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One morning, Prince Anduin woke up with a chill and a desire to bury himself further under his blankets. As consciousness crept, his mind dwelled on the fact that Winter’s Veil was approaching. The ache in his bad leg made him sit up, he was still staying at his guest room at the Tavern in the Mists, relatively safe from the war that threatened Pandaria’s peace. The prince noticed the unusual bright light coming from the corners of his closed shutters. He stroked his thigh to chase away the dull sting and the chill of winter. Once he roused enough, he tested his strength by walking without crutches to the window.
He pushed the shutters and glanced around the outside of the tavern, the entire mountain pass lay covered in a few feet of snow. The pine needles poked through the white blanket that layered all the trees' branches. The mists around them limited visibility even more than usual. Not even the howling winter winds that besieged the rest of the mountain could blow them away. Anduin thought the place was a haven, despite the day's frigid snowfall.
The prince noticed a pair of blacktalon agents making their way towards the tavern from the pass below. Their boots leaving a trail of prints behind them over the pristine snow. They carried a medium-sized crate between them, a shipment for the Black Prince no doubt. Anduin began to change and make his way down to alert his guards and have breakfast. Anduin used his crutches to descend the stairs, his two patient guards at his side. He found Sunwalker Dezco and Prince Wrathion in a friendly conversation over tea and breakfast. As soon as Wrathion noticed Anduin's presence, the dragon’s ever present smirk dissipated as he cast a friendlier glance to the Prince.
“Good morning, Prince Anduin. I was discussing the differences of Winter’s Veil customs throughout each culture of Azeroth.” Wrathion bowed his head, as he often did when they greeted. Anduin’s heart soared as they shared a small smile. He turned to greet Sunwalker Dezco, who was used to their strange friendship more than most.
“Of course with Winter’s Veil being a few days away, Prince Wrathion was curious.” Dezco offered. “Prince Anduin, a walk in the snow might invigorate your recovery. It could make for vigorous exercise and the short time out in the chill could get you used to this daunting weather."
“That reminds me of a Winter’s Veil tradition my Father and I practiced each year.” Anduin responded, already thinking of trekking out in the snow. As soon as he volunteered the information, Wrathion arched a brow, appearing curious.
“Oh? And what might that be?”
“I’ll show you, after breakfast and a game.” Anduin smiled, moving to claim his usual tavern chair.
As soon as the three of them shared their morning tea, Sunwalker Dezco bid them farewell, leaving the tavern to conclude his business with the Horde. Anduin’s guards and Wrathion’s bodyguards were their only silent companions. Anduin noticed they were more relaxed than the first few meetings he and Wrathion shared together. They all had fallen to the easy routine of breakfast and a game, before Wrathion addressed the adventurers that sought him and Anduin’s recovery sessions with the resident Mistweaver.
Once they set up the board pieces over the small table between them, the game had begun. The Prince of Stormwind had been taking turns serving their tea between plays, a custom suggested by Wrathion to exercise the fine motor skills and the deftness his hands had lost after the attack.
“I can take it from here, Your Highness.” When Anduin heard those words, he tried as he might to calm his shaking hands. He never realized his arms and hands were already tiring. The tea was threatening to spill over the handleless, shallow cup. A small blush bloomed over his features, while he tried his best to appear amiable and grateful.
“Thank you, Prince Wrathion.” He refrained from looking at his two guards for help who stood at some distance. Anduin didn't want to trouble them with something so simple. Anduin's blush deepened once Wrathion held out his hand11 to assist him unbidden, his fingers brushed with his companion's gloves. Did it count as a touch? As he watched the dragon pour the hot liquid onto Anduin and then his own cup, he focused on the single golden hoop. He pushed away the usual intrusive thoughts, the ones begging him to let his eyes linger on Wrathion’s lip or the curious way he accented the corners of his glowing red eyes with a dark line of paint.
Anduin decided to pick up his own cup after Wrathion had served, it was far easier to handle. The shaking in his hands was bearable, he did not spill a drop as he sipped from the piping hot liquid. Anduin finished when he saw that Wrathion eyeing him expectantly with a wide grin.
“You’re giving away your plays, eyeing me like that.” Anduin couldn’t help but chuckle.
“It just gives me pleasure to see you lose while I claim victory.” Wrathion slumped dramatically on his chair, seeming preoccupied with the back of his pointed gloves.
“The game would go on a lot faster if we cooperated, you know.” Anduin’s complaint always fell on deaf ears. He purported that it made the game more challenging, that handling matters on one’s own was a better play of strength. That it made the victory that much sweeter. It was exemplary of their contrasting world views, until it was obvious to Anduin they were the two sides of the same coin.
“It’s your move.” Wrathion looked away. Anduin noted he sometimes did that when he thought was getting through to him, other times it was just petulance. Wrathion’s mind could be incredibly hard headed, but he had a will that was tighter than mythril despite his stature. Command and poise bigger than his body.
“You don’t always have to play this way. That lopsided strategy you’ve constructed is going to fall down by lack of foundation.” The blonde prince set his cup down, and reached for his piece, making a move to support Wrathion’s play despite knowing the dragon would eventually sacrifice the move again to advance forward, as usual.
“We’ll see, my dear Prince. We’ll see.”
Anduin felt an odd knot in his stomach as his body reacted to Wrathion’s smile, it rose and made his cheeks burn pleasantly. He thanked the Light Wrathion never looked up to see him that instant. He straightened in his chair ready to dismiss the feeling as they continued.
After they concluded their ill fated game, Anduin still had plenty of strength to go outside and enjoy the snow as the Sunwalker recommended. His two guardians came along, hoping to assist the prince’s walk across the heavy snow. Wrathion’s blacktalon bodyguards came along as well, the two women dressed in light leathers looked equally threatening as the two unflappable, heavily armored men. Wrathion’s party waited patiently for Anduin’s until they arrived at the middle of a white clearing. The draconic prince showed no signs of restlessness as Anduin lifted his boots as he walked, his wobbly stance assisted now and then by the guard on his left. As they settled, Anduin rested over a stone boulder that peeked over the snow. He fell quiet for a moment, wrestling with his thoughts on how to begin the promised activity.
“Well? What is this tradition you went on about earlier?” Wrathion prodded, leaning his head over. “Does it involve getting our hands wet with snow? Singing? Building a human made of snow?” The dragon straightened in his stance, throwing anything he could think of that he had just learned for the occasion, Anduin guessed. It was clear to the blonde prince that Wrathion did not find any of the activities recounted as particularly interesting. He couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of him engaging in any of those.
“Not quite, Wrathion.” Anduin adventured to drop the princely title now that they were in a less formal setting, continuing with confidence as the dragon did not protest. “My father and I used to venture out in the royal gardens, sometimes away from the castle to the farms nearby. We’d make the rounds, speak to the farm workers and the merchants. When I was younger he’d let me play in the snow with the other children.” Anduin chuckled to himself, recalling a memory unknown to his companion. “One day he joined in, and we’ve been trying to catch each other off guard ever since.” Wrathion still bore that unamused look in his face as he glanced curiously around the field. Anduin guessed the dragon believed the small trek into the snow was inconvenient or perhaps the story of his father failed to amuse him. His spirits faltered a little, but he used that to muster up the courage for what he planned to do next.
Just as the dragon looked away from Anduin, the silent smash of a cold snowball covered one side of his face. Wrathion frantically wiped the melting sleet from his cheek, even some that had gotten onto his elaborate turban. Wrathion turned indignantly as he searched for the culprit, only to find Anduin’s seemingly innocent face and no sign of any snowball being packed in his hands. Smoke came out of his flared nostrils as he turned again, his eyes meeting with the quizzical gazes of the guards and his own two bodyguards.
“Is everything alright, my Prince?” Right stepped forward in the snow to inquire. Wrathion waved her off. “It’s fine, It’s of no concern. Someone is trying to play a prank on-”
Another snowball collided with his face. As Wrathion turned around he finally found the culprit.
“You!” Wrathion huffed as he came to a realization of the other prince’s supposed tradition. The dragon paused, he looked flustered and confused. Anduin tried his best to not let his smile turn into uncontrollable laughter. The Stormwind prince did his best to keep his composure, but it was turning into a difficult task. Both of the princes’ bodyguards looked at each other and then turned to the opposing parties, Anduin could feel the awkward standstill between their protectors.
“You dare compete with a dragon?” Wrathion picked up a scoop of snow in front of him and threw it to his challenger. Anduin easily evaded the projectile, he had plenty of practice before with none other than his warrior father. Wrathion’s unprepared and rattled attempts were easy to avoid. He threw another snowball at the dragon, a more tired attempt than the first two that failed to land.
Wrathion smiled, delighted he was close to getting an upper hand, and threw another snowball that bursted as soon as it connected with the other prince. Anduin responded with laughter, ducking too late. Right shook her head with a smile and was the first to move aside. As she leaned against a nearby boulder, she threw her leg up and hugged her knee, watching the two young men. Left soon joined at her side. The to and fro prompted the orc to duck and gather some now, creating their own arsenal of round projectiles with the secrecy of deft hands.
After exchanging a knowing glance, Left charged the battlefield with a few snowballs of their own, Right joining soon after.
The two blacktalon bodyguards were amenable to what unfolded before them, while the two Alliance guards held their composure and hardly reacted, until one of them was hit. The fight picked up when Anduin’s right hand guard began to create snowballs of his own, throwing them indiscriminately unless Anduin happened to be in his crosshairs. Only then would they stand down, only to be demolished by the bodyguard competition.
The winds began to pick up, and Anduin and Wrathion fell to the snow, panting between Anduin’s fits of laughter and Wrathion’s smug, satisfied grin. The fight had died down once the party noticed the two princes tire. Anduin sat up and dragged himself across the snow until Wrathion rushed to his aid, helping him up. The moment they touched hands through their gloves, the chill Anduin felt in the air all but disappeared. As they separated, they brushed away the snow from their clothes and their heads. Wrathion pulled up his turban a few inches, a lock of his lustrous, dark hair was visible. Anduin happened to glance at him, immediately blushing and turning away, feeling as if he had just witnessed something secret. He idly wondered what Wrathion’s head would look like without his turban. He had never seen Wrathion’s human form without his gloves, come to think of it. Anduin cleared his throat, preparing to say something to think of anything other than the strange skips of his heart.
“This tradition of yours wasn’t what I expected.” Wrathion beat Anduin to the punch, pulling him out from his reverie. Wrathion’s smile turned into a chuckle, another rare and alluring moment for Anduin to remember. “I admit it was easy once you no longer had the element of surprise, but I promise you that next time, I won’t be as merciful.” Anduin noticed Wrathion’s blush after laughter escaped him.
“Prince Anduin! Are you alright?” Sunwalker Dezco’s hooves moved swiftly through the snow, his figure towering over them with concern. The sight of the two princes picking themselves up from the snow and the irregular horseplay of each of their bodyguards proved to be a shocking sight for the paladin. Left and Right were easy to resume their intimidating stance, approaching their prince, while the two plated guards moved more reluctantly to meet Anduin.
“Yes, everything’s fine. Just enjoying the morning, as you suggested.” Anduin smiled, "we should go back inside before everyone catches a cold." He moved past a bewildered Dezco, followed by his entourage on the way back to the tavern.
***
That evening, the two princes sat around a large table for supper. Anduin had a blanket around his hip, resting his bad leg on a stool, and a warm drink between his hands. Wrathion stirred the broth inside a clay pot, with a pair of long, wooden utensils. The pot was warmed by the heat of an isolated red-hot charcoal tray in the center of the table. Tong and his assistant would bring small plates of vegetables, mushrooms, cooked noodles, and thinly sliced meats which they encouraged to add to the flavorful broth. Anduin cracked an egg on his own bowl and dipped what he could fish from the pot in it before tasting it. The hot contents cooked the egg almost immediately, creating a silken texture around each bite, helping mellow the salty taste of the broth. Wrathion on the other hand, mixed himself a dipping sauce made of sesame paste and various spicy sauces and herbal condiments. Anduin peeked over his shoulder and then Wrathion’s, their bodyguards sat paired off on their own, enjoying their meals. Thoroughly distracted by their hunger and good food. While part of him wished they would share an entire table, it was one of the very few opportunities where he had a semblance of true privacy with Wrathion.
Turning his attention to Wrathion he found the dragon staring directly at him. He felt warm, too warm. The boiling pot they enjoyed between the two had warmed his bones entirely too much. He reached to pull on his collar.
“I want to thank you for today. It was very novel. Unexpected, but indeed fun.” Wrathion began.
“I think you’re allowed some amusement, Wrathion. Don’t think too much of it.”
“Well, it’s difficult to consider any kind of diversion. There’s so much to worry about throughout the day, the idea of resting seems wasteful. Ridiculous, even.” Wrathion slurped down his noodles, glossily coated in a red chili oil. He dabbed his chin with a quick motion, “Not that I felt that way today, of course!”
“Of course.” Anduin smiled, graceful.
“I couldn’t let you outdo yourself.” Wrathion produced a small, wrapped box. Anduin recognized the shiny paper’s patterns to be the colors of Winter’s Veil. Wrathion had thought of this for a while now and had prepared. He felt suddenly inadequate, he hadn’t gotten Wrathion anything. “This is for you. I thought of what to give you that would be in accordance with the tradition -Anduin?”
“Ah! I’m sorry! It’s just that, I didn’t get you anything in return.” Anduin felt his blush deepen.
“Well it was a surprise, so you didn’t need to give me anything. Your company is enough of a gift for me. This year I’ve gained a very valuable perspective. That of a very treasured friend.” Wrathion suddenly looked to the gift and slid it across the side of the tabletop. Anduin reached for the box as he bowed his head in gratitude.
“Well? What are you waiting for?”
Anduin hesitated. A treasured friend. He felt Wrathion’s eyes on him as he handled the small box delicately, it almost fit in the palm of his hand. He unwrapped it and found a pin inside, with a large red gem fixed a golden frame.
“This is very beautiful, Wrathion. Thank you.”
“Not only is it exquisite, but it serves a purpose. Since I deem you an ally, break this brooch and I or any of my forces that are nearer will come to assist you.”
“That’s very kind of you.” Perhaps it was enchanted to keep track of him as well, but all he needed to do was have it nearby. He could spare a small gesture of trust, most of all for a friend. “I’ll keep it close.”
The two young men exchanged a smile. Anduin placed the pin on his sash and set the box down, sliding it further away from his plate. Wrathion reached to touch it, inadvertently brushing Anduin’s hand. Their touch of their hand on the other’s lingered.
***
Many years later, after the two princes had parted ways and met again as King and Blackflight leader, their disagreements had cooled and mutual curiosity had simmered. They found themselves together once more, spending a second Winter’s Veil in the palace gardens, in the middle of a celebration: The defeat of an Old God, the fall of a wicked city. Wrathion arrived at Stormwind on King Anduin’s behest and waited, pacing nervously over the open throne room gardens.
Wrathion watched as his boots imprinted their triangular shape over the snow and he felt Anduin’s presence nearby, turning to greet him.
“So you’ve returned. Safely, might I add.” Wrathion lamented the Anduin of now. His gaze was steel over his gentle face, his form taller and imposing thanks to his regal armor. Relief poured over him when Anduin smiled for the first time since they had reunited in the throne room. “I’m glad.”
“The city rejoiced. I’m glad the crown does as well, old friend.”
They both fell into a comfortable silence. Wrathion watched as Anduin considered his next words and quietly led them to where they stood before, when Wrathion was first explaining the dead Old God’s reach. The walkway was covered in snow but there was a small path to a stone railing overlooking the city. They both stood shoulder to shoulder watching the sprawling city over the hills.
“There’s much to speak of but first, I’d like to welcome you to my home.
“Which is?”
Anduin pushed his shoulder against Wrathion’s, playfully threatening his balance. Wrathion felt a blush creep in his human cheeks. Gentler than the bright magma of Blackrock and every bit as comforting.
“I can’t promise it won’t be easy but I’m willing to try. I miss those days when we were young. When our troubles seemed like mountains yet they were actually hills.”
“Anduin, there’s things I didn’t say back then, but I wished I had. I thought you wouldn’t understand. I’m sorry.”
“I know now what was in your mind. And I didn’t mean what was said in the throne room, those months ago. I wasn’t myself.” Anduin arched a brow. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t answer my questions, or anyone else’s for that matter, but I still believe in your redemption.” Anduin’s eyes lit up, “And I have something for you.”
Wrathion turned to watch Anduin as he fished in his chest armor for a small box, Wrathion had seen thee shape before. Wrapped in a fine paper, with the colors of Winter’s Veil.
“I owed you this. Jaina helped with the enchantment.” Wrathion realized Anduin was babbling a little, but let him continue. He enjoyed listening to him speak.
“She did not object?”
“No, she did not.” Anduin smiled, knowingly. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
Wrathion opened the box. A sapphire gemmed version of the familiar brooch he had made himself for Anduin many years ago.
“As a thank you for saving our world, you have our Kingdom’s aid whenever you need it. And, well… mine.” Anduin gestured awkwardly.
“It’s wonderful, Anduin. The craftsmanship is almost as good as mine.” Wrathion dwelled on the selfish satisfaction of hearing Anduin’s chuckle at his remark.
They sat silently enjoying each other’s company in a snowy Winter's Veil day, until Anduin was pulled away to resume his duties.
They say that the King of Stormwind was saved in Torghast by the Banshee Queen herself, from being turned into an abomination by the Jailer. Yet closer parties recounted the day that Anduin Wrynn had broken a mysterious red brooch, one he held dearly. A trinket that still held power in the realm of fallen souls, and that hours later, a mighty dragon’s roar was heard in the very gates of Death.