Chapter Text
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It was the night of Winter Veil.
It was the time to be alive, really. To celebrate family and friends and love. To celebrate company, to celebrate the year’s bounty, and to feast on a wonderful dinner. To enjoy the warmth inside while snow covered the streets, forests, and mountains. To partake in games, to tell stories, to enjoy the warmth of the fireplace. It was a night that would end with the comfort of sleep unlike any other. A time to forget your fears, to forget the world around you, and to focus on the now. To focus on what really mattered.
The Greymanes this year would invite the Crowleys for a night of drinks and large hunted roasted boar, in a cozy cabin away from busy city life, closer to the wild forests near a home they both dearly missed.
Jaina Proudmoore, for the first time in forever, spent the night along with her mother and brothers back in her home. They celebrated reunion, they celebrated the safety of their nation. They celebrated Tandrid’s return from the sea, as well as Derek’s escape from the hands of the Banshee Queen. They celebrated, continuing to mend the bonds of a once broken family.
In the same city, Taelia Fordragon drank and sung the night away alongside Cyrus, celebrating the port’s expansion, and the many adventures of the past few months.
Tyrande Whisperwind spent the night raising her people’s spirits, holding a celebration in part of Stormwind to both honor those they’ve lost and the future they will build despite the ashes.
The gnomes celebrated in Ironforge with their dwarven brothers, alongside the new king of Mechagon, taking the time to celebrate their newfound friends.
Mathias Shaw took a well earned vacation, spending time with a new friend of his, Flynn Fairwind, relaxing from the stresses of life and exploring a newfound relationship.
The Horde this year has gone all out, hoping to overshadow it’s dark past with a hopeful push towards the bright future. A party for the entire new council, hosted in Orgrimmar, to strengthen bonds between allies old and new.
Even Wrathion had someone to celebrate with, spending time in the Chamber of Heart alongside Magni Bronzebeard and M.O.T.H.E.R. They celebrated their current progress against N’zoth, and for the survival of Azeroth against her many foes.
Anduin Llane Wrynn, the King of Stormwind, and High King of the Alliance, beloved by all, and considered the adopted family of many, was alone.
With a jolt, the young 19 year old king awoke from his short slumber. In doing so, an empty bottle of imported wine was knocked from the desk, falling to the floor, clattering against what appeared to be several more bottles. The light from the dimly lit fireplace flickered, as if it too reacted to the loud sound just as the king did. The king yawned, stretching out his arms, allowing himself consciousness again.
Anduin paused, taking in his surroundings, to try to remember everything. Before him, drowned in drool, was a stack of paperwork he’d used as a pillow. Ink was smudged, and whatever it was it would need to be rewritten. Anduin gently pushed aside the stack of paper, before halting all together to suffer the spike of a migraine.
He groaned, grasping his head, recoiling into the back of his office chair. He braced the pain, slowly beginning to search through the drawers of his desk for a medicine that would numb it. Each move he made, the longer it took for him to search, the harder the thumping of his brain hit.
And then, just as he’d grabbed the bottle of pills, everything went away.
He held the bottle tightly, waiting for the spike to come back, but nothing happened. He placed the bottle to the side of the desk, where the wine had been, and slid the drawers closed.
Letting out a deep breath, Anduin laid his head down against his arms on the desk, looking out hazily to the dying fire. The room seemed to grow colder and smaller by the second, and yet Anduin could not motivate himself enough to get up and fan the flames.
How odd, he thought, the darkness of the room for such a night. A night in which even the moon outside was as bright as the sun. Was this how the king of Stormwind celebrated Winter Veil? Alone, drinking himself to sleep again and again, continuing to forget what or who he was with each waking? Doing so, despite the distant colorful lights that shined upon the houses of Stormwind, despite the fact that much of the world was still partying?
How? How did this night become so lonely, Anduin pondered. He had many friends, was loved by many, and considered family to many. How did the keep end up so empty? Especially considering that each and every year before this the keep was the center of celebration in Stormwind. What changed?
A dark thought entered his mind, a voice that sounded like nothing Anduin could produce.
‘They don’t care’
It was so startling to him, and along with it a growing feeling of observation made his hair stand on edge. Anduin eyed the shadows of the room, feeling a burning stare carve into his soul. He saw nothing, turning to look behind himself to see nothing but the wall, and the large portrait of his father.
Varian Wrynn.
Anduin stared at the painting for far too long, a weight forming in his chest. There were so many words, so many things he wished he could say. But he was alone.
His family was dead.
He hissed as his headache suddenly returned, far more violent than before, and he turned around to quickly down the pills dry. He could hardly do it, beginning to choke, reaching down mindlessly to the bottles of the floor, hoping that one would still have something left inside. He found one, a bottle from Teldrassil, and downed what he could ot make the pills go down.
As his mind rattled, the king found himself beginning to slip into dark thoughts, of which echoed in the same way the strange voice did.
He was alone, because he had no more family, because despite being the pseudo-son of many, not a single one actually saw him as their own. Not a single one thought of him this night.
Tears bubbled up from the inside, falling down his cheeks as he tried to rub them away.
How had he never noticed, he thought as the tears hit the desk below. Ever since his father died, he’s been abandoned by everyone. One by one, for reasons entirely stupid, each and every person Anduin relied upon left him. They all left him, in his hour of need, for what?
Anduin dropped his head against the desk, the pain nothing but another form of torment he ignored in favor for his thoughts.
Genn Greymane had basically adopted him since Varian died, taking Anduin under his wing, helping the new king find his place under the crown. While Genn could get annoying at times, and be very traditional in his ways, there wasn’t a moment Anduin didn’t appreciate the man’s help. They’d grown close, and a moment or two, Anduin swore, he’d heard Genn slip up and call him Liam.
So why didn’t Genn invite him? Why didn’t Genn even ask Anduin what he’d planned for the holiday?
What of Jaina Proudmoore? What of his “auntie”? Despite their many falling outs, the two had always considered each other family. Jaina called him her nephew since he was born! And in truth, Jaina once considered Anduin to be the son she’d never have. Despite abandoning him during the Legion invasion, they’d mended their relationship after the war.
But then she abandoned him again.
The voice growled in his head.
‘She was willing to die in Kul Tiras at the hands of her own mother, and for what?’ it asked. ‘As if she left she had no family left to live for.’
It had been something he’d read in a report, that bothered him, but he’d locked the thoughts away before he could dwell on it too much. But now? All he could wonder is why Jaina had accepted her death sentence on Kul Tiras, not once considering that she would leave Anduin, her “nephew”, alone in a time when he needed her most of all.
Again.
He wondered why, as he cried, his sobs muffled by the walls, not even Velen seemed curious of his whereabouts. A man he considered a grandfather in many ways. He wondered if Baine thought of him, yet the memory of his horn struck pain in his heart, as it was hard to tell if Baine even cared anymore. Wrathion was back, but he was a piece of shit, and not once seemed to want to rekindle the friendship they once had.
‘Did anyone really truly care about you?’ The voice growled, causing Anduin to shake in despair. ‘Ever?’
Anduin hated to wonder this, and he tried so hard to push the thoughts out of his head, to banish whatever seemed to speak inside of his mind.
‘It seems to me,’ the voice retaliated, ‘that they only cared for you because of him’
Anduin knew exactly what the voice was saying, and it hurt him to wonder about it too. Ever since his father died, their care in his well being faded. Had they only cared for him because of their friendship with his father? And now that his father was gone, there would be no repercussions in abandoning his son. Did they only keep the facade alive purely in his father’s memory?
Despite how absurd it sounded to anyone sane, Anduin was not sane. Not now. Not with the whispers of an old god fueling his fears.
‘What is the point?’ the voice pushed, his headache pounding, causing him to cry out. ‘What is the point when nobody cares?’
It almost felt as if tenderals had hold of his heart, and any positive thought, and hope for a bright future, was lost between the clouds of violet behind his eyes.
What WAS the point, when no one cared? What was the point when everything hurt? When there was no reason to hope, for there was nothing but war, and there would never be anything BUT war.
Anduin felt as though he couldn’t breathe, as if someone was gripping his lungs, forcing the air out. He stood from his chair to cough violently against the desk. Unnoticed to him, droplets of blood fell onto the wood.
As the king began to walk around his desk, nearly tripping upon the sea of bottles, Anduin felt as if someone else controlled him. As if arms guided him along. Had he been more sane, more sober, he would have realized the likelihood that he was, but the heartache within made it near impossible to even remember the threat of an old god being very real.
He stood before the doors to the balcony, peeking through the thin white curtains into the moonlight sky. Shuddering, he blinked away tears and unlocked he doors, pulling them open along with a gush of cold winter air. The air pooled into the small office, pushing against the bottles, killing the fire and it’s only source of internal light.
Anduin stepped through the doorway, onto the marble balcony, gazing out onto his city. Below him, by several stories, was the entrance to the keep. Before him, the statue of his father.
He missed his father dearly.
Every moment since his death has gotten worse, and despite attempts to, Anduin never felt like he got to properly mourn. Anduin, despite losing so many people throughout his life, never felt he knew how to mourn. Not someone like his father. He let tears fall as he remembered all the times his father cared for him, and how he’d taken them for granted.
He placed his hands against the cold railings, letting the frost freeze his fingers, letting it consume him despite the pain.
He missed being missed.
He missed being part of a family, no matter how small it was.
Nothing about the distant lights calmed him, not the distant sounds of the sea, not the smell of the ocean. All he could focus on was the cold stone back of his father’s statue.
He reached his arm out, wanting so desperately to touch the statue, as if it would bring him warmth. Bring him love.
The world seemed to still around him, and the voice inside his head edged him onward.
‘I know of a place where you can see him again.’ It spoke.
Anduin’s mouth opened slightly, breathing in the cold air, tears blurring his vision, as he thought of home.
Home was where his heart was, and his heart was not here.
Leaning against the railing, he continued to gaze into the stone, silently crying for his father.
He knew how he could see him again.
Anduin struggled slightly, but climbed onto the railing, standing on the frosted marble as if there was no other option.
He didn’t know what the afterlife was like, he’d only heard stories, but he liked to think that everyone were together, happy, enjoying what could only be described as heaven.
His family waited for him in the afterlife, and who was he to make them wait any longer? Who was he to nearly miss the holidays with his own family?
Slowly, he looked down from the statue to the cobblestone stairs far below him. Two guards stood at their stations before the entrance of the keep, unknown to them the events taking place stories above their heads.
Anduin closed his darkened orange eyes, breathing in and out, calming his mind with the knowledge that his father was only one step away.
He let one foot slip forward, carefully, hovering above the empty air. It wasn’t in hesitation, but a pause. A thought appeared, one not of sorrow or of longing. One much darker then what his heart was capable of making. A sadistic hope.
He hoped that those who forgot him, abandoned him, suffered. That upon his death, their souls would be corrupt with guilt. That they knew it was their fault.
He opened his eyes to the sky, the deep orange surrounded by dark purple shadows. He leaned forward, holding his arms outwards, to welcome what would come, as his feet slipped forward off the edge of the railing.
But the winds did not rush past him towards the ground, a desperate tug on the back of his shirt keeping him standing upon the railing.
It took him more than a moment to realize, and slowly he stepped back, turning to see who stopped him from his mission.
He saw, holding onto him with shaking arms, Valeera Sanquinar. His eyes locked with hers, and she watched as the abnormal colors vanished behind his sight. He watched as shock turned to tears, the young elf falling apart.
He stepped off the railing, being pulled into her arms as cries from both sides filled the air. She gripped him tightly, as if he would vanish at any moment. Through her muffled cries, she asked him why.
Whatever had been driving his thought process before was gone, and Anduin could not come up with anything to explain himself. He dug his head into her shoulder, trying to ask himself why, and only coming up with one conclusion.
“I-” His voice felt broken. “-forgot about you.”
Valeera slowly pulled back from him, grabbing a hold of his face, looking into his dull blue eyes, reading nothing but depression from them.
“Funny.” She replied, her vision blurred. “I’d almost forgotten you too.”
She pulled him into another hug, clinging to him, as he wrapped his arms around her too.
How he’d forgotten the very woman he considered his older sister, in a time when all he craved was family, he didn’t know, but there was something oddly comforting in the fact that the same thoughts plagued her mind as they his.
They sat on the marble balcony for what felt like an hour, their tears calming as they enjoyed the company of the other. Eventually, Valeera leaned away from him, only to fall back into her thoughts. Anduin held her hand, gently, enough to pull her back.
She looked up at him, taking in the fact that he was still alive, and that she was not alone.
“Please,” She whispered, her energy drained from the fear. “Don’t leave me. You’re all I have left.”
Anduin hesitated to promise, afraid of what his mind could do when manipulated, afraid of falling to the darkness again. But he knew, beyond this night, that he had others to fall back on, to aid him, to protect him. Valeera had no one else but him.
She was his family, family that he’d abandoned, and it hurt to realize that.
He embraced her again, afraid to get up again and face the world around him.
“We’ll get through this.” He assured her. “Together.”
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