Letters from Azeroth

1. i will only write romantic letters from characters that are chronologically 18 or older. this means they've been alive and kicking for 18 years, regardless of timeline shenanigans or other circumstances. additionally, they must be considered adult to their own race/species.

1a. i go by the headcanon that elves and other long-lived races are considered adult at 18, and just tend not to hold any positions of authority until they're older. sort of like how US presidents have to be 35 or older.

2. villains are fine! i can write romantic letters from any adult, and i can write platonic letters from just about anyone. tone will vary, however, and someone like Garrosh might be more ~blunt~ than someone like Anduin.

3. living characters will be written as their latest incarnation. going back to Anduin, i'll be writing him as he appears in the most recent patch (9.1 at time of writing) unless otherwise specified. dead characters will, unless otherwise specified, be written as their last living incarnation. for example, varian might be written from 7.0 as or just before he went off to the broken shore. i will absolutely write letters from the shadowlands or the past (or alternate timelines) on request, though!

Daughter,

Yours is a heavy burden, though you may be so lucky to consider it a privilege. Take what satisfaction you can.

You command the most dedicated warriors in all the Great Dark. Yours is a force of sheer will.

I find myself wishing I could have readied you for that. But I must remind myself how well it suits you... and that you may take to it better than I.

No one man can offer all the guidance that an army like this requires. But you know this all too well. It is why I so often asked for your thoughts.

Keep that habit of mine. But do not let anyone sway you. You will often know better.

I will see you again, child, with any luck.

Remembering you always,

<This note is written in compact hand on a small, folded bit of parchment.>

Varian Wrynn,

Please read this letter in full.

If I could, I would tell you everything I know. I can tell you, this isn't the end. It won't always be like this. And once you've gotten through this hardest part, the early part, you'll be better equipped for the rest of it.

Keep spending time with friends. They need it as much as you do.

Don't try too hard to impress any girls. Let them impress you.

It might seem like grief is always around the corner, but I promise, it'll never be worse than you've already felt. Light willing, you'll grow bigger than your grief can ever get.

Remember, if nothing else: you're only just getting started.

Best of luck,

<This letter bursts into being in a flash of golden fire, unburning and uncrumpling in the hands of its reader.>

Father,

I know what the Light can do, and I can guess what it can't. I know, in all likelihood, you'll never read this.

If there were some way for you to answer, I'd ask if you were resting well. I can only hope you are.

Genn has advised me well. He's prodded once or twice about theatre visits, even asked if I'd consider his daughter for a queen. You would know how I feel about that.

With his help, and new allies to the Alliance, we have a lasting peace with the Horde. It's still been difficult to rule. Sometimes it's more difficult to rule in peace than in war: though I never thought I'd say such a thing.

You said once that if you could go back to your time in the arena, you would. I think I understand that now. In the last few years, I've come very close to seeing you again. It hurt just as much to have that chance taken away as it would have if it came to pass.

And I've discovered I'm just as capable of anger as you ever were. Sometimes it's more spite than faith that keeps me going.

I've had to give Turalyon regency in my absen

<The letter abruptly ends here. Just as abruptly, another one comes, this one rolled up instead of crumpled.>

I will admit it, Father. I am absent from the throne. Turalyon is commanding the Alliance forces. If my life's work is bringing the war to an end and nothing else, that would be enough.

I would rather abandon my people than fail them.

I promise, the instant I have half the confidence you had, I'll return. I only fear how the world's changed in those few years since my brush with death.

It might also please you to know that the Horde's given up their warchief for a council.

Done this day by my hand,

Fear not, apprentice!

Our souls are still bound, of course! I catch the odd glimpse of your travels. While I can only imagine what might befall me if I dare travel to a world as corporeal as yours, it is miraculous enough that someone with blood as red as yours could come to mine.

And it is very red, still. Congratulations!

Am I correct in hoping you'll bring back a record of your findings? I expect detail. I expect rigor. I expect the best, if I am to concoct the best for your scaly friends.

I should like to devise a plague that will turn them to their visage while they fly above the open ocean. Your thoughts on this?

Eagerly awaiting reply,

Plague Deviser Marileth.

Beloved,

I am reminded of how fast what is to come approaches. Often I will stop my own hunt to take the tall grass by a river in my hands, and let the cool air bring me to my senses. Every hunt is as the courting hunt, even if I am alone. Every afternoon is an omen for the evening, the evening of the night, and the night for the next day.

I think I will have to build our home with my own hands. I do not think I can trust a stranger to enact my vision. I think when you come, you will come home to an overabundance, furs up to your knees, warbeads braided from every torch-post, for my obsession cannot be satisfied.

Our ceremony will be over-wrought, if you do not stay my hand. Ease my worry that I will put you off. I taste honey when I wake, and little can I sleep.

Come home and be my life-mate.

<This letter, surprisingly, is written on Stormwind's royal stationery. It also seems to ignore its environment and reflect an unseen moonlight.>

No need to apologize. Look at nature.

I do not leave the pup with a twisted paw. I do not leave the hunter kicked by hard hooves.

It matters what you do, not what you cannot do, and yours is a life dear to me.

Be well, child of mine. The pack is yours, as you are the pack.

To my dear friend,

The return of my flight, and the business of running it, has distracted me from our correspondence. I hope you'll forgive me for not writing sooner: but when I'd heard of your academic trouble, I couldn't help but write.

We both know how many diverse forms knowledge can come in. And intellect, the passion for knowledge, is just as wonderfully multifaceted. I think, however, your troubles come from an institution of learning which is not as concerned with these passions as with guarding the gates to your wellbeing.

I believe in you, friend. I've come to see how your heart can see you through any challenge, even if it isn't in the exact way we thought it would. Remember, our being is proof that someone succeeded this way before.

With well-wishes,

Kalecgos