This chapter was a ton of fun to write. Happy reading!
To say that Varian was able to focus on the meetings was a gross overstatement. It'd been three days since Anduin became sick with the blight, two days since he nearly lost him, and only one day since Thrall managed to pull him from the brink of death. And while the threats of war were no longer on his lips, he still harbored animosity towards the Forsaken and their callous banshee leader, the Undead who sought to claim his son's youthful existence for her own sickened pleasures. Had it happened, had Anduin been unable to fight back the blight or Thrall and Lor'themar's medicine not been enough, Varian didn't want to consider what he would've been forced to do.
Anduin was always a messenger of Light, a bringer of peace and blessings. It would've been an insult on his person and that of their family had the king allowed the prince to exist as an undead.
Planting a hand against the wall of the shower, Varian closed his eyes as he let the warm waters rush over his aching limbs and scarred body. The hot steam and moisture felt divine on his tense muscles; but tense from disuse and having to sit in nearly the same chair all day. Diplomatic affairs and matters of the pen were never his finer suit, much more preferring the feel of cold steel in his hands to solve state and distant affairs. He was a warrior first and diplomat second, and where being a king fell between the two he wasn't sure. But his kingdom was flourishing under his reign and he managed to be a key figure in dismantling a handful of tyrants threatening Azeroth.
That all seemed so easy and second nature to him. Approaching a battle, knowing an enemy and able to look them straight in the eye. But he floundered and struggled in all things relating to being a single-parent to a teenage boy. Lest of all, a teenage boy with a penchant for blatantly disregarding orders and managing to do it with charismatic charm.
He could at least take heart that the day was finally over and he could throw himself to the urgently growing pile of missives and reports neatly stacked on the desk in his quarters. Some would seek the tender touch of a loved one in their final hours of a day, but he was long past those moments thanks to the cruelness of the world. All that waited up for him was work.
Reaching to turn off the taps, the High King marveled at the goblins ingenuity. Showers. Leagues more efficient than baths that somehow kept the waters a steady hot temperature no matter how long you stood under the stream. Wringing out his long hair of water and wrapping a towel around his hips, he paused to strain his hearing to the connected bedroom. No sounds. Not even stirring or coughing. Pleased that the shower hadn't woken up his resting son, he continued to dry off and dress in his night clothes, exchanging exquisite dragonhide pants for loose linen ones and an honored Alliance tabard for a plain long-sleeved shirt. How funny clothes could impose so much on a person, telling of their wealth and station, but could be easily swapped in a matter of seconds.
He tried to be quiet when he stepped out of the bathroom and into the lodge quarters he shared with his son. Night had long descended on the lodge and its sleepy inhabitants, the open window - enchanted to fight back the cold - offered an awe-inspiring view of the sprawling mountains, dark lavender night sky, and torrential snow that poured from the heavens. The only light in the room came from the flooding moonlight, bolstered in brightness from reflecting off the sea of snow, and the crackling fire in the rather small hearth on the wall opposite the two beds. Though it wasn't as much light as the High King would've liked to attend to his messages and reports, he wasn't willing to risk lighting his oil lamp on his desk and waking his boy.
Glancing past his own neatly made bed to the other one, he slowly lowered himself down at his small desk. Anduin's body was hidden beneath a slope of fleece and fur blankets, curled slightly on his side facing Varian. A mop of gilted hair as gold as his divine harnessing of the Light was splattered across his pillow that he nestled his face into. As much as Varian hated to admit it, he watched the teen for a few seconds, studying his features and the gentle rise and fall of his chest, mostly to make sure he was still breathing. As much as Thrall and Lor'themar reassured him that the prince was free of the blight and would now just have to regain his strength, his brush with death left a phantom panic in the High King.
Anduin had always been slender-framed with the fragile features of a priest. Despite shoving a sword in the boy's hand when he was just learning to walk, Varian knew early on that his son wouldn't be fated for a life among steel. As notoriously gifted as he was in the Light, he was also notoriously horrible with his swordsmanship. For years, and even in the recent past, it was a blemish on their relationship and a point of contention. And Anduin's frustrations with his father when sparring for hours on end had slowly turned to resentment. The fear of losing his son had won out over the fear of having a pacifist prince, and he'd been slow ever since Anduin's return from Velen's tutelage in accepting the boy's new plot in life.
Running his overcast blue eyes over the teen's signature Wrynn jawline and chin that were only just starting to form in his adolescenthood, Varian silently marveled at the strength in his child. While Anduin didn't inherit his broad frame or imposing stature, he was bestowed with the same stubbornness, pride, and perseverance that knew no bounds. It was easier when Anduin was younger; keeping him contained in the Keep was much simpler then. And while Anduin still would wince and bow his head in submission during lectures, his thirst for adventure made him find new outlets to sate it. Chasing him all over Pandaria was hopefully the last of his outlandish trips for a long time.
Content that he wasn't going to wake for a while, Varian turned back to the alarmingly high pile of reports. He was somewhat shameful to admit that his personal affairs with his son had eclipsed his time in attending to his state and summit. Treasury reports were stamped in red-outlined 'urgent' headers, military supply lines were needing to be rerouted around Vash'jir with the new currents sweeping the area, and there were numerous updates of unusual activity at the Dark Portal from Nethergarde Keep. Growling a little impatiently, he tucked the treasury reports to the bottom of the pile. Though heavily educated in all aspects of courtly affairs, looking over kingdom coffers, taxes, and requests from nobles was last on his list of things to do. And with his already paltry reserve of patience spent from the day's worth of meetings, he didn't trust himself not to send a sordid reply to some of the nobles.
Time passed faster than he would've liked. After signing his name for what felt like the thousandth time that night, the High King picked his quill up and leaned back in the chair with a yawn. The fire had died down considerably, but wouldn't go out thanks to the potent enchantments cast on it. The glow had turned from fiery to soft, an orange light basking the quarters and its tense King with its warmth.
A low moan and the sound of linens rustling made Varian immediately snap his head over his shoulder. Seeing the prince seated on the edge of his bed, his pajama-clad legs already swung over the side with his hands pawing at his tired face, the High King was on his feet in an instant.
"Anduin, what's wrong? Do you need a healer? Should I send for Thrall?" He hesitated between rushing to the boy's side and calling for the guards. Thrall had made night visits when the teen's life was still teetering but this was to be the first without him checking in until the morning. Inwardly, Varian cursed the Orc's insistence that Anduin was strong enough to get a full night's sleep without the interruption for healing. He'd brokered argument when it was suggested, bristling at the thought of him being left alone with Anduin should something dismal occur. He was no healer, he didn't know how to soothe the boy's weakened lungs. Damn Thrall and his shoddy opinion of his son's strength, likely only suggesting Anduin hold off on healing till the morning for his own selfish desires to sleep through the night. He'd kill him, he'd-
"I just need to use the bathroom."
Varian froze and dropped his hand reaching for the door. Awkwardness replaced anger in a matter of seconds. "Oh," he lamely replied to the weak sounding teen. "Here, let me help you."
But Anduin, ever his father's son, managed to push himself to his feet before Varian could reach him. And as strong hands braced one of his shoulders and arm, the strength of his father's body silently a blessing for his frail state, Anduin tensed his jaw proudly and tried to shuffle forward on his own. Halfway to his destination, his eyes strayed to the messy desk strewn with his father's reports, the quill dropped beside one of them and dripping black ink in its hastily forgotten state. "I'm sorry for interrupting you," he mumbled. "Truly, I can manage on my own, father."
"Don't apologize," the High King gruffly countered and reaffirmed his grip to wordlessly show his stance with the boy. He wasn't going anywhere.
When they reached the bathroom, Varian didn't show hesitation in nearly following the boy in, his awkwardness somehow flooded away by the unfamiliar waters of paternal instinct that he was more or less drowning in. But once Anduin crossed the threshold, the prince turned sharply on his heels, grabbed the lip of the door, and leveled his father a withering glance that looked comically replicated from the High King addressing his lieutenants. Biting back a smirk, Varian lifted both hands in mock surrender and stepped back just marginally, not even blinking when the door was shut in his face.
Light bless the boy's stubbornness. It saved both of them a world of worse awkwardness.
But he almost made matters worse when a dull thud against the bathroom wall made him jump with over reacting nerves. His hand was almost to the doorknob when he heard the telltale flow of the teen relieving himself. A sigh of one part relief and two parts exasperation slipped past his lips; Anduin had likely leaned against the wall, no longer feeling the need to force a strong front in the eyes of his proud father.
Lingering outside of the bathroom, Varian glanced out the window to watch blistery sheets of white snow rain down from the sky, repainting Winterspring's canvas with its wintery brush. Anduin had been excited for his inaugural visit to the chilly lands, boisterous at the untouched potential that lay at his disposal. As much as Varian sternly reminded him the imperativeness of the summit and his expectations per his station as his heir, the boy's excitement wasn't dampened. Apparently running across an entire island only a few weeks ago, skillfully dodging SI:7 and any search parties, hadn't tired Anduin's adventurous spirit out.
A morose feeling rose up Varian's throat as the falling snow reflected in his stormy blue gaze. Though he was the first to disapprove of the prince's exploring habits, he couldn't help but grieve for his son's weakened state. He wasn't even able to attend the meetings, let alone go outside. And he knew that if the boy's stamina and strength were even marginally better than what they were, he'd argue the point endlessly until Varian would lose his patience and tortly yell. It was a song and dance they knew too well.
The door opening brought Varian back to the present, turning slightly back towards the teen, who blinked in mild surprise that slowly gave way to annoyance at finding his father still there.
"I'm not a child."
"I never said you were," though his expression didn't show the smile that threatened to spill on his face, the High King's amused words did.
As determined as Anduin was with pushing a strong facade up to shield the truth of his exhausted state, his pale cerulean eyes were clearer than the nonexistent window in their room to the truth of his dwindling stamina. And knowing the perceptive king could see it, he hastily broke eye contact to glance past him at the desk. "The council… the reparations…how are the discussions going?"
Blinking in surprise at the suddenness of the question, Varian followed his child's stare over his shoulder at the forest of paperwork beckoning him back. He sighed. "Not as smooth as I'd hoped but diplomacy rarely ever is. We'll talk in circles and argue inconsequential matters before one side finally tires of it. I'm not entirely unreasonable in what the Alliance is asking for."
"But you're not entirely reasonable, either?"
He frowned some when Anduin slipped around him, clearly favoring the leg that bore the worst of the divine bell injury. Though he followed in Anduin's shadow, he didn't reach for him to help him walk, nor did he rebuke his inquisitive eyes from finding and scanning the notes from the day's meetings. In truth, it was refreshing to see the prince take vested interest in the affairs of the kingdom and faction he'd one day inherit and lead. As much as he wanted to keep the priest innocent to the ways of their world and sheltered from the callousness of war, he knew that was one parental wish he simply had to ignore. As it was, he already worried for Anduin's questionable combat skills that'd proven disadvantageous to the teen. For his age, his son was capable and resourceful without question, but he was rounding an age when he'd need to take a more active presence on battlefields.
Even priests had to fight.
Tapping his index finger on the meeting minutes that outlined the proposed requirements asked of the still reeling Horde, Anduin looked back at his sire with creased brows that were unfitting for his fragile state. "Father, there is a difference between war reparations and enforcing crippling sanctions. You're 'allowing' them no more than a dozen vessels in their collective naval fleet, subject to your inspections? And the amount of gold you're asking from Thunderbluff is absurd!"
Varian's personalities battled with themselves, caught between wanting to usher his son back to bed or engage the prince in a likely heated argument to show him the error in his naive thinking. The latter won. "These are war restitution terms, Anduin. Our demands will set a tone for future Horde and Alliance relations, and being charitable falls far below being resolute. Or would you rather I had dismantled their faction altogether?"
The teen set his jaw angrily. "You might as well have with what you're asking, father. This isn't just! You need to show strength through support and not… not this!"
Varian shallowly lifted his brows and spoke coolly. "Telling the High King what to do. Bold."
Though his father's words were said without malice, Anduin let some of his anger be replaced with sadness. If given the choice between the two, though, the king would've chosen the former. He could stomach that with his own lashing words, but he fought on an uneven playing field when the boy's benevolence washed over his features and shimmered in his soft stare. "Father, please. You once told me that the honor of a warrior wasn't measured by the strength that he swings his sword but in the rightness in knowing when to stay it. Crippling an already weakened people… you're not giving them a chance. We have a rare window for peace now."
Varian ran a hand over his face, suddenly feeling very tired. "I can't not impose terms of restitution, Anduin. That's not how the world works, nor would the rest of the Alliance leaders agree with you. We showed clemency already, now it's time we show our teeth."
"You can do that in so many other ways, though! And not at the cost of.. of them getting back on their feet. This isn't the way to start a peaceful-"
"Enough about peace! We're not dealing with make believe!"
Varian closed his eyes the moment his words came out of his mouth, regret beginning to coil tightly in his stomach. The silence that swept between them was deafening and only made his regret thicken and stomach tighten. When he opened his eyes again, he expected the teen to have already turned his back on him and his explosive words, the familiar iciness to their relationship hardening. But the boy hadn't moved. His head was bowed forward, slightly oiled blonde bangs from lack of bathing tickling at his sickly pale cheeks. And though he couldn't fully see his child's face from his submissive stance, the High King knew the boy's resolve crumbled as bad as he looked.
He pushed Lo'gosh back at the price of having to face the situation and the consequences. And as Lo'gosh was pushed to the side, so was his stubborn pride.
"Forgive me, Anduin. I did not mean that. I've been under a lot of stress between this summit and your health, and I spoke without thinking." Watching hesitant blue eyes raise up to meet his, he didn't expect the sympathy that filled them. Not after it was him asking for forgiveness. Tilting his head to the side, Varian calmly reached for the parchment splattered with the meeting minutes and slowly turned it towards the teen. "What would you do if you were king?"
Anduin blinked a few times at the genuine question, still reeling from being at the receiving end of his father's shortened fury. Favoring silence at first, partially to make sure the question wasn't rhetorical and partially to gather his wits, the teen balanced his weight on his fingertips pressed on the edge of the desk. It was his chance to prove himself, to prove that peace and compassion had a place on the throne as much as he did, that the exhaustion of the wars had been reduced to hopeless fighting. But the passion that was bursting in his heart only moments ago was suddenly gone. Looking down at his father's scribbled notes from the meeting, written in haste to match his vivacious thoughts, the prince had no words.
Because while his father had asked him what he'd do if he were king, he very much heard the unspoken 'when' between his breaths.
His father was a strong king deeply loved by his subjects and heavily respected by his allies and even some of his enemies. His voice was commanding and carried the heart and voice of the people, leading into periods of hardship but able to emerge victorious and strong. Unfaltering and undaunted in his confidence, Varian was a force to be reckoned with, and the prince marveled from the sidelines, envious of his father's strength and fearful of how he'd compare.
Closing his eyes, Anduin gently pushed himself away from the desk. "I need to lay down now," he whispered quietly.
And as the teen silently climbed back into bed, he didn't see the king toss the meeting minutes into the fire.