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~*~
A day goes by. Then a week. Then a month. Then two. Khadgar has stopped attending the strategy meetings. It’s not like there’s much he can do there anyway. He doesn’t know anything about planning battles, and he can’t stand looking at Anduin. He wakes up every morning feeling sick to his stomach, fighting the urge to roll over in bed to see if Anduin might be there. But Anduin isn’t there, and it’s Khadgar’s choice. It’s a terrible choice, but it’s the right choice, Khadgar keeps telling himself even though his belief in it is starting to falter. Khadgar buries himself in studies, obsessively reading all the books he can get his hands on, practicing as many arcane spells he can find until he masters them perfectly. But being able to conjure up a feast from thin air brings him little joy. He has no appetite, and as the days turn into weeks, Khadgar gets thinner and thinner. It doesn’t matter anyway. Nothing really matters but the survival of the human race. Not even Khadgar’s breaking heart. Greymane turns down their request, just like Anduin knew he would. The arrogant bastard thinks he can hold his own against the horde of orcs slowly but surely making its way north. One by one, human and dwarf cities and villages fall, and Anduin feels like he’s going insane from sitting around the roundtable, trying to come up with new ways to persuade Greymane to join them. The only thing keeping him relatively sane is his sister. They were always close, and Anduin spends a lot of nights in her quarters. They don’t talk much; mostly Anduin just sits by the fireplace, staring at the flames and trying not to feel like he’s falling apart. He doesn’t even feel like drowning his sorrows like he would have done in the past. Everything tastes and smells stale, and the massive, dark stone buildings of Lordaeron City, which he used to find impressive, now feels foreboding and lonely. Anduin spends any time he’s not planning out battle strategies walking around the city, half hoping, half dreading to bump into Khadgar. Anduin hasn’t seen much of Khadgar, and the few times he’s seen him, he could swear it looks like Khadgar is physically wasting away. He looks smaller, thinner, and Anduin has had to clench his fists to not to grab him and… but that wouldn’t do him any good. He knows how stubborn Khadgar is, and he doesn’t want them to get into an actual fight. Although any kind of interaction with Khadgar, even a fight, is starting to feel better than the unrelenting silence that’s between them right now.
~*~
“Anduin!” Taria comes into her room where Anduin is hiding out for the evening, looking excited. “Anduin, the dwarves joined us! Ironforge and Wildhammer. They joined the Alliance. And they said they are going to persuade the Gnomeregan, too. We might not need Greymane at all.”
Anduin huffs quietly and shakes his head.
“We won’t stand a chance unless we get everyone with us,” he said flatly. “You haven’t faced these monsters. A few dwarves and gnomes won’t be of much help.”
“Come on,” Taria says softly and steps closer so she can stroke a hand over Anduin’s hair. “Please try and be optimistic. Don’t lose hope.”
Anduin is about to snap at her that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about, that she doesn’t know how he feels, but he realizes that if anyone knows it, it’s Taria. She lost a husband a few months ago, but did she hide away and felt sorry for herself? Anduin huffs at himself, disgusted with his own self-pity.
“Look,” Taria says carefully, “if he really means that much to you, maybe you should talk to him?”
“I can’t,” Anduin mutters, then blinks and looks up at her. He doesn’t remember telling her about what happened, or even that he and Khadgar…
Taria arched an eyebrow at him.
“What?” she asks. “You think I’m blind and stupid? Don’t you think I see what’s going on here?”
“I, uh…” Anduin says stupidly.
“You and the mage obviously had some sort of falling out, didn’t you?” Taria says, like the know-it-all she’s always been. “You go from being practically joined at the hip to barely acknowledging each other’s existence.”
“How did you know?” Anduin is genuinely impressed.
Taria rolls her eyes at him.
“Everyone knows,” she says. “First of all, you weren’t exactly being secret about it. No one in this castle are that deaf. Second of all, I’m a woman, and I’m your sister. It’s my job to know these things.”
“Well, that’s all fine,” Anduin says sourly, then sighs. “But it doesn’t matter anyway. He doesn’t want to talk to me, and he’s made up his mind.”
“When has that ever stopped you?” Taria asks. “You’re falling apart, brother. I have never seen you like this before. Not even back when, you know.”
Anduin knows what she means. When his wife died, Anduin had been devastated, completely knocked to the ground. But this—this is different; the numbness, the feeling like nothing else matters anymore. Anduin has never felt like this before, and maybe it’s because he’s at his last straw after having lost so many loved ones, but he knows without a doubt that there’s only one person who can take this feeling away, and that person is probably locked in the castle library.
“I’m not going to force him to do something he doesn’t want to,” Anduin says, shaking his head. “Besides, I couldn’t even if I tried to. He’s a lot more powerful than I am.”
“Who says anything about forcing?” Taria says. “Plead with him. Tell him for you feel. This dark, brooding thing obviously isn’t working out for you.”
Trust Taria to give him the hard, unsweetened truth. Anduin can’t help but smile a bit; the first smile in months.
~*~
The ladder creaks dangerously as Khadgar climbs it. It’s a lot taller than he’s really comfortable with, but he has already read all the books he can reach by hand or chair, so there’s nothing for it. Clinging to the ladder with one hand, Khadgar stands on his toes on the creaking step, reaching far to try and grab a particularly old and dusty book from the top shelf. He almost loses his balance, but he gets it. It’s heavy, and he can feel the magic buzzing it in before he’s even opened it. Too eager to crawl down, Khadgar props the book open on the shelf and leafs through it. A cloud of dust rises from the ancient pages, and Khadgar’s eyes instantly water.
“A-atchoo!”
The sneeze comes out of nothing, and it surprises him so much that he accidentally takes a step back into nothing. With a yelp he tumbles off the ladder, and it’s only with a split second to spare that he breathes out the incantation to the new slow fall spell he’s learned. He fully expects to feel the impact, but nothing happens. When he opens his eyes, he sees the stone floor very slowly coming towards him.
“I didn’t know you’d learned to fly.”
Khadgar jerks his head up to see Anduin standing in the door. His heart drops faster than his fall towards the floor, and for a moment, he just wriggles in mid air before finally touching down on the stone.
“It’s not flying,” Khadgar informs Anduin, getting to his feet to brush off his robes. “It’s a slow fall.”
“Huh,” Anduin says, shifting his weight a little. He’s clearly nervous.
“What are you doing here?” Khadgar asks, placing the book on the nearby desk. His knees feel weak just looking at Anduin. “You don’t ever come here.”
“I want to talk to you,” Anduin says, pushing away from the door and walking closer.
“Anduin, please,” Khadgar sighs. “There’s nothing to talk ab—”
“About,” Anduin interrupts as he walks closer still until he can reach out and put his hands on Khadgar’s shoulders, “how your decision is a shitty decision.”
“Listen, Anduin, I’ve already told you,” Khadgar says, feeling increasingly weaker for every second Anduin’s hands are on him, “I didn’t do this because I wanted to. It’s for the something bigger than us.”
“I know,” Anduin says with a nod. “And I do care about people’s lives, I care if we win or lose this war, but—” he sighs, “Khadgar, it doesn’t have to be either or.”
“Yes, it does,” Khadgar insists in a slightly trembling voice, gazing into Anduin’s impossibly blue eyes. “Greymane won’t join us unless—”
“That old egomaniac wouldn’t join us anyway,” Anduin says, then leans close to rest his forehead on Khadgar’s shoulder and whisper, “Listen, I can’t live like this. I can’t wake up and live my life if you’re not in it.”
Khadgar swallows and closes his eyes, turning his head ever so slightly to smell Anduin’s hair.
“What are you saying?” he asks quietly.
“I’m saying that it’s not just a thing, what we’re doing,” Anduin says, pulling his head back up so he can look into Khadgar’s eyes. “Not for me, anyway. I’m saying—well, I—I love you.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. You said it that night where we first slept together.”
“I did?”
“Yeah. You blurted it out right when you, you know.”
“Well, I meant it,” Anduin says, tightening his grip on Khadgar’s shoulders. “And I mean it now. I don’t want to—I can’t fight this war if you’re not with me.”
“I’ll always be with you.”
“Yeah, but not like that. I need you, don’t you get that? I know it probably doesn’t look like it, but I need you.”
“Do you really?” Khadgar asks, feeling the principles he’s has struggled to hard to maintain over the last few months crumble away.
Anduin nods.
“Yeah, I really do.”
“Really?” Khadgar asks again, his voice breaking. No one has ever needed him before, and just as Anduin says it, Khadgar can feel with every fiber of his being that he feels the same.
“Yeah, kid, really,” Anduin hums, rubbing a thumb over Khadgar’s cheek.
Khadgar groans and presses his lips to Anduin’s, letting go of all reservations as he curls his arms tightly around Anduin. It’s the most amazing and liberating feeling in the world, and Khadgar is instantly washed over with a wave of hope. Everything will be okay. They will be okay. They will find a way to win the war. There isn’t anything they can’t do as long as they’re together. Khadgar lets out a muffled sigh against Anduin’s lips and whispers, “I love you too.”
~*~