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"I would have expected you to care more for the protection of helpless eggs, Wrathion."
Alexstrasza’s voice cut through the air like the snap of a whip, sharp with disappointment and heavy with judgment. The Aspect stood tall amidst the shattered remains of the storm Raszageth had left behind, her regal bearing untouched by the gradually fading chaos around them. But it wasn’t the lingering electricity in the air that made Wrathion's already hot blood near boil - it was the insinuation in her words, laced with implication and cold authority.
Hypocrite.
He stiffened, every muscle in his body coiling with restrained fury. For a moment - one breath, one heartbeat - he considered not answering.
For a moment, he considered not responding to her low blow.
For a moment, he weighed the merit of turning his back, of walking away from the Aspect of Life herself, and letting her think him indifferent, unbothered.
For just a single moment, he considered.
And after a moment, he decided against it.
"And for one who claims their greatest concern is the future of our flights - of our young..." Wrathion’s voice dripped with venom as he advanced a step closer, his lean frame coiled with tension. His lip curled, exposing the tips of razor-sharp teeth. As he exhaled sharply, a wisp of smoke curled from his nostrils, twisting in the air between them. "You speak as though you hold the moral high ground, my Queen. But... from what I remember, Alexstrasza, you did not seem particularly concerned about the future of my flight."
Alexstraza's expression hardened, her ruby gaze narrowing. Her posture was rigid now, akin to a warrior readying for battle - though this fight would not be fought with claws or flame.
"Wrathion..." she warned, her tone low but laced with the authority of her status, her shoulders taut. The authority in her voice was unmistakable - centuries of command wrapped in a single name.
But Wrathion was long past being cowed.
He laughed - and it was bitter and guttural, more of a hiss than humor. The sound lacked joy, lacked warmth. "Have you forgotten, my Queen?" His voice rose as he pressed on, unrelenting. "Do you not remember what your flight - what Rheastrasza - did to mine? To me? Are you really going to feign ignorance, Alexstrasza?"
His words came faster now, tumbling like rocks loosed from a crumbling cliff. "Will you tell me you had no idea about the twisted experiments conducted on my kin? On my mother? About how my egg was created in the first place?" He was almost shouting now, his voice a raw edge slicing through the practiced and confident veneer he always wore. "Do you truly expect me to believe that Alexstrasza the Life-Binder - the great protector of all dragons - was blind to what was done in her name?"
Alexstrasza’s jaw clenched, the faintest flicker of discomfort passing through her features, but she remained silent, her fiery gaze steady and unwavering.
Wrathion took her silence as a challenge instead of a dismissal.
"Or perhaps," Wrathion hissed, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper, "perhaps it simply didn’t matter to you. Did you condone it? Encourage it? Did you revel in the knowledge that my flight was being punished for my father’s sins? For what was done to you? Did you find pleasure in the fact that Nyxondra-" his voice cracked, his composure slipping momentarily before he steeled himself- "that Nyxondra was being tortured, humiliated, and used like breeding stock to serve the so-called greater good?" Wrathion's teeth groaned as he clenched them together, "was it all worth it, Alexstraza, for one. Single. Uncorrupted. Egg?
His tone turned savage, his anger sharpened into something cold and calculating. "All of that for one single uncorrupted Black dragon. Who, after all Rheastrasza's efforts, still refused to submit. Who refused to be a pawn in your flight's game." Wrathion bared his teeth in a smile that was anything but friendly as smoke curled from between his lips like a living thing, feeding on the heat of his fury, "do tell me, was I worth it, Alexstrasza?"
"Wrathion, enough!" Alexstrasza snapped, her voice rising with authority. She drew herself up to her full height, shoulders thrown back as her crimson and gold armor gleamed in the bright sun, a sharp contrast from Raszageth's storm. She looked down at him, her gaze sharp and unyielding, her expression one of both frustration and regal fury - there was something else buried beneath, pain, perhaps. Shame. Memory. "I am your Queen, Wrathion. And I would advise you to consider your words carefully, before you continue to speak."
For a moment, Wrathion froze. He stopped. Just for a moment. His fists were clenched so tightly his claws had begun to dig into his palms. Drops of streaming blood spotted the ground. His eyes flicked across her form - the shining symbol of everything his flight had been denied.
"Of course, my Queen." Wrathion curled his lips into the facimile of an apologetic smile, one he knew did not reach his eyes. He slowly dipped low into a bow, inclining his head to Alexstraza.
But then he turned on his heel, his movements swift and deliberate. And as he walked away, his voice cut through the heavy silence like a blade. "Forgive me... It was just that of all the Aspects, Alexstrasza, I would have thought you - you, who personally, intimately, knows the torment of being subjugated, the horror of having your body turned into a tool of war, the cruelty of being reduced to nothing more than a breeding beast - would have sympathy for what Rheastrasza forced my mother to endure. That you would understand, how important it is for my flight to reclaim our legacy after so much of our agency was stripped from us. But I see that I was mistaken."
The clearing seemed to grow colder at his words. Alexstrasza’s breath hitched, her regal façade faltering for the briefest moment.
Wrathion knew he had struck a nerve - it was a low blow, bringing up the horrors Alexstrasza had endured at the hands of the Horde, forcing her to relive memories she had buried long ago. But his fury was unrelenting, his bitterness a wound that refused to heal.
He stopped near the edge of the clearing and glanced over his shoulder, his eyes burning with a fire that no mortal could hope to match. "I do hold little love for your flight, Alexstrasza," he said, his tone quiet but cutting, "and I know that you hold little for mine. And I will not fight for your approval, but I will fight to preserve the history and future of all our flights - Black, Red, Green, Bronze, and Blue alike. I will fight for all of dragonkind's future, not just the future for those which you deem worthy."
Wrathion’s form shimmered as he spoke, his mortal guise dissolving into a cascade of obsidian scales and smoke. His wings unfurled with a sharp snap, casting long shadows across the ground. He flared them wide, rolling his shoulders as he prepared to take flight.
"Can you say the same," he challenged, his voice a growl that resonated through the air like a distant thunderclap, "my Queen?"
Alexstrasza's gaze was narrow as she stood below him, her lips thin, but she said nothing.
The mighty Dragon Queen, struck silent.
With a thunderous beat of his wings, Wrathion rose into the sky. The wind of his takeoff tore through the clearing, rippling Alexstrasza’s hair and cloak as she remained rooted in place, eyes locked on his form.
Still, she did not move.