A/N: Thank you for the very kind reviews, once again! Here, have a treat. I'm not so happy with this chapter but no matter how much I try to hack it into something better I can't quite manage it. Still, I hope you enjoy!


Chapter Eight


Maeqa was Anduin's bodyguard, not his mother. If Anduin wanted to make hot chocolate in the kitchens instead of meeting Miss Perin for his studies, Maeqa wasn't going to stop him. She was not in the mood to convince a stubborn prince to do his duty.

"Have you ever had hot chocolate before?" said Anduin.

If it weren't for the innocence of the question itself, Maeqa would have been suspicious of the tone of Anduin's voice, and the sly look he shot her out of the corner of his eyes. "No," she said, raising a long, purple eyebrow.

"Why not?"

"There is no chocolate in night elven lands. We do not have the ingredients."

"But you've been in Stormwind for years."

"Indeed I have."

Upon receiving no further elaboration, Anduin frowned, but trotted to the stove.

A maid smiled sweetly. "I can make that for you, Your Highness, if you wish."

Anduin shook his head. "I can use a stove," he said politely. "I used to cook with Uncle Bolvar, before he got really busy. Thank you, however, you are very kind."

The maid looked to Maeqa. Maeqa didn't bother acknowledging her, keeping herself placed in the corner of the room where she had a view of the two open windows and the door. Anduin wasn't far from a window, but Maeqa's crossbow was always loaded and it would be a simple matter to shoot anything that appeared. Or a servant, if one should sprout scales and a tail like the dwarf had the other day.

When the maid continued to look at Maeqa for confirmation, the night elf shot her a chilly look. The maid took the hint and curtseyed, before padding away quietly to do her duties.

As a bodyguard, Maeqa had learned to think without losing concentration. The windows took her main attention, but in the background of her mind thoughts buzzed. Her bladder was already aching. Ever since the events of a few days ago, security had been tightened — and that meant no bathroom breaks if you were the only bodyguard of the prince, and twelve hour shifts. Anduin had only two guards, after all, and while once upon a time the Keep had seemed so safe Maeqa had been allowed to dash off every now and then for a quick whizz or leave him alone with Miss Perin for a couple of hours as she took a break. But those days were gone. After Anduin had run off, it had only grown worse and now she had to not only be on guard for attackers, but be on guard for her own charge to escape.

All thoughts froze as something moved past the window. When beady eyes peeped in with a flutter of wings, Maeqa stared down the bird until it vanished.

Anduin retrieved a glass bottle from one of the ice boxes and a cup, taking them over to Maeqa.

She unscrewed the top and sniffed, eyes still on the window. The fresh milk did not smell out of the ordinary. She poured a little into the proffered glass and tasted it, swishing it around her mouth, and gave Anduin her nod of approval. Without a word the boy placed the empty glass by the sink and poured some milk into the saucepan on the stove. Maeqa took a moment to inspect the chocolate powder when it was presented, pushing it around with a spoon and sniffing — it passed as well.

Maeqa couldn't wait for Samantha to get back to work — at least Samantha had some experience as a rogue, unlike Miss Perin. She had looked well enough, considering, in the infirmary. Like all the other adults in the Keep, she'd been too tired to tell Anduin off when the boy began rummaging in cupboards, until a priest admonished the prince and shot Maeqa a dirty look. "I'm a bodyguard, not a child minder," she'd said flatly. Why did everyone act like Maeqa was his mother? Did she look like Tiffin Wrynn?

She almost didn't try the hot chocolate — it was only a few hours into the morning and her bladder was already hinting at the hell that was to come later. But when Anduin offered her a mug she accepted it with reluctant thanks. Her attitude towards dealing with wilful children was "make them happy", not "give them more reason to make your life hell."

She took a wary sip of the hot chocolate, and had to stop herself making a face. Humans liked this? She'd never had chocolate before in all her years in Stormwind, and she could see she hadn't missed out on anything. Yuck.

"How do you like it?" said Anduin, watching her hopefully.

"Delicious," Maeqa lied.

The quicker she drank it, the happier Anduin would be, the faster it was over with. Maeqa downed it in a flash, trying not to gag. Anduin took his time with his own mug, sitting at the table in a daydream. His brow was faintly furrowed, Maeqa noted out of the corner of her eyes. She put the mug down on the table and continued to stare at the windows, almost jumping when another bird flew past.

"Sometimes you can see Jettion flying around," said Anduin. "He goes off to hunt every now and then. He likes Lady Prestor, too."

"That's nice," said Maeqa.

Anduin took their mugs to the sink. "I think I'll go up to the roof again, see if I can find him," said Anduin.

"You were due to meet Miss Perin in her study ten minutes ago," said Maeqa.

The boy shrugged. "Stop me, then."

Fel, no. As much as she'd love to throw the boy over her shoulder and carry him to his tutor, the last time she'd done that she discovered the hard way that Anduin Wrynn was uncannily becoming like his almost-mother, Katrana Prestor — when Anduin wanted something, he stopped at nothing to get it. That included screaming his lungs out and struggling wildly if you picked him up and hauled him off. After that particular incident, Bolvar had taken her aside with an apologetic look and said, "He's been a bit funny since his father disappeared. Just... give him what he wants, he'll grow out of it. Keep him safe."

"Then I hope we find Miss Perin on the way," Maeqa said in resignation.

The boy trotted off, and Maeqa followed. She eyed every noble they passed, watching for subtle cues, looking for people crouched behind corners and enemies on top of the great lanterns above. But as always, none attacked him. But who knew if there weren't any more obsidian dragonspawn hidden behind those once-friendly faces…?

Anduin seemed to change his mind about going onto the roof and dawdled in the library instead, speaking to the librarian, Donyal Tovald, about... mundane things Maeqa didn't pay attention to, because her stomach began to cramp painfully, and nausea clouded her body.

Wonderful. With things the way they were, nobody could afford for her to get sick — if she was ill, she'd have to take Anduin Wrynn to stay with Bolvar for the day. Foris needed his sleep, and had trouble with insomnia as it was — Maeqa hadn't been impressed when he'd mentioned wanting to have some breakfast out with Samantha that morning instead of catching up on the sleep he needed.

But then, Foris had the night shift, and that was duller than the day one.

She hoped the illness would pass, but it became quickly apparent, with increased cramping of her stomach that almost had her doubled over, that she needed to disappear for a few minutes before she did something incredibly embarrassing all over herself. That hot chocolate hadn't agreed with her — perhaps she was allergic to milk. Maeqa was hundreds of years old and rarely drank milk, but who knew, perhaps something like that could develop suddenly...?

"Anduin," she called for the boy. "I need you to come with me."

Thank Elune, for once in the boy's recent life he obeyed without second thought or argument. The last thing she should do was leave the boy here — she'd take him to the Highlord, then scamper off to the bathroom and hope to the moon that nobody was close enough to listen.

But on the way there her body grew more and more urgent until she abandoned that plan, ordered Anduin to his godfather's study, and bolted for the bathroom. She barely made it.

She was never having milk again. Ever.

After a while she risked emerging. The cramps had died down and the nausea had lifted, leaving her feeling as if it had never been. She'd had small bugs from time to time since the immortality lifted — some lingered for weeks, and some vanished in an hour. It was puzzling, but she had a job to do.

She knocked on Fordragon's study door. At the resulting, "Come in," she immediately spoke, "Forgive me, Highlord, I came down sick all of a sudden and had an emergency and — "

Fordragon looked incredibly puzzled. Maeqa, out of habit, inspected the room closely.

No Anduin.

Suddenly she remembered Anduin rummaging around the cupboards in the infirmary. The awful-tasting hot chocolate.

Oh, hell.

-o-O-o-

The sun shone down on him, through fresh air mingled with various scents. When the wind changed he smelled the smoke from the Dwarven District, or the aroma of cooking food from Old Town, or the fragrance of herbs from Cathedral Square. Anduin tore west through the streets, determined to get as much of a head start as he could before the guards found out — and they would, he was sure. Quickly.

He had to hide. The Park would be the perfect place.

Maeqa had told him about the Park. Most of the night elves lived there. Instead of roads they had grass and beaten paths, instead of humans most of the denizens were elven, and instead of a fountain they had an imitation moonwell. True moonwells could not be built outside of elven territory, but this was bigger than the real thing and the elves revered it nonetheless.

Anduin would hide there. He'd hide until the guards gave up on him, until Lady Prestor returned to more important matters, until Fordragon killed the search for him, too.

And then he'd make his move.

The park was further away than he thought, but he did not falter. He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with the guards, moving as if he had a purpose. A lost child attracted attention, he knew that from the stories he'd read, one with a destination did not. The few adults that noticed him would assume he was running errands or returning to his parents. That morning he had chosen his most casual clothes, but even now, among commoners, he felt overdressed. Still, keeping his woollen hat obscuring his blonde locks seemed to do the trick. Not even the guards looked at him twice.

Anduin kept his pace brisk, but soon enough he found himself thirsty and with a stitch forming in his side. He slowed down. West, he thought. As long as he kept going west, he couldn't miss the park. It could take hours to get there, but he would. He followed the canal skirting the Dwarven District. At first the smog had been a fascinating smell, but it became quickly apparent that Anduin wouldn't be able to bear breathing that in all the time. It had rarely blown to the Keep.

Cathedral Square was the opposite — it was as beautiful as he'd heard it described, and more. From Anduin's window the spire had been a distant needle jutting into the sky, but here, in front of him, it looked enormous.

His parents had married here.

He felt a pang in his heart. He would find his father. He'd do what even SI:7 had not. Varian Wrynn was out there, somewhere. First Anduin had to wait out his own search. Once it was cancelled, he'd smuggle himself aboard a ship headed for Kalimdor. Nobody would recognise him — Bolvar Fordragon had kept him well-hidden from the public eye.

He stopped by the Cathedral, but only briefly. He'd met Archbishop Benedictus in person more than once, and if the Archbishop happened to take a morning stroll he'd stumble across Anduin. Luckily, he didn't seem predisposed to do so today, and Anduin didn't catch so much as a glimpse of the man, gazing up the enormous, impressive cathedral. The direction of the wind changed again, carrying with it the rancid stench of the Dwarven District's pollution. The smell of smoke was beautiful on its own, but here it only tainted the sacred perfection.

He continued west.

As the sun rose higher into the sky and Anduin's dry throat yearned for water, his legs aching from so much walking, odd purple roofs greeted him as he stepped back into the canal district. He brightened, eyes searching for the bridge. That had to be the park!

He was right. Not long after he crossed over the canals and through a tunnel, grass greeted his sights. Fresh emerald sloped into a field skirted by purple-roofed houses, dotted with clusters of trees. He'd seen night elven architecture in books, but it thrilled him in person. The night elven influence was everywhere - in the whorls of the purple wood some of the houses had been built in, in the fence posts, in the few stone paths that had been laid down...

The park was beautiful.

There were more birds here than even in Cathedral Square, and their joyful twittering filled Anduin's ears. A small dog with a pinched face paddled in the enormous moonwell, gazing at Anduin solemnly as he bent over the side. In spite of the laws of nature, the usually-still water held no mosquitos or insects. Magic, perhaps.

He glanced around. A few night elves milled about, but none looked at Anduin. He looked back to the dog. "Don't tell anybody," he said.

Ignoring how dirty the water probably was he cupped his hands and took long, deep draughts. It tasted like rain, cool upon his parched throat. Anduin thought he'd never stop drinking. Finally, bloated with water and feeling content at last, he sat up and took another look at the dog. It clawed its way out of the water with clacking paws and shook itself, spraying the stone with water. A few drops sprinkled Anduin's face.

"You're not supposed to take a drink from the moonwell, you moron," said a voice behind him.

He turned around. A small group of children stared at him. All, with the exception of a night elven boy dramatically younger than the rest, were human.

The boy who'd spoken reminded him, uncannily, of Katrana Prestor, with dark hair, sharp features, and a twisted, ugly scowl reminiscent of a bird of prey. He was barely older than Anduin. The boys and girls behind him looked the same age. The night elf looked perhaps about six years old, with wide, miserable eyes.

Anduin ignored the boy's admonitions and smiled. "Hi," he said. "I'm And — Andrew. Just call me Andy."

"Are you a complete fucking idiot?" said the boy.

Anduin blinked at him, hurt piercing a hole in his chest. "I beg your pardon?" he said.

"Ah, deaf as well. I said, are you a complete fucking idiot?"

Anduin boggled at the boy. Such language! The boy narrowed his eyes at him, only exacerbating the unfortunate effect of resembling a certain well-detested politician. "Not last time I checked, no," Anduin said. "Do you require some soap to wash your mouth out with?"

The boy's eyes narrowed further, and Anduin found himself seriously wondering if Lady Prestor hadn't had someone's bastard child. Or else a sibling impossibly younger than her. "I'll mister you!"

Anduin had read enough books to know when a random gang of children approached you with insults, it was not to make friends. Still, the children seemed to be waiting for a reason to jump him, not being stupid enough to start something without a possible defence if any adults happened to see, though the adults seemed to have disappeared. He hid his dismay. "Okay," said Anduin, keeping his tone happy. "You do that."

The children stared at him. The boy with black hair gawked.

The night elf giggled.

Suddenly he bent over double. "That's not funny, you tree rat," the girl beside him snarled, pulling her fist from his stomach. The boy crumpled onto the grass.

Anduin's eyes widened. "Hey!" he said. "Leave him alone!"

The little night elf wheezed. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm used to it."

The redheaded girl shrugged. "He's just a tree rat."

How could they be so insensitive? "That's a racial slur!"

"So?" They laughed.

Anduin slipped off the edge of the pool and held a hand out towards the young night elf. "Are you okay?" said Anduin.

"I'm fine," the night elf said, eyeing Anduin's hand as if expecting more violence. Anduin frowned sadly.

"The hell do you want to help the tree rat for?" said the dark-haired boy.

Anduin gave the ringleader a chilly look, before he took the night elf boy's hand and pulled him up. "He's a very unpleasant person," he said to the elf.

That seemed to be the flicked switch the group had been waiting for. The girl who'd hurt the night elf dashed forward with her fists, but Anduin's body carried him out of the way with a single step. "Have you even been trained?" he said, gaping at her. "That was terrible!"

She grit her jaw and snarled.

"I train every day," said Anduin, flittering out of the way again as she swung another fist. "My godfather used to train me, but these days he gets someone else to do it."

The night elf laughed. The girl lunged for him — or tried to. In the blink of an eye Anduin whipped his foot out and tripped her. The girl rolled clumsily onto her back, nostrils flaring, eyes wild, leaves strewn in her blonde hair.

Anduin caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, but before his reflexes kicked in the ringleader shoved him to the side. Anduin dropped and rolled, springing back to his feet.

Anger seared him as the blonde grabbed the night elven boy by the hair. "You think this is funny, you little — "

Anduin wasn't supposed to hit girls. Even if they deserved it. Still, he resisted, and when he attempted to pry her away from the night elf her fingers unclasped easily. "Hey," he snapped at the four human children who watched him, the girl backing away with guarded eyes. "Anyone else lays a hand on him and I'll do more than lay a hand on you!"

The blonde snarled again, but the other held her back. The night elf watched with wide eyes as Anduin stepped in between him and the humans and stared at them coolly.

The attackers hesitated. "Fine," the black-haired boy spat. "You have him. He's pretty useless, though, not worth defending. Good for training, though. Makes a good punching bag."

"Evidently not. You're all pathetic fighters."

The blonde girl hissed. "Enough, Evie," said the dark-haired boy. "Let's go." He shot Anduin a narrow-eyed look over his shoulder. "This isn't over."

"Oh, spare me," Anduin drawled.

The boy spat on the ground. And with that, the humans strode away, chins held high.

The night elf tittered nervously. Anduin, satisfied there was enough distance between them and the attackers, turned around. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," the night elf said, seemingly oblivious to the bruise forming on his cheek. "They do that a lot."

"They shouldn't!"

The night elf blinked at him. "But I'm foreign," he said, as if it explained everything.

Anduin seethed with anger inside. "How long has this been going on for?"

"Since I got here," said the night elf, cringing away from his tone. Anduin forced himself to calm. "I'm sorry."

"What — it's not your fault!"

"I came here just after the Third War, when An'da woke up." He looked mournful. "They grew up faster than me. And they're bigger. And I'm not allowed to hurt them, An'da said."

An'da. Where had Anduin heard that name before? "Who's An'da?"

"It's my father," said the night elf. "His name is Kair Emberfleet. I'm Myth." He bowed.

Anduin smiled returning it. "I'm Andy."

To his astonishment, Myth frowned. "I..." he hesitated. "I am not ungrateful, but — you shouldn't hurt my friends."

"They were hurting you!"

Myth shrugged, his soft ears drooping. "They're my only friends."

What kind of "friends" were those? "I'll be your friend," said Anduin.

Myth eyed Anduin warily. "You look like you can hit harder than them."

"I won't hit you. Promise." Anduin gave Myth the warmest smile he could, ignoring the anger that curled hotly in his stomach. "No true friend hits people without provocation."

"I haven't seen you around here before," said Myth.

"No, I'm on a mission," said Anduin.

"A mission?"

"A quest, a mission. I'm looking for my father."

"Where did he go?"

"Nobody knows. He's been missing eight whole months. I ran away because they won't look for him — please don't tell anyone."

"I promise I will not tell," Myth smiled.

There was something particularly adult about the boy, in spite of his youth. He seemed far too intelligent for his age. "How old are you?" said Anduin.

"Forty three."

Anduin's eyes widened. "Wow," he said. "You don't look that old! You're older than Lady Prestor. I think. You're not supposed to ask a lady how old she is."

Myth blinked. "Lady who?"

So, contrary to the beliefs of the House of Nobles, life did not revolve around them. "Somebody I heard of," Anduin said. "I'm nine."

Myth stared. "You don't look like a baby."

Anduin grinned. "That's because I'm not!"

"You should be," said Myth. "Well. If you lived as long as a night elf."

Anduin tried to imagine little Amandine staying as a baby for nine years, and quickly decided that was a horror not even her mother wanted to endure. He liked Amandine, but Samantha had quickly assured him that she had a pair of lungs on her that disrupted her sleep several times a night. He let out an impressed whistle. "So who were those children?" said Anduin.

"Their leader is Richard," said Myth. "And the girl who punched me is Evelyn. Then there's Melinna, and Flynn." Myth tugged at his waist-length, blue hair. "Richard's the only one who doesn't live in the city. His father sells apples in the Trade District. That's Mister Hackett. He's actually really nice, Richard's just spoiled."

"How does someone really nice turn out such a... spoilt brat?"

"It's the other children that did it," said Myth. "They put him up to it, really. He was really nice when I met him. But his parents wanted him to play with his own kind, and they weren't so good."

"He sounds weak."

"I don't think they liked him being friends with someone who didn't age as quickly as he did," said Myth with a sad frown.

"That doesn't matter to me," said Anduin. "You came over after the Third War? What do you mean when you said your... An'da woke up?"

The two boys sat in the autumn sun and spoke all day. Kair had once been a druid, by the sounds of it, and upon the death of his wife had been stirred from deep within the barrow dens to take care of his son, whom he hadn't seen since he was an infant. They'd lived in Hyjal once upon a time, but instead of choosing to help restore Nordrassil, Kair came to Stormwind with a scant handful of other druids and his son — the only night elven child in the entirety of the Eastern Kingdoms.

"Night elves don't have many children," said Myth. "We take a long time to grow and with our immortality there was never much rush, An'da said. And our kind aren't very fertile. But there are more children being conceived now."

Anduin watched Myth unfurl like a flower over the day, ignoring his growing hunger pains in exchange for seeing the boy light up as Anduin asked him questions about himself, overjoyed at the attention. Myth chattered happily about life in the park, things he and Richard once did, life in Stormwind, his dog Crithto. The little dog in question occasionally hovered about, or tore away across the grass and would disappear for a time. "He does what he wants, really," said Myth.

As the sun grew lower in the sky Anduin's hunger became harder to ignore. Myth didn't seem very phased by his own growling stomach, and seemed happy and bubbly until dark figures appeared, armed, in the dusk.

"Uh oh," Myth went white. "They brought sticks. They're going to hurt us!"

Anduin shrugged and pored over the ground, selecting a stick of his own.

"What are you doing?"

Anduin said, "I'm not sure I can take four at once."

"You're going to fight them?" Myth sounded close to panic.

Anduin said, "Have they ever been trained in sword fighting?"

Myth shook his head slowly.

"Fencing?"

"No," said Myth.

"Huh, then in that case I'll probably be able to take them after all."

Uncle Bolvar — Anduin found himself almost missing him — had always said that peaceful means were to be used wherever possible. But malice shone in the eyes of their incoming attackers, and Anduin knew it would be futile. They wanted nothing more than to hurt him and Myth. They didn't care that he and Myth were outnumbered, nor that Myth was so small.

They were cowards.

And just like cowards would, when Anduin roared like a madman and charged towards them full tilt, all four dropped their weapons and scattered. Laughing uproariously, Anduin returned to Myth's side. Myth whooped and cheered as loud as his voice could carry in the still air. The four children, realising they'd been fooled, glowered at the two of them in a nervous cluster. Anduin made a rude gesture.

Myth grinned at Anduin. "An'da will have dinner ready soon," he said. "Want to come for dinner? He might not say yes but I can ask..."

Anduin didn't even hesitate. "Yes, please!"