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The first one to find him was, rather fittingly, Mathias Shaw. After all, it was the Spymaster's duty to keep a close eye on the Royal Majesty of Stormwind and the High King of the Alliance - even now.
Two presences had been watching him recently, but he wouldn't be surprised if they had been tracking him since the moment he didn't return at Genn's side. Their presence was a stark reminder of the world he had left behind - the world that he no longer fit perfectly into.
The familiar sound of a pair of rogues unstealthing drew Anduin from his thoughts as he watched the Dredbats patrol the sky above - although he had known that those particular presences were there for the last few minutes, simply waiting for them to make the first move.
"I was interested to see," Anduin began, his voice tinged with resignation, as footsteps approached behind him, the former king keeping his gaze fixed on the blood-red horizon of Revendreth - a place that perhaps was more fit for him now than Bastion. The weight of his recent experiences in the Shadowlands pressed heavily upon him, a burden he couldn't shake even in the presence of familiar faces, "how long you would wait before coming to find me, Spymaster."
"He wanted to track you down and haul you off to Stormwind the moment Greymane told us you weren't returning," a familiar accented voice, Flynn Fairwind - Mathias's unlikely partner - spoke from behind Anduin, his voice tinted with the ex-pirate's ever-present humor, "I almost had to tie him down and sit on him to make him give you time. Unfortunately, I could only convince him to wait a week and no more."
"I allowed time that we do not have," Mathias said shortly, his tone short and without any hint of humor. It was clear that his one mission on this visit was to bring Anduin back. "Your Majesty, Stormwind needs you. Your people-"
"Turalyon is who they need," Anduin snapped, turning to look at the pair, his lips pulling back into a bared snarl - with he hurriedly forced away into a grimace, the expression far too familiar to who he was under the Domination of the Jailer. "he is a strong leader - in both the Light and in his actions. He is fit to lead in my absence. I will return when I am ready - when the Light forgives me for what I've done. Until then, I will not step foot into the city. And you know trying to force me will not work out well."
After his escapades in Pandaria, it was well known that Anduin was not afraid to use every tactic at his disposal to get what he wanted - especially when it came to escaping the responsibilities of being the King of the Alliance.
"Sire..." Mathias stepped forward, but paused as Anduin stepped back in turn.
"Mathias," Flynn put a hand on Mathias's arm, a warning look passing between them as Flynn shook his head. "You know this isn't the way to go about this. You... know how it feels."
Mathias's features tensed at the clear reference to his experiences during his capture by the Dreadlord Detheroc during the invasion of the Burning Legion, the subject clearly a sore one - one that Mathias never spoke about to anyone, as far as Anduin was aware.
Anduin couldn't help but feel a sense of isolation, knowing that his experiences under the Jailer's control were uniquely his own. He had experienced horrors beyond comprehension within those dark and cold halls of Torghast - he had dealt horrors beyond comprehension upon countless innocents.
Anduin supposed the Spymaster truly did have an idea of what it felt to watch yourself commit horrible acts - but they were not the same. The Spymaster had been impersonated, the Dreadlord taking his shape and acting as him to carry out his plans - Anduin did not have the luxury of simply watching himself commit horrors and atrocities beyond imagination. No, Anduin had committed those atrocities with his own hand, feeling the fresh hot blood coating his blade as he wielded it against his close friends, watching with a dark spark of amusement deep within him as his friend's features contorted in fear and horror at the sight of what the Jailer had crafted him into.
Anduin watched Flynn and Mathias carefully as they held a silent conversation with a simple look, his muscles tensed and his form ready to jump away into flight with a moment's notice.
"Fine, Flynn. Your Majesty," Mathias turned back to Anduin, clearly displeased - but willing to go along with him, a move that Anduin was genuinely not expecting the Spymaster to make. "I will not tell Turalyon what I saw today, where you are. I will not stop sending SI:7 scouts, if only to ensure your safety. That is my duty, and until you release me from it or I die - I will carry it out to the best of my abilities."
Anduin nodded hesitantly, grateful for the small semblance of understanding and support.
"Anduin," Mathias's voice took on a softer tone as he reached out, resting a hand on Anduin's cloaked shoulder. "for what it's worth, I trust you. And I will always be honored to serve, as both your Spymaster and a friend."
"Thank you," Anduin sighed, reaching out to mirror Mathias as he settled a hand on the Spymaster's pauldrons, "Mathias. Flynn."
"Anytime, your very Royal Majesty," Flynn grinned, the former pirate captain certainly not one unused to the idea of running from one's past. "If you - or Jerek," Flynn winked, "ever want to get some fresh ocean air to clear your head, the Bold Arva welcomes you."
Anduin nodded gratefully and stood tall as Mathias and Flynn turned to leave, the pair falling into stealth as they disappeared into the shadows.
After a few minutes, Anduin moved to head to the nearest flight-master, planning his next move carefully. Perhaps seeking solace in the familiar routines of something more akin to home would bring him the peace he sought.
Perhaps it was time to depart the Shadowlands and return to Azeroth.
Anduin had been a prince or a king all of his life, used to lavish feasts and a constant supply of food. Fending for himself had melted the stubborn baby fat from his cheeks, chiseling his jawline and accentuating his sharp features.
That led to him relishing the few visits to inns that he allowed himself, giving himself a few moments of precious rest to indulge in some good, fresh, and hot food and refreshing drink until he needed to move on once more. The disguise of Jerek worked to keep him from being recognized, but he couldn't risk staying in one place for any longer than necessary.
Mathias Shaw had lived up to his promise to send SI:7 agents, the talented spies constantly coming close to catching Anduin's trail before he moved on.
He had visited Dalaran to follow up on some books he was searching for, covering topics of the Fel and what happened to souls after death - although he supposed they were most likely outdated now, after the rift Sylvanas tore to the Shadowlands had opened in the sky over Azeroth, throwing everything they knew into chaos. With the books either located and purchased or a lead on where he may find them noted, Anduin had stopped by the inn, the Legerdemain Lounge, for a quick meal before leaving and heading towards the Greyfang Enclave to hopefully find a mage willing to cast a portal to Ironforge for him, the Library in the Hall of Explorers his next destination.
He missed his youth, when his only concern was attending his lessons and fulfilling his desperate hunger for knowledge. Now, even before he was abducted into the Maw, he had barely a free moment outside of his responsibilities as High King of the Alliance.
"...Anduin?"
Anduin whirled as a familiar voice met his ears.
Jaina stood behind him, her expression one of shock and surprise.
He hadn't seen his pseudo-aunt in... at least a year. Not since they had stood together while Sylvanas was sentenced to her punishment.
Unlike Anduin, Jaina looked healthy and hale - clearly healing from her experiences in the Maw far better than Anduin was. He could only hope that the rest of their friends and allies who had been taken alongside them were healing just the same.
With a heavy heart, Anduin stepped backward, ready to flee from one of the few people remaining whom he considered family.
"Anduin, wait!" Jaina pleaded desperately, and her tone made Anduin's heart ache. "Please, just... don't run away. Again."
Anduin slowly slipped his hand beneath his cloak and into the bag tied tightly against his waist, his searching fingers finding the portal stone that had cost a fortune to get, one that he had carried since long before Sylvanas was even a concern to him - its destination one that meant a lot to his heart.
"What I did, to the denizens of the Shadowlands, to the Champions who fought to free me," Anduin raised his horrified eyes from his hands to meet Jaina's sorrowful expression, "to you and the others that Sylvanas took, it's unforgivable. How can the people of Stormwind be expected to trust and respect me as their King, when I deserve to be in the Stockades instead of the throne room?"
"They forgive you - I forgive you, I know that you did everything you could to fight against the Jailer's control," Jaina soothed, her hand outstretched like she was trying to calm a frightened animal instead of her close friend and pseudo-nephew, "Anduin, I trust you. What they did... it wasn't your fault. We trust you."
"I don't." Anduin spat out, and then crushed the stone in his hands, the rune crumbling in a spark of blue light and a portal erupting behind him - and already beginning to rapidly close. Anduin stepped back into the closing portal and his last view was of Jaina lunging forward, his name desperately falling from her lips, and he felt her searching fingers brush against his shoulder for a brief moment - and, blankly, he realized that this was the first time he had been touched in months. He couldn't bring himself to tear his gaze away from Jaina's horrified and heartbroken expression, watching her reach out for him before he was whisked away by the portal and she was left behind.
The Tavern in the Mists greeted him as he fell out of the portal, the Path of a Hundred Steps stretching out below him as the blessedly fresh air - and the onslaught of memories of a better time - of the Veiled Stair and Pandaria surrounded him.
"Right, Left, wait outside."
It had taken longer than Anduin expected for Wrathion to sniff out his presence in the tavern where they had spent so much time together in their youth, a few days having passed since Jaina had come across him.
Anduin wasn't sure if he wanted it to have taken longer.
"Do you miss those days?" Anduin asked as Wrathion settled in the chair across from him, his voice hoarse from lack of use, "back when we were young? When everything was..."
Anduin wasn't sure what to think about the fact that he considered the time in his life when every bone in his body was crushed into dust by Garrosh dropping the Divine Bell on his small form better than his current life. His leg sparked with a dull ache, the pain an ever-constant reminder of the trials he had gone through on the mysterious isle.
"The time we spent together here was..." Wrathion leaned back, casting his gaze around the quaint structure, the room thankfully empty beside the two of them, before settling his eyes on Anduin. "time I look back upon fondly. Meeting you is something I am eternally grateful for, the moments we shared something I treasure." And Wrathion's tone was unusually earnest, the words clearly coming from the dragon's heart.
Anduin smiled, although he knew his eyes betrayed the turmoil that clashed within him.
"Would you like to revisit them?" Wrathion slowly stood up, walked to a cabinet settled beneath the stairs, and rustled around it for a few moments before pulling out a familiar board.
"Jihui?" Anduin asked, surprised at the sight of the board game they had used to entertain themselves back in their youth.
"You're the missing High King of the Alliance, hiding out in Pandaria while High Exarch Turalyon and Spymaster Shaw send countless spies to try and find you and Greymane goes insane trying to sniff you out from halfway across Azeroth..." Wrathion shrugged, his red eyes twinkling with a mirth that warmed Anduin's heart. "I can't think of anything better to do with your time than playing a board game, really."
Anduin snorted, but sat up in his chair as Wrathion set the game board, setting the canisters that held the pieces on either side of the board.
Wrathion chose black, fittingly, and Anduin got red.
They rolled six cubes, and then one, and compared to see who would have the first move.
Wrathion had the highest value, and with a grin, he moved one of his cubes, a knight, across the board.
Anduin had no appealing options, so he picked up a cube and rolled it, the piece changing to an archer which he moved to the side of the board closest to him.
The game continued in silence, the pair falling back into the familiar gameplay that they had used to occupy their time while Anduin had been recovering from his injuries as a result of the Divine Bell crushing him during the Alliance-Horde War.
It was nice, to have a break from the constant running, a brief respite from their troubles.
As they continued to roll their cubes and move their pieces around the board - Wrathion taking out significantly more pieces than Anduin - eventually Wrathion cornered Anduin's warlord, his knights blocking from one side and his navy from the other.
"You have always been more skilled at this than I," Anduin sighed, "even when you were barely more than a whelp."
"The game is designed for both players to win, or at least not lose - to come to a satisfactory conclusion. You are not thinking as clearly as you would, usually." Wrathion tilted his head, his blazing eyes sharp and intelligent as always, "you are currently playing a game of jihui, Anduin, and I am not referring to the board in front of us. What you're doing, running..." Wrathion paused, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at Anduin - his gaze far deeper than anything Anduin had held in years. "I know you won't return to Stormwind, to your friends, for a while yet. But don't forget that you can win, too. They got rescued, and so did you."
Not soon enough.
Wrathion slowly reached across the table and rested his hand over Anduin's, the game forgotten as his arm knocked over a warlord and a few ships.
It was... nice, to feel the touch of someone who wasn't trying to drag him back to Stormwind, back to the throne and crown that had controlled so much of his life.
"Will you stay here, at least?" Wrathion whispered, unusually gentle for the headstrong Black Dragon, "For a little while?"
"..." Anduin slowly jerked his head into a nod, turning his hand over to grip Wrathion's as if it was the only lifeline keeping him from drowning in the dark ocean of his despair, "of course."
Together, they reset the board, the pieces rearranged in a silent testament to the ebb and flow of fate - echoing the Pandarian philosophy that surrounded them. Anduin's journey was far from over, but in that moment, with the one he considered to be his closest friend across from him, he found a flicker of hope amidst the darkness that had settled deep within him since the Jailer's Domination had settled around his soul.
They rolled their cubes, and the game began again.