No matter how much Anduin took in Wintersprings snowy landscape, he couldn't believe just how much snow there was. The name was deceiving; there was no 'spring' to be found in the omnipresent wintery bliss, where the winds carried armies of snowflakes and a chill clutched the air around him. It was so different from Stormwind and the lands within their kingdom, where he'd still get a small tasting of the four seasons. Elwynn would occasionally get sprinkles of snow but nothing nearly as torrential as the neverending sea of pearl fluff that surrounded him like an ocean.

After being seen by Thrall that morning and given the seal of approval by the Shaman to venture beyond the lodge, Anduin had wasted no time in throwing his pajamas off and getting into his winter attire. Thick leather riding boots, heavy frostweave pants and jacket, and a fur-lined cloak put up a formidable battle against the cold elements, but not nearly enough to convince the High King that he wasn't about to die any second. They'd only left the lodge minutes ago on borrowed sabers and his father was still throwing weary looks his way. Everytime a particularly strong wind would blast into the father-son duo, the High King's scowling frown made its way towards the prince, as if expecting the gust to have claws that could claim his life.

But Anduin let it be for once. He didn't let it bother him or ruin the ride. The fresh air was divine after being holed up in the lodge for so long. And only seeing sprawling mountains in the distance beneath a lavender-kissed sky instead of being boxed in by walls made him ignore the protective looks from his sire.

One thing did concern the prince, however. "I'm surprised you dismissed the guards today," Anduin mused as he readjusted himself in the saddle. Sabers weren't like horses; he was essentially riding a large cat with teeth the length of his neck and as sharp as the sword slung on his father's back. They lacked the narrow, slender body of Stormwindian horses, making the priest have to awkwardly sit on a saddle too large for him to find comfort. He quickly tacked on: "Not that I'm complaining, mind."

"The caverns aren't far from here." Varian's brow arched up. "It'd been some time since we've taken a proper ride just us. I thought you'd appreciate the solitude."

Anduin cracked a small smile. It was true. While they'd ride for state visits and transport, they were typically surrounded by a small army to ensure the royals safety. His father was so quick to assign a hefty patrol to shadow him in the past that he expected nothing less in the wake of his near death when he'd been alone. But after living without guards in Pandaria for months, he found them especially bothersome. Freedom was walking and going where he wanted, tasting the fresh air and drinking from nature's basin at his will. It was enjoying life unadulterated and untouched at the whims of no one but himself. Even when he was sleeping on the floor of an inn, or suffering the nonstop rainstorms of Kasarang, he relished his liberty.

In Stormwind, he was a caged animal.

"I can't remember the last time we had a ride," he thought aloud as his saber pawed through a snow bank like it was nothing. The foothills of the mountains were fast approaching. "Must've been…"

"Before you left for the Exodar."

Two years ago. It was over two years ago.

The events surrounding the prince's departure for training under the Prophet was a dreary spot on their history, despite how the milestone solidified his discipline in priesthood. It was the deepening of the chasm between father and son, and the attack on Remembrance Day was the bridge that rectified their relationship. After his sprinting through Pandaria and recovering from his injuries by Garrosh, their relationship had taken an even stronger, albeit strange, turn. Where Lo'Gosh's anger was quieted, Varian's paternal side emerged with a stronger voice. As dismal as Garrosh's trial was, Anduin wouldn't forget the king's closeness during it, how he worried as a father would without the clashing of his anger.

And it seemed in the wake of his brush with the Blight, his father smothered his anger in exchange for embracing the attitude of a parent.

"It's nice." Anduin was met with a questioning look from the High King. "This ride, I mean. And I'm not just saying that because I've been sick and stuck in the lodge for so long. Even if I wasn't, I'd still like…" His mouth went dry as he neared a sensitive topic that he avoided for years. Quickly, he dodged his father's stare that was still focused on him while their sabers strolled forward in tandem. "We should do this more often. We used to do that… um… the archery lessons together. And then that stopped when… well, you got busier and I understand that your obligation to the state comes first before… well, before joy rides with me."

Before me.

Varian shook his head sharply and readjusted his grip on the leather reins. They were thicker than the ones he'd use in Stormwind on his horse, but they needed to be for the immense sabers. "Matters with the kingdom and Alliance took up more of my time." The King frowned. "Onyxia happened, then Outland, Arthas…"

"I know, father. I'm not trying to… I was just… I meant to say that we should… try to do this more often. Again. Make an effort. Again."

A heavy silence blanketed the two royals, though Anduin wasn't sure if it was comfortable or not. Internally, he kicked and cursed at himself for rotting the moment with bringing up the turmoiled past. The trail they were following took a sharp pitch downwards, the saber easily traversing the steep terrains decline as they approached the mountain's foothills. While there were mountains circling Stormwind, they more resembled the humps of an Uldum camel instead of the jagged peaks sprouting from Winterspring's snow. These loomed overhead like intimidating pillars of rock, ice, and snow.

Anduin was tempted to pull the fur-lined hood up as a chill started to set in. But he knew the action would draw concern from his father, perhaps even make him abandon the field trip before they actually saw the ice caverns. "Have you ever been to Dawn's Blossom in the Jade Forest?"

The High King glanced curiously at the boy. "In Pandaria? No. Well, that's not entirely true. I have but not for long. I had a route that took me through it when reinforcing our settlement in the region, but I didn't stay long." With all that had happened during the campaign in Pandaria and the siege of Orgrimmar after, Varian hadn't asked much of the prince's adventures on the new island. He tilted his head to the side, looking at the blonde over in muted curiosity. "Is that one of the places you went to?"

"Only for a few days, though I wanted to stay longer. There's a noodle cart there, though. One of the best in all of Pandaria. I… was thinking maybe for my sixteenth birthday that's coming up we could go there for dinner. I… I would kind of prefer if there weren't any guards, like now, just have it be us, but if you really want them, I suppose I can understand." Anduin clamped his mouth shut and pressed his lips together to stop the blundering free-flow of awkward words. How was it he could address a room full of Azeroth's elites during a trial without nerves but he couldn't ask for mere bonding time with his father without stumbling over himself?

The yawning mouth of the cavern greeted the father and son in the distance, welcoming them with a surprising amount of glittering brilliance as the sun reflected off the ice creating impressive sculptures at the entrance. Either arrested by the peculiar beauty or opting for silence at his son's awkwardness, Varian eyed the quickly approaching caverns for a few seconds before he surprised the boy with a baritone chuckle. "So for your birthday, you're asking to have noodles from what I'm guessing is just an outdoor cart and gain my permission to be without a guard detail? If the lack of defense won't kill you, will the questionable caliber of food?"

Surprised at his father's levity, having assumed the worst with the subject, Anduin blinked a few times. "Erm… no! It's good! Chin's the master of noodles there and he's got the best egg noodles in all of Pandaria! Just… don't ask him about the recipe. It's the longest conversation you'll ever have in your life."

"You want to have noodles from someone named Chin? Not forehead or nose?"

"Are you trying to make a bad pun or make fun of someone's name?"

"Why must I choose?" An amused grin, faint but decidingly there, lingered on the older man's face. "But I had better plans for your sixteenth birthday." Seeing the boy's frown in the corner of his gaze, Varian continued. "Though I haven't been to Pandaria since Garrosh's trial and I suppose I could do for a short tour of our settlements there. I think I can make time for a brief lunch in the Jade Forest with you, though after this summit is dealt with and you've made a full recovery. And I mean it, Anduin."

Whatever argument might've sprouted from the spirited prince were silenced at the allowance of a noodle-filled afternoon with his father. All of the days that turned to weeks that turned to months in Pandaria were, for the most part, on his own or with others he met along the way. The few times he was with his father were snippets at Lion's Landing, which generally consisted of the monarch juggling his kingly responsibilities while trying to keep the prince in check. That didn't last very long. Once Anduin caught wind of the tribulations gripping the zenful lands, he dashed off straight into trouble's maw. Which just happened to be in the shape of a bell and very angry Mag'har.

"You won't regret it! I promise, father. These will be the best noodles you've ever had." The sabers seemed to register the mouth of the cavern, for they instinctively slowed their pace, either wary or cautious of the uneven ground beneath their paws. The entrance was large and imposing, but with an inviting sort of ambiance to it. Rows upon rows of craggy ice protrusions created a jaw full of sharpened teeth, though the bottom half were cracked from others having traveled in and out of the caverns and created a makeshift path. The upper half, however, was still filled with ice sculptures so sharp and huge Anduin was positive they were larger than him. If they were caught under one of the extrusions when they happened to fall, a grave injury or death would result.

But the priest wasn't bothered by the danger. No, he was arrested by the shimmering kaleidoscope of lustrous whites and incandescent blues glowing from the ice formations. A natural spectacle shaped by Azeroth's paintbrush, they captured the definition of simplistic beauty, and yet at the same time, there was nothing simplistic about them. Each rivet of water froze as if by design, creating a rippling effect.

Mirroring his father to pull his saber to a stop, the prince swung his leg out of the saddle and hopped off, his boots softly crunching the snow and icy ground. "Wow, this is… have you ever seen anything like this before? Look at the colors! It's so blue and bright!"

"Not for a long time." As if feeling the curious look from the boy without actually seeing it, the High King offered explanation, his voice clouded with distant memories. "When I was around your age and living in Lordaeron, I'd take short visits to the Alterac Mountains. There was a narrow passe there that Arthas was fond of. In the summer months, the snow in the valley would melt and create rapids, and then refreeze in the caves when the winters would come around."

Anduin wasn't sure what was harder; trying to imagine his father as an adventurous youth, or the dethroned Lich King unmaddened by his vile power. He was told many times the story of how he, as an infant, wrapped his hand around the paladin's finger. And he'd occasionally heard his father speak warmly of his boyhood in the neighboring kingdom. But the topic was always delicate and fragile. Varian and Arthas were thick as thieves with a good-natured rivalry, the sons of Kings who were finally able to connect with another of similar plight in life.

"Really? I'd like to see that some day," Anduin dropped the reins to the saber, knowing the trained animal would remain where left, and carefully approached the mouth of the cavern. It was tall though only wide enough for two men to walk through shoulder to shoulder. He ran a gloved finger over an iridescent icy tooth, feeling the chill through the burnished leather. "Do you miss him?"

Silence prevailed for a few seconds before the prince heard his father's heavy boots crunch the snow behind him. "I miss who he was. The friend I knew died with Stratholme. If I grieve anything, it's not the thing we killed in the citadel. But rather my inability to have stopped it from happening."

The interior of the cavern opened up into a narrowed foyer that Anduin wordlessly welcomed himself into. As expected, his father was shortly behind him. It was strange how the intensity of the conversation was diluted by the cavern's grace and beauty, the glimmering hues providing a perfect distraction when neither knew what to say. It filled in the gap where awkwardness would've prevailed.

The deeper Anduin trekked in the cavern, the colder it got. The light was deceiving and created trickery on him. While the daylight from the cavern's mouth grew more distant, the clear ice still welcomed a surprising amount of illumination into the cave. Where the prince would've taken the increase of darkness in a normal cave as a signal to curb his curiosity and turn back, he was robbed of it here. Instead he walked onwards, not noticing how deep and inwards he went.

And very faintly ahead, he'd swear he saw another source of natural light reflecting off the frozen water around them.

Approaching a wall covered in immaculately clear water frozen in the shape of a vertical, rippling pond, Anduin took a labored breath. His still recovering lungs pained at the cold air. Much colder than outside the cavern. "I wanted Wrathion to be different. And I saw the way you and Aunt Jaina looked at him, judging him before you even met him. Just because of his heritage." He shook his head slowly, feeling his father's gaze boring into him. But he couldn't turn to meet it yet. "I thought about all the stories you told me of you and Arthas growing up together as friends. Being close. I thought Wrathion and I had that. Maybe even…."

His throat seized up, stopping his words before he could say too much. But to his surprise, a soft voice responded.

"I know."

The air felt heavy and yet so clear at the same time, despite how the chill pained the prince with every breath. The truth was right there, finally out in the open, leaving him vulnerable over a topic that he'd kept tucked close to his wounded heart for so long. But it was more than just who he sought to keep company with as more than a friend. It was an unearthing of his wants and desires, an unveiling to a personal slice of his life he kept hidden from his father for so long.

But those two words from his father - I know - said so much in such little breath. Those two words answered all the worries and concerns Anduin had and left him breathless as he turned to regard the High King with an astonished look.

Standing in the middle of the ice-filled chamber with a haven of snowflakes covering his chestnut hair and broad pauldrons, Varian looked much calmer than the prince could ever remember. His features, fractured by scars and yet still roguishly handsome, were void of the anger that Anduin assumed he'd have. "I know," he repeated in a low baritone. "I've known for some time now, and saw how you were at the trial and the weeks after. For years, since your birth, I've been approached by nobles inquiring on your betrothal. Some have been bold enough to extend offers."

"You turned them away? I… I mean, I always expected you to eventually… to arrange something for me."

Varian sharply shook his head. "It's another fine example of my failings as a father." The prince looked at him in confusion. "When your mother was with child, we both agreed that we wouldn't have you arranged to take a consort without there being affection or love involved. At the very least, I wanted to… I wanted to know your… preferences." The calmness was suddenly chased away with a flood of awkwardness so strong it made the proud king look to the side. "When you were a child, I couldn't look at you without seeing your mother and hating myself for the sadness I felt. After Onyxia and… Lo'Gosh came, I only saw how vulnerable you were when I looked at you. And then when you entered your teen years, we couldn't have a conversation without bickering. I realized that I… I didn't know what you liked, even when it came to more… personal things."

At his father's pause, Anduin stayed silent, not sure if he was meant to say something and not sure what he would say if he was. Thankfully, Varian just used the moment to gather his thoughts and laughed ruefully before continuing. "When you returned from the Exodar, I then tried to pay attention to you in… that realm of things. But when meeting with ladies of the court or nobleman's daughters, you showed nothing. You were cordial and as polite as any prince should be but not interested. I almost accused Velen of convincing you to take some kind of priestly vows or having you become ordained, but I noticed something else. It wasn't that you weren't interested - I was just looking at the wrong time and place."

Anduin didn't realize he was breathing so hard until he noticed the small fog in front of his face, his breath captured in the cold air. The ice around them insulated no heat and offered them no comfort in the wintery bliss, but the conversation was one that distracted the boy from the ache in his chest. "You're not mad?"

The High King snapped his eyes back to his son's. "No, Anduin. I'm not mad. I would never be- Light, all that me and your mother ever wanted for you when it came to your eventual marriage was happiness. Taking a consort means so much more than just producing heirs for a kingdom. Surrogate inheritance has been arranged in our line before. But what's important to me is that you're happy." He ran a heavy hand over the nape of his neck. "I didn't want to have this conversation here, of all places. You're nearing sixteen years, I'm guessing you already know about the birds and the bees or should I cover that ground too while at it?"

It was a crude joke, but one that was needed. It shattered the tension and made the prince choke out a half laugh. "You're about six years too late on that."

"Bolvar?"

"Muradin."

Varian made a face. "I can only imagine the lack of dignity that came from that conversation. My apologies then for abandoning you to it." Turning to stare at the cave wall covered in rippling frozen water, the elder Wrynn was quiet for a spell, though his face told a lengthy story of his inner conflict. "But… I…" He stopped short and looked like he made an effort to start up again, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out until… "I know what it's like to have a… wanting of someone and not have those feelings returned or know that you can't be with them. It's a pain that every boy your age needs to … go… through…" Light, why was this so hard? He also mindfully left out that never in this life or the next would he ever approve of someone like the Black Prince. "Adoration for another is a confusing thing. And you're… you're at a difficult time in your life right now where-where you're probably…"

It was the vague hand gestures in the air, as if the High King were grasping for words that wouldn't come, that made the prince finally put the subject out of its misery.

"Father," the teen's face looked one part sympathetic and two parts embarrassed for his sire. "I understand what you're saying and… and you don't have to worry." He gave a forceful shrug of his shoulder. "I'm over it. That… Him.. All of that."

But Varian saw the lie for what it was, hidden behind the boy's broken smile. "No, you're not," he gently countered, the truth in his words making the teen look down. "But you will be. That trial has left me with a plethora of regrets. Don't let yourself get jaded like I am from it." He grinned good-naturedly, turning to inspect a particularly sharp icicle hanging dramatically from the ceiling. "Give me war campaigns and command councils, but conversations like these are…." He didn't have to finish the sentence for the two of them to know it was a shared pain. He looked over at the boy to read his reaction to his next words. "Now that I have a better idea of your preferences, would you like me to arrange a betrothal?"

Maybe if Anduin was someone else, was born to a man of any other rank below King, he'd find the question blunted and cold. But he didn't. For years, he knew his eventual marriage would be one of Stormwind's greatest political leverages and had long ago gone to bed with the idea of an arranged union. But that didn't stop him from pouring his heart into romance novels he quietly read in his room's secret recluse, cheering for something that he would never have. "I… I want to marry for love and not-not because of duty," he quietly replied, somehow finding the courage to keep his eyes locked on the High King. "But I also know that you and mother are living testaments that a betrothal can lead to love. So I guess I… I'm not against it but I'm… I'm not ready."

"Well, I don't intend on throwing you into a union in the next moon," Varian couldn't help but chuckle at his son's blubbering, clearly as quaky on the subject as he was. "But I'll preface that I have been keeping avenues and networks open to allow opportunities to present themselves."

Anduin blinked. "And which avenues would those be?"

A plated glove swept the concerned question away. "Wyrmbane's son has recently become a commissioned officer, as you well know." Anduin did know; he'd been dutifully present as Crown Prince during the military convocation when the honored Commander's son received his medals. Was that when his father had taken notice to his shamelessly seeking out the newly minted Lieutenant to chat? "Their family has served the Alliance honorably for decades. I'd take no greater pleasure granting Halford a seat in the House. His military-mind speaks louder to me than the bickering Nobles." As if realizing for the first time how far into the tunnels they'd managed to wander, Varian looked over his shoulder towards the mouth of the cave that was no longer in sight. "I've also been in talks with Erlgadin and having their House's seat reclaimed. Your mother was especially close with the Countess, and their family has always been far too generous than the rest of the hens that call themselves nobles. It'd do Stormwind well to have them back in a position of power."

That name got a reaction from the teen.

With as cold as the cavern was, Anduin hoped the flush on his cheeks wouldn't amount to much. But the heat was there and telling. And if not the scarlet hue, then the way he quickly looked away from his father said enough. "Erlgadin?" His voice cracked on the word, making the flush deepen. "I… I thought his son was still on expedition in Stranglethorn. I… I read his latest submission to the Royal Society of Natural Science on the migratory habits of the tigers in Stranglethorn. Errr… I mean to say, I… I heard he submitted something. An article. I didn't read it. Because why would I read something like that?"

Varian just stared for a few seconds. "Right. Well, as I said, nothing is happening until you're at least of age but now that we've suffered this conversation together I have a better idea of what you're…" he took in the still flushed cheeks and awkward boy, "interested in."

Maybe it was the cold beginning to take its toll but the teen didn't voice opposition to the concept of being betrothed, or his father's suggesting to begin the process. And it surprised even Anduin as he turned from his father to inspect an icy wall, trying to shield the way his lips had to part to take in haggard gulps of air. Each breath and sigh felt more and more labored than the last, as if a heavy boulder was taunting him as it rested on his chest.

There was no argument, though, and that much Anduin was thankful for. Perhaps in the past, before they both went through the treacherous trials and tribulations together that rocked and molded their relationship into what it became, they'd scream so hard the ice would melt from their heated anger. But it didn't happen. And though he didn't voice any disapproval for his father's potential suitors picked out for him, or the process of being arranged, the boy somehow had an idea that even if he did, it wouldn't have started an argument. No, they had trekked through one heartfelt topic to the next, broken down superficial barriers that guarded sensitive subjects, and bare naked thoughts and secrets to one another all with raw, vulnerable emotions.

The priest felt a flood of pride and adoration swell in his chest towards his warrior, battle-hardened father. For that's what he was in the moment; not a regal King addressing his prince, not a Commander ordering his lieutenants, but a father talking to his son.

"You look tired." Anduin glanced over towards his father at the blunted observation, though he was already expectant of the next words that came. "We should be heading back. It's probably well after lunch now and you should be resting. The sooner you get better and back to Stormwind, the better."

The ice caverns were beautiful and the fresh air was beyond welcomed to the prince, but he lacked the strength to beg for more time outside of his dungeon at the lodge. As much as he wanted to enjoy exploring Winterspring and let his adventurous spirit soar, he couldn't ignore the pain in his chest and the struggle to breathe. "Yes, I think resting is a good idea," he mumbled with a half-hearted smile at the High King. "And no, before you ask, I'm not dying. It's just… the cold air is a little difficult for me."

A pang of worry crossed Varian's face as he took in the boy's alabaster hue and glassy, feverish eyes that made the natural blue more brilliant and bright. After nodding slowly and gesturing him to follow, the two began the trek back through the winding cavern's tunnels. The colors in the ice continued to entice them with their alluring lullabies, the same ones that deceived them into traveling too deep into the belly of the mountain.

So far in, they'd lost sight of the cavern's entrance, and wouldn't know that their sabers were no longer there.

A sudden rumble quaked through the cavern, so ferocious and frantic it threw them both off their feet, Varian barely had enough time to reach instinctively for the teen, yanking him in close as their world tossed and turned from the earthquake. The teen scrambled for purchase on the slippery cavern floor as thunderous rocks roared around them. But it was the echoing crack that made him freeze momentarily, curious for a second on what made the sound, before his heart plummeted into his stomach at the realization.

"The cavern is caving in!"

His father's words somehow rang louder than the shattering ice that began to fall around them, and were accompanied by a pair of strong hands grabbing him around the biceps and pulling him upwards. Splinters of ice rained down from the ceiling in a deadly shower, turning what was once an enchanted beauty into a dungeon of nightmares. Despite how much his chest and lungs ached, the teen forced himself to keep up with his father as he was nearly dragged through the collapsing cavern, feeling splinters of sharp ice cutting against his cheek and tearing into his clothes.

Somewhere along the rancorous din exploding around him, the teen heard his father grunt as plate snarled and buckled under the weight of falling ice. And while the healer in him wanted to check on the King and the potential wound that resulted, a more pressing concern reared its ugly head.

"Where's-where's the entrance?!" Anduin sputtered as he stared at the wall of crumbled ice, rock, and snow that wasn't there before.

The High King let out a colorful string of curses under his breath. Though with Anduin tucked close against him, the teen heard each one. "Caved in. Shit…" Looking around frantically for an exit that didn't exist, the king's battle-trained mind shifted into survival mode, dissecting the graveness of the situation and weighing their limited options. But it was different than a battle. While Varian might've thrown caution to the wind and tore Shalamayne from his back to chisel into the ice in hopes of making his own exit, he couldn't afford such a cavalier, daring action. He might've done that if he were alone. But he wasn't. And the smaller figure clutched close to him was worth more than the world.

But the smaller figure wasn't helpless, not even in the wake of becoming intimate with the Blight and his untimely brush with death.

"Get in close!" Anduin's loud voice that managed to reach above the sound of the ice crumbling around them surprised even him. Feeling the strong hand grip his shoulder tighter and his body pressed against his father's cold plated chest piece, the priest closed his eyes and reached into his piddling reserve of energy that wasn't nearly restored since he took ill. And while he felt his father's frantic, inquisitive stare bore down on him, he had to ignore it. He had to ignore everything around him; the pain gripping his lungs and the air that refused to fill them, the collapsing ice and rock that stormed down on their fragile bodies, the chill that wrapped around their bodies. It was all distractions from what he needed to do, what his mind needed to fully devote itself too. Survival wasn't just about slashing a sword mindlessly into a wall. It was about faith and fortitude.

The warmth of the Light flooded him within seconds with such intensity it almost made the teen fall over. For a few seconds, unharnessed and raw, the power was enough to chase away the chills and heat his body up. But the energy was needed elsewhere if they wanted to avoid making the collapsing cavern their icy tomb. Molding the Light was probably the hardest part for Anduin to learn during his tutelage under Velen. Believing unconditionally in the Light was easy and second nature, but once his body became a conduit for the energy, it took mental tenacity to grip it and shape it into what he needed. Typically it was funneled into prayers that mended shattered bones and healed burned flesh, but not this time. At least, not yet.

Focusing on the air around them, Anduin knew the spell worked by his father's surprised gasp. But with his eyes closed, his brow creased with concentration, the prince would never see the shimmering, gilted bulwark of Light that encased their bodies protectively. And embraced in the vigilant armor that was near soundproof from the outside world, neither would hear the horrible crunching of rock and ice falling around them. His energy was dwindling fast, but imbued with fierce determination, the priest didn't falter. He'd never see the explosion of golden radiance burst out and melt the ice shards after it shattered on impact with the shield, its impervious strength a testament to his faith.

And he'd never see the look of pure pride from his father as he looked down at him in awe of his strength.

The weakness was closing in fast on the teen, clawing at his mind and threatening to bring his efforts to an end. He nearly succumbed to it at least a dozen times, the mere act of standing feeling like a monumental task let alone keeping up the shield for the two of them. Time became circular; he didn't know how many seconds or minutes or hours past, it all felt agonizing to him. But eventually after some time had passed, the hand on his shoulder shifted some to grip him more purposefully and gave a hard, attention-seeking shake.

"...Anduin! Anduin!"

The King's voice sounded so very far away, and yet Anduin knew he was right next to him. Opening his eyes only to slam them shut again as the world tilted and whirled, he groaned at the vertigo. But he wouldn't drop the shield.

"Anduin! You can stop. The cave… the collapsing is over, I think."

Was it? How much time had passed? The priest didn't know. And he wouldn't know for a while. For when he opened his eyes again and reluctantly stopped the flow of Light through his body, whatever surge of energy he had keeping him upright stopped as well. He only had a second to glance around the cavern's chaotic chamber, taking in the field of shattered rocks and ice that nearly entombed them, before the darkness crashed over him like a tidal wave. The last thing he felt were two strong hands grab his shoulders before his world went black.

"The cave has dropped, my lady."

Sylvanas lowered her bow, but didn't place it on her back yet. Sanguine, shrewd eyes stared down at the toppled mountain and ice that created a new wall where the cavern's entrance used to lie. The same entrance she watched the Wrynns walk through, unknowing of their watchful predator. But like all of her prey, they fell victim to her conniving scheme, too prideful or stupid to think themselves untouchable. Maybe she'd been giving the High King too much credit. Maybe he was as naive as his young son.

Not that it mattered anymore.

"Fully?"

Her Dark Ranger paused, and Sylvanas didn't have to sacrifice her view of the Wrynns mausoleum to know the Undead disliked being second guessed. Velonara was never one for patience. Then again, she never did like being in the Banshee's service in the first place.

"As much as we can tell. Though the sabers are nowhere to be seen. Either they perished in the collapse or fled."

But she was one of Quel'thalas's best rangers. Sylvanas hadn't hesitated in deciding to raise her with the intention of having her join her elite archers to exact hatred and despair on their enemies. And clearly she'd made a good choice, even if it was a choice Velonara hated her for. Hatred was as potent as love, perhaps arguably even stronger, and a perfect flint to create a firestorm.

Raising her chin up triumphantly, Sylvanas allowed the twitching in the corners of her cheeks to fully blossom into a satisfied grin. Velonara could hate her. She could curse the earth she walked on for making her forever live a tormented existence. But she would do it all while in service to her. And so would everyone else when she claimed their lives and rose them as one of her own.

"Wait for dawn," came her icy reply slathered in contentment and achievement. In less than a day, she'll have ended the Wrynn dynasty, assassinated the High King of the Alliance, and added one of the best warriors she could hope for to her ranks. The boy was an added bonus. Father and son. "Then find and bring me their bodies."