Work Text:
Kale felt the shout more than he heard it. He woke, starting out of a deep, comfortable slumber, as Wrathion bolted upright, contorted in terror. He wrapped his arms around him automatically, feeling that latent heat as he pulled him close.
The nightmares were coming far more frequently. Wrathion had been tight lipped about them, but Kale had pulled several titbits from him discerning that his flights past, and Wrathion’s unknown future, were weighing heavy on him.
His breathing slowed. Wrathion buried his face into Kale’s neck, his hands, nailed tipped claws, digging into soft, pale flesh.
“I’m tired of these, Kale.” He breathed, his teeth gritted in frustration. “Gone are the dreams of us picnicking in Stormsong…replaced by these never ending nightmares.”
“You dreamed of that?” Kale asked, his voice light, keeping the concern out. He was worried; Wrathion was his everything, his very soul, and his comfort was pivotal to Kale’s own.
“I used too, that’s the point.” Wrathion threw off the covers, which landed over Kale, who yanked them down. The man washed his face in a basin, grabbing a cup of water off the side table. “For the past few months, I’ve felt something…deeply wrong.” Kale tilted his head. This he knew. Wrathion had not been himself.
“It hasn’t gone away?”
“No! It’s gotten worse!” The man stared angrily at the water in the glass. “I don’t know the reason for this…this melancholy!” He slammed the glass on the side table, striding out of the room, half clothed. Kale eyed his exit, sighing inwardly.
His research had turned up dry. There was no latent magic around them. The only sources he could pinpoint derived from Boralus and the odd mage practicing in harbors. Nothing that would cause debilitating mood dampening. He checked his own wards; none were malfunctioning, in fact they seemed to be in perfect shape, despite their age. He was at a loss. Wrathion was just…unhappy.
He'd questioned if it was him, but Wrathion still cuddled close to him, and demanding Kale to hold him. Their sex life had dried up, however. Kale wasn’t exactly happy about that but…he couldn’t pressure Wrathion right now.
He slid out of bed, running a hand through his hair as his feet touched the cold wood. It was late in the year. Snow would fall soon. He looked out the window at a pure white sky; no hint of grey. He padded out into the main room, his face falling.
Wrathion gazed out the window, arms wrapped around himself. His face contorted into such forlorn sadness it made Kale’s heart ache. He strode over to him, wrapping him in an embrace. Wrathion didn’t struggle; his arms held Kale just as tightly, his ear to Kale’s chest.
“We’ll find the bottom of this.” Kale kissed his hair; beautiful black curls that fell over his shoulders in a luxurious waterfall. The dragon hummed a note, unresponsive. Kale pushed him away, holding him by the shoulders.
“My wards aren’t malfunctioning, and there aren’t any magical signatures that would match anything that would be causing this.” Wrathion looked at him. He had, of course, done the same investigations.
“It’s not a big deal, Kale.” He grumbled, pulling away. Kale let his hand drop, lips parted as Wrathion leaned against the counter. He wore nothing but loose linen trousers of his own design; soft and fashionable, but perfect for wear to bed.
“It…will pass.” He rubbed his temples. “As will the nightmares.” He smiled at Kale. A forced, agonized smile. Kale crossed to him, gripping his chin, forcing his gaze up. Wrathion met his eyes.
“Yes. It will pass. When he find out what’s causing it.”
“And if it isn’t anything external? What if it’s just me? Just me going mad?” His eyes flashed. His smirked as he said it, but the bite to his words was impossible to ignore. Kale gripped harder, his jaw set, brows furrowing.
“You aren’t going mad.”
“Oh? How can you be so sure?” Wrathion tore out of his grasp. “Perhaps history is just repeating itself. I have chosen a man dedicated to the void to be my mate, after all. Perhaps I deserve it!” Kale felt angry. This wasn’t working.
“You’re insecurities do nothing but vex you, Wrathion. Snap out of it. You aren’t going mad. You aren’t hearing anything.”
“You can’t know that for sure.”
“But I can!” He waved his arms in frustration. “I am attuned to the void; it cannot pass close to you without me knowing it!” He again crossed the man, prodding his bare chest.
“Your nightmares are not the shadows, driving you to insanity. They are your own. I’m not saying they aren’t a problem, but you are not going mad. Do you understand me?” Wrathion looked at him for a moment longer, expression hard, before softening. He deflated, falling into Kale’s arms.
“I just…want this to be at an end.” Kale pulled him into a kiss. He tasted so good. He always tasted good.
“It will end, my love.” Kale whispered. “It will.”
Kale made breakfast as Wrathion studied, pouring over notes. He served him eggs and soft little cakes that turned out to be more like biscuits, though Wrathion ate it regardless. Kale cleared his throat. There was something they had to discuss. The dragon ignored him. Kale sighed.
“Have you given any thought to the invitation?”
“I’ve tried not to think about it, actually.” Wrathion’s voice was dry. “It’s irritating and obvious.”
“But you will go, right?”
“You act as if you aren’t going with me.” Wrathion looked up, a smirk playing on his otherwise annoyed expression. “Kale, I’ve already an outfit planned for you. You will attend.”
“Oh?” Kale smiled, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over furry chest. “Did the invitation also invite me?”
“It said Wrathion and Guest, so…yes.” The man turned back to his studies. “It did.”
“Why does it annoy you so?” Kale sat down at the table, pulling is own book to him.
“Because it is very clear why I was invited. It’s not as if I’m wanted.” He spat the last words. “I’m neither welcome nor necessary. I’m just someone important, or rather, someone they think is important.” Kale’s mouth felt sour at the words. So much bitterness. Wrathion switched from sad and melancholic to angry and irritated in a heartbeat. It was…stressing, to say the least. To his credit, he knew the strain it put on Kale.
“I…apologize. I am…” He stopped, looking down.
“We’re going, Wrathion. You need a change of pace, and frankly, I could use it too.” Kale reached out, taking the dragons hand in his, raising it to his lips.
“I could use this chance to see Suramar again. It’s beautiful, you know.”
Wrathion managed to dress him in a fashionable suit with a collar that dipped to his sternum, and pants far too tight. The cuffs outlined in actual scales shed from his own body weighed his hands down.
“Did you have to work with your scales? They’re heavy as rocks, you know.” The held hands as they approached the estate. The wedding was in full swing. Wrathion always needed to be somewhat late. It was his way.
“I felt it appropriate. You look quite dashing.” He leaned up, kissing Kale’s cheek. No matter how long they were together, Kale always blushed when Wrathion kissed him randomly. Something about his inability to understand the dragons continued love of him. He smiled, letting the dragon guide him into the party.
The happy couple looked gorgeous. Kale remembered his own wedding as he stood, looking at the two of them exchange vows in the form of poetry. This one was far superior. Lor’themar was dashing, dressed in finery with a soft smile as he gazed at his wife, who stood a few inches taller, beaming without a hint regality. His own wedding had been forced, quick, and bland. His marriage was far worse than that. He looked down at the man who held his arm. Wrathion looked at the pair with a sad fondness. Kale squeezed his hand, nodding to a pair of seats at the back. His partner shook his head, nodding to where they stood, and they watched from afar.
Wrathion immediately hit the wine, grabbing two flutes from a passing waiter as the afterparty struck up. He handed one to Kale.
“To eternal love for…the happy couple or whatever.” He gazed at the shimmering liquid. “Does that sound right?” Kale snorted, taking a sip. It tasted divine.
“That sounded like a wonderful toast. They couldn’t have expected better!” Wrathion spoke of people they saw.
“Looks like they invited the Alliance, as well.” He murmured, sipping his wine as they meandered through the crowd. It was polite chatter, punctuating by loud guffaws by raucous humans or dwarves. A few orcs joined in, their laughter rivaling even the drunkest dwarf.
“It’s good to see.” Kale smiled. “I thought peace would never be an option, especially with…” Kale noticed something.
“There are no Night Elves.” Wrathion glanced around.
“You’re right. I suppose some wounds still run deep, even after twelve years.” His expression brightened.
“Ah! Look, it’s Magni!” Kale followed his gaze, his face cracking into a grin. If Magni was shimmering somewhere, Brann was sure to be nearby. It had been years since he had last seen his friend, though they corresponded quite frequently. He’d been one of the few he remained in communication with.
“Wrathion! My boy!” Magni enveloped him in a hug. Wrathion smiled, grunting as the diamond of a man let go.
“You are good to see, Magni!” Wrathion smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that warmed Kale to see.
“Kale!” Brann sidled up to him, looking up. “It’s been ages, lad! Simply ages! Where’ve ya been?”
“A quiet little countryside cottage, Brann. I needed the peace and quiet.” Kale gave him a hug, warmed at the expression. Magni nodded to him, and Muradin nodded as well. A dwarven woman wandered up, a younger dwarf at her side. Kale recognized her after a moment as Queen Moira Thaurissan. The man, with this in mind, must be her son and emperor to be, Dagran. He had an untidy mop of red hair combed and braided into a plait, along with twin mustaches that ran down the side of his mouth. His beard had been done up likewise. It was all a fine contrast to his skin, an ashen grey.
“Ah, Moira.” Magni gestured for his daughter, taking her hand his hand. She smiled. “Feast your eyes on my heart of hearts! My Moira and my beautiful grandson!” Dagran smirked, coloring somewhat as Moira let out a raucous laugh.
“Ack, father. You embarrass me with your platitudes. Enough.” Her eyes fell on Kale.
“Aye, this is Dagran. I don’t believe yeh’ve met him.” Kale inclined his head to the young dwarf, his eyes glancing back at his mother as she spoke.
“You must be Kale Zaxon. Me uncle speaks highly of ya.” Her eyes trained on Wrathion, whom she looked up at down. “And ye must be Wrathion. Glad to see someone good lookin’ at the party.” Magni chuckled and Brann let out a loud snort. Muradin, still quiet, grabbed another flute of wine.
“Yeh think they’ve got proper drink, Magni?” He whispered.
“Ah yes, Uncle. I saw barrels in the back.” Moira gestured. “Probably ordered just for us louts.”
The pair strode away. Brann grinned.
“Made any progress in your studies?” Kale’s smile faded.
“No. None. We’ve hit a wall.” Brann’s mustache drooped.
“Aye. It seems lost to us.” He glanced at Wrathion. “But te a dragon?”
“Alas, nothing. None of my kind, even the most ancient, remember.” Kale gazed westward.
“I even questioned Senagos. He doesn’t remember the Isles.”
Newcomers wandered up, closing the conversation. Kale and Wrathion drifted away, finding a place against an elegant iron fence, overlooking the bay. Kale opened his mouth to speak, when a hand fell on his shoulder. Kale started, looking round.
An elven woman, graceful and serene in elegant violet garb, grinned at him almost maniacally.
“Kale Zaxon.” Alleria Windrunner. Wife of Turalyon who was just behind her, looking somewhat awkward in his golden livery of Stormwind.
“Alleria Windrunner.” Kale replied, turned towards her fully. Wrathion turned around, looking at her with distrust and distaste. It was humorous to Kale the mans double standard: Anyone other than him embracing the void was to be distrusted and scorned.
“You’ve ignored my attempts to contact you.” She licked her lips, obviously excited, showing no hint of anger or irritation at the words. “I’ve wishing to speak with you for years.”
“Now is not really the time, Alleria.” Turalyon spoke up, placing a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off.
“Now is the perfect time, Turalyon. Kale has avoided society for years.”
“I can’t help you, Alleria. My knowledge of the void is different than your own.” He spoke to the point; he knew exactly what she wanted. Wrathion continued to stare. Alleria charged ahead.
“It doesn’t matter. What you did in Lordearon left the world reeling. Bringing a Void Lord under your control and forcing it to take the corruption from the city? Incredible.” She breathed the last word, moving closer.
“I need to know. Need to understand.” Kale felt uncomfortable. Alleria had cornered him shortly after that event; it had taken Nefarian threatening her with death and damnation to get her to draw away.
“Alleria. I can only tell you this: My knowledge of the void, and my powers, come from a life of study, of living with and being raised by a corrupt black dragon. I absorbed the powers from infancy, and was molded to them. What I did in Lordearon took months of starvation and meditation. It is not something anyone should do. Willingly.” He made to turn away. She continued.
“You are saying you were forced?”
“No. Just that I am insane.” He flashed a smile. “The void you harness is celestial. The powers I harness come from the Old Gods.” She cocked her head.
“They’re dead.” Wrathion shook his.
“No. They merely slumber. N’Zoth is not dead. He will be back.”
“We can collaborate.” Kale continued, offering her this one chance, hoping it would get her to leave him alone. “I will accept your letters and respond, if you promise to give me space.” She stepped back, finally aware she was literally nose to nose with him. Odd woman. She stepped next to her husband, a light blush coloring her cheeks.
“I apologize.” She inclined her head. “I…find myself getting carried away with my research.” Kale forced a chuckle.
“It happens to the best of us.” She held out a hand, and Kale took it.
“I’ll be in touch.”
“I look…forward to it.” Kale managed. He watched them turn away. Turalyon immediately set into his wife; his deep tones resonating back to them.
“You disturbed him, Alleria. Could you not see how uncomfortable he was?”
Wrathion let out a deep chuckle, which dissolved into a sigh. He turned back to the railing, looking out over the bay.
“Odd people in this world, Kale.” Kale smiled, taking his right hand in his left.
“Aye. Me chief among them.” Wrathion smirked, looking down.
“It frustrates me deeply, Kale.” Wrathion whispered. Kale wrapped an arm around him.
“The fact we cannot find them. The fact they seem…blocked from our elders memories.” It was a frustrating conundrum. Kale wasn’t close the flights; the only ones who has his trust were his “Merry Band of Black Dragons” as Wrathion put it. Kalecgos and he got along fine, but the rest…kept him at arm’s length. Kale turned, gazing at the party. He met Shaw, out of his customary uniform of intricate filigreed leathers and into a well fitted suit. Beside him, laughing at a joke their fellows made, was Flynn Fairwind. Kale recognized him, but had never met. The Spymaster and this Captain had made quite the pair. It heartened him to see it, and he pulled Wrathion closer.
“Ah. Kalecgos is here. He seems to have changed his style somewhat.” Wrathion whispered in his ear. “That hair…it doesn’t fit his face at all.” Kale snickered. Wrathion tilted his head.
“He…doesn’t look well.” Kale followed his gaze. Other than nursing what appeared to be a wrist injury, Kalec looked fine. He trusted his mate, however. The two were about to join the party when two hulking figures joined them.
“Wrathion! And…” It was Baine Bloodhoof and Mayla Highmountain. They seemed to want to converse with his comapanion, and thus Kale waited.
“This is Kale, my consort, boyfriend, husband…whatever you wish, really.” Wrathion smiled.
“It is good to see you both.”
“I’ve heard much about you, Wrathion, from Ebonhorn.”
“Ah, Ebyssian?” Wrathion smiled in his glass. “I miss him. Is he here?” Mayla shook her head, frowning somewhat.
“He is…not feeling well.” Kale’s head shot up. Not feeling well. He glanced back at Kalecgos, and then, gazed at Wrathion.
“Oh?” Wrathion hid any thoughts he may have had. “I wish him well.”
“You wish him well? Hah! As if you could wish anyone well, with what you’ve done, pathetic whelp.” Kale’s skin bristled. He turned, meeting a hulking, black furred Tauren who dwarfed even Baine. The tauren, to his credit, glared at the stranger.
“You werne’t invited, Kurog. How did you get here?”
“Same way as everyone else, Chieftan.” He spat the last words with indignation. “I expected there to be food, drink…interesting guests.” He snorted, nose ring flapping as he flapped his ears. “I did not expect to be sullied by the presence of dragons…Let alone a black.”
Kale felt Wrathion stiffin, but the man held his poise. “Ah, well. I received an invitation, so I can’t imagine I was that disgusting to the couple.” He raised his glass to the tauren. “Unlike you, who is barely wearing clothing, let alone carrying an invitation.” Baine strode forward, grabbing the offender by the upper arm.
“You should not be here!” He hissed.
“I am a shaman. I go where I please.”
“Oh, I doubt that. Suramar is more magic than earth, at this point. Would you like an escort off the premises?” Kale felt a prickling anger in his companion. The tauren glanced at him, trying, and failing, to rip out of Baine’s grip. Their voices had risen. Onlookers were beginning to watch. Kale didn’t like this.
His years of privacy had left him unable to stand being watched, especially by large crowds. He could put on a front out of necessity, but it required a bit of steeling, a bit of preparation, in order for him to do so. Confrontation, however, was an art of his. Kurog turned his gaze on Kale. Kale met his gaze, sipping his wine.
“You reek of the void, human.”
“Another thing wrong, Kurog.” Wrathion spoke once more. “That’s two for one. You’re on a roll here. Please, do go on.” Mayla had joined Baine in keeping the guest in check.
“Wrong about what, Wrathion? That you were born from an experiment; the amalgamation of corpses, pieced together and brought to life? You wish to save Azeroth? You are a symbol of everything that has gone wrong with her.”
Kale felt, rather than heard, the murmurs of the crowd. Wrathion gripped his glass so tightly Kale was worried it may shatter.
“You could save this world a thousand times, and you will never be accepted. Forever an outcast, reeking of corruption and depravity.” The tauren snorted. Baine’s jaw set, his ears flattened in fury. Mayla wasn’t much better. Kale was about to contort, when Wrathion lunged, the glass shattering as he gripped and lifted the Tauren by the neck as if he weighed nothing.
“I-.” Wrathion snarled through gritted teeth, his eyes glowing embers. The tauren wheezed, trying to pry the fingers from his neck. “Could incinerate before your heart could beat once. I could flay the very soul from your bones, I-.” Kale interrupted him, hands on his shoulders. His grip immediately slackened, his snarl fading, his muscles relaxing as his fury subsided. The tauren, however, wasn’t ready to give up. He bellowed a row, dipping his head in a charge. Wrathion stared at him, disgust plain on his face. The tauren charged. Wrathion side stepped easily, though Kale was far less graceful; he tripped backwards, falling into the crowd, who parted to let him hit the ground. He grunted, irritated, angry, his back aching from the fall. The tauren, uncontrolled, ran into table laden with a gigantic wedding cake. It topped as Kurog ran into it, covering his fur with frosting. He sputtered, shaking it off, affixing his eyes once again on Wrathion, who stared him down, fury once spreading across his face as he knelt, helping Kale up.
“I’ll skin you and wear your hide as a belt, dragon.” Kurtog growled. He whipped out a knife. This had gone too far. Kale, upright now, felt hot anger bubbling to the surface as the tauren began another charge, only too…bounce back into the cake. Kale stopped. An arcane shield?
“Stop!” The voice rang out, clear, feminine, dangerous. Kale glanced behind his shoulder. The newlyweds. Oh no. He turned. Thalyssra, followed by Lorth’remar, had arrived, their brows furrowed with a mixture of anger, confusion, and concern.
“What has happened here?” Kale noticed her hands; glowing with arcane energies; enough power to reduce a man to ash, and then some. She surveyed the crowd, the ruined cake, and finally the tauren, who seemed stunned with that last hit.
Wrathion opened his mouth to speak. Kale squeezed his hand, warning him not too, but Maya, blessedly, beat him too it.
“The Grimtotem has trespassed onto your lands, intruded on your celebration, only to harass your guests!” Her voice dripped with barely controlled fury. He noticed Baine holding onto her arm as she stomped her hooves, restless.”
Guards strode up, pulling the Tauren to his feet and throwing him at the couples feet.
Kale glanced at Wrathion. His face seemed ashen, all color gone, replaced with an emptiness. He turned to him, concerned. Wrathion looked away.
“It wasn’t-.”
“I should have controlled myself. I’m…better than that.” Kale heard Thalyssra demand the Taurens exit, her voice even despite cold anger lacing the words.
“Soon, you, and all your disgusting kind, will know the power of the Tauren.” He strode away, flanked by gaurds. Kale glanced at Baine, who met his eye. He looked just as confused as Kale was. Wrathions face had regained some level of color as the two newly weds approached. Kale heard muttered oaths, curses directed at Wrathion as the onlookers pulled away. He wanted to engulf them all in flame. He turned, catching the eye of an orc sneering in contempt. His glare was enough to cow him, and he backed away, muttering indignantly.
“I…apologize for not behaving myself. It was beneath me.” He looked at the two. “I am sorry for causing such a stir.” Lorth’remar, Kale was surprised to see, had a twinkle his eye. He was barely surprising a smile.
“No need to apologize! We have plenty more cakes.” Thalyssra glanced at her husband, her lip twitching as if she wanted to smile, before looking back to Wrathion.
“Our security was insufficient. I apologize, Wrathion. There was no need for you to have gone through that. You handled it as well as I would have.” She bowed her head. Kale felt a warm hand enter his own, squeezing.
“You honor me. However, I should have realized my coming would have ilicited reaction among some of the guests. I hope this didn’t ruin the day.” He bowed.
“I must leave. I wish nothing by joy.” They didn’t protest, but Lorthre’mar looked from him to Kale, and smiled.
“You as well, Wrathion.” The dragon did not reply. Instead, he pushed out of the crowd. Kale followed. Baine tried to stop them, but Wrathion smiled, bowed, and left. Baine took the hint, his ears flattening.
Wrathion’s pace was quick, his steps angry. Kale actually lost him among the guests. He let out the breath he’d been holding, irritation, anger, and gloom filling him up as a tap fills a tub. He threatened to overflow. He leaned against a barrier, exhausted. He was too old for this. Why had he come?
Wrathion was…drifting away from him. He was slowly becoming someone different, someone who looked at the world with apathy. He was consumed by doubt and insecurities, and no matter how much Kale held him up, Wrathion seemed determined to fall. There was…something missing. This change in his behavior had been slow coming, but had reared its head only in the past few months.
“My love…what’s happened to you?” Kale whispered? Without pausing to think of what it would do to onlookers, Kale weaved a portal of shadow, and stepped into it. He needed a place to think.
He found Wrathion on the other side, a few minutes later. He was speaking with Kalecgos. Kale stepped out of the portal; their figures solidifying into actual beings, rather than bundles of energy, and Wrathion glanced back at his arrival. There was…hope on his face. A new determination.
“Kale! We leave for Wyrmrest Temple.” Kale cocked his head. He couldn’t hide his smirk.
“Now?”
“Immediately. Kalecgos will open a portal.” He strode up to him, taking his hands, weaving their fingers together and pressing them into Kale’s chest.
“Kalecgos feels the same.”
“As had Ebyssian.” Kale reminded. Wrathion beamed, nodding.
“Then let us go, my love.” He leaned in, kissing Wrathion lightly, feeling vigor in the mans lips as he drank him in.
The ground solidified under his feet once again, and Kale fell into a scene with hundreds of dragons. Thousands, perhaps. Drakes flew and cawed over head. Full grown wyrms lounged, speaking in hushed conversations. A line, snaking it’s way up the temple, was filled with dragons in their visages. Everyone looked worried. All had the same peaked expression that Wrathion had carried.
“They feel the same.” Kalecgos breathed. He glanced at Kale.
“He is welcome.” Wrathion butted in before the blue could speak. “He is my consort, Kalec.” The blue dragon smiled, looking down.
“I wasn’t going to object. Only to ask if Kale has been here before.”
“I have. Many years ago now. Over two decades, at least.” He craned his neck. “That’s a long time to wait to speak to Alexstrasza.” Wrathion bristled.
“I am not going to wait.” He jumped, transforming in a puff of black smoke as he flew vertically. Kalecgos followed, and Kale, slow as he aged, came in last. The steep climb was hard on his joints, but he flew at the same pace as Kalecgos, who eyed him, not speaking. They alighted on the very pinnacle of the tower. Wrathion was already speaking to the Dragonqueen, who gazed down at the line of subjects waiting to speak to her.
“What is it? What is this feeling, Alexstrasza?” Kale watched as she turned, placing a delicate hand on Wrathions cheek.
“Oh Wrathion. You are homesick. We all are. The Isles call.” She looked down, smiling at some distant thought. “The Dragon Isles have woken up.”
Worth noting that Nyota was in attendance, along with his daughters and wife. Anduin and his entire family where invited. That included Kayleigh, Olivia, Torstan, Anduin’s wife and their children, sans the latest one, which was left in the keep. They were not included because that’s too many characters and I was trying to follow the beats of the short.
Wrynn Family Tree as of My Timeline, starting with Llane:
Llane – Talia
Varian-Tiffin / Varian-Kayleigh
Anduin – As of yet unnamed bar maid Olivia Torstan
Rose Tiffiny Unnamed Son
Kale has one son, Nyota. Nyota has 4 daughters. All four were in attendance. No sons. His daughter is reaching age and will soon take over the throne of Aquilan. (Planore Capitol in the former Burning Steppes, now the Fruitful Planes)
12 years have passed since BFA. Shadowlands in my lore never happened. Anduin never left, was never kidnapped, and marries a commoner.