Many years ago, when Prince Anduin was only five years old, he went sledding with his father, King Varian, on the slopes of Ironforge Mountain. It was a circumstance of lucky chance. Varian normally left his son in Stormwind when visiting King Magni Bronzebeard and the other leaders of the Alliance for the annual summer summit, but that summer in Elwynn was particularly miserable and sticky. So Varian took his son to Ironforge, where Magni advised that he take Anduin on the slopes for a pretty view of Khaz Modan.
Being five, Anduin not care too much for the view, but he was excited over the snow. Varian rolled a small snowball in his hand and tossed it at Anduin, where it landed – splat – on top of his blond head. Anduin giggled, scraped off the snow, and held it up to Varian.
"No, no, you need to throw it at me, that's the game," Varian patted his flat stomach. "Right here!"
Anduin flung the ball with his chubby fist straight into the snow drift. He stared at it for a moment, scooped it up again, and took a few steps closer to Varian before throwing the snowball at his stomach. After exchanging a few more snowballs, Varian threw down his shield and held onto it like a sled. Anduin clambered on his back and gripped his father's fur cloak.
"You ready?" Varian called back.
Anduin, bouncing on his back, shouted, "Go, go, go, go!"
They flew down the mountain side. Anduin shrieked with laughter, not caring as shards of snow and his father's stringy brown hair flew into his gap-toothed mouth. Varian whooped and laughed with him. The ride ended too quickly for Anduin. As Varian used his scabbard to help slow them down so they didn't shoot off the upcoming plateau, Anduin demanded to go faster.
When they skidded to a stop, Anduin rolled off and sprawled out on the fluffy snow. It only took one look at his son's red-cheeked, runny nose giggling face for Varian to collapse into a guffawing fit.
"Again! Again! Let's go again!" Anduin giggled.
"All right, again, again," Varian said as he pushed himself up and attached the shield to his back. "Are you just going to lay there?"
Anduin's little arms in his little blue and white tunic shot up. "Carry me!"
"No, I'm not carrying you back up."
Anduin's little arms in his little blue and white tunic crumpled on top of his little face. Varian sighed and grabbed his little gloved hands with his big gloved hands and said, "I'm going to have to drag you back up this mountain!"
With an exaggerated groan Varian picked up Anduin by his hands and held him up so he could could swing freely. Anduin squealed with delight and crossed his legs so he could swing like a pendulum. Varian's arms burned after a few steps, so he tossed Anduin over his shoulder and tickled his stomach. Anduin laughed so hard that he choked on his own spit.
"You okay back there?" Varian said.
"Yeah," Anduin coughed and let his arms hang down.
Anduin, being so small, only remembers this day in his dreams. He remembers feeling the intense cold pinch his cheeks for the first time, a stomach-dropping thrill of falling, the lightheaded feeling of hanging upside down from his father's shoulder.
For Varian, this memory has been preserved in glass that grows cloudier every time he remembers it. Was Anduin five, or was he six, maybe seven? Why did he decide to go sledding? Did Anduin ask if they could? He wanted so badly to remember every detail, but these details slipped out from his fingers like sand.
Happiness is what they remember. Details change and fade with time, but that immense happiness of being together will never dissolve.