#excerpts2014

Wrathion couldn't quite believe how easy it had been to slip back into this.

He'd remained, as he'd said, stoic and silent while Kalecgos had instructed Anduin on how to heal his wing. Again, it had hurt; but Wrathion was brave, and knew how to handle pain when he needed to. He was shapeshifted half-way, so his wings, horns, and tail were showing; his bad wing had been splinted and bandaged to his shoulder and upper arm to keep it straight, and his arm, in turn, had been slung up to his opposing shoulder to keep it still. He'd been unable to shapeshift his wings away again - unlike clothes, he was unable to shapeshift with something so technical as a splint in place. Maybe he'd practice that, one day.

And then Kalecgos had left, and he and Anduin had... talked. For a while. Anduin had filled Wrathion in on how his training had come along since they last met - how he'd met Yrel and trained under her, for a while, too, and he spoke at length about how kind and impressive a tutor she'd been, for saying she was only a student of a few months herself too. And Wrathion had sparingly told Anduin details about what he'd been doing in the mean time, too. Most notably, he told him about what had happened at Admiral Taylor's garrison - and how Wrathion himself had saved some of the Admiral's best followers from the unsavoury fate Ephial had planned for them.

Then, Anduin - having spent the hour or two they'd been talking gently infusing Wrathion's back with Light - suggested they sit Wrathion up in bed, with his back off the backrest, and play a board game together.

And that's exactly what they were doing. They were playing Jihui together. After months of Wrathion being sure Anduin would never want to see him again, of believing the home he'd been close to having was gone forever - and they were playing Jihui together.

Ridiculous.

He was even playing by the rules today, much to Anduin's surprise. Anduin didn't comment on it, but he did look relieved every time Wrathion made a cooperative move. Relieved and happy. Two things Wrathion never thought he'd personally get to see on Anduin's face again.

It was after they won the game together that Wrathion, suddenly, reached across the table to hold onto Anduin's hand.

Anduin looked alarmed, at first, but his face softened into a smile. He turned his palm up, and gripped Wrathion's hand. "Are you alright?" "Y-- Yes. Yes, I am." Wrathion drew himself up, his back twinging (he ignored it) and his good wing poised about his shoulder. "Anduin?" "Yes, Wrathion?" He smiled, a little nervously, now. "May-- may I ask you to--" He bit his lip, and started again. "I take back what I said earlier. Please may you take a look and see what's happened to my memories?"

Anduin, suddenly, laughed. Wrathion flinched, so Anduin moved to hold his hand with both of his own, instead. "No, sorry-- I thought you were going to ask me to kiss you. I just didn't expect that." Wrathion's cheeks flushed. "You--??" Anduin started to blush, too. "I mean. Never mind. I'll look at your mind for you."

Wrathion was instructed to make himself comfortable; all he really did was shuffle a little. It's not as though he could lay down on his back or anything. Then Anduin moved the table out from between them, and sat down opposite him, establishing eye contact. Wrathion tried to ignore the way even Anduin's human eyes visibly dilated on looking at him.

"Just think about the things you usually do," Anduin said. "You'll feel me come alongside you, and then I need you to guide me back to the missing memories by thinking about the things you remember either side of them." Wrathion nodded. His free hand was clenched into a fist in his lap; he had to admit he was nervous, but Anduin seemed to understand how important it was that this was done respectfully. He trusted him, to a point.

Slowly, he felt another presence join his mind. It was barely there - he'd dismiss it as just a glimmer of paranoia in any other circumstances. It stayed there for a few moments; Wrathion took it as a cue to begin thinking of the events leading up to his capture, so he did.

The forest of Arak; the south of the peninsula. The trees there, winding and new, fast-growing softwoods that replenished themselves after fires which Wrathion could feel burning deep in the peat bogs. He was returning to work after taking the Alliance soldiers he'd rescued from the garrison by Southport to another Alliance outpost. He was travelling through the forest, and then...

"It's been taken," Anduin said, aloud. His voice was shaking a little. "They took your memories. Can you try and remember some other things, so we can see if they've taken anything else?" "Like what?" "Anything from your past. Especially pertinent things, anything the Legion would want."

Wrathion remembered. He remembered planning meetings, writing schedules and personnel lists; but Anduin frowned. "I think they tampered here too... this is bad news." "Very bad." Wrathion broke the eye contact and felt Anduin's presence subside; he ran his hand over his matted hair. "I'm not sure how we're going to recover from some of that, you know. Of course everything has a backup plan, but I know about those, as well." "Maybe you'll think this is silly, but I'd like to focus on getting you recovered. We should tell Khadgar about this and let him deal with it." Wrathion gave Anduin a long stare, but Anduin just moved over to the bed and sat beside him. "You're frightened," he said, matter-of-factly, "but we both know fear won't help anyway. So we'll tell Khadgar and then heal you and work from there."

Wrathion looked at him. Without thinking, Anduin had reached for his hand; with thought, Wrathion sighed... then slowly, almost cautiously (as though it would vanish if he weren't careful), rest his head on Anduin's shoulder.

They'd tell Khadgar. And then they'd heal Wrathion's wounds, and work from there.

There was much less screaming than Wrathion had expected there to be, although about the same amount of crying.

He'd expected Anduin to either refuse to speak to him at all while he was healing his injuries, or to endlessly berate him for every bad mistake Anduin decided he'd made while Kalec incessantly listed off facts about dragon anatomy (all of which were incorrect for a black whelpling). Later in the visit, Anduin would dissolve into angry tears and blame Wrathion for all his problems, before leaving and never speaking to him again.

What happened instead was Anduin saw the state of Wrathion's back and burst into tears immediately.

Khadgar conjured a box of tissues and offered them to Anduin. Anduin took one and dabbed at his eyes. Kalec hovered awkwardly in the background, not wanting to get involved any sooner than was strictly necessary.

"Just... what did they do to you?" "I can't say I'm completely sure, Anduin Wrynn, but I might ask the same of you." "Wh... what?" He sniffed and Khadgar proffered the tissues again. Wrathion couldn't help but think he was possibly more worried about having to clean stains off his carpet than he was about Anduin, but that judgement could be said as much to be Wrathion's passive distaste for Khadgar after bringing Anduin here in the first place as it was Khadgar's actual body language. "The last time I heard news of you, you were writing up wanted posters for my capture. And now you're crying over me." "This isn't the first time I've cried over you," Anduin said, with only a little bit of bitterness in it. "...it's not?" "No. I actually missed you quite a lot," he said, frowning at Wrathion - tears streaming down his cheeks. "And now you turn up like this? What happened?" "Like I say, I'm not precisely sure." Anduin dabbed at his cheeks with the tissue again. "How can you not be sure?" "I don't exactly recall much of it, you see," he said, sighing a little. "...any. Any of it." "Well... can I have a look?"

Wrathion, who was laying face-down still, tugged the blanket down off his back with one hand. It was bandaged, of course; Anduin moved fowards and gently removed the coverings.

Anduin Wrynn's hands ran over Wrathion's bared back, barely touching the surface. Lash after lash had left raised welts over Wrathion's skin, each tinged in equal parts deep angry purple from the bruises, and a sickly fel green from the whip used to inflict the injuries. Anduin had to bite his lip again to keep from crying. "I'm so sorry..." "What are you sorry for?" "You shouldn't have been hurt like this." "No?" Wrathion twisted his head as far as he could, to look at Anduin. "An enemy is an enemy, and I am an enemy of the Legion. Their methods are, of course, infernal, but I expected worse than this for going against them. This isn't even par for the course; it's less than that." "That-- no!" Anduin's hands pulled back a little and curled into determined fists. "You're doing the right thing, and that means it's not fair you'd be punished for it!" "Oh, I'm doing the right thing now, am I?" Wrathion snorted, harshly, and buried his face in the pillow.

Anduin must have given some kind of pitiful look, because Wrathion heard Khadgar quietly usher Kalec out of the room before leaving it himself, too, and closing the door. Wrathion hugged the pillow around his ears.

"Listen, Wrathion," Anduin said. "I... I was really hurt. And confused, after the tiger temple. I was upset you'd just leave me like that after everything we went through together... I don't hate you. And I don't think you're doing the wrong thing. And-- and after I found out you weren't actually working for Kairozdormu, just using him to get to Draenor early... I had you taken off the wanted list." "Well, news of that last part didn't reach all of your outposts." Or me, he thought bitterly. "That's because Father didn't want me to do it," Anduin admitted sheepishly. "And he outranks me. But I kept putting it through. It just means there's been a lot of confusion." Wrathion was silent for a few moments. Realistically, he knew there was no reason for Anduin to be lying to him, yet his paranoia still wanted to believe he would. He shook his head slightly, clearing it of the thoughts, then lay back down. "But you still hate me." "I don't hate you, Wrathion!" Anduin took a risk, and placed a hand on Wrathion's arm. Wrathion didn't move away. "I really don't. I promise. I was hurt, and confused, and I didn't think through the effects of what I told everyone. I'm sorry." "It's not like you to not think these things through. Why am I the one who ends up being pursued for your own short-sightedness?" "Because-- you're the one I feel most strongly about," Anduin said, quietly. "And... maybe that does cloud my judgement a little. For better or worse." "Mostly worse." "...mostly worse, yes." Anduin bowed his head a little.

There was a short silence, before Anduin spoke again. "...and... I can tell you're hurt, too. And not just physically." "That's nonsense." "You lash out verbally when you're hurt. You always have. I don't think you mean some of what you're saying, either." Wrathion turned his head the other way, away from Anduin, his cheek pressing hard into the pillow and his claws digging in to the sides of it where he was hugging it. "...so... I just wanted to say that I'm sorry I hurt you so badly. And that I wish you wouldn't keep trying to hurt me so I'll go away again. I'd like to make it up to you, by healing you, at least, and helping you in any other way you need me to, but I can't do that if you keep shouting at me." Again, Wrathion met him with silence. "...I'd really like us to be friends again... please?" A long silence.

"...please heal my back," Wrathion said, eventually; quietly, seemingly mollified. "It hurts a lot."

Anduin let out a shaky breath, smiling, then sat down on the bed next to Wrathion. There was a bottle of salve on the bedside that Khadgar had left for him to work with - it would negate the fel tinge in the lashmarks, and Anduin could heal the rest on his own. Delicately, Anduin dabbed the salve onto the welts with little pieces of torn-off bandage. Wrathion breathed deeply, evenly, throughout; he was used to pain, and the stinging that came with antiseptic. And this was, in a sense, antiseptic. It felt the same, at least.

It took Anduin a good half-hour to work through all of Wrathion's injuries, and he paused before saying aloud, "It's your left wing that's broken, isn't it?" Wrathion frowned suspiciously. Anduin had been known to use mind magic under extraneous circumstances... "How did you know?" "Your tattoo is a strange shape," he said plainly. He was referring to the wing-shaped tattoos on Wrathion's back - Wrathion liked to shapeshift them there as simple aesthetic preference, and hadn't thought of them as having any particular magical property. Yet Anduin was telling him it looked broken... how interesting. "Yes, it is. I take it you would like to see it?" "Yes, but I should call Kalecgos in first. That's what he's here for, really." "Uggghhh. Really?" "I'm afraid so. He knows more about wing anatomy than I do. Sorry." "Fine. Just don't expect me to talk to him. I can't stand him."

Anduin stood up, but hovered by the bedside. "...Wrathion?" "Yes?" Wrathion looked at him. He wasn't crying any more; but he looked worried, somehow. Whatever about? His condition was improving now, wasn't it? "...can we be friends again?"

Wrathion wanted to. But what of their sundered allegiances, their differences in outlook? What of Anduin's tendency to favour the lawful, and Wrathion's to favour the effective? Anduin's tendency to prefer the kind and Wrathion's to prioritise the pragmatic? Could they really be friends again, just like that?

--

Anduin knew it was rude to stare, but, well... the man who had just joined him in the hot spring was remarkable.

He wasn't very tall, but he was very striking. His eyes were sharp and piercing, with black eyeliner which only made them stand out more; his hair was swept up into a bandanna to keep it out of the water, but it was curly and magnificent. Most of all, Anduin noticed that the man's dark skin was replaced in parts with round patterns of bright white. He wasn't nude, like most people would be; he was wearing a simple, tight, sleeveless top, and a pair of similarly styled shorts.

Anduin stopped himself short of examining the man's genitals through his shorts. That would just be too shameless, even with him already having noticed he was being stared at.

"Is there a problem?" he said, sharply, challenging Anduin. His voice was mid-pitched and devastatingly smooth."No... no, in fact, the opposite of that. Please feel welcome," Anduin smiled, sheepishly. "I didn't mean to stare..."

how DARE you make me write this how DARE

—

They’d won. They’d really won.

It had been five days now, and Wrathion still hadn’t managed to set it into his mind that it had really happened. They’d really, really won.

Neither had Anduin Wrynn, it seemed. He was melancholy at the best of times - Wrathion caught him, one night, crying bitterly. He thought it best not to ask; he simply pulled him into the hug he knew Anduin would want, stroking his back and kissing his hair.

And now Anduin was demanding they dance.

"Like… a courtly dance?" Wrathion wrinkled his nose."Yes… well, kind of. I just want to dance with you. Put some music on and move. Please?""Well, alright." Wrathion frowned. "Are you alright?""No. That’s why I’d like to dance."

They took a gentle pace; it allowed for Anduin’s chronic pain, and Wrathion’s newly missing left leg. Wrathion took the lead for Anduin’s sake, and soon enough Anduin’s head found its way onto Wrathion’s shoulder."We won…" Anduin said, slowly, but Wrathion could tell there was more to the sentence, so he didn’t interrupt. "…but we lost so much, didn’t we?"

Wrathion’s leg wasn’t even the start of it. They’d lost vast swathes of Stormwind and all the people in it; similar stories were told the world over. It was hard to find a single individual who hadn’t lost something. The entire world of Draenor had fallen to Sargeras’ schemes. The Naaru had all perished; there were only five surviving Draenei who they’d found so far…

--

Anduin Wrynn was sick.

It was contagious, Wrathion was told. Extremely contagious to any humans or most other Titan-built races. Somehow, that didn't include him - or Mishka, mercifully. But it did mean it was just the two of them.

"Murloc flu," he murmured, reading over the file. "Ridiculous."

Thankfully, it meant he got lots of time to cuddle with Anduin, that week. Unfortunately, it also meant Anduin was awful conversation.

He was barely conscious, most of the time. Wrathion was mostly there for moral support anyway, not medical, so it wasn't too much of a loss when Anduin failed to understand what he was talking about while trying to discuss chess strategy, or when he drifted off mid-sentence while they made smalltalk between meal times.

But most of all, Wrathion loved once thing about doing this for Anduin: it was warm.

Usually, Wrathion was a little cold. He was a small whelp of three; most young dragons didn't even leave their parents' molten dens for more than minutes at a time until they were 10, and had dozens of siblings to snuggle up to for warmth. Wrathion had no siblings, and no den to hide in when he got cold. He survived, of course, but it was uncomfortable, and while being close to Anduin remedied it a little, a human's temperature was barely enough to help.

With a fever, however? He was like a furnace, and Wrathion could barely pull himself off Anduin's lap long enough to let Mishka do her bi-hourly checkups.

--

Wrathion didn't really remember what happened before now.

Well. He remembered a little.

He remembered being alone. His bloodgems cold, suddenly; as though the connection had been severed. By loss of his agents or by placing them on the other side of an anti-magic barrier, the result was the same. He remembered fear, and running through a forest as fast as his legs could carry him, because his wings wouldn't - he didn't remember why - and he remembered pain.

And now he was... lying face down in a very soft bed. He didn't remember that part.

He moved, a little, and immediately pain lanced through his back. It felt like bruises, and... something else, but it was with his wing - he shapeshifted awkwardly half-way, just enough to show his wings and horns and tail, and quickly discovered what the matter was. His left wing was broken. Wonderful. Not going anywhere for a while, then.

Which lead him back to the question of whose bed he was lying in. It was comfortable, so if it was someone from the Horde, it was a blood elf. And he could sense rather a lot of magic in the air. So a mage of some kind. They hadn't taken him to Stormwind, so anyone from the Alliance itself was looking unlikely. Blood elf was looking good. He cracked his eyes open and peered at the bedside table - more magic shimmered underneath the floating flower vase. That was very blood-elf. But the décor was purple, not red and gold...

"Oh, are you awake?" came a voice, suddenly. Wrathion tried to shoot upright to face his sudden visitor, but only succeeded in aggravating his broken wing - he cried out in pain and fell back to the bed, biting his lip so's not to whimper.

"Don't try to move." The voice was deep, resonant, and gentle. Sympathetic, almost. Wrathion didn't trust it. "I have a medic on the way to see to your injuries." "Who?" "A pair of colleagues of mine." "I said who, not what." Wrathion tried to twist his head to see the speaker, but couldn't quite move far enough without his back aching too badly. Mercifully, he came into view anyway.

An old man. A very old man. Human, with mid-toned skin and silvery hair. He looked about eighty, but Wrathion could tell something was unusual about that - he shook his head, trying to clear it of all the other magic in the air, but couldn't quite pin what was making him appear so old.

He chuckled. "It's an aging curse, my friend. I look older than I am. Similar to you, I think." Wrathion's mind ticked over. "...then you're... Khadgar." "Very astute, yes." "Jaina would never have let you bring me here." "She doesn't know I did." "Lying to a superior. I like it." "She's also my friend. Sometimes we have to hide things to protect our friends. You understand THAT, Prince Wrathion." "...yes, I think I do." Wrathion frowned lightly. "How much do you know?" "As much as Anduin told me and then some." "Has he been telling everyone, then?" Wrathion felt bitterness swell in his heart. "Only HIS friends. He reminds me of his grandfather in some ways. It never occurs to him that his friends might betray him one day," he smiled, ruefully.

"But enough about that. How's your back?" "Sore." "They did quite a number on you with the whips," Khadgar commented, rubbing his chin. "I can understand why the Legion would want you, but not why they'd fail to transfer you to one of their offworld bases a lot sooner than they tried to." "The-- Legion..?" Wrathion's mood plummeted. Could he not remember because those memories had been forcibly taken from him..? "Yes. They captured you some time after you left your last known location in Arak, and took you to a Shadow Council base in Frostfire, of all places. My champion happened upon you while she was clearing out their portals." "And my agents?" "I don't know. I'm sorry."

There was an awkward silence. Wrathion hated the false sympathy he saw on Khadgar's face, so he was the one that broke it. "Your colleagues. Who?" "A dragon and a priest. I know of your history with the Red flight, but it was difficult to find a draconic medic who wasn't among their number, so I had to settle for a Blue." "Oh no. Who?" "Kalecgos." "Ugh. And the Priest." "Anduin." "AUUUGH. You have the worst taste!" Wrathion burrowed his face back into the pillow. "A 'thank you' would be nice." "Why would I thank you for bringing that nerd and my ex?" "Because I'm giving you a chance to reconcile with your ex. You know how sympathetic he can be." "He made it pretty plain he didn't want to reconcile with me. Telling the entire Alliance I was a wanted criminal." Wrathion's voice was still muffled by the fluffy feather pillows he'd smushed up against his face with both arms. "What wretched lie did you tell him to get him to agree to come here?" "I didn't lie to him at all." Unseen by Wrathion, Khadgar smirked and cupped his chin with one hand. "You know, the two of you are similar." "What's that supposed to mean?!" Wrathion whipped his face around, glaring. His back screamed in agony but he ignored it. "Like a mirror of each other. He trusts his friends too much, and you consign yours to the wayside too easily."

Wrathion glared. "You are awful and nosy." "You're not the first to say that, Prince Wrathion, and I doubt you'll be the last." "Stop talking. I'm going back to sleep." "Very well~." Khadgar grinned, knowing he'd won the conversation. "I'll have some food brought up for you when you wake." "I don't care." "And something to drink. We rehydrated you when we found you, but you'll still need to be diligent for a couple of days while you recover, injuries notwithstanding." "I don't care. Go away." "So sleep well until then." "Shut up!"

Wrathion groaned again and buried his face in the pillow, then immediately began wishing he'd asked Khadgar to bring up some painkillers, too. His back probably wasn't literally killing him, but the wounds from the succubus whips were terrible. His wing was... not healthy; probably broken. And his leg felt as though it must have been bandaged too, so that must be injured.

"Wrathion, if you're so tired, just go to bed." "No." Wrathion glared. "That's a ridiculous suggestion, Anduin Wrynn. Leave me alone. I have to work."

Anduin stood in the doorway, both hands resting on his cane, and watched as Wrathion, for the third time in ten minutes, wrote three sentences in his report before his head began slipping out of his hand and towards the desk.

"Wrathion!" "What!" He jerked awake again. "What! I told you, leave me alone. I have to work." "No, you have to sleep." "Sleeping is boring! You're boring!" "And you're grumpy because you're tired. Come here." Anduin started across the room, but Wrathion hopped up out of his chair - and his humanoid form - and darted across the room on his wings. "Come on, Wrathion! You're a growing dragon! You can't keep staying up for two days in a row and expect to function the same way you normally do!" "I'm functioning fine!" Anduin glanced over what Wrathion had been writing. "None of this even makes sense, Wrathion!" He moved across the room again, and once more the dragon darted off his perch to another spot to avoid Anduin's grasp. "You'll just have to redo it tomorrow!" "No I won't! It's fine!"