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“Do you have more of these?” Wrathion asked, with just a hint of mischief in his tone.
He had retrieved Anduin’s thin, leather hair tie from where it had been haphazardly tossed amid the blankets and sheets of Anduin’s bed. He held it delicately between two fingers, eying it as though he’d never seen anything like it before… which was patently untrue, of course, considering he was the one who’d tossed it aside earlier in the evening.
“I do…” Anduin said cautiously, unsure of what the dragon was plotting. He’d never seen Wrathion do anything with his hair, aside from running a brush through it every now and then, or carefully working scented oils and creams into it after a bath while fussing about his curls. “Do you need one?”
“I already have one,” he said with a triumphant smile. Anduin could only roll his eyes and chuckle fondly as Wrathion tied the thin leather strip around his own wrist, and blush as he took one end between his teeth to tighten the knot.
~♡~
Love is in the air . It was a holiday Anduin hadn’t personally celebrated in a few years now, though he still found himself somewhat wistful each year as the public-facing portions of the Keep were decorated with gaudy hearts and ribbons and roses.
For the first time in years, he actually had someone he could potentially celebrate with… but that person was elsewhere , doing his duty to his dragonflight. In Wrathion’s defense, Anduin hadn’t invited him to celebrate in Stormwind. In fact, during the dragon’s last visit over New Year’s, Anduin pointedly did not mention the upcoming holiday. It wasn’t as though they were officially together or anything, they just spent a lot of time together whenever Wrathion was in Stormwind, and exchanged frequent letters whenever he wasn’t. So what if those letters often contained strong romantic, or sometimes sexual, overtones? It felt a bit presumptuous to invite Wrathion to celebrate a festival dedicated to love .
Still, Anduin felt somewhat forlorn as the first day of the festival came to a close, and he sat down at his writing desk to tend to the handful of letters that had been delivered to him. His spirits instantly lifted when he saw that the first letter on the stack was from Wrathion. He smiled inanely to himself, hardly registering how odd the envelope felt in his hand as he tore it open. He pulled out the letter, written in Wrathion’s familiar, elegant script, but before he could start reading, he realized that there was something else in the envelope. He tilted it, letting the rest of its contents fall onto the desk.
It was a thin strip of a dark, dyed leather, not dissimilar to the hair tie that Wrathion had stolen from him barely a month ago, with a single, small bead of obsidian affixed to it.
I know it isn’t a traditional holiday charm bracelet, Wrathion’s letter read, but I hope you will wear it anyway. Can you meet me by the lake at midnight on the last day of the festival?
Even knocking over his inkwell in his haste to write a response wasn’t enough to quell Anduin’s grin.