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The moonlight shone through the windows, illuminating the corridor. Nathanos felt restless, pacing along the corridor, his destination clear in his mind. He didn’t know why he felt so compelled to check in on Wrynn- it wasn’t like he was going anywhere. The little human king had been a prisoner of the Horde for just over a month now.
It had been a stressful day. Rogues had attempted a rescue, very nearly succeeding- if it hadn’t been for the gifts of the dark rangers. They had met a rather grim fate, killed and risen as new forsaken. Though Sylvanas has deemed it fit, to remove their free will. Now they were nothing more than mindless ghouls- no memories or semblance of their previous selves.
Anduin hadn’t taken it well. Nathanos had actually been afraid for a moment- the little king’s eyes had glowed with the holy light he revered so much. As if he was going to attack Sylvanas. But that hadn’t been the biggest shock- No , the little king had taken them both by surprise when his hands had swirled with the power of shadow. Striking down one of his former subjects, who Sylvanas had used as a shield, instead of landing a blow on the Banshee Queen herself.
“You might be surprised at how much I can hate.”
The boy king’s words replay over and over in his head. Is this what Wrynn had meant, that he was susceptible to shadow as much as he was light. Yet, he seemed to have some control over it. Sylvanas had been rattled, but she had played it off with a smirk and a cruel jibe. Nathanos hadn’t been able to calm himself so easily. He found himself out in the training grounds, hacking up a wooden dummy with his axes. He needed to get rid of this uncertainty storming inside him.
It had turned his stomach, seeing that expression cross Anduin’s face. His eyes turning cold, angry- hateful, like his own. Something he had never thought to see on the boy’s face. He hadn’t even seen it that fateful day- when Wrynn had tried to reunite families and bridge gaps between them. Only for it to end in tragedy- one his queen had taken satisfaction in carrying out. Killing her own subjects, and Calia Menethil without hesitation.
Perhaps he should have spoken up that day. Just like he should have spoken up at Teldrassil, she had crossed a line again. While he had no love for the Night Elves, the murdering of children and civilians didn’t sit well with him. But he had obediently carried out her orders- afraid of losing her favour, of losing her. He scowls bringing his axes down with enough force to split the wooden dummy into two. He snarls at the splintered wood- hating his inability to feel tired, to still be able to keep going.
Then why was he checking up on Anduin? He should just go and brood on the ramparts of the city. Howl like a wolf to the moon. But instead he finds himself at the little king’s door. He had moved him into his new room only yesterday. Maybe a nicer room than Sylvanas would have liked- he wasn’t feeling guilt over Anduin’s despair , that was for sure.
He hesitates at the door, feeling entirely foolish. The idiot would be asleep- should be asleep. What was he going to do, go in and watch him sleep? He wasn’t some loyal guard dog! He could just come back in the morning- his hand has already reached out to undo the lock, and the door swings open, with a small creek, Well he’s come this far… A quick peek and he can be on his way.
The moonlight filters through the small window. Pale, luminous fingers reaching for the sleeping boy, curled up in the bed. Thin blanket pulled tightly over him. Years of training, meant Nathanos’s boots don’t make a sound as he walks towards Wrynn’s sleeping figure. Face, pale and almost ethereal in the White Ladies’s glow. Blond hair messily falling over his face, eyelids looking bruised with the dark circles under them. His fingers flex at his side, the leather of his gloves creaking.
Does he want to brush the hair from Anduin’s face, or throttle him? The fact he has no answer to the question leaves him deeply unsettled. Anduin makes a noise and shifts in his sleep- Nathanos freezes, for a second he’s worried about being found out. What excuse would he come up with for his being there!? Thankfully Wrynn doesn’t wake, one hand coming out of the covers and drooping down, fingers just avoiding touching the cold floor.
It’s strange. Staring at a living person’s hand. The way it just seems to glow with life, yet there’s no physical glow, just a feeling , he can't explain. He stares at his own gloved hand. Frowning he eases the leather off, staring at the pale, listless flesh, almost grey in colour. He reaches out for Anduin, but the blond whines and backs away subconsciously. It’s because Nathanos is cold.
Touching him, would be like brushing the icy fingers of death over those rosy cheeks, that dimple when Anduin smiles. Touching him, would be like sucking the warmth from his body. Like night steals the light of day. He staggers back. Looking at his on hand- his own hand? Was it even his? He bites back a bitter scoff. He hated these moments of weakness. They always seemed to be more frequent when Anduin was around. He would find himself suddenly longing for the past- a foolish endeavour.
After all what’s lost is forever gone.
He can’t help but bite his lip. Doing his best to push down this horrid surge of useless emotion. The sooner Wrynn was gone the better- he didn’t have time for distractions like these. Unwanted moments of introspection. Of doubt. His gaze turns cold on the little human dreaming peacefully, completely unaware of the chaos he wrought with his every breath.
Watching the rhythmic rise and fall of the king’s chest, was strangely soothing. Almost reassuring… Was he afraid he’d come in and find him dead? Sylvanas wouldn’t come for him in the night. She’d want Anduin wide awake . He - Well it didn’t matter what he wanted, what he would prefer. At the end of the day he was a soldier, loyal to her . He would follow her orders when the time came. There wasn’t any turning back. No matter what Wrynn believed.
The light of the moon hits his hand, and he’s forced to look down. To see the pale lifeless skin, reflecting the moonlight back. There was no glow around him, nothing but the light he was borrowing. Just like the face and body he had “taken and the time he was stealing. She should have never come for him , should have let him rot to nothing. “Live” on as a mindless ghoul, where he wouldn’t be stuck at this moral crossroad.
Giving in to the urge, he brushes golden hair from Anduin’s face. Trying not to be shaken by how warm he actually was- or how soft. It was a one time indulgence. Trying to regain a shard of himself, a fleeting chance at recapturing a moment lost to him forever. They were night and day, the living and the dead. Neither belong in the other’s world and yet here they were. Stuck in this hellish limbo.
He lets his hand fall away from Anduin’s face. The boy barely twitches, breath slow, and steady- indicating a deep sleep. At least in his dreams he was free from the torment of reality. Nathanos had no such escape. For the dead no longer dream, and if they did…
He’s lingered too long. Inner ramblings making him angry with himself. He was loyal. He served Sylvanas. He- Was starting to wonder if there was another way … Nathanos feels his eyes widen, he grinds his teeth, suddenly seething. Even in sleep Wrynn was playing mind games! Well he wasn’t going to be privy to it. Wasn’t going to let himself be played like a pawn- like her pawn.
It takes all his effort not to slam the door to Anduin’s new prison. He doesn’t resist the urge however, to cast a look back at the little king. Sleeping on without a care in the world!
“I could kill you now, and no one would know.” Nathanos grumbles out to the silent cell. There’s no answer, no sound. Just Anduin’s steady breathing, and his own whirling thoughts. He had come here to clear his mind, and yet all he felt was more confusion.
Something had to give. And what he didn’t know.