BY : Genevieve
Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft
Dragon prints: 1581
Disclaimer: I do not own Warcraft nor any of the characters, nor do I make any money or profit from writing this story.

Chapter 1 summary:
Varian has survived the battle at the Broken Shore and returned safely to Stormwind, but the Legion has yet to be defeated; still a prince, Anduin travels to Val'sharah with the priesthood on an excursion to learn about holy relics there. He'd never expected to be reunited with Wrathion at Bradensbrook, and even less that his old friend would appear to have almost anticipated his presence.


When exactly, Anduin wondered, did Wrathion get so handsome...?

No, he didn't just think that.

He stood irritably before his mirror and worked at the ties of his priestly garments, and willed himself to forego any thoughts to that end— because he needed to remain calm for the sermon he had to give.

He kept a tight rein on his temper.

A lot of things raced through his mind that had little to do with the Light, like how badly he wanted to punch a certain black dragon, or how he couldn't believe the gall of that conniving, two-faced—

—no, don't think about that.

Still with his hands on his fastens, Anduin closed his eyes and tried uselessly to will himself into a state of inner peace.

Holy Light that art in the heavens, he murmured, bestow unto your humble servant the patience to

His prayer was interrupted by the graceless sound of a door coming loudly open, and then Wrathion walked briskly out of the bathroom while rubbing a towel in his hair, naked as the day he was hatched. Completely unbothered.

"You look stupid," he helpfully informed Anduin while heading for the dresser.

Still before the mirror, Anduin bristled entirely, his face turned seven different shades of red and he rapidly looked away; inside him his pulse hammered, he began muttering for Wrathion not to interrupt him during his communion with the Light.

He wasn't even really sure just what he was saying.

He's a dragon, he told himself inwardly; dragons walk around naked, it's probably not that big a deal. They probably just do that

"This yours?" Wrathion asked, and to his horror Anduin turned to see him triumphantly wave a pair of freaking underwear; they had a print of little lion faces, and on the butt were the words Stormwind Rocks.

"Give me that," Anduin stammered, he tried hard not to stare while he scrambled to grab them from him; "Why are you going through my stuff? Your stuff's over there."

He didn't mean to, but he'd caught a glimpse of Wrathion's body, and then immediately turned away, he felt like any sense of maturity or adulthood he'd gained in the past years had dissipated utterly.

You have a sermon, he reminded himself, you have to give a sermon in like fifteen minutes.

How did things come to this?

Following the venture to the Broken Isles, Anduin traveled to Val'sharah with several priests of the Light in an investigation of the holy relics there; it was during his stay at Bradensbrook that he'd had a purely coincidental run-in with Wrathion, certainly not something orchestrated by his devious, cunning old friend.

Why Wrathion was at the Broken Isles, Anduin didn't know, and certainly Wrathion wasn't going to tell him; what's more, it was almost like Wrathion had expected him, and before the priesthood had even reached Bradensbrook Wrathion informed the Church there about him, and had the gall to say Anduin was his beloved.

Through his natural sense of diplomacy he'd managed to gain quite a rapport with the clergy, and had even revealed freely that he was an uncorrupt black dragon; when the priesthood arrived, to his surprise Anduin and his party had received quite the reception at the Church, something which felt immensely suspicious until finally the root of it became clear.

Wrathion didn't even seem fazed when he made his entrance, he spoke with the sort of aristocratic charm Anduin remembered from many years before, and got one arm round his back like it were the most natural thing in the world; if he was at all shaken to see him, he certainly did a good job of hiding it.

Anduin, himself, was utterly stunned; at first he didn't quite recognize him, it took some moments before the realization hit that the tall, dark, and handsome young man who greeted him was bloody Wrathion.

He glared daggers while at his side the infamous Black Prince went on with casual nonchalance to elaborate to the clergy about Anduin's supposed virtues as a priest— like he'd know anything about his recent past.

There were emotions in him he'd not felt in years, like resentment and longing and curious nostalgia, but anger above all else; his temper rose steadily like water coming to a boil, something very unbecoming to a priest.

Under his breath he murmured in dangerously quiet tones, Get your arm off me— but his voice trembled despite him, there were too many jumbled thoughts in his head to know where to begin. It occurred to him he would need to find out what exactly Wrathion had up his sleeve before he could decide on what to do.

He had somehow managed to feign composure for the remaining introductions, but found himself completely floored when later an altar boy informed him that rooms had already been prepared for him and his beloved.

At that he looked rapidly up from where he'd been reading through some of the holy scriptures, and nearly hit his head on a hanging plant; "Sorry?" he asked, he could feel his ears burn.

"I don't have a—"

Whatever he might have said next died at his throat when the realization hit, and then he flushed so profoundly he had to turn away; just tell him, he thought, just tell the altar boy there's been a mix-up; oh, the nerve of that unbelievable little— was that really what Wrathion told them? Did I hear that right? But why would he—

"Ah," Anduin said; he cleared his throat and then straightened himself in as close an approximation as he could to priestly serenity. "Thank you," he heard himself reply; "I appreciate the gesture."

(On to Chapter 2)

A/N: I would love to find someone interested in roleplaying Warcraft lore, especially Wrathion/Anduin, Varian/Arthas, or Illidan/Kael'thas (if this is still on here then I'm still looking, haha! Regardless of the date on the fic ^^) I've had a very difficult time finding anyone interested in this, as WoW fangirls usually like RPing their OCs (which I'm not interested in doing). I don't mind at all if you don't know much lore; if English isn't your first language; if you're a little shy; if you're new to Warcraft or to RPing; or if you've not RPd canon characters before. I just like writing with someone else who's passionate about the same stuff =) If you feel like giving it a go, then please reach me through the contact info on my profile. Thank you! ^^

A/N: To those who are curious, I do plan to continue work on Timeless: A Wranduin Story; this is a bonus fic =)

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