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Dear Anduin,
Dearest Anduin
My sweet prince
High King Wrynn
My friend,
It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’ve heard many things about your Alliance as of late, though I must admit that my info is rather dated—not many eyes to spare a glance, you know. I assume the Legion has been taken care of, yes? The skies above Azeroth have cleared and the Tomb of Sargeras is hollow and dark—as it should be. I must admit, you lot did well—better than I expected, actually. The invasion would have been much shorter if you had utilized my plan. I did not think that the Alliance and Horde would be able to stop play-fighting long enough to actually do something productive. I suppose I was wrong. God, I can feel that stupid smirk of yours, and you’re all the way in Stormwind. Meanwhile, I’m—where am I? I don’t think I know.
What is that supposed to mean, Wrathion? I hear you ask. If you must know—and I know you want to, your boundless curiosity could power a starship with its sheer magnitude—I have been doing some traveling. After my extremely embarrassing traipse into Draenor, I thought it only right to—reacquaint myself with the world I left behind so foolishly. I’ve seen almost the entirety of the known world, at this point: the auroras over the Storm Peaks, the golden dunes of Tanaris, Mount Hyjal in full bloom, the towering spires of Suramar, Pandaria—oh, Pandaria, Anduin. She’s as beautiful as I remember her—all mountains, and valleys, and grass so green it hurts, Anduin! Even the Vale—god, the Vale—it looks so different from last I saw it. It’s actually gold and blossoming again, not drained from Hellscream’s vampiric conquest.
I’d like to say that it has come so far in such a short time but—that’s not true, is it, my friend? It hasn’t been a short time. It’s been years—I don’t even know how many. I’ve been running hiding traveling for so long; it seems the concept of time has escaped me. Do you want to know something? I can’t remember what color your eyes were! Imagine that! I can trace the lines of your face with no trouble—your cheeks kissed by sunlight, your noble brow perfectly trimmed to keep your royal image, your sweet and tender lips, even your sharp jaw as it melts into your swan-like neck and Adam’s apple. I can even pinpoint the exact shade of blonde your hair was somewhere between the wings of a canary and packed Westfall straw, and yet I cannot recall your eyes. How pathetic is that, dear prince king?
I’m terrified curious what this means for me—what of your body will fade next from my mind? I can only pray not your lips—do you remember when you kissed me? It was under the staircase of the tavern, wasn’t it? You wanted to hide from your guards, so you pulled me by my sleeve under the staircase, a wicked grin on your face and bright excitement in your green? eyes. It was tight, dark, and reeked of barley ale, but you looked so happy I couldn’t bear to complain. I don’t recall how it started, only that it was over far too soon—an awkward press of lips and it was over. I wanted to be snide, tease you, do something to seem as ungodly impressive as I thought I was but—no. Instead, I sat there, gaping like a fish as your brown? eyes widened, and your cheeks flushed, and your smile rendered me paralyzed.
You dazzle me, my friend. Even after all you have been through, the Light still favors you. So many secrets, so much pain in those slender, beautiful, scarred shoulders, and yet—you are still here. A king, like your father before you. I know it will seem like I am lying again but I speak only truth when I say this: I’m sorry, Anduin. Varian Wrynn was a good man—a great man. He did not deserve to die the way he did. He deserved better, a warrior’s burial; you should have been able to bury your father next to your mother, not be left with an empty coffin and a boot strap—
Well—I had to switch quills. It seems I broke the one I was using. I hope that makes you laugh, my friend. You’re never going to see this letter, my friend, no matter how much I want you too. It might truly kill me. Therefore, the next few words I write will mean nothing right? to you.
I love you, Anduin. Truly, deeply, wholeheartedly, I love you. I know so little of the concept, and yet—here you are. Everything in Pandaria—the Sha, Hellscream, the fighting, everything—was worth enduring, to have met you. God, I sound like someone out of that ridiculous play you like—Romulo and Julianne, if I recall.
I have little left to put into words—I have so few emotions I can safely put into words. I sincerely hope that the Titans will us to meet again. I promised you so long ago that I would ferry you across the world, and I intend to keep that promise. We have no one to answer to but the Titans and Azeroth herself, my friend. The world is much brighter when the Light is standing beside you, I suppose.
I must stop writing now, or else I’ll never stop.
From the end of the world,
Wrathion