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Wrathion purrs happily when Anduin counts his newest clutch. They’d not candled this one, not yet, Wrathion preferring to clean up and relax for a bit before beginning the inevitably bittersweet process. He eases himself down on the couch--which, yes, is quite a painful activity after shoving eighty-two eggs out of himself, thank you very kindly. He hisses in pain until he finally is able to curl against his brother’s tauren form, shamelessly leeching his warmth.
Anduin’s taken to candling the clutches in the other room or behind a curtain to prevent Wrathion’s distress at seeing the empty eggs, but this time they’d simply turned the couch. He can hear his husband shuffling eggs around and waits for the final tally, eyes closed and dozing lightly.
“Ebyssian, can I speak to you a moment?” Anduin’s voice has taken on an odd quality, but the dragon’s too tired to care. Besides, he’s probably just daunted at having another couple of dozen whelps to wrangle.
Not that that was difficult anymore, with the older children happily stepping in to help of their own accord. Wrathion smiles as he’s shifted to lie on the couch. He was looking forward to Varian attempting to not let his younger siblings singe his hair again. He hadn’t the knack like Atraxia did.
The door opens again after a short while, and he can hear Ebyssian and several servants picking up eggs to either dispose of them or settle them into the hot sands of the hatching chamber. He sits up--ow--and watches curiously. It’s extremely unusual for them to do this before Anduin tells him how many they have.
“Byss?” He asks through a yawn.
His brother stops and looks at him with sad eyes. Granted, his eyes always looked sad, so he’s not sure what to make of it. “Anduin will be back shortly. He needed to have words with the children first.”
Wrathion snorts. “I don’t want to know what mischief they got up to unsupervised. Do tell me later, though, yes?”
His brother gives him a slow nod and carries the three eggs in his arms out of the room as the younger dragon flops back onto the couch--ow, again.
A while later, he feels himself being picked up and carried to the bed by his husband. Wrathion purrs again, nuzzling against him. “Well, how’d I do? Tell me it’s less than thirty this time, I’ll puke if I have to deal with that ruckus a second time.”
Anduin’s quiet for a minute. “Wrathion…”
He sits up from his place against the blond when he hears his voice, rough as if he’d been crying. His husband’s eyes are red-rimmed and Wrathion feels himself go ice cold. The panic starts to set in as he asks again. “Anduin, how many?”
“We knew this could be a possibility with all the stress this time around, Meri and Stella both said there was a chance--”
“How. Many?” He’s shaking, can feel himself fraying at the seams.
“...none.” Anduin manages, tears falling down his cheeks.
His world shatters around him, Wrathion’s mind flying in a million directions with the news that he’d birthed an empty clutch. What would his children think? What would the other flights think? It was his responsibility to rebuild his flight, to fail once could mean the entire collapse of everything he’s built so far.
“No, put his head between his knees, Ebyssian, wait, grab him!” Anduin’s voice says.
Oh Titans, what would Alexstrasza think? She’d be informed, always was, but now it his failure would be an excuse to come to Blackrock, to take his children away, tell him he never had a chance to lead the flight anyway--
“Move, you foolish males!” A cold voice cuts through his husband’s own. “Wrathion, dear, you need to breathe. Come on, in and out. Meri, get a cloth.”
He’s tipped forward, cool hand on the nape of his neck. He can’t seem to follow the instructions, too caught up in the failure, failure, why can he do nothing right!?
An ice-cold cloth replaces the hand and he startles, sharp temperature difference shocking him back into reality. Stellagosa comes into focus in front of him, kneeling and looking the most worried he’d ever seen her.
“There we go, look at me, in and out, Wrathion, in and out. That’s better, there you go.” Her eyes come into focus, full of tears, and she shuffles closer to hold him against her shoulder. “You’re okay, just breathe.”
The bed dips next to him, and someone else holds him from the side. The pine and clean earth scent tells him who it is.
“Merithra…”
“Hello, Wrathion.” She’s been crying too, from the tone of her voice. “Do you think you can sit up?”
“...why should I?” No point, failure, failure, failure.
She grabs his chin harshly and drags his head sideways so he’s facing her. “Because you have seventy-two beautiful children who love you and want their papa to be okay.” He whimpers, and he tries to twist away, only to be held firm. “No, you stay put and listen to me. It’s shit, I get that better than most. But you can’t just break. You have your children to think of, not those eggs, do you hear me?”
Wrathion sobs and is moved to be cuddled by the two female dragons, both of whom have experienced this same thing, a small part of his mind supplies, Merithra’s empty clutch not a year gone. He’s rocked gently as he cries, both Stella and Meri speaking to him in turns.
His neck is stiff by the time he’s run out of tears, and the ladies clean his face and help him get into bed. They’re still speaking to him when the door opens with no warning knock.
Anduin speaks, “Varian, please.”
“Papa needs us, Father. Let us help?” Varian’s small voice says with the confidence of a crown prince.
Wrathion doesn’t hear Anduin’s response, but his son’s blond head comes into view around Stellagosa’s hips, Atraxia not far behind. He can’t bring himself to smile at his two oldest, instead breaking down into sobs again despite having no tears left to shed.
“Oh, Papa, no…” Atraxia whines before hauling herself up the massive bed. She spares a moment to help her smaller brother up, then the two of them sit down next to Wrathion.
He doesn’t move, but Atraxia’s undeterred, lifting his arms to get under them and against his side. He manages to squeeze her arm, nothing more.
“It’s okay, Papa, you don’t have to talk. We love you.” His oldest states, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “We love you so much.”
Wrathion whimpers. “Love you too…”
Varian gives him a radiant smile and leans down to press his forehead against Wrathion’s. He’s young enough that he doesn’t do it very gently, and the older dragon winces. Atraxia takes her cue from her older brother and presses her own against Wrathion’s temple much more gently. She then sits bolt upright with a gasp.
“Wait, Varian, this means we don’t have to change diapers!”
“Oh my gods, Ata!” Varian scolds, but Wrathion can’t help the ghost of a smile at Atraxia’s enthusiasm.
“No…no more diapers for a bit…” His voice is rough, almost completely destroyed by the wailing he’d done before they’d come in. He wipes his eyes and holds the two of them close, sniffing. “Not that you two used them much as whelps anyway…”
Atraxia makes a face. “Yeah, but Turalia did! P-U!”
The bed dips again and Wrathion looks over to see his husband joining them, bracketing their oldest daughter from the other side. Anduin meets his eyes, and he realizes that he felt the same devastation he did. “I think your father needs a hug, too, my darlings.”
Their daughter turns around and hugs Anduin without a thought, but Varian lies down against Wrathion’s side instead, hugging him. “Papa, it’ll be okay…”
Titans bless the hope of a child, Wrathion thinks. He holds his firstborn close. “I know, but I’m going to be very sad for a long while, I think. I might need more hugs than usual.”
Varian’s silent as he nuzzles into him. “It’s okay if you’re sad, I’m sad too. We can all take turns hugging you more…Ata, you make a schedule. Lots of hugs for Papa….the little ones should be first so they can get all the hugs before their bedtime.”
Wrathion kisses the top of Varian’s head, sad smile on his lips. His son’s antics made him feel a little better, especially when his sister called him bossy and they took turns sticking their tongues out at each other before settling back down. “You don’t mind me being sad?”
“Mm-mm. You didn’t mind when I was sad after I fell and broke my wing. You were sad with me. I can be sad with you. Then we’ll both feel better sooner!”
“Okay then. I promise to let you know when I’m sad so you can help.” He looks at Anduin, who looks like he’s going to burst into tears as well, so he doesn’t feel guilty about crying himself.
“Okay, Papa. I love you.”
“I love you too, my darling.” He can feel the sorrow crashing over him in waves, but not the soul-crushing ones from before. He knows it’s going to take time for them to abate more, though likely not entirely, but his children’s love is a soothing balm on his broken heart. He kisses Varian’s head again.
The voice calling him a failure chimes in again and he smothers it ruthlessly.
This did not make him a failure.