spooked all the wildlife this far from the city." Wrathion locked eyes with him, his crimson gaze glowing softly. "I can trust that you'll be here when I return, can't I?"
There was something so earnest about the dragon's question that Anduin couldn't help but answer it honestly. "I give you my word that I'll still be here when you return."
With that promise obtained, Wrathion just nodded and turned on his heel to venture further into the forest. Anduin set to gathering what branches he could as dusk began to give way to night. By the time it was too dim to see well, he'd gathered a modest amount of wood for cooking, and he began arranging it into a simple campfire configuration. With a little creative application of holy fire, Anduin got the tinder to catch.
Wrathion returned not long after, a rabbit in each hand. The rabbits were both missing their heads, but Wrathion's clothes and hands were completely pristine. If he hadn't been so exhausted, Anduin would have asked about it, but he was too tired to think much of it beyond a passing interest.
"Ah, perfect," Wrathion said. "Do you know how to clean and butcher a rabbit, or would you prefer I show you the way?"
"I'd… rather not," Anduin said. The thought of trying to prepare a rabbit carcass absolutely did not help the situation, either.
"I can do it, then," said Wrathion, laying the rabbits down and pulling a knife from a sheath in the top of his boot. "It shouldn't take long."
Anduin had to avert his gaze as Wrathion worked, though the inevitable scent of blood still wafted in Anduin's direction. His already unenthused stomach felt queasy at the smell. But then the smell changed to something a bit more appetizing: the aroma of cooking meat. As Anduin had been studying the trees at the edge of the firelight, Wrathion had begun cooking the prepared rabbit meat.
"There's enough here for the both of us," Wrathion said, drawing Anduin's attention back to the dragon. The flickering light of the fire cast his face in a warm glow that might have been comforting under other circumstances.
"I'm not hungry," Anduin repeated listlessly.
"You don't have to eat a whole rabbit, but you should at least have something," Wrathion insisted.
Anduin just shook his head. "I'll be fine. I just don't think I can eat right now."
Wrathion's expression was a complicated thing, in which Anduin could see more than a hint of pity. That only served to make his stomach turn even more. Finally, Wrathion said, "Alright. Get some rest. I'll keep watch."
Anduin didn't have to be told twice. Rest did not come easily, however, but it did eventually come.
*
The fire had burned down by the time Wrathion noticed Anduin's breathing even out. It wasn't entirely surprising that it took a while for sleep to claim the human, but Wrathion still felt somewhat responsible. He had whisked Anduin away from his home in the middle of an invasion, which was surely enough to disrupt anyone's natural rhythm.
He shook his head. No, he shouldn't feel responsible for this. It certainly wasn't his fault that the Legion had attacked, and Varian Wrynn was the reason Wrathion had come in the first place. Wrathion had no idea how the King of Stormwind had even known where he was (though he supposed Mathias Shaw's intelligence network may have had something to do with it).
All he knew was that he'd been chasing down some leads near Duskwood when he'd received the message: "Come to Stormwind." That on its own would not have been enough to get Wrathion to drop what he was doing, but then the second part of it had made his blood run cold.
"Anduin is in danger. You need to get him out."
Thankfully, the magical missive had included a rune of teleportation, which Wrathion had immediately utilized. He appeared in what seemed to be a bunker that he guessed was under Stormwind Keep proper. There, he came face-to-face with Varian.
"I have reason to believe that I can trust you with this duty," he said without preamble. "I need you to take my son as far away from here as you can. The Burning Legion is on our doorstep, and I can't let anything happen to him."
"The Legion? Here?" Wrathion could feel dread settling in the pit of his stomach.
Varian merely nodded. "Yes. There was very little warning, and I used what time we had to contact you. You need to evacuate my son and keep him safe. Knowing his sense of justice, he will try to throw himself into trying to stop the Legion himself, but this is not a fight he can win."
"I understand, your Majesty," Wrathion said. "You have my word that I will do everything in my power to keep your son safe."
From there, things had been a whirlwind that had ended with Wrathion here, watching as Anduin slept fitfully beside a nearly-dead fire in the middle of the forest. So far, it hadn't been too taxing to keep his word to Anduin's father, but they hadn't been on the run for long. Somehow, Wrathion suspected that there would be more trials ahead that would tax both of their limits.
Sighing softly, Wrathion tugged off one of his gloves to reveal the familiar runes that ringed his wrist. They glowed more vividly than they had in the past few years with Anduin so close to him. He studied the graceful lines that shimmered with an almost iridescent light.
Had Varian somehow known about the glyphs that represented Anduin's name? It was certainly common knowledge that dragons had soulmates, but did SI:7 somehow know about his soulmate in particular? Or had Varian just been banking on their shared history together to motivate Wrathion into action? He'd said he trusted Wrathion with Anduin's safety, but what reason did he have to believe that Anduin would trust him after what had happened at Garrosh's trial?
He shook his head; it didn't matter. Varian was likely dead by the hand of a Legion commander by this point, though Wrathion suspected strongly that he would not have gone quietly. But either way, his reasoning was likely lost.
Realistically, Wrathion should've been grateful that Anduin had come with him at all. He had not given the Prince of Stormwind much reason to trust him, and yet here Anduin was. Admittedly, he wasn't particularly happy about it, but there was an entire confluence of circumstances at play.
What the hell was Wrathion supposed to even do with him once they made it to safety? His father was certainly correct: Anduin's strong sense of justice would make him want to return to Stormwind, safety be damned. They wouldn't be able to stay on the run forever, even if Anduin wouldn't object to being separated from his people for that long.
And what the hell was Wrathion supposed to do with his soulmate so close, and yet perhaps further away than he'd ever been?
He cut off that particular train of thought by pulling his glove back onto his hand and over his wrist, dousing the iridescent light. He could think about that later. The important thing was Anduin's safety, not Wrathion's feelings.
It was a long while before Wrathion could tear his eyes away from Anduin's sleeping form.
*
Against Wrathion's better judgement, he let Anduin sleep until some time before dawn. It was difficult to want to wake him when, in sleep, his face was smooth and peaceful, but every minute they spent in one place was a minute in which they could be discovered by Legion scouts. This was the primary motivating factor behind Wrathion reaching out and gently shaking Anduin's shoulder.
"It's time to get up," Wrathion said not unkindly. "We need to get moving again."
Anduin made a muffled, sleepy sound of displeasure before cracking open his eyes. There was a moment of bland confusion before the weight of reality came crashing back down on the human. His face twisted briefly into a mask of dawning horror before he clamped down on his expression. "I'm awake."
"Good," said Wrathion, pushing himself up from where he'd knelt at Anduin's side and leaning down to offer him a hand up. Anduin stared blankly at it for a moment before he accepted the offer and let Wrathion help him to his feet. "We've got a bit of a way to go before we make it to the safehouse."
"I'm not going to your safehouse," Anduin stated in a tone that brooked no argument. It took every ounce of Wrathion's self-control not to groan; why did Anduin have to dig in his heels on this?
"I can't let you go back to Stormwind," Wrathion retorted. "I gave your father my word that I would get you to safety, and I intend to keep that promise. That's why we're going to a Blacktalon safehouse."
"No, where we're going is Dalaran," Anduin said firmly. "We need help, and Jaina and Khadgar can almost certainly provide it. If nothing else, I can't think of a safer place on Azeroth than within the Kirin Tor's magical protections."
For an irrational moment, Wrathion wanted to come to the defense of his Blacktalons' network of safehouses and hideaways, to argue that there was security in obscurity. But Anduin had a point: the Kirin Tor's protections were powerful, and with Ironforge also under siege, that left fewer potential allies. Khadgar and Jaina would certainly be inclined to help if they could.
Still… "I don't recall you being the one who was tasked with finding somewhere to lay low," Wrathion said, feeling perhaps the tiniest bit obstinate. "I was."
"Are you saying that you don't think Dalaran is safe?" Anduin challenged, his own stubbornness beginning to show through. He narrowed his eyes and rested his hands on his hips in a defiant gesture.
"I'm saying that you aren't the one in charge of this trip," Wrathion replied a little waspishly. The resistance wasn't unexpected, but it wasn't welcome, either.
A stricken look took hold of Anduin's expression, and for a moment Wrathion wondered if he'd said something wrong. After a few seconds, Anduin swallowed. "My father has very likely been murdered by now, which means that I'm the acting King of Stormwind. And that means I outrank you, Black Prince."
To Wrathion's credit, he did not flinch at the clear disdain in Anduin's last two words, but it was a near thing. Instead, he squared his shoulders and straightened his back. The prince—or the acting king, now—was clearly spoiling for a fight, and in that moment, Wrathion was of a mind to oblige him. "You may be acting king, but that doesn't mean your orders supersede what your father decreed."
The set of Anduin's jaw told Wrathion that this statement had not helped his case. "My father told you to keep me safe. He did not tell you not to take me to Dalaran."
"Traveling that far out in the open could be suicide," Wrathion countered. "We're safer with my Blacktalons."
"Petitioning the Kirin Tor for aid might be the only chance my people have of survival," Anduin said in a deceptively even tone. His hands were clenched into fists; Wrathion could tell that his frustration was about to boil over.
"We can't risk your safety for an unknown like that. For all we know, Dalaran could be under siege, too."
"Fine, I'll go by myself," Anduin snarled. He turned about face and lifted one foot to start walking away. It was no idle threat.
Wrathion's hand shot out and caught Anduin by the wrist. "You'll do no such thing. If I can't stop you from taking this path, I'll come with you." After a brief pause, he added, "You're my responsibility, my king."
Anduin flinched at Wrathion's words and tugged his wrist free of the dragon's grasp. Wrathion let him go without a fight. Regret at his jab about Anduin being king filled his chest.
"I'm glad that's settled," Anduin said stiffly.
"As am I," Wrathion agreed, though his stomach squirmed with unease.
*
After their heated conversation, they course corrected. The lowest profile way they could get to Northrend was by boat, and the most likely place to find one was Menethil Harbor. The way from where they were to their destination was a long one by foot, but Wrathion claimed a Blacktalon mage was stationed not too far from them, and she could offer them a portal to the harbor directly.
"If you know a mage that can get us to Menethil Harbor, why not teleport us directly to Dalaran?" Anduin asked.
"We don't know the state of Dalaran; we could be walking into a war zone," Wrathion explained. "This lets us gather some information so we can change plans if needed."
Anduin couldn't fault the logic, as much as he wanted to get to Dalaran as soon as humanly possible. Still, he wasn't particularly thrilled that they had to continue trekking on foot. At least Wrathion had agreed to his plan.
As they picked their way through the forest towards their destination, Anduin found his thoughts wandering. Wrathion did not offer much in the way of conversation, either out of respect for Anduin's mental state or for lack of anything to say, which left Anduin's mind to wander.
Why had the Legion chosen now to attack? What had changed to bring them to the Eastern Kingdoms' shores? And why had there been no more than a few hours of warning? Surely a force that large would have left some sort of indication of their movements. Anduin was loath to blame Shaw's intelligence network for missing this; what warning he had given had surely saved some lives. But… it was difficult to wrap his head around the hows and whys of the Legion's assault.
This thought naturally led towards another: now that the Legion had sacked Stormwind, what could they do now? Sure, they were headed for Dalaran and hopefully would get aid from there, but what then? They could ask for aid all they wanted, but that didn't mean Dalaran would or could provide it. And what if Dalaran itself were under attack and the Kirin Tor had no forces to spare?
Anduin shook his head to dismiss that line of questioning. Dalaran had to be safe. If it weren't, there would be little hope to be had.
With the train of thought terminated, his mind turned to another obvious question. Why did his father trust Wrathion, of all people, to spirit him away to safety? It made very little sense given their history. Was his father banking on the friendship they'd shared before Wrathion's betrayal to carry them through? Or did he have some sort of leverage on the dragon that Anduin wasn't aware of?
The lack of answers to any of these questions frustrated Anduin, to say the least. There was no way to satisfy his curiosity on most of them, particularly the questions surrounding the Legion's assault and what their next steps should be beyond getting to Dalaran.
The questions about Wrathion, though…
"Why did you come to Stormwind?" he asked, breaking the silence that hung between them.
Wrathion glanced back at him, seemingly startled by the sudden inquiry. "What do you mean? I told you, your father summoned me, so I came."
"Why would my father contact you? What reason did he have to trust that you would do as he asked?" Anduin pressed.
The dragon stopped in his tracks, a pensive look on his face. It took several moments for him to respond. "I'm not sure, and unfortunately there's no way to know now. But I swear to you that I have no intention of breaking that trust, even if I don't know why it was given."
The answer reeked of at least a partial lie, though Anduin had no idea what part of it was a falsehood. Given the way Wrathion had been acting since they left Stormwind, he hazarded a guess that Wrathion was lying about not knowing why his father would have entrusted him with Anduin's life.
The fact that his companion would not be honest with him rankled. Anduin scoffed. "Like you wouldn't betray my trust?"
The pointed barb did not land, or if it did, Wrathion did not flinch at it. Instead, he turned away. "We need to keep going."
Anduin didn't argue because Wrathion was right; they did need to keep going if they had any hope of reaching their destination in time.
But Anduin couldn't help but stew in the uncertainty of his unanswered questions, in the matching certainty that Wrathion wasn't being honest, and in the frustrating fact that—despite everything—Anduin did still trust the dragon.
*
That night, Wrathion kept watch once more. Thankfully, his draconic constitution meant he could go far longer without sleep than a mere human could; he'd certainly be tired by the time they made it to Menethil Harbor, but he could rest on the ship once they'd booked passage.
His eyes flicked over the woods at the edge of their makeshift campsite, where the fire's illumination stopped and the shadows began. Nothing dared nose around near them, not when they sensed Wrathion's presence. Even in his visage, there was no hiding the fact that he was a dragon from the local wildlife's keen senses. It took extra care to find game that they could eat.
Eventually, his attention returned to Anduin, as it often did. Their tense discussion earlier had led to a cloying lack of conversation since. Perhaps it had been wrong to obfuscate the truth a bit. Yes, Wrathion was not certain why Varian had come to him, but he could have brought up his suspicions.
But then, that would necessitate discussing whose name was written on his wrist, and that was not something Wrathion wanted to do. Especially not now, with the weight of the Legion's attack on Stormwind weighing down on Anduin's shoulders.
If only times were simpler, then perhaps…
No. Wrathion's mind summoned memories of such a simpler time, when they both were younger, more fresh-faced, more optimistic. Back in Pandaria, back in the Tavern in the Mists. Even then…
"Do you have a soulmate?" Anduin had asked out of the blue one day as they played a game of jihui. If it had been anyone else, Wrathion would have accused them of some ulterior motive, but Anduin had asked without guile. The dragon wasn't sure that he had a deceptive bone in his body, even after almost all of them had been broken.
Wrathion nodded. "I do." Despite Anduin's innocent curiosity, Wrathion would not volunteer more information than he was asked for.
"Do you know who they are?" Anduin continued.
'Of course I know who he is,' Wrathion did not say. Instead, what came out of his mouth was a simple, "No."
This did not seem to satisfy Anduin, who leaned closer and said almost conspiratorially, "Can I see it? Your soulmate mark, I mean."
The request had caught Wrathion by surprise, and he nearly dropped the jihui piece he'd been toying with as he considered his next move. He blinked at Anduin a couple of times and muttered, "Well. Um."
Anduin straightened his back to lean away. "Oh, I'm sorry, is that something private? Should I not have asked?"
"No, no, it's fine," Wrathion said, though it was absolutely not fine. The last thing he'd needed was Anduin catching on to who his soulmate was, and showing off his wrist would only increase the risk of that happening.
Then again, Anduin didn't seem to be the sort to be trained in draconic script, and the earnest look on his face practically melted Wrathion's resolve. "Alright," he said.
Before he could think better of it, the dragon was pulling off his glove and pushing up his sleeve to expose the glowing iridescent script that contrasted with his brown skin. Anduin's eyes widened, and he looked upon the mark with a reverence that Wrathion hardly felt it deserved but which still made heat creep up into his cheeks.
"May I touch it?" came the next question, an obvious extension of the last.
Wrathion found himself helpless to deny his soulmate in that moment, so he just nodded again. "You may."
Hesitantly, Anduin reached across the jihui board. His pale fingers seemed to approach Wrathion's wrist almost in slow motion before his fingertips finally brushed against the skin. They were warm, and the contact sent an electric thrill up Wrathion's spine. He'd known that it was supposed to be pleasant for one's soulmate to touch their mark on their soulmate's wrist, but he hadn't expected how nice it would actually be.
A shiver ran through him as Anduin traced the glyph, which caused Anduin to pull away. "Sorry, sorry," the human stammered.
Dazedly, Wrathion tugged his sleeve back down and put his glove back on again. "It's fine. It's just… sensitive."
"It's very pretty," Anduin said, eyes still glued to Wrathion's wrist despite the mark being once again hidden.
The heat in Wrathion's cheeks had crept up to the tips of his ears.
That had been the first—and last—time anyone but Wrathion had touched his soulmate mark. A handful of trusted people had seen it, of course, but he'd only tolerated Anduin's touch, and only the one time.
Oh, how much of a fool Wrathion had been, so convinced he'd been right at Garrosh's trial. It had been so easy to convince himself that Anduin would understand his motivations one day, but all he'd done was destroy his soulmate's trust in him, and for what?
Wrathion winced at the memory.
Hopefully his dedication to keeping Anduin safe would help rebuild some of that trust, even if Anduin never felt the same way about him again.
*
They were, according to Wrathion, a mere day's travel away from the Blacktalon mage who could provide passage to Menethil Harbor, but the dragon had remained stubbornly silent about anything else. The quiet between them as they trekked was stifling. It was such a break from Wrathion's usual demeanor that Anduin found it almost unsettling.
As the sun hung near its apex in the sky, Anduin could take no more. The heat of the day and the sweat clinging to the back of his neck only exacerbated his unease. "Why are you here?" he blurted out. "Really, I mean."
Wrathion paused mid-stride and turned to face Anduin with a puzzled expression on his face. "Because your father called for me and put you in my charge," he said. "You know this."
"But why?" Anduin pushed. He knew Wrathion wasn't being forthright with his motivations, and he was pretty sure that Wrathion knew that he knew. So why keep up the pretense? "Why answer my father's call? What do you care about what he wanted?"
"I could hardly deny the man his potential dying wish," Wrathion said judiciously. It still wasn't the truth, or at least it was only one small piece of it.
Growing more agitated, Anduin continued to press the issue, "You've never cared about his wishes up until this point. What changed?"
Wrathion paused as if considering his words, though he continued his march forward as he thought. After a few seconds, he said, "Nothing has changed, at least not between me and your father. But when I knew that you were in danger, I had to come."
There. There was a glimmer of the real heart of Wrathion's motivations. But Anduin could tell that it still wasn't the whole picture. There were pieces missing; Anduin could practically feel the edges where they fit, but couldn't fathom the shape of them. Despite their shared history which gave Anduin the ability to tell when Wrathion wasn't being honest, the distance between them kept him from guessing at what Wrathion did not want to share.
"After what you did, I'm surprised you even cared," Anduin spat. He couldn't help it; his growing frustration combined with the hurt of Wrathion's previous betrayal resulted in the petty jab.
To his credit, the dragon did not flinch away. He again seemed to be considering his words carefully before finally saying, "I have always cared about your well-being. Even when my decisions may have been unwise."
That gave Anduin pause. It was not the response that he'd expected. He'd been expecting Wrathion to snap back, to get defensive. Not to say something like this. But the lack of transparency still chafed, and Anduin couldn't help but fling one final barb in Wrathion's direction.
"And what would your soulmate think of you traipsing half-way across the world with me?"
Here, Wrathion did flinch. He stopped in his tracks, but he did not look at Anduin. "He hates it, but that's not going to stop me from fulfilling my promise to your father."
The raw emotion in Wrathion's voice immediately filled Anduin with regret at his words. He almost took a step back, feeling his remorse as something like a slap to the face. "I—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"It's fine," Wrathion said softly, almost too softly for Anduin to hear. "You've been under a lot of stress, and besides, it's worth his ire to make sure that you're safe."
A strange feeling completely separate from his regret coiled in the pit of Anduin's stomach at Wrathion's words. It was a queer sensation, one that he hadn't felt since his shared youth with Wrathion in Pandaria, and one that he did not have the time nor inclination to examine.
"Hopefully you won't have to endure his ire for long," Anduin said as a peace offering.
Wrathion let out a laugh laced with bitterness and regret of his own. "We shall see."
*
The Blacktalon mage turned out to be a Draenei woman with a thick accent and kind eyes. She seemed so different from the image Anduin had in his head of a typical Blacktalon agent. She did not offer her name, but she did offer him a smile as she wove the spell that would allow them to travel to Menethil Harbor. The portal stitched itself into existence in front of them as the mage spoke a few words in her lilting accent, until it was like looking through a pane of gently warped glass at the harbor itself.
"I hope your travels are safe," she said in Common as they stepped through the portal.
Wrathion gave her an appreciative nod before he disappeared on the other side. Anduin ducked his head and mumbled, "Thank you," to which she winked. Once they were both on the other side of the portal, it disappeared behind them.
Menethil Harbor was… chaos, to put it kindly. They stepped out of the portal and onto the edges of the harbor proper, which was teeming with people. Under normal circumstances, this much life might indicate a thriving economy, but it was impossible to ignore the fact that many of the people here were refugees from Ironforge. There was a desperation to the hustle and the bustle as people jockeyed for positions on the ships moored there.
"How are we going to get passage?" Anduin asked as he surveyed the crowds. "There must be hundreds of people trying to get on each ship."
"Your face and our mission will go a long way," Wrathion replied, resting a reassuring hand on Anduin's shoulder.
"And take the space of a frightened refugee who just wants to go somewhere safe?" Anduin's words were quiet, close to despondent. Guilt that he'd been trying to push down this whole time reared its ugly head at the thought of putting himself before any of the people crowding the harbor.
What Anduin could see of Wrathion's expression out of the corner of his eye softened. His fingers on the human's shoulder tightened in a gentle squeeze. "You do yourself a disservice. Your mission is important to saving the lives of everyone here and beyond. You're not displacing anyone, and I'm certain that there would be people who, knowing what we're trying to do, would gladly give you space on a ship to Northrend."
"You're right," Anduin said with a heavy sigh. "But that doesn't mean it feels particularly good."
"Doing what needs to be done often doesn't," Wrathion said, not unkindly. With that, he let his hand fall from Anduin's shoulder. "Come on, let's book passage while we still can."
People stared at the pair of them as they made their way to the harbor proper. The boards of the piers that made up Menethil creaked under their steps, and the water that surrounded them sloshed against the wood.
Anduin was used to being at the center of attention in most rooms he was in as the crown prince, but this attention was different. Wracked with guilt as Anduin was at having fled his city, he couldn't help but imagine the stares were scornful. There were murmurs too, and the occasional child pointing in their general direction before a parent or guardian could scold them for being rude.
The harbor was in absolute disarray, with all the local constabulary working in concert with the beleaguered harbormaster to keep everything vaguely orderly and only half-succeeding. The press of bodies was almost claustrophobic, though once the harbormaster caught wind of Anduin's presence, they sent a pair of dwarven officers to greet him and Wrathion.
"Your Highness," one of the officers said over the din, "our harbormaster would like to know: what are you doing here? Aren't you a bit far from home?"
"I seek passage to Northrend," Anduin said with more confidence than he felt. "Stormwind has fallen, and I'm going to petition the Kirin Tor for aid."
All the color drained from both officers' faces as they processed Anduin's words. "You mean, it's not just Ironforge?" asked the officer who had not greeted Anduin.
"I'm afraid not, friend," said Wrathion. "Which is why we need to get to Northrend on the fastest ship you have available. The sooner the Prince can reach the Kirin Tor, the better for everyone."
"Yes, of course," said the first officer. "Follow us."
They led Anduin and Wrathion back to where the harbormaster was trying to orchestrate things on the docks; they were a night elf, which made them stick out like a sore thumb among the primarily dwarven and gnomish population of the harbor. Their clothes were rumpled, their short hair stuck out at odd angles from underneath their cap, and they looked like they hadn't slept since… well.
"His Highness is here to get to Northrend," one of the officers informed the harbormaster as they approached.
Anduin could tell by the way that their mouth twitched, the harbormaster was trying not to scoff. Instead, they said, "I'm Tirella Seafeather, and while I appreciate that you'd like to leave the continent, we are going to evacuate the harbor in an orderly fashion."
"Please, Mx. Seafeather, it's vital that I reach Dalaran," Anduin said in his most diplomatic tone of voice. "It's our best chance of getting aid for Stormwind and Ironforge."
Tirella's lips pressed together into a thin line at Anduin's words. "So. No aid will be coming from Stormwind, then?"
Anduin shook his head, scowling. "I fear not. The Kirin Tor is our strongest hope for help now."
"Well, then, I suppose we had best find you a way to your destination," Tirella said with a click of their tongue. "I've been trying my best to enforce law and order here, with mixed results, but I think that if I lean on the captain of the Harvest's Bounty, we can get you and your retainer both aboard."
"Thank you, Mx. Seafeather," Wrathion said with a winning smile, not bothering to correct them about his station with Anduin. "That's all we could possibly ask for."
"Yes, thank you," echoed Anduin.
"Don't thank me just yet," said Tirella with a wry sort of smile. "The captain owes me a favor but she's not the kind of person to just agree to a request I make."
The Harvest's Bounty was a large ship berthed at the far end of the harbor. Tirella came with Anduin, Wrathion, and the two officers who'd fetched them, carving a path through the crowds towards the Bounty. The added presence of the harbormaster only added to the amount of attention they were drawing, which pressed down on Anduin further.
As if sensing Anduin's discomfort, Wrathion reached up to once again rest a hand on his shoulder. "Keeping your eyes on the journey's end will make things easier," the dragon said, his voice somehow pitched low but still audible over the crowds.
"I know," replied Anduin, though he didn't think anything short of a miracle could make the situation feel any easier.
They finally made it to the Harvest's Bounty, where Tirella got into a heated argument with a human woman who was almost certainly the Bounty's captain. She and the harbormaster spoke in hissed syllables that were swallowed by the surrounding cacophony but their gesticulations were quite visible due to their heights relative to the people around them.
At some length, they heard the human woman yell, "Fine!" before storming off. Tirella turned back towards them, looking red in the face but generally pleased.
"Captain Maria Harpsford has graciously agreed to allow you onto her ship," Tirella said once they were back in earshot. "You will be departing this evening. Menethil Harbor doesn't have much to offer in the way of provisions right now, but you have a few hours to secure what you can before you leave."
"It seems like you have quite the… shall we say fruitful relationship with the good captain," Wrathion commented. Tirella just shook their head.
"We have a history, but I wouldn't call anything about our relationship 'fruitful.' Anyway, I have to return to my post. Elune's blessings be upon you and your journey." And with that, Tirella offered Anduin a low bow before making their way back through the crowd.
Wrathion and Anduin spent the next couple of hours doing as Tirella had suggested, trying to purchase what supplies they could. The asking prices for most things would beggar an entire kingdom, but they did secure a pack, some waterskins, and a couple of bedrolls that Wrathion paid for. Where he got the coin, Anduin did not know and was too afraid to ask.
They made it back to the Bounty with plenty of time to spare, and the captain herself greeted them when they boarded. "Oh, I thought Seafeather was pulling my leg," Captain Harpsford said, looking a little chagrined but sketching a bow anyway. "I guess I owe them an apology. Welcome aboard, your Highness. She's probably not much compared to what's in the royal fleet, but the Harvest's Bounty is a fine ship and she'll get you to Northrend in no time."
"Thank you, Captain," Anduin said as Captain Harpsford straightened back up. "Don't worry, we won't be a burden to you. We fully intend to keep out of your way, and I'll make sure you are more than fairly compensated once things are settled."
"Don't worry, you won't be a bother," said the captain. "We're about to set sail, though, so I'm needed elsewhere. Make yourselves comfortable; we should reach Howling Fjord in four days' time." And with that, Captain Harpsford left Anduin and Wrathion on the deck, surrounded by deckhands and the straggling refugees boarding just before the ship left the dock. True to Captain Harpsford's word, they were underway within the half hour.
That evening, when looking to take in some fresh sea air, Anduin found Wrathion standing on the deck, leaning against the railing and looking out over the dark water. For a moment, the prince considered leaving him in peace, but Wrathion spotted him amongst the other people on deck and beckoned him over.
"You seemed lost in thought," Anduin said as he approached. He positioned himself to Wrathion's side and leaned against the railing as well. "I didn't want to intrude."
"You aren't intruding," replied Wrathion, turning his face back to the sea. "Though I was a little lost in my thoughts, you are correct."
"What were you thinking about?" The question came out before Anduin could consider how rude it might be to pry. However, Wrathion just smiled, an almost melancholy expression that changed his profile into something a little sadder.
"My soulmate," he responded simply.
"I'm sorry." And Anduin was. Knowing that Wrathion's soulmate hated the mission he was on did nothing to ease Anduin's guilt.
"It's alright. It's just… difficult, sometimes."
"You don't speak of him much… what's he like?" The question was a natural successor to the one before, and Anduin genuinely wanted to hear what the dragon had to say on the subject. But still, it seemed to be a sensitive topic, so Anduin added, "Though if you'd rather talk about something else…"
Wrathion shook his head but did not turn to face his companion. "It's alright. He's very much like you: honorable, with a strong sense of justice and quite the stubborn streak. But beyond that… It's not worth talking about."
"What have you been doing since last we met?" Anduin asked. More genuine curiosity.
Here, Wrathion chuckled bitterly. "This and that. Mostly trying to discover a way to combat the corrupting influence of the Old Gods."
"A noble goal," Anduin said judiciously.
"Not really. It's quite selfish; I will not follow in my father's footsteps." Wrathion's expression shifted from melancholic to determined.
There didn't seem to be anything Anduin could add to the conversation, so he turned his attention away from Wrathion's profile and out to sea. The stars shown brightly against the inky blackness of the sky. It was a sight Anduin had rarely seen from Stormwind Keep, as bright as the city had become as it grew in prosperity.
They stayed like this for some time, standing next to each other and soaking up the other's presence, until Wrathion finally turned his head to face Anduin. "You should get some rest while you can. We will have a hard journey ahead of us to reach Crystalsong Forest."
"What about you?"
"I will in a bit, don't worry."
Anduin studied Wrathion's face, looking for any sign of dishonesty but found nothing concrete. "Alright," he said reluctantly. "Just… don't stay out here for too long."
"I won't," agreed Wrathion.
Anduin took Wrathion at his word and retired for the night. He tried to stay up for a bit longer, waiting to see if Wrathion meant to keep his promise, but he fell asleep before the dragon returned to their berth.
