Author: So this is a random little sidestory that is set in the universe of Keep Your Enemies Closer. It doesn't require that you read it to understand, but doing so makes this ficlet make a little more sense. However, given the nature of the story, that doesn't mean much.
Disclaimer: If I owned WoW, would I be writing fanfiction?
Threats
Garrosh scowled fiercely at an innocent patch of snow. The particular trip to the Tournament that he was enduring was nowhere near as fulfilling as it should be. It wasn't feasible for him to steal Varian away from the Tournament Grounds to have his way with him because people had been watching them a little too closely, and Garrosh would hate to ruin his reputation with whispers about him feeling anything other than utter contempt for the human king. Admittedly, no-one would say anything outright, but drunken tongues wagged and Garrosh would like to save himself the effort of dispelling rumors and covert concerned looks from Saurfang.
He was pondering and discarding ideas of how to drag Varian away when a voice cut through his idle planning.
"Overlord Hellscream."
Garrosh looked over to see Varian's boy—what was his name again?—standing nearby with an infuriatingly familiar stubborn look on his face.
"What?" Garrosh asked flatly. He had no desire to speak with anyone, least of all Varian's son.
The child crossed his arms across his chest and glared at Garrosh. "Don't you dare hurt my father."
From the boy's tone of voice and demeanor, Garrosh was certain that he wasn't talking in the usual sense. Still, better to play it safe and respond to the statement as if it were literal.
Garrosh sneered. "He's my enemy."
The prince shook his head. "You're doing the same thing he did," he muttered as annoyance crept into his voice. "You know what I mean," he said sharply and jabbed a finger out at him. "And if you do I will steal all your left boots and blacksmithing hammers so you'll have to order out for new ones."
Garrosh frowned at the implausibility of the prince sneaking into Warsong Hold, and he was about to respond when the threat finally processed.
From how the prince's mien hadn't changed, he was entirely serious that he would hurt Garrosh's pride by making him use mismatching boots or borrow someone else's while having to explain how all his left boots had gone missing.
Garrosh snorted in derision, and the prince's eyes narrowed in a way that was all too familiar.
Previous experience with the boy said that he was calmer and more collected than his father and shared more traits with his late mother; however, it seemed that the boy was as protective of his father as Varian was of his son.
"I'll let Snobolds into your cellars and release lots of Borean Toads in the Hold to get underfoot everywhere," he warned Garrosh's incredulous silence as arms crossed again.
Garrosh regarded the prince with a mixture of amusement, annoyance, and respect. Had any orc child come up to him and threatened him, he would have felt a small bit of pride before he knocked them onto their ass. Then again, an orc child wouldn't be so roundabout—what the prince was threatening him with were things that were meant to embarrass him and hurt his pride, which would sting more than any physical wound would.
He's smart—he knows how to hurt a warrior. Then again, his father is a warrior, so perhaps he's had practice…?
"How do you expect to do those things?" Garrosh drawled.
There wasn't even a flicker of doubt on the prince's face. "If I told you, you'd be able to stop me."
Garrosh stared, then gave the prince a smile that would have made most people flinch, but the boy stood resolutely before him, not even a tremor in his posture.
Garrosh was impressed. Well, he is in training to be a king.
"Your father can take care of himself."
Garrosh was surprised by the smallest flicker of soft sadness that flitted across the prince's face that was quickly covered before the boy tilted his chin up, pure stubbornness in his posture.
"I know he can, and I know he's stronger than you, than anyone, physically."
But not emotionally, Garrosh read between the lines.
Garrosh came to a conclusion that made him stare. "You want me to watch out for him."
The prince shifted on his feet, the first sign of nervousness. "My father is a king, and you are just an Overlord, but…" the child sighed. "He hates you, but he trusts you." His demeanor shifted back to one befitting royalty and he said, "And you will not betray that trust."
It was a statement, not a question, and it made Garrosh frown, another gesture that would have had most quaking in their boots.
But not the son of Varian Wrynn.
"Anduin!"
Anduin jumped and a guilty look flashed across his face before he turned to face his father, who approached quickly, concern written in every line of his body.
"What the neth—" Varian cut off and the statement ended in a glare. "Garrosh," Varian acknowledged and venom dripped from each syllable.
Garrosh bared his teeth at Varian.
Varian took Anduin's arm in his hand, and Garrosh noticed that while the gesture was protective and possessive, his grasp was light and gentle.
"Don't waste your time associating with scum like him," Varian growled while he looked at Garrosh. The smoldering heat in Varian's eyes as he glared at Garrosh made Garrosh's fists clench from both anger and desire.
"Come," Varian said, his voice gentle but firm as he turned his mind from Garrosh and led his son away, towards the Alliance side of the Tournament grounds.
Garrosh crossed his arms and couldn't help the flicker of amusement that curled through him. Not many people would have the balls to tell him what to do, and that a human child had worked up enough guts to confront someone significantly larger and stronger than he was impressive.
Garrosh snickered faintly at the absurd mental images Anduin's threats conjured and smirked.
I am very, very glad that the kid's not mine.