Disclaimer: Warcraft and World of Warcraft are the intellectual property of Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. and are being used in this fanfiction for fan purposes only. No infringement or disrespect of the copyright holders of Warcraft, World of Warcraft, or their derivative works is intended by this fanfiction.
Summary: Near the end of his life, a widowed former king in declining health reunites with an old friend.
This story contains a nod to alternatedoom's story Steamy Water, which can be found on Ao3.
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Cenotaph
by silverr
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The Veiled Stair
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… 4 …
Two days later, in the hour before dawn when most of Stormwind was asleep, Wrathion, Anduin, Anduin's family, and Kirsidormi gathered on the top of the southwest tower.
Have the king and queen prepared them to see their their beloved elder being carried away by a dragon? Wrathion asked Kirsidormi.
The king and queen didn't. Anduin did, Kirsidormi replied. He said that, just as the citizens of Stormwind had realized during the last war that—despite past events—not all orcs are irredeemably bloodthirsty, so too should they understand that not all dragons are destructive.
Orcs. What a charming comparison.
And then he said, 'It comes down to this. Wrathion is my friend. He is also a dragon. Learn to accept it.'
This explains the looks I'm getting, then.
Anduin, who was bundled head to foot in winter clothes as if he were already on the summit of Neverset, stepped up to the contraption Wrathion had had made and asked, "So I'm going to ride in this?"
"What do you think?" Wrathion asked.
Wrathion had had the ironsmiths enclose the wicker gondola of a Pandaren hot air balloon in a strong but light cage-like framework. Flaps of sailcloth canvas hung from the upper part of the frame to keep out rain and cold winds, but could be raised to let in the sun and view the scenery. The frame was topped off by a thick iron rod, to which was attached a four-point harness of very thick leather.
"I'm going to feel like a songbird in this thing," Anduin said.
"I remember your singing," Wrathion said. "Has it improved?"
The chorus of No! that came from the family was followed by laughter.
"Now, one more thing." Wrathion gave Anduin a simple metal diadem which held a large unpolished primal diamond.
"Oh, I recognize this," Anduin said. "It's like the ones you gave to those adventurers you were always wheedling into doing your dirty work. I told them not to take gifts from you."
"Advice which they wisely ignored," Wrathion said. "Put it on; it will allow us to converse while I am in dragon form."
"Hm." Anduin set it on his head. "Feels odd to wear one of these again."
"It suits you," Wrathion said softly. "Very regal."
Anduin smiled, then turned to his family. "Well, I guess we're off? See you in a week or two!"
"Oh dad!" The king rushed to Anduin and hugged him fiercely. "Have a wonderful time. But don't get into trouble!"
"Which do you want me to do?" Anduin asked with a grin. "Should I stay out of trouble, or have fun?"
As the queen, Lady Susannah, and the rest of those present said their goodbyes, four rucksacks of clothing and other supplies were secured inside the basket's corners and covered with thick cushions. Lady Susannah also stowed a thick bedroll and two pillows, saying to Wrathion, "I know you said the flight to Pandaria will take only a few hours, but he might get sleepy."
Wrathion nodded. "Best to prepare for all contingencies." He glanced at the horizon, which was beginning to lighten. "I fear we are going to give Stormwind's bakers and other early risers a fright if we don't leave soon. Citizens might be panicked by the sight of a low-flying black dragon."
"That's appreciated," the king said.
As the family went through a final round of goodbyes and helped Anduin get settled in the gondola, Wrathion clambered to the top of the frame. Balancing on the rod, he lifted up the harness and draped a strap over each shoulder, adjusting them until the junction was between his shoulderblades.
"What is that for?" Susannah's brother asked her.
"Preparing for all contingencies," she replied, smiling at Wrathion.
Wrathion looked down at Anduin, who had pushed all the cushions and bags to one side of the gondola so that he could sit at the other. "Ready?"
"Ready!"
"Let's move," Kirsi said to Anduin's family, "or we'll get hit by dragon tail."
Once they were safely out of the way Wrathion adjusted the harness a final time, then held out his arms and took dragon form.
A whelp no longer, he dwarfed the humans, who drew back, startled. As his hind feet came down, cracking the flat stone tiles of the roof, he gripped the gondola's iron bar with his forelimbs and flapped his wings just enough to lift off.
"Oh my!" Anduin said.
Lady Susannah, who had spread her arms protectively in front of the others, called up to him. "Grandfather, are you alright?"
Anduin looked down over the edge. "Oh yes, I'm fine. Just lurched for a moment."
"I was wrong to doubt your claim that Wrathion could protect you," Susannah said, squinting her eyes against the stone dust stirred up by the gusts from the dragon's slow wingbeats.
"He's keeping his weight off the tower so he won't do any more damage," Anduin explained.
Have they truly never seen a dragon? Wrathion asked. Kirsidormi, didn't you ever show them your true form?
Wasn't a need to, Kirsidormi responded.
Really? Then tell them I'm not fully grown, Wrathion suggested.
"Don't worry, there is nothing to fear," Anduin reassured his family, then murmured to Wrathion, "Behave."
What do you mean?
"You gave me this circlet so that I could hear what you're thinking," Anduin replied, keeping his voice low, "so I know that right now you're tempted to show off. Roar and breathe fire."
Show off? Hardly. Why would I want to do that?
Because you were offended that Anduin's family didn't recognize you as dragon royalty the moment you met, Kirsi interjected. Even though you've come to like them, you're still sulking about it.
Wrathion snorted, smoke rising from his nostrils in elaborate whorls. An overstatement. I wasn't truly offended then, and I'm certainly not sulking now.
Anduin chuckled. "Oh, of course not."
The king glanced over at the queen, then called up to Anduin, "Is everything alright, dad? Having second thoughts? Or did you forget something?"
"No, no, I'm good," Anduin replied, waving goodbye yet again. "We'd better get going, Wrathion. Before you panic half of Stormwind."
The dragon rose into the air with a single powerful wingbeat, banking smoothly to glide over the high rocky hills protecting Stormwind's eastern boundary. He followed the line of foothills south past Northshire Abbey, adjusting his bearing southwest in order to pass midway between Goldshire and the Stormwind gates, then angled west across Mirror Lake.
Are you comfortable? he asked Anduin as they passed over the Westbrook Garrison. Is the basket swaying too much?
"It's fine," Anduin said. "Not much different than the deck of a ship. Or a rocking chair."
Do you need to stop for anything before we head out to sea?
"You mean, so that I won't have an accident? Don't worry, I took care of that. But I would like to make a detour to Westfall—there's a farmer there that grows the most delicious berries I've ever tasted."
Berries.
"Yes. Strawberries, blackberries, gooseberries, yellow raspberries. All very delicious."
As you wish. Where is this farm?
"Midway between Jansen and Furlbrow—oh, you don't know where those are. Head for the blue windmill to the right of those yellow trees." As Wrathion changed course, Anduin continued. "Westfall looks so beautiful from up here." The prairie, formerly brown and withered, had rebounded after the war, and was now as green as Arathi and dappled with farms large and small. "The Brotherhood have done an amazing job."
Wrathion set the gondola down behind the barn—to the great agitation of the farm's livestock—and then, shifting back to human form, followed Anduin to the front door of the cottage.
"Sorry to disturb your breakfast," Anduin said when the farmer had opened the door, "but I was wondering if you had any berries for sale?"
The farmer's surprised delight at having a former king of Stormwind as an early-morning customer was quickly superseded by his astonishment at Anduin's mode of transportation.
"Basket of berries," Anduin said merrily as he boarded the gondola, "for the old king in a basket. It seems fitting, doesn't it?"
Wrathion exchanged an amused look with the farmer, then said, "You may want to step back. King Anduin is traveling to Pandaria, and I'm about to transform into a dragon and carry him there."
To his credit, the farmer was only momentarily startled; then, as Wrathion took off, he shouted, "Come back any time!"
As they headed out over the Great Sea, Anduin settled down into the cushions. "I assume we're staying at the Tavern in the Mists?" he asked. "The berries will make a fine gift for Tong and Madame Goya."
They retired a number of years ago.
"Oh."
There is no 'oh.' Retired people eat—or they could, if any berries remain by the time we arrive.
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Anduin gradually fell quiet as they began to travel over the Great Sea. When Wrathion had tried to communicate with him several times without a response, he carefully pressed just far enough into the old man's thoughts to satisfy himself that the cloudy murmur he encountered meant that Anduin was simply dozing rather than ill.
By the time the landscape of Pandaria began to resolve out of the mist over the Great Sea, he decided to bypass the Temple of the Jade Serpent—the monks weren't expecting them until tomorrow anyhow—and continue on to the Veiled Stair.
Initially Wrathion had relocated his base of operations from the Eastern Kingdoms to Pandaria because he had predicted—correctly, of course—that many of the people drawn to a newly-revealed legendary land would be bold adventurers. Exactly the type he wanted to recruit for the fight against the Legion. By the time his scheme to unite and strengthen Azeroth had started to go awry, the unexpected had already happened. He had fallen in love with Pandaria, its people, its architecture, its spectacular views, and with a certain prince of Stormwind who had been convalescing at the Tavern in the Mists. Wooing and winning the idealistic and exasperating champion of the Light had not only been one of the high points of Wrathion's life, it had also led to many revelations about himself and various aspects of existence. He felt he he had come to understand, as no dragon before him ever had, the human concept of love and the intricacies of human coupling./p
There was a rustling sound from the gondola. "Well, that was unexpectedly… vivid," Anduin murmured.
What was? Wrathion hadn't meant for his fond recall of his liaisons with Anduin to spill over into the old man's mind.
"A dream," Anduin said as he sat up and looked out of the gondola. "Oh! We're here!"
Is there any place you want to visit right away, or do you wish to continue on to the Tavern?
"The Tavern, I think," Anduin said. "I'd like to hand over these berries and stretch my legs. After that… well, there will be plenty of time for everything else."
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At the western edge of the Jade Forest, across the Yan-Zhe river, an area of low blocky cliffs and steep rocky paths known as the Veiled Stair nestled against the massive mountain barrier that protected the Vale of Eternal Blossoms. The Spring Road that ran through the Veiled Stair connected the Ancient Passage—which led north to Kun-lai Summit—with the Path of a Hundred Steps—which led south to the Valley of the Four Winds.
At the southern end of the Veiled Stair, east of the Path of a Hundred Steps, a peninsula jutted out over the river far below. The tip of this peninsula, the highest point in the Veiled Stair, was known as Mason's Folly, and was reached by a meandering set of mossy, weather-softened stone steps. It had been a favorite sunning spot for the convalescing Anduin a half-century ago.
Directly across the river from Mason's Folly was a one of the pinnacles of rock that rose above the Jade Forest and the Veiled Stair, and it was on one of the tallest of these that Wrathion landed, setting the gondola down in front of a small, elegant, south-facing portico set against a rocky outcrop.
Transforming back into his human guise, he came around to lift the latch and open the door of the gondola.
Anduin, ensconced in his pile of cushions, eyed Wrathion's simple Pandaren-style tunic and trousers of dark linen with a half-grin.
"What?" Wrathion asked, smoothing the tunic. "Is something wrong?"
"I was wondering if the clothes appear automatically," Anduin said, groaning a little as he let Wrathion help him to his feet. "Or do you shape them?"
Wrathion frowned. "I thought you would like this! When we first met you told me I looked—what word did you use?—ostentatious."
Anduin nodded, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he turned and stooped to pick up the basket of berries. "Actually I probably said 'gaudy.' That outfit had so many frills and layers. Overly complicated." He stepped carefully out of the gondola.
"So you find this design too plain?" Wrathion pressed. "You would prefer I wear something more elaborate?"
"I didn't say that." Anduin was looking down at his feet as if he wasn't sure where to put them. "I only asked about your clothes because I was curious where they came from, and I'm only teasing you about your old Black Dragon Prince regalia because I still remember how long it took to unwrap you." Acting as if he did not see Wrathion's astonished reaction, he looked around and asked, "Where are we, exactly? This place isn't familiar."
"I call it Wrathion's Ascent. It's where I stay when I visit Pandaria and don't wish to mingle with the locals." Wrathion pointed. "See that large white-trunked tree leaning over the edge of the cliff on the far left? That's Mason's Folly."
Anduin squinted. "Is it? I can't tell from here." He shaded his eyes with his free hand. "Madame Goya's looks different. Closer to the edge of the cliff than I remember, and bigger. Are those other buildings new, or is my memory playing tricks again?"
"No, you are remembering correctly. Originally there were only two buildings, Goya's and the Tavern, and they were both very small," Wrathion said, unloading Anduin's bags from the gondola. "More like residences than businesses. One room downstairs, and a communal sleeping room upstairs."
Anduin sighed. "Oh yes. That I do remember. Still, the best soups have a long, slow simmer." He had taken off the circlet and was holding it loosely in his hand.
"Soups?"
"It's something my wife liked to say," Anduin replied. "Everything was so public at the Tavern, everything I said and did. No place private enough to do what I wanted… which gave me plenty of time to adjust to wanting it." He chuckled. "By the time you showed up in Stormwind, my sexual frustration had built to a point where I could think of little else."
Wrathion considered this for a moment, then gave a small, pleased smile. "Ah, I see." He went to the gondola and retrieved Anduin's bags. "The Tavern's been expanded since we stayed there," he said. "I feel as though they add a new building every time I'm away."
"Didn't you tell me that Goya and Tong had retired? Who's running things now?"
"Felicity and Lak'tuka's children, along with a number of retired Blacktalons." Wrathion carried the bags toward the portico, and Anduin followed.
The portico was essentially a roof over a small pool of water, from which lazy wisps of steam uncurled. Behind the pool, a deep, wood-lined sleeping alcove was set into the rock; to the right of the alcove was a small, elaborately-incised iron door.
"You have a hot spring this high up?" Anduin asked. "How is that even possible?"
"I have my ways." Wrathion had set the bags down next to the alcove, and gone back to the gondola to retrieve Anduin's bedroll and the cushions.
"Is that where you sleep?" Anduin asked as Wrathion came back and placed the bedroll in the alcove.
"No," Wrathion said. He turned his head to look back over his shoulder at Anduin. "Perhaps I can show you where I sleep later—" he let this statement hang in the air for a beat—"but at the moment we have a gift to deliver, do we not?"
Anduin nodded. He placed the circlet Wrathion had given him on the bedding.
Wrathion picked it up. "You don't want to wear it?"
Anduin shrugged. "It's—"
"Ostentatious?"
"Yes."
"Well then." Wrathion waved his hand, transforming the circlet into a thin torc with a hinged clasp. "How about this?"
"Hm." Anduin peered at it. "Doesn't look all that different."
"Let me show you." Wrathion stepped close, undid the clasp, carefully set the torc around Anduin's neck, then pulled up the edges of Anduin's collar to cover it. "Better?"
"I suppose." Anduin leaned toward him. "How can your smell be so familiar, even after so many years?" There was a beat, a moment of heated silence, and then Anduin reached out and touched one of the dark horns nearly hidden in the tangled curls of Wrathion's hair. "Do the locals know you have these?"
"Ah, thank you for the reminder." Wrathion smoothed his hand over his horns, turning them invisible. "A few do. Most don't." He brought his hand down from his hair and rested it on Anduin's shoulder. "Perhaps we should—"
"Yes, fly down to the Tavern." Anduin turned toward the gondola.
"Too much bother," Wrathion said. "Much easier if I just carry you over."
Anduin glanced with some trepidation at the tiny buildings far below. "Carry? You mean fly? As a dragon?"
"No, I mean carry. Levitate down." He paused for a moment. "Anduin, are you afraid that I will drop you?"
Anduin looked surprised. "No!" He shook his head and said more firmly, "No. I… I just don't like heights."
Wrathion glanced past Anduin to the gondola, then raised an eyebrow.
"That was different," Anduin explained. "We weren't that high. You had wings." He took a deep breath. "Alright, let's go. Before I change my mind." He picked up the basket of berries, then turned sideways and put his free hand around Wrathion's neck.
"There is nothing to fear," Wrathion said softly, picking Anduin up in one swift motion and walking off the edge of the cliff.
As they began to float smoothly down toward Mason's Folly, Anduin gave a small, pained gasp. "I know you've got me, but… it still feels as if I'm falling." His eyes were squeezed shut, and he was gripping the handle of the basket so hard that his knuckles were bloodless.
"Before we land, let me ask you something," Wrathion said. "I've been wondering about it since you asked about the clothes I make for myself when I leave dragon form. Would you prefer I not wear any?"
Anduin's eyes flew open just as Wrathion's feet touched the ground, and he shook his fist in mock fury. "You did that to distract me!"
Wrathion smiled faintly.
Anduin chuckled and looked around. "I remember this place! It hasn't changed a bit." He set down the basket of berries, then carefully moved closer to the low stone railing.
"For someone afraid of heights, you used to sit surprisingly close to the edge. It gave some of the adventurers quite a scare."
"I actually sat there to try to conquer my fear," Anduin said. "The adventurers shouldn't have worried; I always had at least one foot on the ground." He put one hand on the brass and stone finial, and looked down. "Such a beautiful view."
Below them the feathery treetops of the Jade Forest spread a carpet of green; only the massive arched bridge leading to the Temple of the Jade Serpent—which from this height looked toylike—provided a sense of scale. Beyond the treetops, the late afternoon sky melted into the Great Sea.
"Did they ever rebuild the Yu'lon statue?" Anduin asked. "It's too hazy today to see from here."
"Yes. We can visit it later, if you like?"
"I would." He took a deep breath. "I want to see everything. So many memories here!"
Wrathion watched him carefully. "Most of them pleasant?"
Anduin turned. "Oh yes." He bent slightly and then gingerly sat on the wide stone railing.
Wrathion, taking note of Anduin's bleary eyes and sagging posture, said, "There's likely to be a small welcoming party waiting at the tavern, but we don't have to stay long."
"Pandaren are such a hospitable people," Anduin said dreamily. "Any excuse for celebration. I especially remember the 'First Turnip of the Season' party. Or was it jade squash?"
"I still can't believe that you actually drank after each toast," Wrathion said. "You should have pretended to drink. You were not accustomed to Stormstout brew."
"But the farmers were all so proud! It would have been rude to pretend!"
"So like you," Wrathion said, "to endure a hangover in service of diplomacy and goodwill." He shook his head, remembering. "Well, as I began to say, I suggest we deliver the berries, have a quick word with any old friends present, and then take our leave. No need to stay for hours."
"Just long enough to claim that we made an appearance, you mean?"
"I don't think I can stay awake for much more than that," Wrathion said, pretending to yawn. "I'm very tired from the flight. I need to sleep soon. Regain my strength."
"Typical dragon. Always thinking of yourself."
Wrathion gave a small apologetic shrug. "It is my nature."
Anduin snorted. "I know what you're thinking."
Oh? Tell me, what am I thinking?
"You can't wait to get me into your bed, you depraved seducer."
"Alas, you see right through me." Wrathion glanced down the hill. Two figures were sprinting up toward them. "Our escort is on the way."
A few minutes later, two muscular young women arrived. They had pale greenish skin, slightly pointed ears, and small, distinctly orcish fangs.
"Welcome back, Mister Cole," the shorter of the two said to Wrathion.
"Riesa!" Wrathion regarded her with affection. "It's so good to see you again."
"We would have been here sooner," Riesa said, "but it took Vieka a while to find where Auntie Snowpaw had stored the sling."
"Thank you." Wrathion turned to Anduin. "My friend is capable of walking down to the Tavern from here, but I thought perhaps his energy might be better saved for more exciting activity."
Anduin, puzzled, looked from Wrathion to the two half-orcs.
Vieka, the taller of the two, held up a large folded piece of canvas. "Produce sling," she said. "Used to carry big vegetables down in the Valley."
Riesa gave her an exasperated look. "Vieka! Diplomacy!" She then explained to Anduin, "I hope you're not offended, but the sling is how we carry… well, anything valuable that would get bruised bouncing around in the back of a wooden cart. Many, er, older Pandaren enjoy riding this way in the off-season."
"Oh, I'm not offended," Anduin replied. "I've been compared to far worse than a ripe melon."
Vieka and Riesa unfolded the sling. There was a sturdy leather loop at each end, which they put over their heads and adjusted so that it ran diagonally across their chests. Holding the sling down low while Wrathion helped Anduin straddle it, they then lifted and spread the canvas as Anduin sat back and half-reclined.
"Oh!" he said, holding onto the sides as Wrathion helped him swing his legs up and over and inside the sling. "A hammock! I slept in one like this on the Vanguard!" As they started down the hill, Anduin raised an eyebrow at Wrathion. "Now this is travelling in style! Thank you, Mister Coal."
There's a story behind that, Wrathion replied. I came back here often after the war with the Legion ended—incognito, of course, as it confuses people to tell them who you are if they think you dead. One of the identities I used was 'Cole, Trader in Antiquities and Exotic Goods.' One day, when Tong mentioned to Cole that he was thinking of retiring, I impulsively offered him an extravagant sum for the Tavern and the surrounding property. I feared that if he found no buyer, the Tavern would fall into ruin, and I did not wish to see that happen. I admit I also had some vague notion that perhaps I could run the Tavern in Tong's place: after all, how difficult could it be to pour beer and collect money?
Not long after, Madame Goya approached me and hinted at her intention to retire. After pointing out that the auction house's plot of land was larger than the Tavern's, she claimed that her list of clients was far more extensive than Tong's and her business far more profitable—claims that I knew to be true. When she concluded her pitch by stating that she would be willing to settle for only slightly more than Tong had received, I was amused, and so bought her out as well.
You will not be surprised if I admit that I quickly realized that I had neither the knowledge nor the inclination to run a tavern. Fortunately my two most trusted Blacktalons—the human you knew as Right and the orc known as Left—once again showed their unnerving ability to anticipate what I needed, and came to my rescue by offering to make my vague dream of preserving the Tavern in the Mists a reality.
As it turned out, the two proved to be as adept at running a business as they had been at spying and killing my enemies. Several of the Blacktalons followed them into respectability, and The Haven in the Mists became very successful.
As they reached the bottom of the hill and headed toward the Tavern, what had seemed at first glance to be a jumble of buildings revealed itself to be a deft placement, in which the dozen cottages and communal structures surrounding Tong's tiny tavern and Goya's auction house—connected to the old buildings by meandering white stone paths—took advantage of the undulating landscape and ancient trees of the Veiled Stair to give each building an air of cozy seclusion.
"Small party, you said?" Anduin said as they approached the tavern.
The space between the tavern and the flightmaster was crowded with Pandaren. Some were flying kites; others were playing music for those dancing; a few sat on the grass verge playing board and card games. Still others were gathered around the various large kegs, avidly discussing the merits of each brew.
"That is a small party… for Pandaria," Wrathion said.
Inside the tavern, a table so large that there was barely room for chairs around it had been set up in the center of the room. As Anduin and 'Cole' entered, there was cheering and applause. Most of those present were half-orcs and young Pandaren, but there were a number of elderly humans and Pandaren seated at the table as well, and an orc with white braids.
Anduin, momentarily overwhelmed by the clamor, turned to Wrathion with a bewildered expression. "Who do I give the berries to? I don't recognize Madame Goya or Tong."
"Follow me." Wrathion took the basket of berries and steered Anduin toward the head of the table, where a tiny, elegantly dressed Pandaren matron held court.
"Welcome," she said warmly when she saw them. "Welcome! You look very tired. Cole, what have you been doing to this beautiful man?"
"I'm surprised that you recognize me after all this time," Anduin said.
"Recognize you?" Madame Goya tilted her head. "I'm sorry, dear, I don't think we've ever met. I am certain I would have remembered that Cole had a friend with such a silvery beard."
"Then why—" Anduin started to ask as Madame Goya looked around and asked, "Where is Xiulan? She loves silver hair."
She doesn't actually recognize you, Anduin. Wrathion told him. All she knows is that someone told her there was going to be a party.
"Now what is this you've brought me?" Madame Goya asked as Anduin handed her the basket of berries. "A gift? How very thoughtful! They look delicious! Riesa, set aside some for me to take home to Tong, and then put the rest in the fancy bowls and find room for them on the table." She handed the basket to Riesa, who bustled away. "Tong was so upset that he wasn't feeling well enough to come today," Madame Goya said. "It's his back, poor dear. He can barely move!" She rose from her chair. "Now sit!" she told Anduin. "I saved this seat for you!"
"Oh, I couldn't..."
"Nonsense," she said. "I insist! You are the guest of honor!" She patted the back of the chair.
As Anduin reluctantly took the seat that Madame Goya had vacated, Wrathion came to stand behind him. The elderly orc next to you is Lak'tuka. Wrathion informed him. You knew her as Left. Ever since Felicity died she's been very withdrawn; her children were surprised she came out of seclusion for this.
Anduin turned to her. "Take all the time you need," he told her. "It's been nearly twenty years, and yet I still find myself talking to my wife as if I expect her to be there." He looked down at the table, momentarily lost in his memories.
Lak'tuka nodded once. "Thank you," she said in a whispery growl. "I can see that you understand. How many years were you with her?"
"Almost forty."
"A good life." She put one gnarled green hand over Anduin's, then glanced up at Wrathion. "Take care of him," she said, although it wasn't clear to whom she was addressing this. She stood. "It was good to see you again, King Wrynn," she told Anduin. "Go with honor."
"May your blades never dull," Anduin replied.
She pointed to her chair, and told Wrathion, "Sit here."
"Now it is you giving the orders?" Wrathion murmured as he obeyed.
"It matters not who gives the command," Lak'tuka said, "if it leads to an outcome desired by all."
"True enough."
Now that Wrathion and Anduin were both seated, it was taken as a sign that it was time to eat and drink. A round of toasts followed, praising Anduin's courage and exploits. Wrathion looked amused as Anduin took the tiniest possible sip of each brew.
"But I didn't—" Anduin started to protest after being commended for defeating Lei Shen.
Just let it go, Wrathion advised. Why ruin their celebration with historical accuracy?
Fruit mead was next on the menu, a complement to the berries, which were passed around and enjoyed by all. Each variety was proclaimed to be more delicious than the last.
"I'd like to see what this farmer does with witchberries," one of the Tiller elders said, which led to a long, boisterous discussion of Nana Mudclaw's infamous witchberry julep "beauty secret."
Then the cooks began to crowd through the door, ready to bring in food from the cookpots outside. Each began to describe their speciality; each clearly wanted Anduin to eat their meal and no one else's. As the polite competition began to turn into jostling, Wrathion held up a hand. "Our guest is only one man," he said to the cooks. "Clearly, he is not accustomed to mid-day feasting."
"That's true," one of the younger Pandaren said softly. "Such a sad flat belly."
"But I know him well," Wrathion continued. "and I know that he would rather make himself ill than hurt anyone's feelings by refusing to sample the delicious food that you have prepared."
A collective sigh of understanding went through the crowd.
"Therefore, here is what I propose. You may each provide him with one mouthful of what you have cooked—"
There was a groan of dismay.
"—one small spoon or forkful." Wrathion spread his hands, and said in his most charming, persuasive voice, "Surely that is all it would take to charm his taste buds?"
The flock of chefs agreed to this, and the procession of bowls and platters began.
Stuffed lushrooms, steamed crab surprise, shrimp dumplings, Krasarang fritters, Chun Tian spring rolls, skewered peanut chicken, spiced blossom soup, Mogu fish stew, wildfowl ginseng soup, silkfeather omelet, student noodles, dragon's nest noodles, treasure noodles, sea mist rice noodles, Eternal Blossom fish, twin fish platter, green curry fish, fire spirit salmon, black pepper ribs, charbroiled tiger steak, wildfowl roast, valley stir fry, spicy vegetable chips, sauteed carrots… Anduin gamely tried them all, but near the end it was clear that even small mouthfuls had been too much. He was beginning to look extremely uncomfortable even before Vieka—who with Riesa was directing food traffic—announced, "For dessert we have mango ice, peach pie, seasoned pomfruit slices, and rice pudding. Oh, and red bean buns."
"As much as I love dessert," Anduin said weakly, "I don't think I have room."
"Now that you've eaten all that Pandaria has to offer," one of the master chefs said, "tell us which dish is your favorite?"
Anduin looked dismayed. "Actually… "
"What? Is something missing?" There was a sudden buzz of consternation.
Anduin leaned back in his chair and put his arms over his belly, which was now noticeably less flat. "Mei Mei Ironpaw used to make a soup—"
"Oh! Swirling Mist Soup!" A torrent of discussion followed, the gist of which seemed to be that Mei Mei had been a genius, the Supreme Master of soups, and that Swirling Mist was indeed fantastic, but no one had thought to make it because it was such a simple recipe.
"Almost as easy as golden carp consomme," someone joked, a comment which stirred up the avid consomme defenders.
Riesa worked her way around the room to lean down between Anduin and Wrathion. "We can make that soup for lunch tomorrow," she said quietly, "if you'd like to come by."
"That would be wonderful," Anduin said.
As the consomme debate began to splinter into several other topics, Wrathion touched Anduin's arm. "Need some air?"
"Walking might be good," Anduin said. "Let my food settle a little."
They eased their way out of the room, stopping every few steps to receive messages and well-wishes by the children or grandchildren of those who had known Anduin a half century ago but who were too old or infirm to make it to the party.
Outside, the late afternoon light filled the air with gold. They walked slowly toward the hot spring, the path marked by moss-covered white stones. At the end of the path, a large jar of glow lilies illuminated the hot spring, which was empty.
"Wasn't there a tree?" Anduin asked.
"It succumbed to some leaf disease," Wrathion said, "and had to be cut down."
"That sign is new." In several languages, it sternly prohibited public sex in or around the hot spring.
"Whenever I see it," Wrathion said, "I am reminded of the sin'dorei couple who invaded the hot spring the day you taught me to play jihui. They were quite affectionate."
"Oh yes," Anduin said. "I remember them. They propositioned me after you'd flown off."
"Did they really?" Wrathion crossed his arms and grinned. "And?"
Anduin shrugged. "And nothing. I didn't accept."
"A pity. Why not?"
"They were strangers, and Horde. And my guards were watching. And I was still recovering from my injuries."
"That last is a feeble excuse," Wrathion said, "as considerate lovers would have accommodated any frailty on your part. Still, you were young at the time, very naive about such things, and—"
Anduin made a noise somewhere between a snort and a sputter.
"—and if you weren't attracted to them—"
"I wasn't." Anduin sounded irked.
"So it was me who got you so aroused that day," Wrathion said smugly. "I always wondered."
They stood silently for a few moments, listening to the music and the indistinct burble of conversations from the Tavern behind them.
"The fact that they were Horde truly deterred you?" Wrathion asked. "I thought you were the champion of crossing faction boundaries and defusing animosity."
"I was," Anduin said. "But not for something as trivial as sex." Anduin held up his hand. "And before you make some ridiculous pronouncement about my prudishness or whatever, the main reason I didn't say yes to their offer was because I didn't know anything about them. They could have been spies. Or assassins."
"Or perhaps they were simply two elves of the Horde pleasuring each other in a hot spring as they enjoyed the blushes of a young prince of the Alliance?"
"It's possible."
"It's interesting," Wrathion said. "We both spent so many years trying to get the factions to set aside old hatreds and work together—a goal that I think both of us felt we would never achieve—and here we are, in the midst of the Great Peace."
"Quite an impressive revision of history," Anduin said. "As I recall, I was the one actually working to achieve peace, while you were more interested in having a clear victor emerge from the conflict."
"That is one way of interpreting it," Wrathion conceded.
"That's the only way to interpret it, because it's true."
"Let me ask you this. Surely you noticed that Riesa and Vieka weren't the only half-orcs among the guests and staff?"
"Yes. I've never seen so many in one place before."
Wrathion nodded. "Well, one could look at them, and rather than describe them as they are now, part of a large and loving family, one could focus on what they were before Felicity and Lak'tuka found and adopted them. Children who were the unwanted product of wartime violence. Children who were reviled and ostracized by both factions, and subjected to years of hardship and misery. Is either part of their life's history 'truer' than the other?"
Anduin sighed. "I see your point, but it's off-topic. You can't claim that you've always been a peacemaker just because the chain of events you set in motion ultimately led to peace."
Wrathion shrugged. "Fair enough. I can admit that I miscalculated, made mistakes. Blame it on the poor judgment of a young whelp. My intentions were honorable, however. I wanted to unite Azeroth against the Legion. I thought freeing Garrosh would bring that about."
"If you had worked with us instead of being secretive and trying to manipulate everything like a godlike puppetmaster—"
"Godlike puppetmaster? What a marvelous phrase."
"I'm serious!"
"So am I." Wrathion sighed. "Please believe me, Anduin, that if I could go back in time again there are events I would handle differently. Outcomes I would want to prevent."
"Outcomes like the death of thousands and thousands? Including my father?"
"That was… " Wrathion looked away. "I expected events to follow one of the timeways Kairozdormu had told me about, paths he had seen long ago, in which Gul'dan died on Draenor, his life force drained to power Garrosh's portal into Azeroth. Kairozdormu never mentioned the possibility that Gul'dan might be freed and ally so enthusiastically with the Legion—but then again, Kairozdormu apparently did not foresee his own death." He reached out into the empty space where the tree had been. "Sooner or later, everything crumbles into dust. Even Bronze dragons."
"Not just Bronzes," Anduin said. "All the Aspects are mortal now."
"Oh, don't feel too sorry for them," Wrathion said, shaking off his sombre tone. "I wager they retain a great deal more of their power than they let on."
"You don't associate with them?"
"My very creation sets me apart. Heir of Deathwing, cleansed of corruption by a Titan artifact, incubated outside space and time…"
"Yes, I've heard the story," Anduin said dryly. "Does your unique origin mean you're immortal and invulnerable as well as all-knowing?"
"I would have thought so."
Anduin started to say something, but seemed to think better of it.
"Well," Wrathion said after a bit, "I think we made enough of an appearance that we will not offend anyone if we leave. We've been here for hours."
"We can't go without saying goodbye!"
"They won't let us go easily. We could be here for hours more."
The decision was taken out of their hands, as nearly the entire party descended on them with samples of dessert, invitations to stay and watch the fireworks, and a few joking reminders to read the sign posted by the spring. By the time Anduin and Wrathion had said their farewells the sun had set, and the first stars were winking in.
They began to walk toward Mason's Folly; once they were far enough from the Tavern—where the celebration continued under the sparkle of fireworks—Wrathion flew them up to his roost.
"Do you want to sit in the hot spring for a while?" Wrathion suggested after they landed. "It might aid your digestion and help you sleep."
"Oh, I don't think I'll have any trouble," Anduin said through a yawn. "It's been a long day." He stretched. "I'm too tired to change into my nightshirt. I'm going to be lazy and sleep in my clothes."
"Should I light a small lamp?"
"No."
Wrathion spread out the pillows and cushions in the alcove, then unfurled the bedroll atop them. "We can borrow a mattress tomorrow."
"What are you going to do now?"
"If it won't disturb you too much, I think I'll soak in the hot spring for a while, and then go to sleep early myself."
"Wrathion," Anduin asked, with peculiar emphasis, "where do you plan to sleep?"
"I have chamber below that—oh." He turned. "Anduin, do you wish for me to sleep up here with you?"
"Oh, just ignore me." Anduin sat abruptly on the edge of the makeshift bed. "I am a foolish old man who doesn't know what to do." He wiped at his eyes.
Wrathion sat beside him. "My dear king, what is making you so sad?"
"I loved her," Anduin said after a while. "I loved her so much. Our marriage was satisfying, in every way. Romantically, sexually, intellectually, spiritually. She was my friend, my confidante and advisor, and a marvelous mother to our children. And she was loved, so loved by our people and everyone who knew her."
"Not surprising," Wrathion said. "She was an exceptional woman. No wonder that you didn't want to be with anyone else after she died."
"No, I didn't, because she was the only other person I had ever truly loved and truly felt passion for. Once she was gone no one else—" He turned to Wrathion. "How do you know so much about her? Or that I haven't been with anyone since she died? Have you been spying on me?"
"Spying? I wouldn't call it that," Wrathion said casually. "Spying seeks to uncover secrets in order to use those secrets to one's advantage. I merely observed you. There was no malicious intent; quite the opposite. I was motivated by concern. I needed to know if you were happy with your decision to end our relationship. I wanted make certain that you did not regret it."
"Did you ever see any evidence that I did?" Anduin demanded.
"Only once," Wrathion said. "At Gallywix's Pleasure Palace."
Anduin looked startled.
Wrathion kept going. "You would never go to a common brothel, with its limited selection and haphazard security: no, a royal needs discretion, but discretion is expensive, which meant Gallywix's. I predicted that you would conceal your identity, a not uncommon practice for Gallywix patrons, but it was simple to purchase a service which informed me immediately if someone of your general description arrived asking for a particular type of companion. Such persons were to be shown to a particular room in the suite I had previously rented."
"You couldn't possibly have known—"
"I rented the suite for the entire year."
"A year?" Anduin shook his head. "You paid for the exclusive use of a Gallywix suite, for a year, on the off-chance that I might show up?"
"Two years, actually, and very nearly regretted it. How many times did I rush to Azshara, only to be disappointed by the sight of yet another blond noble rutting with a badly costumed dragon prince! I was almost tempted to donate clothing to their wardrobe department simply to preserve my reputation."
"What do you mean, 'by the sight' of the nobles?" Anduin was sounding more and more outraged.
"The suite had two rooms," Wrathion said. "There was a viewing hole concealed in the adjoining wall."
Anduin shook his head. "That… that is beyond belief!"
"Do you doubt I was there? Very well, I will convince you. The room had red furnishings and a sturdy canopied bed. Your companion was a dark-haired blindfolded half-elf wearing a garish brocade coat and black leather breeches. Upon entering the room he told you, quite cheerfully, that he could pleasure you manually, orally, or anally, or strip for you and pleasure himself while you watched. He also said that if you wished you could fuck him, or hit him, though he asked that you not strike his face hard enough to leave bruises."
Anduin became very still. "How could you do such a thing to me?" he choked out at last. "Pry into my life in such a way? And then, to tell me about it only now! It's humiliating?"
"No, no, no, "Wrathion said quickly. "How can you be humiliated, when there was nothing to be ashamed of? You were unmarried at the time, not yet even engaged, and despite the half-elf's enticements all you did was sit and look at him for an hour. You even told him 'No' when he began to undo his breeches because he thought you were too shy to ask for what you wanted."
"I wasn't too shy," Anduin said. "I had changed my mind."
Wrathion nodded. "No need to explain; I understand entirely. You didn't want him because he wasn't me. When I saw you there, saw the torment and despair on your face, and understood what it must have taken for you to bring yourself to consider visiting such a sordid establishment, I knew I had to make it possible for you to set your feelings for me aside and marry. But how could I make you forget me? The only way was to take myself out of your world entirely, to cauterize your wound so brutally that you had no choice but to find another to love."
Anduin regarded Wrathion steadily. "You have always had a very high opinion of yourself."
"It's entirely justified."
Anduin began to laugh, louder and louder, until it sounded nearly hysterical. "You are a horrible person. A horrible, horrible person. How did I become so attached to such a vain, manipulative, deceitful man?"
"Actually, as I keep reminding you, I am not really a man at all," Wrathion said. "A dragon in human form is still a dragon."
"I guess—" Anduin yawned. "I tend to forget that." He yawned again as he began to pull the bedroll over himself like a blanket. "Good night, Wrathion."
"I can show you where I sleep tomorrow," Wrathion said, adjusting the bedroll to cover Anduin's legs. "As it is, you wouldn't survive for very long down there tonight."
Anduin sat up. "Is that so? Well, now you've made me curious. Show me. Let's go."
"I thought you were worn out and wished to sleep?"
"I guess I'm awake now. Second wind. Third." He pushed the bedroll away and got to his feet.
"Stay where you are, then," Wrathion said. "I was not exaggerating the danger." He went to the iron door next to the alcove and ran his hand over it.
The pattern on the door glowed red; then the door swung open, and a blast of superheated air and orange light spilled out.
Anduin shrank back. "What's down there? A furnace?"
"More or less," Wrathion said. He closed his eyes and held his hands up to the blisteringly hot air that was still pulsing from the doorway, and the light coming up from below began to subside. "How else to keep my hot spring hot?"
"And you sleep down there?"
"In dragon form, yes." He considered Anduin. "Don't touch the door or the walls as we descend; the metal and stone won't have cooled enough not to burn you."
Anduin closed his eyes for a moment, and a shimmering nimbus appeared around him.
"I could have warded you," Wrathion said. He sounded disappointed.
"I know," Anduin said. "I just like to remind myself that I'm still a priest now and then."
The descent was a steep, narrow ramp spiraling down through the rock, the only light coming from the rock walls that had cooled from bright orange to dull red.
Wrathion went first, walking slowly enough that Anduin could stay close behind him. "Let me know if the heat becomes too much to bear," he said.
Anduin panted a little as he renewed his shield. "I haven't experienced anything like this since the vision lodge Baine used to take me to."
They reached the bottom of the ramp. Wrathion held out his arm. "Stop here. Stay on the ramp. Do not step onto the floor."
The high-ceilinged chamber was smaller than Anduin had expected, and emptier. Most of the floor was covered by a stone mound, its surface latticed with glowing cracks that showed the nearly molten rock beneath.
"Cozy," Anduin said. "You actually sleep down here? I can't believe you fit."
"I'll show you," Wrathion said, "but then we must go back upstairs."
Anduin, whose face was flushed and glistening with sweat, nodded.
Wrathion moved toward the center of the room, transforming as he did so. Catlike, he turned around once, then settled onto the rock, taking up almost all the space in the room.
Happy?
"Yes." Anduin noticed a box on a narrow ledge that had been carved into the wall near the bottom of the ramp. "What's in there?"
Oil to keep my scales in good condition. Bring it upstairs; you can help me apply it, if you like.
"I didn't realize dragons needed grooming products," Anduin said as he opened the box and took out a small bottle. "Should I bring this piece of cloth as well?" A square of garish brocade lined the bottom of the box.
No, leave it.
Anduin squinted at the fabric. "Wait, is this from—?"
Yes. A memento.
"I had no idea you were so senti—" Anduin managed to say before he collapsed.
Growling in frustration, Wrathion shifted out of dragon form, scooped Anduin up, and raced up the stairs. He carefully set him down on the bedroll, then ran to the edge of the cliff and dove toward the tavern to acquire some water.
He returned a few moments later with a bottle of lotus water in each hand. Setting them down in front of the hot spring, he carried Anduin out into the cool night air, then carefully trickled the water between his lips a few drops at a time.
"Stubborn old man," Wrathion said when Anduin finally opened his eyes. "Drink this." He helped Anduin sit up and handed him the bottle.
Anduin drank it down without stopping, then wiped his mouth and asked, "Did you go into the Tavern like that?"
Wrathion, who was naked, shrugged. "Riesa and Vieka have seen me in the Tavern hot spring, but if it bothers you… " He snapped his fingers, and a nightshirt of dark silk covered him to mid-thigh.
"How am I supposed to oil you now?" Anduin said, reaching for the other bottle of water.
"You want to do that now? Tonight? After you almost—" Wrathion stopped himself. "Of course, my king." He pulled off the shirt and tossed it aside. "Anything you wish." He stood and held out his hand.
"You manage to make nearly everything you say sound seductive," Anduin said, looking up at Wrathion's nude form with undisguised admiration.
"You object to that?"
"Not at all." Anduin clasped Wrathion's hand and let the dragon pull him to his feet. "I enjoy it." He took the bottle of oil from his pocket. "Where do you need me to apply this? All over?"
Wrathion took the bottle from him. "Hold out your hand."
Anduin, amused, did so, and watched as Wrathion poured a single drop of oil into his palm He recorked the bottle, then pressed his palm to Anduin's. "I can do my front. Will you oil my back?"
"The back of what?" Anduin asked. "Your left elbow?"
"This is not ordinary oil." Wrathion rubbed his hand over his chest, leaving a wide, gleaming swath behind.
Anduin peered at the drop in his hand. "All that from one drop?"
"Magic," Wrathion said.
Anduin began to rub Wrathion's shoulderblades, laughing a little as the oil renewed itself under his hand, spreading to coat his fingers and entire palm. He did both shoulders, pausing for a moment to watch the play of muscles as Wrathion massaged the oil into his arms, then moved down to the lower back, turning slightly sideways when his arm began to tire. "How far down do I go?' he asked.
"All the way." Wrathion bent over slightly and began to apply the oil to his thighs.
After a moment's hesitation, Anduin tentatively stroked his hand over Wrathion's buttocks.
"Surely you can do better than that," Wrathion muttered as he worked on his knees and shins. "Do you want my haunches to dry out?"
Anduin got an annoyed, determined look and massaged harder for a moment, then stopped. "What are you doing?"
Wrathion stood and turned to him. "Trying to help you move past flirtation and innuendo. Is that not what you want?"
Anduin snorted. "Well, of course I have fantasized about it, but you're not seriously suggesting we… become lovers again?"
"Why not?"
"Because I am old and withered and... pale and spotty and saggy and… limp."
"Not for long. Not if we continue," Wrathion said, grinning wickedly. When Anduin did not laugh he asked, "Should I give you a glamour to make you look the way you did when you were young? Would that make you more comfortable with the idea?"
"No, that's ridiculous." Anduin bit the inside of his cheek and asked sheepishly, "You can do that?"
"Of course, but let us be clear: it would be for your benefit, not mine." When Anduin scoffed, Wrathion said gently, "My dear king, did you think I loved you for your pretty face? Dragons are not concerned with appearances."
"Easy for you to say. Dragons are awe-inspiring and magnificent."
"Would it be better if I too was imperfect? Damaged, even decrepit?"
"You? Imperfect?" Anduin give a wry, lopsided smile. "Impossible."
Wrathion sighed. "Once again you are forcing me to show you something that no other being on Azeroth has seen."
"I don't understand."
"As you now know, I survived the encounter with Sargeras," Wrathion said, walking outside to the open area between the portico and the gondola. "However, my smouldering good looks did not."
He took dragon form.
"Oh," Anduin said as he saw Wrathion's true form. His eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Wrathion." He walked to the dragon, touching the twisted knots of scar tissue, the exposed ridge of bone above the sightless eye, the torn, twisted wings that had healed askew, and the many places, too many places, where discolored skin had grown over concaves of missing flesh.
Truly, you are the beautiful one now.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
I very much enjoy the way you have looked at me the past few weeks; it's far preferable to the look of pity you have now.
"It's not pity," Anduin said. "But it's true that seeing your scars, knowing you almost died saving me… it makes me sad. And angry as well, I suppose."
Angry? Why?
"For depriving me of the chance to heal you. For letting me think you were dead. For deceiving me into abandoning you. For not trusting in our friendship, at a time when I had nearly adjusted to not being with you day and night. There were so many things I would have loved to share with you over the years, if only you had been there."
Wrathion exhaled a small puff of smoke. I didn't think of it that way. I was doing what was best for you.
"Shouldn't I have been the one to decide that? Or did you think so little of me that you didn't think me capable of running my own life?"
No, I didn't think you incapable. I simply felt able to see things you could not.
"You saw things that were not there, and didn't see the things that were."
It's too late for apologies. Is it too late to start over?
"So much has happened today, so much has been… " Anduin paused to consider his words. "So many things I didn't know have been revealed, that I feel as though we are nearly strangers again."
"Then let me say that I am pleased to meet you, Prince Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind," Wrathion said with a bow, taking the form he had worn when he and Anduin had first met. "The hour is late, but perhaps tomorrow you'll allow me to buy you a bowl of Swirling Mist soup? In exchange, I am eager to learn about this strange Pandaren game in which both sides win."
"I think," Anduin said with a smile, bowing in return, "that you might have things to teach me as well, Prince Wrathion of the Black Dragonflight. I'm not sure I entirely trust you, but I am intrigued enough to accept your offer."
.
… 5 …
They slept the next day until the sun edged around enough to pour light on them, then went down to the Tavern for an early lunch of Swirling Mist soup and ginseng tea. After borrowing a mattress for the alcove, they took the gondola and travelled to the Jade Serpent and White Tiger temples, visiting until late afternoon. When they returned to the Ascent, Anduin took a nap, while Wrathion went to the Tavern and acquired not only supper, but a small table and two chairs. They ate by candlelight, then soaked in the hot spring as the sky shaded from sunset to dusk. Afterward they curled together on the bed, falling asleep to the sound of the wind and far-off birds.
During the days that followed, they visited nearly every corner of Pandaria. Anduin had received reports, of course, detailing Pandaria's recovery, but words on parchment did not have quite the same impact as seeing it for himself. The Vale, where the excavations had been sealed and the gouges in the land filled in, was beginning to flower again. The lakes of Kun-Lai Summit, which once streamed ichor, were again pristine and a source of clear visions for the jinyu. Lorewalker Cho's successor gave them a tour of the new monument to Yu'lon, and afterward they strolled through the Arboretum listening to story after story about hozen diplomacy. They travelled to Townlong, where they were briefed by Taran Zhu's daughter about the dormant mantid, and to the Isle of Thunder, where the mogu—now reverted to stone—stood at attention before an empty throne.
.
"So what will it be tomorrow?" Wrathion asked at the end of their first week. "The Hawkmasters of the Secret Aerie have invited us to visit." He and Anduin were in the spring. Anduin sat astride Wrathion's lap with his head on Wrathion's shoulder, stroking his shoulder and chest. From time to time, Wrathion scooped a handful of water over Anduin's exposed shoulders and back to make sure he didn't become chilled.
"A secret aerie sounds fun." He slowly stroked the side of his thumb over a nipple.
"Have you seen everything you wanted to see?" Wrathion asked. "Done everything you wanted to do?"
"Yes," Anduin said, then added with a smile, "At least twice."
Their second night in Pandaria, they had become lovers again. There had been awkwardness at first, of course, shyness and frustration, as they began to explore what pleasures Anduin's frail body was capable of, but soon it was as if they were in the teenaged prince's quarters in Stormwind again, falling on each other after days apart.
"You'll certainly have many stories to tell your family when you go back. Although I don't think you should tell them how I modified my body for your comfort."
"No, I probably won't tell them that you reshaped your cock." Anduin sounded sleepy. "But my daughter—not the shiny one, the red one—she'll be happy to hear about the Vale. Trees are growing. And water. Stones and fish."
"Anduin," Wrathion said, drawing back a bit. "You're talking strangely. Are you alright?"
"I'm… tired. And that smell is getting to me."
"Smell?"
Anduin wrinkled his nose. "It's gone now." He pushed himself up and clambered out of the hot spring. "Time to sleep?"
.
On the tenth day, Wrathion woke to see Anduin lying absolutely still, staring at the ceiling of the alcove.
"Lazy old lion," Wrathion teased, nuzzling his ear. "Are you planning to sleep all day?"
"I can't move my left arm or leg," Anduin said, tears beginning to leak from the corners of his eyes. "And I've ruined the bed."
"That is a small matter, quickly tended to," Wrathion said. He rolled out of bed, returning a moment later with a basin of warm water and some washcloths, then opened the iron door to the lower chamber.
"You can't… clean me up."
"It is true that I am royalty," Wrathion said as he gathered up the bedroll, "and normally such caretaking would be done by others. But, as you are a king who has tended to the sick; surely I can do it as well."
"But you aren't me," Anduin said. "You are nothing like me." He shivered despite the heated air flowing over him.
"True," Wrathion said. "I am vain, manipulative, and deceitful. Your opposite in every way." He dipped a washcloth into the water and squeezed it out. "If I roll you on your side, do you think you can lift your leg?"
"I can try." Anduin closed his eyes.
Wrathion began to gently wash him. As the cloth touched skin, Anduin gave a sharp intake of breath.
Wrathion stopped immediately. "Am I hurting you? Is the water too hot?"
"No," Anduin's voice wavered. "I'm just… ashamed to have you see me this way. That you have to do this."
"Dragons do not abandon those they love," Wrathion said quietly. "What would the other flights say if they found out that I had neglected my consort?"
This, at last, made Anduin laugh.
When Wrathion was done he lifted Anduin, wrapped him in the bedroll, carefully lowered him into a chair, then took the soiled mattress outside.
"There is no need to worry," he said when he came back with clean clothing. "Your strength will return." As he helped Anduin dress, he noticed that half of Anduin's face looked strange: one eyelid drooped almost closed, and one corner of his mouth was downturned. Wrathion asked, "This numbness? It has never happened to you before?"
"No," Anduin said. "Never." He began to sob. "I tried to use the Light, but it seems I no longer know how. And there are people, but I can't see their faces… "
Wrathion knelt next to the chair and began to stroke Anduin's hair.
"What can I do?" Wrathion asked. "What do you want me to do?"
"Bring me some tea," Anduin said. "To help me sleep."
"Sleep?"
"Yes." Anduin looked at him steadily, until Wrathion understood.
"Are you certain?"
"I keep losing pieces of myself," he said, anguished. "Soon there will be nothing left."
.
"It took me a while to find the best tea," Wrathion said when he returned. He poured heated water into a cup, then crushed leaves in his hand and stirred them in.
"What is it?"
"The herbalists have various overly-poetic names for it," Wrathion said. "None of which I can recall." He gave a final stir, then held the cup out. Anduin grimaced as he moved his arm to take the cup, and a shadow passed over Wrathion's brow. "In a few days you will be dreaming of nothing but warmth and light. I guarantee it."
Anduin took a sip. "It's bitter. "
"I'm sure Riesa has honey if you need it sweetened."
"I don't need it," Anduin said, then drank. As Wrathion took the empty cup, Anduin caught hold of his shirt, pulling him down for a kiss. "Sweetness enough," he said.
"I should go get a new mattress," Wrathion said as he set the cup on the table, "so that we have someplace comfortable to sleep tonight."
"Don't go yet. I'm not done with you."
"Of course." Wrathion sat down next to Anduin and took his hand.
"I knew you were lying," Anduin said after several minutes had passed in silence, "but I appreciated the gesture nonetheless."
"Lying? About what?"
"The injuries you showed me in dragon form. They were an illusion. You wouldn't have left yourself like that for sixty years. You admire your own looks too much." He squeezed Wrathion's hand weakly. "You would have mended yourself."
"You overestimate my power if you think I could repair damage that severe," Wrathion said.
Anduin shook with silent laughter. "Liar."
"You're not taking motivation into account," Wrathion said. "What reason was there to expend the energy, if I had no one to be magnificent for?" He lifted Anduin's hand, and pressed a kiss to it. "Now allow me to go get us a mattress, my king, unless you want to sleep in lava tonight."
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The next morning, Wrathion helped Anduin bathe and dress, then gave him a bouquet of blue and yellow flowers to hold. "Time to go," he said, and then he gathered his love up into his arms and took him home.
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~ The End ~
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first post 12 October 2016; revised27 March 2017
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Thanks again to bryn for beta and use of Kirsi/Kirsidormi, to Mipeltaja for orc consultation and names, and to alternatedoom for such an enticing prompt.
Wrathion's Ascent—the name of the "roost" I created for Wrathion in Pandaria—is intended as a deliberate echo of Blackwing Descent.
Ms. Xiulan is an NPC (identified as Madame Goya's assistant) who sends you to steal a strand of Khadgar's hair during the Obliterium Fel Forge quest chain.
