Archive of Our Own

He’s in the War Room when Wrathion finds him, studying the pieces on the table so intently that he doesn’t notice the dragon until he feels a heated hand land on his shoulder. Nearly jumping out of his skin, Anduin knocks over his chair as he whirls to face the intruder, not missing the amusement in glowing red eyes. Faltering, he struggles for a moment to find words, trying to cover for his momentary lapse in judgement.

“Wrathion,” Anduin clears his throat, hoping to hide the uncertainty in his voice. “You surprised me.”

“I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you.”

“I… Of course.” Another awkward cough, Anduin straightens himself, forcibly recalling his composure. “What do you want, then?”

The damage is already done, and Wrathion smirks, a glint in his eyes. “I was hoping you’d accompany me on a walk through the city. For all the times I’ve been here lately, I never did get a proper tour.”

He’s up to something, of that Anduin is sure. Anduin regards him, and for a minute, the Trial flashes before his eyes. The betrayal of the deepest kind, old wounds and whispers of hurt made worse by the wrath of an Old God. Some wounds take time to heal, and Anduin has been having trouble with even that of late. Letting out a sigh, he glances back at the war table.

“I should be working.”

“You can afford to take a few hours of rest, no? I’m not sure this qualifies as work when there’s not currently a war.” Wrathion’s voice is surprisingly soft, tender in a way that makes his heart ache as much as it soothes him. Feeling the tension in his shoulders ease, Anduin offers him a slight smile.

“I suppose you have a point.”

……..

Regardless of his attempt at a lie, Wrathion leads as they wander Stormwind’s winding streets, giving a narration of what this or that champion said about the area. Anduin is half-listening; his focus shifts between Wrathion and the city itself. Banners are strung up around the area, paper hearts and magically preserved flowers strung up on light posts and over doors, and the sickly sweet aroma of perfume follows them into even the darkest of corners. With all that had been going on, Anduin had all but forgotten about the holiday - his other advisors had been fielding most audiences with him, and he suspected the yearly charm bracelet gifts had ended up lost in the fray.

A particularly chilly February wind catches him as they round the corner, and he draws his cloak tighter against him. Though he can see some celebrating - chocolates in hand and gift bags clutched in the nervous fingers of children - it seems quieter to him. Subdued. Wrong, somehow. Too many were missing, and he can imagine the cemetery and memorials would be filled with as many, if not more, flowers than the streets were. So many lost. And how many more next time?

“Anduin?”

The warm hand on his shoulder startles him, head snapping from the particularly red flower he’d been staring at. Wrathion’s brows furrow, lips turned downward in a frown.

“Are you alright?”

Shaking his head, Anduin averts his gaze, turning back to the rose. “It doesn’t seem…. Right. To celebrate so easily, after all that.”

“I think it makes sense. They’ve had little to celebrate, during all that ,” Wrathion’s voice is soft again, much more even and reasonable than he once was. “The war is finally over. Many have been lost. Now is a perfect time to celebrate what they have left. It gives them hope. It’s an important thing, you know, to have hope.”

He sounds like Anduin used to, and Anduin knows it’s on purpose. Wrathion squeezes his shoulder gently, letting his hand drop after a moment. He has a point, one that Anduin wishes he’d remembered to see for himself first.

“.....When did you get so wise?”

“Age helps, I suppose. And a few mistakes.”

“Garrosh.”

“Well, you have a point, but…” Wrathion trails off, shaking his head. “ He was not what I was referring to.”

Anduin’s breath catches, heart stopping for what feels like a full minute. He doesn’t need to ask what Wrathion means, and he can’t help but wonder just what Wrathion’s seen all these years, what led him to change. What did Anduin miss, when Wrathion was off on his own? What drove him back to Anduin , of all people? Swallowing hard, Anduin has to force his next word through the lump in his throat.

“.....Wrathion….”

“I believe there is still more of the city to see?”

Just like that, the moment is over as Wrathion turns, moving them down a side street. Maybe there are too many prying eyes, but Anduin doesn’t think that’s it, either. It’s a distraction, a ploy to get Anduin’s mind off his own thoughts, maybe. 

Wrathion takes his hand, and Anduin feels himself almost smiling again. Whatever it is, he appreciates it. He listens more closely this time as Wrathion continues the tour Anduin was supposed to be giving, the stories coming just as easily as before. Anduin realizes now some are completely fabricated, some exaggerated, while fewer are entirely true and kept as originally told. He can’t bring himself to mind, enjoying the impromptu history of his own people and their many endeavors in the city.

Reaching the far side of the Trade District, Wrathion straightens himself, looking around at the signs as if seeking something in particular. He has that glint in his eyes that he gets when he’s set a goal on something.

“I’ve heard tales of an ice cream parlor nearby, the champions from Stormwind speak highly of it. You must know about it, I’m sure, but I need to see for myself. While I trust the champions of Azeroth on many things, their tastes are sometimes… varied…. from mine.”

Watching Wrathion continue on the search, realization begins to dawn on Anduin just what, exactly, Wrathion’s been doing this whole time. He can’t help the smile that threatens to spread across his face, hiding it with a cough. Much about Wrathion has changed since Pandaria - much about them both has changed - but this part of him is very much the same.

He doesn’t mind playing along.

“I have heard of it, yes. If I remember correctly, it’s just this way.” Falling into step beside Wrathion, he makes a point to use his whole arm in the motion as he gestures, coming dangerously close to Wrathion’s chest. The dragon’s composure falters only for a hint of a second, but it’s just enough for Anduin to see before he too is covering himself with a cough. Anduin notes with pride that there’s an odd lilt to Wrathion’s voice when he speaks.

“Ah, right then. You lead the way.”

Anduin makes sure to keep his pace even with Wrathion, even as he pretends to direct them. Of course taking the long way, he finds himself easing the longer they walk. Wrathion was right - the people deserve a break, after all they’ve faced these past few years. The celebration may be subdued, but it is there.

The earlier mood is almost completely forgotten by the time they finally arrive, They are not the only ones to have thought to come here, but the chill has kept just as many away, and they’re able to find a secluded spot in the back of the room, away from prying ears and eyes to talk. Anduin let Wrathion carry on about this and that for a while, studying the lines of his face with each expression change. It’s not until Wrathion seems to have run out of things to say before Anduin speaks up again.

“Thank you, Wrathion. For today, I mean.”

Wrathion waves his hand, shaking off his words with a too-practiced ease. It’s such a familiar gesture that Anduin knows better than to take his next words at face value. “It was nothing. I said you needed a break, did I not? And you provided a decent enough tour of the city. I should be able to find my way around well now.”

“Of course. If that’s the story we’re sticking with now.”

“Well excuse me , your highness,” Wrathion looks indignant, puffing out his chest in a huff at being caught in his own lie. “You did go along with it, I might point out.”

“It’s easier to get information with a bit of espionage, isn’t it?”

“Why I—“

“Please.” Laughing, Anduin feels some of the weight lifting off his shoulders, little by little. For all the pain he’d been through, he had to admit it was a relief to spend time with Wrathion as they once had. Despite it all, he understands now. “I’m glad that hasn’t changed about you.”

It’s Wrathion’s turn to look surprised, eyes widening ever so slightly as his jaw goes slack. “Anduin….”

Reaching out, Anduin takes Wrathion’s hand, twining their fingers together. Wrathion squeezes his hand, taking the cue to be quiet, just this once. Anduin feels his smile soften. He knows above all, he missed this . “Next time ask for a date like a normal person, hm?”