Chapter Text
Ebyssian watches the champion in front of him curiously. She’s using different techniques to mix the herbs than he’d seen in Highmountain, but he refuses to doubt the archdruid. He feels his brother sidle up to them and lean against him. Ebyssian smiles to himself and wraps an arm around his little brother affectionately. The drake had grown up in isolation, much like Ebyssian himself, and he was determined to throw as much casual affection at him as possible.
Wrathion practically burrows into his side. The action tips the older dragon off to the mood emanating from him and he politely excuses himself from the druid’s company. His opinion of her skyrockets when she beams back at him and says she’ll write the process down for him. His brother did have a habit of cultivating the good ones.
Once they’re in private, he turns to look at the younger dragon. “Alright, brother, what troubles you so?”
His brother shuffles his feet in an odd show of hesitation. He squares his shoulders and looks at Ebyssian with determination. “I have a question for you.”
“What else is new?” He asks with a laugh. “As always, you have my undivided attention.”
“As the elder of our flight, I’d like to formally request your permission to wed the human, Anduin Wrynn, High King of the Alliance and King of Stormwind, Commander of the Light-Touched.”
He knows his expression shows his shock when Wrathion looks like he’s been kicked. Words fail him in the wake of such formality--the traditional words of one asking the leader of the flight for permission to marry outside of it. It’s not entirely proper, considering he abdicated that role and practically threw it at his brother, but he appreciates the gesture for what it is. Formality deems that he speak truly, and he shifts into his full wyrm form to give his answer. “I, Lord Ebyssian of Blackrock Mountain and the Black Dragonflight, hereby and henceforth give my irrevocable permission to wed High King Anduin Wrynn.”
His brother nods stoically, and, well, that won’t do. Ebyssian blows a puff of smoke at Wrathion before coiling around him and nuzzling him with his snout. “As if my answer would have been anything else, you silly whelp.”
“Not a whelp.” The drake responds indignantly.
“You’ll always be a whelp to me, brother.” Wrathion shifts at that and launches himself at the larger dragon with a playful snarl.
Back in Stormwind, Anduin Wrynn pretends not to notice the minor earthquake the tussle creates.