Chapter Text
The cave was cold and musty, which Wrathion, in recent months, had learned was fairly standard for caves. Truthfully, he couldn't stand them and would've been absolutely thrilled if someone told him that he'd never have to enter another cave as long as he lived, but he also couldn't stand the idea of some random mercenary claiming the bounty on the head of whichever small-time bandit chief had holed up there, so... there he was.
Stealth came easily to him, though his efforts were aided even more-so by the poor lighting and the enchantments on his boots. Wrathion couldn't be called small or even slight, but he was no warrior. He could hold his own in combat, sure, but when faced with an angry Orsimer bandit chief wielding a warhammer likely weighing as much as himself... Wrathion would take any advantage he could get.
It also helped that he rarely partook of these adventures alone. He couldn't hear his companions behind him, but he knew they were there. Right and Left- two women who were as cagey as they were deadly, and they were deadly- followed closely. Right was immediately behind him, with Left staying a short distance behind; Left was deceptively stealthy for an Orc, and the average bandit would never see her coming, but the occasional misstep betrayed her inexperience. On the other hand, Right was a natural rogue, nearly as good as Wrathion himself, he could admit with no small amount of pride.
With Wrathion and Right taking the lead, and Left following and easily dispatching anything that may attempt to sneak up on them, they cleared much of the cave with deadly efficiency, as they always did. This particular cave was large, and this group of bandits small, so they were spread out the perfect distance to be taken out without raising alarm among the others. Wrathion so loved it when they made it easy for him; not that he didn't love a challenge, but... he hated caves.
As he crept around a corner, he saw one bandit standing before a fire, and a rather delectable-looking chest against the stone wall across from him. With his dagger in hand and the shadows on his side, he made quick work of quick work of the bandit, and just as quickly turned his attention to the chest. A quick once-over revealed that the chest wasn't trapped, so Wrathion picked the lock with ease to rifle through its contents. Although these bandit chests rarely contained anything worth taking, aside from gold or potions, Wrathion was pleasantly surprised to learn that this particular chest seemed to belong to a mage. Wrathion didn't care much for mages robes or circlets, nor did either of his companions, but he knew that mages liked to enchant things, and that enchanted things were potentially worth a fair bit of gold.
The first thing he retrieved was a staff. Wrathion, on any other occasion, would've just tossed it aside; they were unwieldy, and rarely worth enough gold to justify lugging it around a dungeon, but he paused. Although staves weren't his area of expertise, he immediately recognized this one as a restoration staff. He wasn't sure what it did, exactly, but he began to wonder if maybe the other items in the chest would be related to the restoration school of magic as well. He peered into the chest and noticed some basic blue robes, and a gleaming silver circlet. He picked it up, noting an unfamiliar enchantment empowering it, and admired the glimmering pale-blue moonstones adorning it.
Anduin would like this, he thought to himself. He knew well enough that this particular circlet's base value wasn't especially high, for a circlet, and the enchantment would certainly increase the value, possibly by a fair margin. But, he would have to take it to a mage and have it appraised, which is time he could spend doing more important things... or he could just give it to Anduin. He doesn't exactly need the money, nor would he reject an opportunity to see Anduin again. He carefully tucked the circlet into his knapsack, then grabbed the staff. He hated the idea of carrying it around for the rest of the trip, so he held it out to Left. She glared at him, and Right raised a brow. Wrathion ignored them, and wiggled it insistently in Left's direction until she rolled her eyes and took it, strapping it to her back. He gave her a grin, and they continued on their way. He knew that this particular group of bandits wasn't particularly large, and considering the number they'd taken out already, Wrathion felt they must be nearing the end. He noticed that Right had finished picking over the dead bandit's meager belongings, so they continued on their way.
Had it really only been a week since he met Anduin? It felt longer than that. Wrathion could admit that he wasn't the most patient person in the world, but he had almost expected to hear from him. Sure, their conversation had been left a bit open-ended, but that's what made it fun! Had Anduin kept his word? Was he waiting for Wrathion to return to share the news in person? No, Wrathion stopped that train of thought, don't get your hopes up. In all his time spent trying to win Wrynn's favor, he had learned exactly one thing: the man was stubborn as a mule. Would Varian even listen to his son's counsel on this subject? Despite all he'd done for him and his people, the Jarl still wouldn't even meet with him! Could he make his distrust more obvious?
How do I know that Anduin doesn't feel the same way?
At first, it was a game. Wrathion wanted something, something that Anduin could help him get, but he was caught off guard. Wrathion had made the mistake of ranting about his displeasure with the way he'd been treated, and Anduin smiled at him, so pure and unabashed, a smile that made Wrathion's cheeks burn and his heart skip a bit. He'd acted like a child, he realized then, and although he played it off fairly well in his opinion, he still couldn't help but regret being so vocal about his frustration. Is that why he hadn't heard from Anduin yet, because he acted like a child?
Wrathion remembered the circlet in his knapsack, and the staff Left was so kindly carrying for him. They were definitely a good enough excuse to see Anduin again, and that's exactly what he would do. They would kill the bandit chief in this cave, return to Riften to collect their bounty, then Wrathion would, alone, travel to Falkreath, present the circlet and staff as gifts to Anduin, and maybe, if that wasn't enough, he would possibly apologize. It was perfect; foolproof, even.
Wrathion felt a soft click under his foot.
As lost in his thoughts as he was, he didn't have time to react before the darts pierced the exposed skin of his face and neck. Just as quickly, he was tackled to the ground. He wasn't sure what did it -the poison, or being tackled- but the world faded to black.