Notes and advisories:

Although the relationship between Fahrad and Nyxondra in this fanfic is my own invention, I have tried to stay fairly close to canon in other respects. Anyone familiar with the tale of Nyxondra (or anyone who has quested in the Badlands post-Cataclysm) knows how things turned out for her. In other words: fair warning, there will be character deaths. Nothing that isn't already canon, though.

The last section of this fic will overlap with chapters two and three of my other, Wrathion-centric story, "The Beginning." You don't technically needto have read that story before this one, but there are additional tidbits about Fahrad's backstory and the situation with Wrathion in there. Consider this a prequel.

The story starts a few months after the original Dark Portal was destroyed in Warcraft II (i.e. spring of Year 7 in the timeline. Wrathion was hatched in Year 28.)

A Long Flight Home

The afternoon sun blazed down from a cloudless sky, baking the barren red rocks of the Badlands. A lone figure on a horse rode along a barely-visible path that wound around the base of one of the area's many tall mesas. He favored the shadowed side of the canyon to keep his mount from overheating, but had he been alone he would have preferred the sun. The hotter the better, as far as he was concerned.

Visually, the rider was a human in his late thirties, with fair skin and light red hair held back in a tail. His small beard and mustache were neatly trimmed, and he was dressed in unassuming leather armor that had been a dull gray before the red dust of the Badlands had seeped into every crevice.

Appearances, however, could be deceiving. Although he rarely took his true form anymore, Fahrad was born-or, rather, hatched-a black dragon. He had become so skilled at hiding this fact that even his horse treated him as a human, and had never once been spooked by his draconic scent.

Fahrad pulled on the reins to slow his mount and leaned over in the saddle, studying the tracks on the ground. This route wasn't often used except for the local ogres and the occasional dwarven archaeologist or prospector. The prints he was following belonged to an individual who weighed less than either, and had a wider stance.

He nodded, spotting a clear bootprint in the dust. A goblin had definitely passed through here recently. Excellent.

Kill him, destroy him, eviscerate him, bathe in his blood! came a chorus of whispers inside his head.

"Oh, I'll kill him, all right," Fahrad murmured. "But I'll do it because of the bounty on his head, not because of anything you monsters have to say."

The Old Gods fell silent...for now. They would speak up again, as they always did. As they always had, and always would.

Fahrad sighed and wearily shifted his weight in the saddle. He was beginning to regret taking a horse instead of simply flying in his true form, but he avoided shifting out of his human guise whenever possible. The whispers seemed less powerful that way.

When was the last time he returned to his real body? It had been months, perhaps even a year or more. Time seemed to go more slowly when living as a human. Their paltry lifespans meant they thought and planned in much smaller increments than dragons did.

Regardless, he was more than skilled enough with his daggers to take down his quarry without relying on flame breath or claws. He had no personal quarrel with the goblin in question, named Fleeb Quickstack. One of the trade princes had uncovered evidence of him embezzling a large quantity of gold, which he had then gambled away in Gadgetzan. The trade prince had given Quickstack one year to pay back what he owed, with steep interest. Quickstack had been dealing in the lucrative black market pet trade to make money, but he still owed a small fortune. The year was now up, and the trade prince made it known that he would award the balance of Quickstack's debt in exchange for the traitor's head.

It was a substantial bounty, which meant that Fahrad was not the only one trying to find him. None of the others had the keen senses of a dragon, however.

A glob of a dark, sticky substance on a rock caught Fahrad's eye, and he brought his horse to a halt. He dismounted and bent down to inspect the stain. A shallow sniff confirmed his suspicion: that was the brand of snuff Quickstack chewed. He had to be close.

There was no sign of the goblin returning through the narrow canyon, so he must be somewhere ahead. Judging by the freshness of the disgorged tobacco, he was probably only a few miles away.

Fahrad turned back to his mount to continue his journey, but before he reached it a loud roar shook the canyon, echoing until it seemed to come from all directions at once.

He looked up in surprise to see an enormous, dark shape filling the sky. With the bright sun behind it he was unable to tell what color scales the dragon had, but there was no mistaking the species.

The dragon shrieked again, even more loudly. To mortal ears it would have been a generic, bestial cry, but Fahrad recognized both rage and distress in its tone. Something terrible had happened to this one.

The dragon came to a halt directly over him, apparently noticing him for the first time.

Fahrad did not dare move a muscle. He could easily defend himself in his natural form, but he didn't want to shift unless he absolutely had to. Hopefully this stranger would pass him by.

The dragon tucked its wings close to its sides to dive straight down into the canyon, landing in front of him with a thump that sent pebbles bouncing down the side of the cliff.

Now that he had a clear, close view, Fahrad saw this was a fellow member of the black dragonflight, a female only slightly older than himself. His horse screeched in terror, and he grabbed the reins tightly to keep it from bolting away.

She snarled at him, clearly unaware of his true species. "Have you seen a goblin pass through here? Answer truly and I will let you live, mortal."

Fahrad raised his eyebrows. "A goblin?" Could she be looking for Quickstack, too? If so, why?

"Quickly, human," the dragon snapped, baring teeth that were as long as his entire body.

"What do you want with him?" he asked, crossing his arms on his chest.

"That is none of your concern."

"There's a sizable bounty on his head that I mean to collect," he said calmly. "And I don't plan to share it."

The dragon crept closer to him, enormous talons sinking into the rocky ground mere feet away from where he stood. "I don't have time for your greed, human," she growled. "That little green bastard has my eggs! Either you tell me which way he went, or I'll burn you alive and then track him down myself."

A jolt of surprise nearly made Fahrad let go of the panicked horse. "Your eggs?"

"Yes, three of them," she said impatiently, spreading her wings as best she could in the confines of the canyon. "And this isn't the first time that miserable wretch has taken my babies!"

Anger welled up in his chest at the thought of innocent whelplings being sold on the black market. Loyalty to the dragonflight he had avoided for decades resurfaced, and worry over the reward money suddenly seemed petty. "In that case, I'll help you find him," he said in draconic.

Her eyes widened in shock as he grew in size, sprouted wings, darkened, and shifted into a black dragon as large as herself. "You're..." she gasped.

The horse bolted back up the path, eyes rolling in sheer terror at the sight of two full-grown dragons.

Fahrad stretched his wings several times, getting used to the feel of them again after so long. "He was headed that way," he said, pointing with his chin in the opposite direction of the horse's escape.

She didn't take the time to question him. She launched herself into the air and soared off in the direction he had indicated.

Unconcerned at the loss of his mount, Fahrad followed her. It had been such a long time since his last flight that the experience was disorienting. He felt like a hatchling testing his wings for the first time. He focused on the other dragon's back instead of the red landscape blurring by far below. She was flying so fast he had to struggle to keep up.

He couldn't recall the last time he saw another member of his flight. He hadn't even been aware of how deeply he missed his own kind until he was face to face with her and her striking eyes, glowing like fresh lava.

His companion banked abruptly and then stopped. "There," she hissed.

He spotted a tiny, green figure trekking through the bleak landscape, bent under the weight of a large knapsack.

"I could dive down there and crush him like an insect," she growled, "but I can't risk any harm coming to the eggs."

"Leave it to me," he said with a devious smile. "Stay out of his sight."

She hesitated, then decided to trust him. She circled down to land on one of the steep towers of red rock that dotted the area.

Fahrad flew a wide arc around to approach his target head-on. He landed around the corner of a bluff, confident that he hadn't been seen. He shifted back into his familiar human form and slipped into the shadows as only a skilled rogue could. Quickstack wouldn't see him coming until it was too late.

Kill him, end him, make him suffer! the Old Gods chorused in the recesses of his mind.

As always, he did his best to ignore them.

The goblin glanced behind him nervously and sped up his pace. Fahrad crouched with daggers ready, waiting until he was so close he could smell the snuff on his breath. Years of experience guided him as he invisibly crept into position and then slashed simultaneously at the goblin's ankle and throat.

Quickstack barely had time for a surprised gurgle before he collapsed forward into the dust in a rapidly-growing puddle of his own blood.

The female dragon descended like a bolt of lightning, and the ground shook under her weight. "The eggs! Are they...?"

Fahrad slipped the knapsack off the goblin's back and opened it to find three spiked eggs with black, iridescent shells. "They look fine to me."

Their mother heaved a sigh of relief, eagerly reaching out to accept each egg as Fahrad held them up. "Oh, thank Khaz'goroth!" She cradled them close to her chest and shuddered at the thought of how close she had come to losing them. "And thank you...what was your name?"

He had taken great pains to distance himself from his flight, but lying to her felt wrong. "Fahradion. But call me Fahrad."

She dipped her head in gratitude. "I am Nyxondra."

Fahrad turned back to the dead goblin and knelt to begin hacking at his neck.

"Isn't he already dead?" Nyxondra asked, puzzled.

"Very, but I need his head to collect the bounty."

"Ah, of course. Allow me." She carefully used one of her immense talons to sever the goblin's head from his body, then flicked the rest of his corpse away. It came to rest partway up the nearest cliff, and she flapped over to blast a torrent of flame until there was nothing left but a smudge of ashes.

Fahrad stuffed the dripping goblin head into the backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "Well, that worked out," he said, smiling at her. "We each got what we wanted."

"Yes... Where are you from? I haven't seen you around before."

"I'm from Alterac originally," he said truthfully. "It's kind of a long story but...I've been working as a bounty hunter and assassin among the mortal races for awhile now." He gestured at the backpack, which had a growing bloodstain in the bottom.

"Well, I am in your debt, Fahrad," she said with an earnest smile. "If I had continued to fly around in a panic I might not have found that thief in time, and I don't know how I could have attacked him without harming my eggs, as well." She scowled at the scorched remnant of the goblin on the mountainside. "He got away with some of my eggs a few months ago, and I still have nightmares thinking about what might have happened to them."

Fahrad had seen enough "pet" battles, and heard plenty of leatherworkers hawking their wares, to imagine several unpleasant scenarios, but he held his tongue to spare her. "Your mate will be relieved to have these three home safely, I'm sure."

The jubilation on her face instantly evaporated. "I'm sure he would be, if he knew. Hemathion was summoned to accompany Deathwing through the Dark Portal." She spoke the Aspect's name with a hint of distaste, which was unusual. Most black dragons revered their leader. "I do not know if he survived or not, but even if he did, he's trapped on the other side."

Fahrad had heard about the recent incident, of course, and it had only reinforced his decision to stay away from all other members of his flight.

"I have tried to hold off as long as I can, but these are the last," she said, looking sadly at the eggs in her paws. Mother dragons could pace themselves to keep laying for months after their last mating, but the supply of viable eggs wasn't infinite.

"Sorry for your loss," Fahrad said awkwardly, wiping blood from his daggers onto the already-soiled backpack.

"Thank you," she said quietly. She took a deep breath and attempted to recover her good mood. "Please, join me for a meal at my lair. I just brought back some bears for the children and myself."

"I wouldn't want to impose."

"Nonsense. It's the least I can do after your help."

The thought of eating as a dragon, tearing into raw meat with his own sharp teeth, was too appealing to refuse. "All right. I couldn't make it to Booty Bay tonight, anyway. This'll keep an extra day." He set down the backpack containing the goblin's head and shifted back into his real body. He carefully hooked the bag onto one of his claws and took to the air.

Nyxondra led him eastward. The canyons below were heavily shadowed as the sun sank toward the opposite horizon. Without her to guide him, he would never have spotted the cave entrance from the air. She circled down to a small plateau high in the coastal mountains, and no sooner did she land than a cloud of black whelps of varying sizes streamed out to greet her.

"Mama! Mama! Did you find them?"

"Did you eat that nasty old goblin?"

"Mama! Are you okay?"

"Can we eat now? I'm starving!"

"Who's that?"

Nyxondra smiled tolerantly as her children swarmed around, chattering and landing on her back. "Children, please, calm down. Yes, I found the eggs, and they are safe. This is Fahrad, who helped me track down the goblin."

A tiny female whelp fluttered up to Fahrad and sniffed the bag hanging on his claw. "Something smells yummy!"

"That would be the goblin's head," he said with a smirk.

"Oh eew!" the whelpling cried, then fled, giggling, into the crowd of her siblings.

Nyxondra grinned fondly and herded the whelps into the cave. "I'll just get these eggs back into the nest, and then, yes, we can eat."

"Yay!" chorused the whelps.

Fahrad dropped the backpack just inside the mouth of the cave and followed them into the depths of the mountain. Nyxondra's lair was spacious, with the first and largest chamber comprised of several tiers of red rock, its high ceiling supported by sturdy pillars of natural stone. A ribbon of lava ran through it, flowing down an incline to pool around an island that was large enough for Nyxondra to walk around on comfortably. In the center was a tangled nest of moss and gravel, where she now placed the three eggs.

While she was busy with the nest, Fahrad endured a barrage of questions from the curious whelps.

"Hi, I'm Hemartia!"

"My name is Razorion!"

"You're really big!"

"Thanks for helping Mama find the eggs!"

"What are you going to do with that goblin's head?"

"Where are you from?"

"Did you know our father?"

"Do you have a sore throat? You sound funny."

Fahrad self-consciously ran a paw across his scarred neck, unable to think of a proper response.

Fortunately, Nyxondra rescued him. "All right, children, leave Fahrad alone now. The bears are in the food cave. Help yourselves, but leave one for me and one for our guest."

The whelps cheered and zoomed off to the far end of the cavern, pushing and shoving to be the first one there.

Nyxondra watched them go with a proud smile. "I hope they weren't bothering you too much. We don't have many visitors, so they get excited to meet someone new."

Fahrad coughed twice as he composed himself. "It's fine. I'm just not used to having whelps around. I haven't spent much time with other members of the flight for...many years."

"You sound parched. There's a spring in that corner by the twin pillars, if you wish to drink."

"Thank you, but um...I always sound like this. Old throat injury."

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean... My apologies." Her concerned eyes glowed crimson in the dimly-lit cavern, and he was struck by how pretty they were.

"No, no, it's fine," he said quickly. "I will take a drink, actually." He walked over to the spot she had indicated, and found water trickling from a crack in the wall, pooling in a natural well below. He took his time, drinking deeply and splashing water into his eyes to wash out the gritty dust that seemed to permeate everything in the Badlands.

Stop it, he told himself. She has beautiful eyes. Fine. You noticed. That's all that will come of it. You've chosen to live apart from the rest of the flight for a reason, remember?

A noble but futile gesture, the Old Gods whispered. You can pretend to be human all you like but you are still ours.

Fahrad scowled. I wasn't talking to you.

Mad laughter echoed in his head, then died away.

He ran another pawful of water over his face for good measure and finally dared return to where Nyxondra was waiting. By now the whelps had ripped apart their bears and dragged their suppers into their favorite nooks and crannies.

Nyxondra smiled to welcome him back.

Oh no, she's even prettier when she smiles, he thought, trying to make his heart slow down. I can't. I swore I would never...

"We had better enjoy these bears," she said as they walked toward the side chamber that served as a larder. "I usually can't get away long enough to hunt as far north as Loch Modan, but I get so damn tired of ogres, mountain lions and coyotes. Of course, if I hadn't taken that extra long hunting trip I would have been here to guard the eggs from that cursed goblin... I feel like such a bad mother."

He glanced around at the whelps scattered throughout the cave. Two were rolling over and over in a tussle over a choice flank of meat, growling in what they no doubt thought was a fearsome manner. "You seem to be doing just fine, from what I can see."

"Thank you." Her brief smile did not touch her eyes. "It's not easy alone." She picked up a large black bear carcass and gave it to him, then grabbed the last one for herself. She led him a short distance away to a flat outcropping of rock that was broad enough to accommodate them both. Without further conversation, she tore into her meal with ravenous gusto.

Fahrad made a habit of ordering a thick, rare steak at nearly every inn he passed. It had been a very long time since he'd hunted as a dragon, but he never went hungry. Watching Nyxondra and her brood devour their suppers, he suspected they had not been as lucky.

The female dragon had appealing curves, true, but she also seemed a bit too thin. There were only so many mountain lions to be had, he supposed, and with a brood of growing whelplings to feed...

"You can have the rest of mine," he said, pushing the last third of the bear carcass toward her. "I'm full."

She looked up in surprise, a shred of meat dangling from her teeth. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I had a big lunch."

She eyed him suspiciously, but even if it was charity she was too hungry to object. "Thank you," she said at last, reaching over to scoop up his leftovers.

Fahrad laid on his stomach, resting his chin on his front paws, and let his gaze wander over the happy whelps chasing and play-fighting. He had not seen a hatchling of his own species since he was old enough to leave his parents' lair. He and two of his brothers had struck out on their own, determined to protect each other and make a good life for themselves.

A lump of grief made him clear his throat, and Nyxondra looked at him expectantly. "Everything all right?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Just thinking back on old times. I barely remember being their age."

Nyxondra cracked open a bear femur to slurp out the marrow. "Do you have a brood of your own somewhere?"

"No!" he said immediately.

"You make it sound like a bad thing," she mused, tilting her head quizzically.

"For most, it isn't. But not for me."

"Ah. And are you a loner because you choose to be, or because you've been forced to be?" she asked shrewdly.

He narrowed his eyes. "It's best for all concerned, believe me."

"Why, do you snore?" she asked. "Deep voice like yours, I bet you snore loudly enough to wake the dead."

He wasn't sure which irritated him more: her teasing, or the fact that not a single expression she had made so far was unattractive. "It's the voices," he growled.

Her playful smile disappeared. "We all hear them," she said with a shrug, as if that was supposed to make it better.

"They took control, once. I can't risk them doing it again," he said so quietly that she had to lean closer to hear.

"It's a struggle," she said with a sympathetic nod.

"A struggle I lost, and my clutchbrothers paid with their lives." He had never told anyone about what he had done, partly because of the shame and fear that still overwhelmed him at the memories, and partly because he had not spoken to another dragon since that horrible day.

She took a long, slow breath, absorbing this.

He looked away. "So you'll excuse me if I'm not exactly eager to put myself in a position where I'll hurt someone important again."

Nyxondra settled down on her stomach beside him, so close that her haunch brushed against his. He edged away to avoid contact, but for one fleeting moment their scales touched. He had not made physical contact with another dragon since... Well, since the day he killed his brothers in a berserk fury.

"I've lost most of my siblings to them," she said at last. There was no need to specify who "they" were. All black dragons were only too aware. "They're not all dead, but they might as well be. And my poor mother..." She bowed her head, leaving that thought unfinished. "I don't mean to minimize what happened to you," she said softly. "But I do understand a little of what it's like."

"No," he said flatly. "Until you come to your senses and find yourself with your own clutchbrothers' blood on your claws, you can't understand."

She slouched. "I suppose you're right. Still...you seem quite sane now, or I wouldn't have invited you into my lair with my children." She gave a tentative smile that made his stomach flip over.

Titans, she was pretty. Why did she have to be so pretty? And nice? And smiling at him like that?

He swallowed and looked away again. "Don't trust me. I don't trust myself."

"How long ago was your lapse?"

He paused to estimate. Time passed so strangely among mortals. "About a hundred and twenty years," he said eventually.

"And you haven't had another...incident in all that time?"

"None like that one. But I still hear them."

"Of course you hear them. I hear them. Everyone does. Could I snap someday and slay my children? Certainly. But I can't live every day in fear, wondering when or if it will happen. You have to make the most of every day that passes normally." She stood up and looked down at him with a compassionate smile. "Please, make yourself at home. Sleep anywhere you'd like. You may not trust yourself, but after more than a century of unbroken self-control, I say you've earned a clean slate."

Fahrad made a sour face but said nothing to avoid offending his hostess.

Nyxondra went around the cavern, gathering up her offspring and herding them into a side chamber. "Sleep time, little ones," she called. "That means you, too, Eclipsia!"

"Aww," whined a disappointed whelpling who had thought her hiding place behind a mass of stalagmites was foolproof.

When the entire brood was safely inside, she turned back to him. "Good night, Fahrad. And thank you again for your help. My last three whelps owe their lives to you." With that, she crept into the smaller cave and laid down, lifting one wing for the smallest of her children to nestle closer.

Fahrad settled down near the lava stream on the opposite end of the cavern, keeping his back to the others. Sleep was elusive, however.

What was he doing here? He should be flying southward right now, on his way to Booty Bay to claim the bounty on that stupid goblin. Instead he was lying here in the same cavern as a stunningly gorgeous, available female dragon who seemed to like him.

Nothing could come of it. He would not allow it. He had long ago vowed never to take a mate. If he snapped again and harmed his beloved or their children... He shivered despite the proximity of the lava.

No, as soon as it was light out he would leave and never look back. Nyxondra had been getting along fine on her own. She was certainly better off without a dangerous rogue like himself hanging around.

Fahrad eventually dropped off to sleep. His dreams featured Nyxondra tending to a different brood of hatchlings...ones that looked more like him. What should have been a nightmare brought a smile to the slumbering dragon's face, yet he remembered nothing of the dream in the morning.

"Do you really have to leave so soon?" Nyxondra asked, standing beside him at the mouth of her lair. The sun was still low in the eastern sky, casting heavy shadows across the mountains.

"I have to get this head to Booty Bay before it's too rotted to identify." He lifted a paw, dangling the stained backpack on one claw.

Seeing the disappointment on her lovely face hurt more than it should have.

"Thank you for your hospitality," he said with a bow of his head.

"Thank you for saving my eggs. And please, next time you're in the area...drop by for a visit."

"Of course," he said despite not having any intention of doing so.

She hesitated, then blurted, "Or do more than visit."

He looked at her oddly.

She hurried to continue, looking out over the rust-colored landscape. "There are several members of our flight living here in the eastern Badlands. We've formed a small community of those who wish to have nothing to do with Deathwing, Nefarian and the others. We keep to ourselves and try to live as normally and peacefully as we can, despite the whispers. Until the Destroyer swept through a few months ago and ordered some of us to follow him through the Dark Portal, we had not been involved in his schemes at all." Nyxondra turned to look at him again with a kind smile. "You would be welcome here."

Fahrad shook his head as she explained. "No," he said firmly. "Thank you, but no. I live, and work, alone." His tone left no room for argument.

"I understand," she said quietly. "If you change your mind-"

"I won't."

"-the offer still stands," she finished despite his interruption. "There aren't many of us here, but it's as close to 'normal' as possible for our kind."

He swallowed, more tempted than he was willing to admit. But no, "normal" was a fantasy for a black dragon. Even now, the Old Gods murmured insistently in the back of his mind, ordering him to rip her throat out. If he stayed he would only hurt someone.

Fahrad bowed his head and backed away a step, preparing to fly. "Farewell, Nyxondra. Take care."

She stepped forward and nuzzled her head against his neck. "You too, Fahrad." With that, she turned and disappeared into the cavern.

The moment of simple, friendly contact stunned him so badly that it was several long seconds before he could concentrate enough to fly away.