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Prince Anduin Wrynn lay awake in the dark. The brazier had burned out some time ago, and the evening was growing chill around him. Winds howled in off the harbour, slamming into the keep, rattling the windows and battering the glass with rain. In times past, despite its rage, Anduin found the sound soothing. It had accompanied him thoughout his short life: the storms of Stormwind. He turned on his side and stared blankly at the glittering raindrops sliding down the glass of his chamber window as if he could read in them some comforting and auspicious sign. The only answer was the unrestrained violence of the elements of wind and water.
Sleep finally claimed him but rest remained evasive. Dreamless but disturbed, he awoke drained as if half the day were already gone. Yet it was still the small hours of the morning. The sun had only barely risen. Anduin thought about trying to get back to sleep, but reason told him it would only weary him further. He rose and prepared himself; when Wyll arrived, he would find the prince almost suitable for presentation.
"We were so close," said the prince softly.
"Your highness?" asked Wyll as he finished adjusting Anduin's silver circlet. "I didn't quite catch what you said." The prince turned to the elderly servant whom he had known for most of his life and gave a small, sad smile.
"It was going so well," he said distantly. "There were still problems, of course. Some of them will take years to untangle- if they are resolvable at all. But we were making progress!" Anduin frequently thanked the Light that Vol'jin of the Darkspear now led the Horde. It was true that the Human prince held deep respect for many leaders of that faction which made him peculiar; he found Vol'jin a cunning and reliable man whom he could implicitly trust to broker agreements that would be fair to the weak as well as the strong. He could not say the same for many- not even many in the Alliance...
"Ah," the servant stepped away from him and busied himself with folding Anduin's sleeping clothes. "Your efforts have been most beneficial, I must say. Yes, you were not finished, but still; when you go down into the harbour you'll have quite a different scene to last time."
"Yes," Anduin was uncheered. Wyll tilted his head and looked at Anduin with an indulgent expression.
"Come, it couldn't be more different! Last time you blessed the fleet, we were going to war with the Horde over Theramore. Your royal father was at complete emnity with them, the good and the bad, it made no difference with him, eh? But now..." He nudged Anduin, who only looked at him blankly. "Now they're allies!" he almost whispered it. Then, he laughed. "It sounds absurd!"
"We're not allies," Anduin corrected promptly. "There hasn't even been a formal truce." He sighed. "You're right; we've come far indeed... and yet, in many ways, we've not moved at all."
Wyll made a non-commital sound as he finished checking Anduin over. He took great pride in Anduin's public appearances when the prince wore his state regalia. The sky blue tunic, the gold cloth and embroidered lions that almost seemed alive as they shimmered in the surface of the fine fabric. "You look splendid, your highness," he said at last, showing Anduin his face in a glass. "You're ready."
As the old servant clapped his hand on Anduin's shoulder the prince said "Light knows, I hope so."
The two made their way out of Anduin's chambers and into the long tiled hallway that opened into the throne room of Stormwind Keep. The hall echoed with clamor: voices high and low, the bright gaggle of the Human aristocracy mixed with a few ambassadors of the diverse nations that comprised the Alliance. Most of these other races were holding similar events in their own capitols. The fleet- the joint Alliance-Horde fleet- would have their rendezvous just off the north coast of Pandaria before making landfall on the Broken Shore.
The King of Stormwind greeted his son as he and Wyll joined the bright gathering of Alliance dignitaries. Varian was already settled into a stance of regal defiance. If he were preparing to meet an overwhelming enemy, he showed no sign of it. Confidence and will emanated from him like heat, and just as tangible to those who beheld him. He noticed the contrast with his son immediately. Concern flitted across his face, and -briefly- an expression of mute understanding.
Inwardly, this wasn't the first time Varian Wrynn had wondered if his own depression had not entirely been caused by external means. He had spent many years hiding it in Lordaeron... Was the trauma of his childhood revisting itself now upon his own son? Was melancholia living with the Wrynns since the fall of Llane? His boy looked so much like his mother, bright Tiffin, who had saved him from the shadows. Anduin, his always too serious son, who would carry the Light for him when his own was dim?
Varian took his son's shoulders in his hands and regarded him. "Know this: Son, this is only possible because of you. The goodwill and toil you poured into healing the festering wounds between us and the Horde are finally bearing fruit." Anduin's gaze had slid from meeting his father's. Varian released him.He knew that a great distance had been crossed that once kept him and his son estranged, by circumstance and behaviour. There were times when he could be the quiet comfort the boy needed, but in this moment all Varian could think was that he had run out of time. He was out of time to learn how to encourage Anduin when he most needed it; Anduin, who showered this gift on everyone- friend or foe- freely and naturally.
"Father, I--" Anduin said suddenly. "I want to go with you."
Varian quirked his lips into a wry grin and laughed tightly. "What? No, I don't think so," he exchanged a worried glance with Wyll. "Son, what made you say that?"
"It just... I could help. Father, I'm a priest--."
"Anduin," said Varian. "No one doubts your courage, or your vocation," he nodded, knowing full well that his recognition of both had been hard-won by his precious son. "But both of us going on the offensive would be folly." His son gazed at him penetratingly. As the two men stood regarding each other, Varian reached out with a heavy hand to press his son's shoulder. "Wrynn must always rule in Stormwind," he said. Breaking eye contact, he turned and gathered himself.
"You've done a splendid job, Wyll, as always."
"Father!" Anduin stopped Varian as he prepared to join the train out of the keep. "I love you." The King of Stormwind turned to his son, smiled gently and lingered a moment. His heart was too full to say anything, try as he might. And so, he nodded and left. He would find the words before landfall on the Broken Shore.
Wyll stood by. He would not be joining the train, but before he turned away, he whispered to the prince: "He knows." Anduin stood in the archway of the blue and white marbled corridor and lifted his head. With practiced swiftness, he put on confidence as he had put on his regalia that morning. As he had done so many times before, he seemed older, serene, the embodiment of House Wrynn. He prepared to speak what was in his heart, when the time came, and he hoped both heart and speech would once again be perfect.