Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1711172.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      World_of_Warcraft
  Relationship:
      Wrathion_&_Anduin_Wrynn, Wrathion/Anduin_Wrynn
  Character:
      Wrathion, Right_(Warcraft), Anduin_Wrynn
  Additional Tags:
      Partial_Mind_Control, Alien_Biology, Blindfolds, Dubious_Consent, Body
      Horror, Past_Child_Abuse
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-05-30 Updated: 2015-09-16 Chapters: 5/11 Words: 10208
****** Mindscape of a Shining Prince ******
by AlacritiousEidolon_(p_3a)
Summary
     Dregs of a spell cast long ago by Prince Anduin Wrynn's tormentor,
     the dread witch Onyxia, are brought to the forefront by the presence
     of another from her species. Together, Prince Wrathion and Anduin
     must destroy the spell once and for all - or Anduin's freedom may be
     permanently at risk.
Notes
     Noncon warning is for chapters 1 and 3. The noncon content IS
     EXPLICIT and you may wish to skip those chapters if such content
     bothers you.
     Underage warning is for Chapter 8. The underage content IS NOT
     EXPLICIT but you still may wish to skip chapter 8 if such content
     bothers you.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** The Spell Revealed *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter is rated Explicit. It contains explicit noncon, but no
     underage. It also contains mind control and xenobiology.
"Ah, Anduin Wrynn, what are you doing?"
"Whatever you want me to..."
Wrathion had been preparing to sleep, and now the Prince of Stormwind was
clambering on top of him like so many drunken kittens. Wrathion had the vague
intuition that something was wrong about this situation, but... Anduin kept
pressing kisses to Wrathion's body, his hands caressing the dragon's hips, his
sides, his--
Wrathion grabbed the Prince's hands and forced them to the side. "What are you
doing?!" he hissed, a little more aggressively than before.
He'd expected anger on Anduin's part, not the pitiful whine that came from his
throat. "Do you not like it?"
Frustrated, Wrathion sat up properly, pushing Anduin away from himself. "We met
today! I don't even know you yet! What are you doing and-- more importantly,
why?"
Despite Wrathion's hostility, Anduin crawled towards him again, and Wrathion
was forced to grab his face in both hands to stop him from coming any closer.
Something was very wrong, he knew; instead of tearing away from Wrathion's
grasp as he ought to have, Anduin was nuzzling against his hands, humming and
squirming. "I'm pleasing you... however you want"
"Anduin Wrynn, why?" Wrathion tightened his grip, pushing Anduin further away
from himself. He was beginning to have a sneaking suspicion of what might be
going on here, but he didn't like it at all, and hoped he was wrong. "You have
every leave to hate me after what my family did to yours!"
Anduin was still either blithe or purposefully ignorant to Wrathion's distress.
"Because I want to do everything I can for you..." he frowned softly, reaching
a hand forwards to try and sneak it under Wrathion's shirt. "Does it really
matter?"
Wrathion blushed deeply, but yelped and grabbed Anduin's wrists, placing his
hands pointedly on the outside of his shirt again. "It does matter," he shouted
now, "because my aunt was a prodigy of mind control! Do you really not see what
you're doing?!"
"I see what I'm doing plenty clearly, Wrathion." He frowned, moved his hands up
to Wrathion's shoulders...
...then brought one back to knead at the back of the dragon's neck.
"Ahh-- Anduin," he practically melted, though frowning all the while, "you-
- where did you-- learn that," he breathed, "you shouldn't know that, this is--
"
Anduin kneaded more firmly, digging his nails in to mimic a bite. One leg slid
forward, between Wrathion's, and he tried to bring his face close, to kiss
along the dragon's jaw.
Wrathion gave a soft noise of protest, but quietened, parting his legs and
bringing his hands to rest in the small of Anduin's back. He tilted his face
away almost obediently - "Wh-- what would your-- ahh, your father think..."
"Who cares?" Anduin breathed against the dragon's jaw, nibbling there softly,
before dipping down to his neck.
"That's-- mmmh... that doesn't sound like what I've heard of you at all..."
Wrathion kept his face tilted away.
"You've heard wrong, then," Anduin purred. He ground his hips up against
Wrathion, keeping his grip on the scruff of his neck, his other hand roaming
the dragon's body far more freely than Wrathion would like.
Besides the way the... kneading was keeping his body almost dangerously
relaxed, he was ashamed to be seen like this. He felt like his cheeks were
burning, as well as... somewhere else; he struggled again with how he felt like
he couldn't move except how Anduin bade it, it given how tightly his neck was
being gripped. He wanted this to stop, for his sake, for Anduin's sake, but he
didn't know how. He let out a shuddering breath as the older Prince leaned up
and groaned obscenely loudly into his ear.
Suddenly - as if startled by his own noise - Anduin paused, then pushed himself
away sharply, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. "Ngh."
"Anduin Wrynn," Wrathion commanded a little unsteadily, "I need to know what on
this wretched Titan-forsaken planet is going on."
"For the love of Azeroth please order me to stop kissing you!" Anduin snarled
softly, sweat beading on his brow as he forced the words out. They seemed
thick, like tar, seeping slowly from his mouth as if they'd been spilled from a
secure container. He kept his eyes shut, his head turned as far away as he
could.
"Stop, then! Stoptouching me!" He tried not to seem as increasingly panicked as
he was. "What is going on?"
Anduin pulled back, looked up to Wrathion so he could explain - but then
something flashed in his eyes. He lurched forward once more, roughly turned
Wrathion on the bed, and bit the back of his neck hard.
Wrathion moaned in a distinctly un-prince-like fashion and froze under Anduin,
his hands against the bed by his chest where he'd braced himself and his legs
apart from how he'd sprawled as he was turned. He could only pray that Anduin
would somehow knock the mind control spell out of place again - it was so
obvious, he should have known. How ridiculous...
Anduin growled around Wrathion, then once again rocked his hips up against his
backside. "I w--" Then, once again, and much to Wrathion's relief, his words
cut off and he shuddered. "Nnh, Light..." Mercifully for both of them, he was
able to force himself to let go of Wrathion's neck.
Wrathion whimpered and, not wanting a third round of pinning, took the moment
of respite to shift into his whelp form and actively hide in the rafters.
"Explain," he squeaked, from hidden. "Explain! Now! Before I have my
Blacktalons remove you! How do you know how to do that?!"
"I don't know," Anduin sobbed weakly, sliding off the bed and shuddering. Just
the sound of Wrathion's voice was going straight to his cock, and it was
maddening. "I don't know what's going on or what I'm doing!"
Wrathion took stock of the situation for a moment longer. "I'm going to call
Right in here," he said in as measured a tone as he could, "and we're going to
get to the bottom of this. Yes?"
Anduin nodded shakily. "Right, o- okay..." He grit his teeth and ground his
forehead against the edge of the bed. It was starting to hurt, being this far
away from Wrathion, being this aroused.
It was a mercifully short time before Right clicked the door open. Wrathion had
to use all of his willpower not to dart for the perceived safety of her
shoulder, and risk gaining Anduin's... attention again. For his part, Anduin
slid down further and shivered, curling up on the floor. He didn't look up to
Right as she entered - didn't do anything much of anything, in fact. He just
whimpered through the pain.
"Prince Wrynn, what's happening?" The guard's voice was brusque.
"I don't know," he sobs weakly. "I don't know what's going on!" He tipped his
head back to stare up at the ceiling, as if it would somehow help. "It h-
hurts!"
Wrathion cowered back in the eaves, staying out of sight, as Right spoke for
him. "Do you need to be further away from His Majesty before you can think
clearly?"
"NO!" Anduin turned sharply to stare at her, eyes wide, horrified, and he held
a hand out as if to motion her to stand down. "No! Don't take him away from
me!"
If nothing else, this extreme manner of attachment to one that Prince Wrynn had
met less than a full day ago confirmed Wrathion's initial suspicions - that
Anduin was under some kind of mind control. [We obviously can't let him stay
here like this,] Wrathion commented to his guard, by the bloodgem they often
used to communicate with. But, he thought without transmitting it, I don't want
to send him away... [Could one of our mages look to determine where the spell
focus is, if there is one?]
[Yes,] Right replied. [I'll see it's done.]
Wrathion then spoke aloud to the older man - "Prince Wrynn, think clearly. Can
you call the Light?"
Anduin seemed, for a moment, genuinely grateful for this suggestion; he closed
his eyes and leant back against the bed, shaking heavily. He took a few deep
breaths and slowly began to relax.
"Y- yes..."
Right softly spoke to him. "Try to meditate, your Highness. The Light has mind-
clearing properties. It should help you feel normal again."
Anduin nodded shakily. It certainly seemed to be helping him, and it seemed to
be muting some of the pain, too.
"I don't... know what's happening," he shuddered out, "but it hurts. My whole
body hurts when I can't... get close to him." He shook heavily, almost looking
as if he seized for a moment. "I'm... overcome by a... painful desire to be
with him."
"But you aren't able to control yourself when you're by him?" Right replied.
"I'm assuming keeping the two of you together to help you keep the pain away
while we work to undo this isn't an option."
"It- It really isn't..." He whimpered. "I don't know if- maybe if he leaves, it
w-" He seizes then, curling forward, with his arms wrapped around his stomach,
and screaming in pain.
Right didn't panic; Wrathion did, squeaking in whelp-like distress as he hopped
down onto Right's shoulder like he wanted to before. Both of them watched for a
long moment until Anduin slumped to the side; he lay, half-curled, on the
floor, twitching occasionally in aftershocks of the pain. Wrathion stayed
poised with his wings half-cocked, anxious that they'd killed the Prince of
Stormwind - but
slowly, steadily, Anduin relaxed, and a hoarse whisper fell from his lips.
"Onyxia..."
"I knew it," Wrathion muttered, under his breath. It was Right who spoke next -
though judging by her turn of phrase, it was obviously a direct repetition of
what Wrathion was asking her to say. "Your Highness, do you believe that
sending agents to her lair may be beneficial in undoing whatever horror she's
wrought on you?"
"P- po- ssibly..." He shuddered again, wrapping his arms around his stomach.
Wrathion, perhaps against better judgement, risked hopping onto the floor &
moving over to Anduin - he was ready to withdraw at the slightest sign of
trouble. Honestly, he just wanted to make sure his aunt's meddling didn't
actually kill Anduin by way of Wrathion withholding contact - Light, Shadow,
and everything in between knew her sorcery was strong enough to do so, although
Wrathion didn't know if it would.
Anduin smiled to Wrathion, gently, and reached out to touch him. He relaxed
immensely on making contact with the whelp's scales - but didn't seem inclined
to really do anything.
"Stay here?"
Right spoke for him again - "Agents are in the process of being dispatched. His
Majesty wishes to know if you think it's safe for him to use his own voice
again."
"I don't really know," Anduin murmured. "It's worth a try... it doesn't seem to
be doing much while he's like this." He stroked the back of his knuckles along
Wrathion's spine; Wrathion didn't seem as calmed by the gesture as Anduin did,
looking up at him nervously and occassionally shuffling his wings.
Finally, the dragon spoke again. "Well, ahh... I suppose there's only one way
to judge."
Anduin closed his eyes at the sound, seeming to relax heavily. "I think we're
safe..."
"Stable," Wrathion insisted, as Right quietly left the room. "We are stable.
Not safe."
Anduin considered, then nodded. "Stable."
***** Discussion *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter is rated Mature. It contains discussion of, but no
     examples of, noncon; it contains no underage. It also contains
     partial mind control.
"... I must admit, I should have anticipated this better than I did." The guilt
in Wrathion's voice was badly hidden.
Anduin continued to stroke the tiny whelp's back. "Should you really have?"
"Yes. I knew you were in my aunt's clutches for a long time. It makes sense she
would have tried something like this. Trying to rape us both is rather
extravagant, but... then, I understand it that she was extravagant."
Anduin frowned, though his face was distant; thoughtful but hazy.
"That's certainly something she would do..."
"I hate her," Wrathion growled lowly, curling up by Anduin's side. "I
hate her."
"I do, as well..." He winced as a weak shock of pain shudders through him.
"Ngh..."
"I wanted to meet you properly. I wanted to impress you. And instead we're
stuck with this. How will you ever see me as a proper Prince if you remember me
frozen under you like a-- like--"
Anduin shuddered heavily at the memory and grits his teeth. "Don-- Don't."
"... my apologies."
He shivered and whined softly. "It's... alright. Just don't talk about... that
sort of thing."
"Ugh. I hardly got to know what you do like to talk about before the magic
interfered..."
"Mm... politics?" Anduin offered gently. "The Light. Magic?"
"Ah, yes. Politics. I hear you have a rather hands on approach to that,
recently."
Hands on. Hands on. Anduin tried not to think about that. "I've become more...
proactive, you could say."
"Almost getting yourself killed was a nice touch," Wrathion drawled.
"I did what I had to do." He frowned. "I can't just think to my guards like you
can."
"I'd apologise that you weren't born a dragon, except given the context I'm
sure such a thing would seem rather odd to say."
Anduin laughed gently and nodded. "I understand what you mean," he rumbled. "It
would certainly be a lovely way to communicate with my people."
"I think I'd settle for you being able to communicate at all at present," he
grumbled, shifting his wings a little. Anduin's laugh was making him feel
things and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not; he wasn't sure if he wanted to
let Anduin stay here after this was over. He supposed that was a decision for
later.
"I think I'm doing a good job, right now..." Anduin frowned, making sure to
keep his hand in contact with Wrathion. "I think it helps that you're in your
whelp form, but... I just want to be near you and to do everything you say. If
you want me to have normal conversation, I think I can... I can do that."
"Well, I want you to be able to act of your own free will again." Wrathion
sighed smoke. "I don't like mind control unless it's being used for
good reasons."
Anduin snorted. "Name a good time to use mind control."
"I'd have said mind-controlling Garrosh to not use the Divine Bell might have
been a good start," Wrathion said, with a surprising degree of solemnity. "Or
the spell I used to prevent my guardian from killing me when the Old Gods
finally wrecked his mind. Hardly mind control, more body control, but similar
effect on his agency all the same..."
"I... I can understand that, I suppose," Anduin murmured. "Using that sort of
spell on your guardian, that is. I can understand the defense of yourself or
someone else." He looked away for a moment. "I don't know how well controlling
Garrosh's mind would have gone."
"Don't misunderstand, I had the man killed shortly after. There was nothing for
it. I suppose finishing Garrosh off in the same manner might have saved a lot
of people quite a bit of strife."
Anduin frowned softly. "I understand your motivations, thus far, have been...
to kill the last remaining members of the Black Dragonflight, because of their
corruption." He rolled a shoulder in a lazy shrug. Honestly, it was regrettable
that they couldn't be spared, but there was nothing to do. So many had lost
their lives to the corruption... and it seemed uncleansable. "But if I had
taken over Garrosh's mind at Emperor's Reach, I'd have had him brought in as a
prisoner."
Wrathion snickered. "Of course you would. You're too soft."
Anduin sighed roughly. He wished he was too soft, right about then. "It isn't
softness," he murmured. "It wouldn't be right to just kill him outright. He
deserves a trial. A hearing. But if a more pragmatic reason is what you want,
he has information that could prove valuable."
“Surely you could have a little root around during the mind control incident to
the same end?" he grumped, evidently either choosing to ignore or simply
unaware of the limitations of such a spell.
"E- excuse me?" The priest turned to stare at Wrathion, his eyes wide. "A
little root around?"
"In his mind, yes." The tiny whelp looked up at him, his expression on his
little face relatively unreadable.
"I..." He cringed a little. "I don't know if I can really do that... or that I
would if I could. That's quite the invasion of privacy, don't you think?"
"Well, yes, but he's a despicable dictator, isn't he?"
"That doesn't mean I can just look around as I please!"
"Why not?" Wrathion snorted. "If you could save more lives just by doing so,
surely it would be an evil act not to?”
"It's not that simple..." Anduin frowned softly and tried to sit up, but the
second he took his hand off of Wrathion, he seized and dropped back to the
floor. His hand shot out to press against Wrathion's side again. "Ah..."
Wrathion huffed at this, then clambered up, claws and all, Anduin's arm until
he was resting against his neck. "There," he stated matter of factly.
Anduin sighed gently and closed his eyes. Laying back on the floor with a warm
dragon against his neck? Not bad. "Thank you..."
He sighed again, harsher. "Anyway, it isn't so simple as that. I should say
that controlling his mind would be a fine way to take him in as prisoner,
but..." He sighed. "I suppose if the alternative was torturing information out
of him, I think I'd rather invade his privacy..."
"Exactly. I never said it was simple, Anduin Wrynn, merely that I had a
suggestion for a solution. Your skills are far more valuable than you realise,
if only you had the commitment to use them..."
"I don't like using the spell," he murmured. "It's invasive, and it feels...
angry and... wrong."
Wrathion actually paused. "Perhaps at any other time I might have argued that
such things were petty quibbles to have, but."
"Have you ever seen shadow magic?" Anduin asked quietly, closing his eyes. "And
Light magic?"
"I can't say I have, no."
"The Light..." He held one hand up in the air and called some forth. It coiled
around his fingers in thin, wispy ribbons, and a warm glow settled in his palm.
"It's comforting. Warm and soothing. It looks like the sun on a clear day - it
feels like the sun on a cloudy one. Even when casting offensively, it fills you
with such a sense of sureness, of purpose..."
Wrathion couldn't help but shrink away from it, though he was careful to keep
his tail pressed against Anduin's neck so's not to make him cry out again. He
frowned, trying to think how to articulate what he wanted to say. "It feels...
scrutinising."
Anduin let it disperse at Wrathion's discomfort. "Scrutinising?" He frowned
softly. "I've heard some describe it like that. I never felt that way. It
always gave me a sense of protection, but... it's all how you look at it."
He smiled gently to Wrathion, then held up his other hand. "The Shadow... on
the other hand..." He hesitated.
"Be careful it shan't feed the spell," Wrathion interrupted, aware that it was
the same type of magic used to fuel similar ones.
"It's alright..." Anduin answered softly, before calling to some of the Shadow.
He disliked it immensely, especially because he had to focus on some very
strongly negative emotions to get it to come to him. Anger, hatred, disgust all
welled up in his breast and shifted to his hand, where the thick, globular
Shadow magic coalesced. It clung to his fingers like tar and writhed around
like worms in his hands.
Wrathion seemed... more at ease, if not exactly comfortable. He would have, in
his mortal form, frowned; in his whelp form, he twitched his tail instead (his
paw still firmly against Anduin's skin).
"It's... dark," Anduin muttered. "And thick, and cold. It feels like trying to
breathe in air too humid for human lungs." He clenched his fist, watched as the
shadow wove through his fingers to swarm around his fist, clinging and
detaching, slinking around to another part of his hand where it latched on.
"Like sinking in a tar pit in the cold..." He sighed. "But some don't mind it.
They see in it power... And some think we should never use the Holy Light to
harm, and so they use the Shadow, because that's just what it was meant to
do..."
"I hate it," Wrathion said, though he sounded more thoughtful than anything
else. He regarded the magic as one might regard a particularly impressive
volcano - impressive, powerful, but not something one wanted to be anywhere
near.
Anduin let it fade away, and watched as it did. Unlike the Light - which faded
like a gentle whisper, with its presence steadily lessening until it was no
longer visible - the Shadow dispersed in clumps, detaching from his hand and
disappearing. Anduin thought they might have made a small pop sound, as they
looked like sick bubbles bursting in the air.
"How curious," Wrathion said quietly. "I can see why a being such as yourself
wouldn't like to use magic like that, for certain. Are you afraid that it might
influence you?"
"Sort of..." Anduin sighed. "It's an easy answer. I'm afraid I would fall back
on it. Rely on it. I'm afraid having to constantly dredge up terrible thoughts
to summon it would... set a new norm."
Wrathion decided not to say that it sounded like something he himself would be
particularly adept at summoning. "You fear you aren't strong enough; that you'd
be overwhelmed. A fear that plagues many of us, I've little doubt."
Anduin nodded slowly. "It's an important fear to have..." He looked his hand
over, then lowered it back to his side. "But one that's important to overcome,
at times."
They paused for a while in contemplative silence. Then, suddenly, Wrathion
stiffened - then consciously attempted to still his anxiously twitching tail.
He's just received some particularly bad news by the bloodgem, but he'd rather
keep Anduin distracted than bother him with it. That said, it was distracting
enough to leave an awkward silence while he tried to remember what he'd been
about to say before.
Anduin frowned softly at Wrathion's fidgeting, finding himself abruptly aware
that something was wrong.
"Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice pitched high with urgency.
Wrathion supposed there was no point in lying. "Everything's going to take a
little longer than we anticipated."
"Wh... Why?"
"There's no spell focus."
Anduin stared at Wrathion for a very long time.
"No spell focus."
"No." Wrathion stared back.
"What..." Anduin swallowed. "What does that... mean?"
"It means there is no quick fix to this. At least, ahh... no, let me correct
myself. No clean fix to this."
"What do you mean, no clean fix!?" He sat up sharply, staring down at the
little whelp.
Wrathion's wings and crests flared out in a threat display. "Don't shout at
me!"
Immediately Anduin flinched back, looking scolded. Tears actually find his
eyes.
"I- I'm sorry, Sire."
Wrathion's demeanour shifted just as quickly when he remembered what he's just
done. "I-- I didn't-- ah--" he forced himself to take a breath, "I am sorry,
Anduin..."
"N- no! I'm sorry, my lord. I didn't mean to displease you!" Anduin whined
softly and cringed, struggling internally with his own reaction. "Is there
anything you need? I can get it for you!"
"I want you to calm," the dragon said carefully, trying his best to keep his
tone comforting - though it was hardly an emotion he'd had to convey very often
thus far. "Just calm yourself."
The older prince nodded shakily and took a deep breath, closing his eyes and
leaning back to calm himself. "Anything for you..."
"Don't talk like that," Wrathion gently insisted, looking away. "Please. I just
want to get this over with so we can interact normally."
Anduin - or rather, the spell intercepting his perceptions - seemed to have
difficulty processing that. He frowned deeply and tilted his head. "What is
normally? How do you want me to act?"
"Just-- not subservient," Wrathion fretted, "I don't want a slave, Anduin
Wrynn, I wanted to meet a young man who I could speak to and maybe find a
little common ground with."
"But..." Anduin winced as the thoughts in his head conflicted. "But that's what
I am for you, I..."
He shuddered, then shook his head and brought a hand to his face, covering his
eyes and trying to relax. He dropped back to the floor. "Ngh... Th-... thank
you."
"I'm--" Wrathion looked nauseated by the display of the spell's power, even in
his whelp form, but he pressed on. "Prince Wrynn, are you able to discuss the
manner of the spell with me?"
"I don't really know... Might as well try."
"There's no spell focus, but my agents are retrieving an object which would
allow me to directly interface with your mind in a way similar to how we
discussed presently. I know it's... difficult to expect you to be able to
consent to such a procedure. Yet I would ask you regardless: would you allow
it, if it meant we could free you?"
Anduin considered that for a long moment. "I... I suppose I don't really have
another choice," he murmured. "We clearly need to get rid of this spell."
"I wish we did have a choice," Wrathion said honestly. "Alright, then. I'll do
it. I only hope I manage to minimise any damage caused by the spell's
resistance to removal..."
***** Desperation *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter is rated Explicit. It contains explicit noncon, but no
     underage. It also contains mind control, blindfolding, and coerced
     consent.
Anduin sighed shakily. "When and how are you going to do this?"
"As soon as possible. No offense, but I can't rightly spend days at once
perched on your shoulder for fear of killing you simply out of fulfilling my
duties to my people."
The older prince laughed softly. "Do we need to wait for Blacktalons, or must I
just look into your eyes?"
"The Blacktalons have the necessary object, I'm afraid. I'm not secretly evil
like you," Wrathion quipped back with a smirk. "I don't have the power to do
such things intrinsically."
"Secretly evil!?" Anduin snapped, looking up to glare at him. That was, as it
happened, a mistake. His gaze immediately softened and he smiled serenely -
adoringly - to the dragon.
"I was-- put your hand back up," he frowned.
Anduin smiled warmly and reached up to stroke under Wrathion's chin. "Mm... I'm
sorry." He leaned back and covered his eyes, happy to do as Wrathion said.
Almost immediately, he relaxed. "Ugh..."
"You need to remember to not do that," he grumbled. "Why not use that
ridiculous headband of yours as a blindfold?"
"I..." Anduin kept his eyes closed as he shuffled to do just that, pulling the
soft fabric over his eyes, which he then opened, as a test. He couldn't see
anything, so... that was probably enough. "I happen to like my headband, by the
way." As a final test, he turned to face Wrathion, and he smiled. "That works."
"Good. Now maybe we can try to hold conversations like normal beings," Wrathion
huffed, ignoring the warmth in his chest from having been tickled under the
chin like that. "As I was saying: I was joking about the evil thing."
"I- I see..." Anduin sighed and rested his hands on the whelp's back. "I'm
sorry. I don't know why I reacted the way I..." He sighed. "Well, I suppose I
do know why I reacted the way I did. The lack of visual contact seems to lessen
the effects of the spell, and the physical contact lessens the pain from it, at
least..." Despite what he'd just said, he let out a quiet groan of pain,
rubbing his forehead with the palm of his other hand.
Then, it was Wrathion's turn to sigh. He clambered into Anduin's lap like he
would Left or Right's, keeping to the front by his knees and inelegantly
draping off the sides anything that didn't fit onto his legs.
"I wonder if there isn't something else we can do to dampen it as well. We
should be waiting under an hour, at the very least."
"I'm not sure. It..." Anduin squirmed a little, very uncomfortable. Honestly,
he could think of one thing that might help, but it was... not the best idea.
He ground his teeth - his erection was starting to hurt, to actually ache from
his want of contact. Ridiculous... horrible spell.
"Nnnghh..."
"What-- what's wrong?" If Wrathion was landed with what seemed to be a
temporary human pet, he may as well have moved to take care of it.
"Nothing..." Anduin mumbled, turning his face away. "Nothing you need to worry
about."
"...alright." Wrathion hesitated - not wanting to seem like he was
forcing Anduin to accept help, because he wasn't, but equally not wanting the
human prince to feel abandoned. "Do... you need anything... from me?"
Anduin shuddered bodily at the question and lifted his head, only to drop it
back again. He was silent for a stretch of time before answering. "No."
"Auuhh-- aahlright." He sounded as dreadfully uncertain as he was, despite
trying to school as much of it from his tone as he could.
"I just... I just need to find a way to, uh... calm down."
"... w--" Wrathion's gaze flicked over Anduin's lap, then he looked up at his
face, a little taken aback. "Uh, do-- you need me to... avert my senses?"
"Avert your senses?" He frowned. "What..." He stilled suddenly as realisation
dawned; a massive shudder ripped through him and he squirmed. "Aahh... no."
"Uh-- then, what..?" Wrathion said, sounding forlorn. "I want to help, you're
in pain, I--"
"Just let me- Let me try to think of something that'll have it go away, a-
alright?" He sincerely doubted that would be possible, by now.
"F-Fine. Alright."
After a long stretch of silence and forcibly calm breathing, Anduin whimpered,
brought the heels of his hands up to press against his eyes, and he bent his
knees, curling as well as he could for the time being. Wrathion slid off to sit
beside him instead of on top; Anduin's right leg fell straight after a moment,
as he hadn't the energy to bother keeping it up.
"...are you sure you're alright?" asked Wrathion, quietly.
"I'm fine, I'm just... just having trouble."
"And there's nothing I can do to help."
Anduin let out a louder whine and kicked his leg. "Stop suggesting that!"
"I'm sorry!" He cut off the rest of his response in his throat, remembering the
effect it would have on the man.
It only took a moment before Anduin cringed and squirmed about again. "Nnh...
Ugh, Light... nothing's working!"
"I'm sorry," Wrathion repeated, with an edge of sarcasm this time.
"I- I don't... want to ask you to help, b- but..."
"Well, what can I do to facilitate the removal of the problem?"
The air changed. Anduin swallowed again, shuddered gently. "U- uh..."
"Honestly, just--" again he cut himself off, thinking how to reword himself in
a way which wouldn't, maybe, be taken as a command. "...whichever way you
require my presence."
Anduin's breathing picked up, quick and shaky, and he squirmed. "I- nnhh..." He
shifted about. "Yes, can you... av-... avert your senses?" Oh Light, how
fucking mortifying.
"...yes, I can." The dragon hopped up Anduin's arm once again to curl up
against his neck, his face buried between Anduin's shoulder and the bed.
Anduin sighed gently and habitually glanced back at Wrathion, despite the
blindfold. This was going to be... so awkward. He moved to undo his belt and
push his tabard aside. Hopefully it wouldn't take long at all, with how hard he
was...
Wrathion stubbornly buried his nose and ears in the back of Anduin's tabard and
closed his eyes. This whole situation was absurd. If you'd told him this time
yesterday that such a thing would happen, he'd have laughed and dismissed it as
some fantasy of a lurid mind - and he supposed it was, in a way, having been
constructed by his aunt.
The older prince swallowed softly as he pulled himself - gently, nervously -
from his trousers and underwear. He grit his teeth and tipped his head back,
giving a bit of a jolt as he wrapped his hand around himself. "Ahh..." It was
one hell of a relief, and even the few dry strokes he gave himself felt...
amazing. He furrowed his brows and tipped his head forward, exhaling sharply as
he started to move his hand more steadily. Small noises fell from his lips;
little moans and keens for more.
It was entirely unlike him. He was never this sensitive or this... needy? Loud?
Never ANY of those things, and he hated it. Hated himself for them, at the same
time he reveled in them.
Wrathion clung on with claws; the last thing he wanted was to interrupt Anduin
with the sudden agonising pain he'd no doubt feel if the dragon fell off,
breaking their contact with one another. And he did do his best to ignore
the... noises, the raised pulse-- no, ignore. The point was to ignore. He
buried his face a little further below Anduin's tabard; tried not to think too
much about how his scent was surrounding him, his pulse against Wrathion's
scales-- Gods. This entire experience was maddening, and he hated his aunt ever
the more for it. Even in his whelp form - incapable of physical arousal as it
was, at least at his current age - his imagination was getting the better of
him.
He tried to stop the whine he felt welling up in his throat - but it slipped
out, and he regretted it immediately. Aside from anything else, it was
embarrassing - but his worries that Anduin's spell might interpret it oddly
somehow were made founded only a moment later when Anduin stilled suddenly,
tensing up.
"Wr- Wrathion..."
Wrathion almost tried to bury himself under Anduin's clothing entirely out of
shame, but steadied himself, forcing himself to own up to what he'd done.
"I'm... sorry," he said quietly.
"I n-..." Anduin took a sharp breath. "I need your help."
"Y--" he pauses and breathes, "you do? Don't lie to me," he cautiously
commanded. He didn't like this, he didn't like any of this, but if Anduin was
telling him this was the only way to put him out of his pain...
"I'm not." He shuddered. "I can't... get enough on my own."
"And you... want me to help?"
"I need you to help!" he snarled, surprisingly sharp. "It doesn't matter what I
want at this point, I need you do to it!"
Wrathion hesitated for one moment longer, feeling sick, then slunk reluctantly
down Anduin's arm. He shifted forms so that he was holding his wrist in his
hand when he was done, skin against skin - his eyes glowed fiercely, his lips
parted and his cheeks deep red. Not that Anduin could see him. "What-- ahh,
where..."
"I don't care," he growled, hitting his head back against the bed again. "I
really, really don't care what you do." He let go of himself and braced his
hand on the floor, squirming and shuddering, blindfold still on. "Just do
something."
Swallowing, Wrathion took... it gently in one hand. He'd... handled them
before, but never really very directly. Usually he was the one being serviced,
as it were, and his equipment wasn't exactly... similar in, well. Any regard.
Anduin gasped softly and fell limply back against the bed, almost before
Wrathion had touched him; he spread his legs and pushed up into Wrathion's
hand. Glancing up at Anduin's face as the older prince gasped needily, Wrathion
bit his lip and began to squeeze along the length of it, watching his reactions
so's to hone his skill as rapidly as possible.
Wrathion, to his credit, was a very quick learner - he figured out within
moments that watching Anduin's face and overall body language was going to be
useless considering the spell, so he switched to watching his genitals
specifically for signs of approval. And... well... staring at them didn't
exactly do wonders for his own decorum, which he was still desperately trying
to maintain.
Anduin shuddered and squirmed heavily, bucking up into Wrathion's hand. He dug
his nails into the floor and groaned heavily. "I'm- nn!" Light, every single
touch - no matter how good or bad - was all-consuming in how wonderful it felt.
"Light keep going!"
Wrathion put his spare hand to his mouth to keep his breathing quiet while he
watched Anduin writhe and beg and-- ohh, Gods... he'd wanted this, he had to
admit, just not this way. Never this way. Nausea welled up in his stomach again
as he remembered the circumstance of this. He assured himself - or tried to,
anyway - that his efforts to do this properly and... well, not following in his
father's footsteps... had unlocked him the possibility of repeating it
consensually at a later date, but he'd see. It was up to Anduin, after all, who
he didn't know terribly well just yet. With his lip bitten against all of his
mixed emotions, he ran his thumb over Anduin's tip and jerked his hand over his
length at just the right pace.
It didn't take Anduin very long at all, and under any other circumstance he
would be mortified of that. However, his thoughts were overtaken and destroyed
by the powerful orgasm that hit him. He arched off the side of the bed,
grinding his head back into the quilts as he snarled loudly, coming hard enough
that, were he not leaning it back, he might have hit himself in the face.
Wrathion was not doing well on the keeping quiet front today, he admitted to
himself, as another unbidden moan slipped past his parted lips at the sight. He
quickly silenced himself, as appalled by himself as Anduin no doubt was; he
sharply withdrew his hand from Anduin's cock while sliding the other onto his
wrist again. Would be rather pointless if they were to get this far only for
Wrathion to hurt him by withholding contact, after all. "Are, ahhh... is...
that... a little better..?"
Anduin all but flopped back against the bed, breathing heavily and shakily. It
took him a while to contain himself enough that he could speak. He swallowed
dryly. "Yeah..."
"You, uh, there's. Ah. Mess. I can hide behind your back," Wrathion offers
awkwardly
"Mnh... What?" Anduin shifted a little bit and shivered. "What d'you mean?"
"From, uh-- there's-- s-some on your neck," he mumbled, trying to keep from
being audibly aroused at the thought of cleaning it up himself, "s--some from.
Uh. The. Your."
"Do you have s- something to... clean it off with?"
"--- --I could have someone fetch something?"
"Just need a... cloth or something?"
"Y--Yeah, I'll-- hang on," he fidgets and produces something, pushing it into
Anduin's hand then moving to sit behind him enough that he could lift the
blindfold to look at himself without seeing the dragon. He wasn't able to
concentrate enough to shift back to his whelp form, but there were workarounds,
he supposed.
Anduin moved as soon as the dragon was out of the way. He wiped the cum off of
his neck, then pushed his headband up so he could get the rest of him cleaned
up, tucking himself back away in his pants when he was done. He was shaking a
bit, and his head occasionally dipped, as if he was nodding off.
Wrathion forced himself to avert his eyes. The spell orb would be here soon, he
reminded himself; he needed to get back on track. But the way Anduin trembled
under his hand (now gingerly on his shoulder) and the entire mental image just
wouldn't leave him.
Once Anduin was cleaned up and tucked away, he closed his eyes and leaned to
the side, onto Wrathion. "Mmm... Thank you."
Wrathion blushed deeply, forgetting for a moment that it was because of the
spell - and feeling awful as soon as he remembered that it was. Still, he
stayed where he was; supporting the dozing Anduin, but not reciprocating the
affectionate edge to his touch.
***** The Mission Begins *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter is rated Teen. It contains no noncon and no underage. It
     does contain mentions of ongoing mind control, and mild body horror.
The Blacktalons arrived soon after. Wrathion had mercifully managed to drift
off to half-sleep by then; Right helped bring him back around with a drink of
cold juice while Left explained the object they'd retrieved, held in her hands
in thick leather gloves. Anduin, for his part, was still sleeping deeply -
Wrathion shook his shoulder, prompting a grunt. Thankfully, he was still
blindfolded.
"Mmnn?"
"Oh, uh--" Wrathion put his hand back on Anduin's wrist. "Good morning, my
sleepy Prince," he drawled, acting as though they were still indifferent at
best to each other (even though Left had long ago clocked what they'd done
while they were out, and Right was likely catching on quickly). "Ready for your
'operation', as it were?"
"Ah... I suppose," he murmured. "What do I need to do?" Truth be told, he was
apprehensive, but he wanted to get it over with. Wrathion, feeling his pulse
quicken under his fingers, squeezed his wrist lightly in reassurance.
"There's the issue of mental resistances," Right explained. "So if you relax
and truly allow him in, not just superficially due to the spell, it should be
faster. It's a pretty complex incantation from what we've read, so it might
take him a while, but none of the rest of us have enough mana to do what it
takes anyway. We did check," she added.
Anduin nodded slowly. "Alright." He leaned his head back and sighed. "I'll do
my best."

"One condition," Left grunted.
"What?" Anduin turned his head toward her voice; he looked very suddenly
guarded, and he almost bared his teeth. Almost. Was he to owe some debt, then?
One they would hold him to?
"I wrote a draft of a letter for your father. In the event things go wrong. You
can look it over." Paper was pushed into Anduin’s free hand, and he frowned,
somewhat stunned. "For you to sign."
Anduin tilted his head down before he pushed the headband up and off of his
eyes; careful not to accidentally catch sight of the dragon, lest they ruin the
whole process. He read over the letter carefully - it explained the situation
with the spell in brief, stating that if it was being read, then Anduin has
been somehow harmed; it was essentially a consent form for the procedure which,
if signed, would implore King Wrynn to take sympathy and not order charges of
treason on those involved with the rescue effort. It was worded surprisingly in
character, as if it were written by Anduin himself.
It was… creepy, as if Anduin was reading a letter that he never remembered
writing. Still, he couldn’t fault their efficiency and thoroughness… although
he had to wonder just how they knew his particular manner of writing.
Rather than think too far into it, Anduin nodded and extended a hand for
something to write with. His voice was soft and distant as he made his request,
to which Left responded by handing him a short-cropped quil and a bottle of
ink, which she opened for him. Very carefully - his motions slow and deliberate
- Anduin signed the paper, quick and neat.
"Thank you." Left put the letter out to dry, then took up her usual position
guarding the door.
Anduin crossed his legs, sitting as if to meditate, and rested his hands on his
knees. He couldn't help but glance to Wrathion - who was pouting like a
petulant child, apparently not immediately understanding something Right was
trying to explain to him - and Anduin was almost to his feet before he pulled
his own headband back down.
Wrathion jerked back, then pursed his lips and relaxed. "Ah, yes. Do. Keep that
on, if you would."
Anduin flopped back to the floor, shaking from what a close call that was.
"Yes, I'm... I'm sorry..." His cheeks were burning, and he was sure the tips of
his ears had gone red. He sighed, took a deep breath, and called out to the
Light. It steadied his breathing and soothed his thoughts, allowing him a
moment to meditate and relax.
“It’s for your own sanity,” Wrathion commented offhandedly, as if he was
standing a room away instead of right by Anduin’s side. He was close enough
that the young Prince could reach out and touch him, if he felt he needed the
physical contact - and as it was, Anduin had one hand placed on Wrathion’s
calf. The Black Prince was doing his best to ignore as he listened carefully to
Right’s instructions.
It didn’t take her too long to finish up, and when she did, Wrathion had no
further questions. The whole affair seemed simple enough, assuming Anduin
actually cooperated; and the confounding little Alliance Prince had seemed
astonishingly cooperative so far.
He turned to Anduin. “Alright. Are… you ready, young Prince?”
"As ready as I'll ever be..." he murmured softly, then frowned. "Young Prince?
I'm older than you..." It was somewhat petulant, but he smiled as he said it,
relaxed and easy.
Wrathion huffed and pouted, although privately he appreciated the attempt to
break the tension. "You are still young. But, I believe we shall begin, then."
Kneeling before Anduin with the spell orb in both hands, Wrathion made sure he
got comfortable - crossed his legs and shuffled until he knew he’d be able to
concentrate, then adjusted his posture so he’d stay upright when his body lost
its consciousness. Then, he closed his eyes, chanting quietly in Draconic -
slowly starting to tap into the ancient magic in the glass-like orb.
Anduin tried not to be alarmed when he felt a gentle but steadily growing
pressure at the base of his skull. He breathed deeply, ignoring the sickly dark
glow he could feel surrounding Wrathion. It curled around Anduin’s wrists where
his hands were resting on the dragon’s knees. He tried to ignore that, too - he
eventually closed his eyes under the blindfold, attempting to shut out the
growing sense of dread while still allowing in the dragon.
The spell was sluggish and haunting in Wrathion’s veins, but he worked it like
he was born to do so. He unlocked Anduin's mind with ease; it was easier than
he’d thought… but it helped that Anduin was consciously relaxing, taking down
his defenses to let him in.
Wrathion finished the verbal incantation - and he felt himself being pulled out
of his body, towards Anduin. Everything went very bright for a moment, far too
bright for him to see even if he’d opened his eyes - then, all at once, he
wasn’t in the Veiled Stair any longer.
Wrathion found himself standing in the center of a large and circular room. The
ceiling was impossibly high, and the entire room was crafted from stone -
mostly bricks that were light in color, very nearly white. Eight blue marble
pillars stood mightily, evenly spaced around the room. At the top and base,
they were capped off by more of the almost-white stone, with the image of a
lion’s face carved into it. Around the edge of the floor, in two concentric
circles, ran bands of tile of a paler blue and a starker white - laid in what
(in his opinion) looked to be a very uninspired pattern, formed solely of
diamonds and rectangles.
Wrathion recognized the room - somewhat - from descriptions he’d heard from his
Alliance champions. He was standing in some representation of Stormwind’s
throne room, although it was clearly different in a few key ways.
On all sides of him were doors - five of them, to be exact. They were
imposingly grand and carved out of what looked to be a light-colored, sturdy
wood. Labels hung above each of them: Memory, Emotion, Knowledge, The Holy
Light, Meditation. A pair of guards flanked each entrance - they unnerved
Wrathion a little, their presences nowhere near as vibrant as a real person’s
would be. Made sense, given they were merely figments of Anduin’s mind.
For that moment, though, he was paying them no real mind. Standing in front of
him and holding his attention was Stormwind’s throne. Leading up to it were
large, rounded steps, radiating out in a circle from between two doors.
Although the seat itself was a rather simple chair, it was covered in plush
blue cushions, and either side of it were two golden lions - four in total. On
the backs of those lion statues, platforms extended to either side, lined with
a carpet that matched the seat.
Behind the throne rose a stone column, holding intricate golden carvings that
mirrored each other either side of blue stained glass. The gold seemed to
depict a sword wreathed in abstract shapes that Wrathion thought might have
been representative of the Holy Light; and the stained glass it surrounded was
set in a rather unoriginal - in his most humble opinion - geometric pattern.
The decorations rose the length of the column until they all terminated,
stopping just below a disk. Stone around gold around glass, all in a circle
around yet more glass in the shape of Stormwind's - the Alliance's - sigil: a
lion’s head, glaring protectively forward. On either side of this were two
large banners, each of which descended the length of the column to the floor -
blue again, with lighter blue abstract designs.
In front of that throne were three people. Yet again, there were “guards”
flanking the throne; they wore simple metal armour that completely covered the
face, along with Stormwind’s tabard.  They each held one sword, and one shield
- the latter also emblazoned with Stormwind’s lion.
Between them was Anduin Wrynn himself, sitting on Stormwind’s throne. His legs
were crossed and he was half-reclined, as if showing off his power.
He was dressed in considerably more finery than what he’d been wearing in the
physical world, at least at the time they’d left it. That wasn’t saying much -
during his travels in Pandaria, all of his clothing had been torn up and doused
in mud. However, before Wrathion now, in that strange version of Stormwind,
Anduin’s clothing was decidedly magnificent.
It wasn’t hugely different from what his normal clothes must have looked like,
although it was all clearly made out of a higher quality fabric; one made for
its appearance rather than its durability in the wild. Wrathion - with his eyes
keen, even in the spiritual world - could spy intricate designs woven into the
fabric, giving it considerably more depth than just plain whites and blues. The
Gold of the Lion tabard even seemed to shine. In addition to the “regular”
outfit, Anduin wore a red cape, trimmed in white fur. A coronet sat atop his
head, brilliant and gold in colour - it almost blended in with his hair - and
while it wasn’t overly extravagant or intricate, it certainly showed off his
title, proudly, as the Prince of Stormwind.
The Prince regarded the dragon calmly. Wrathion wore no such bearings of his
station; all of the false bravado of his mortal form's outfit was gone in his
spiritual appearance. In fact, so was almost all of his human appearance. He
still stood as a human would - two legs, two arms, and a head atop his torso -
but he looked more like a wingéd elemental than anything else. His skin was
glowing like half-cooled lava, with bright molten magma curling under it like
veins or the patterning of scales. There were cracks in his form, too - great
schisms encircling his limbs and slicing across his torso, from which the vivid
force under his scales threatened to break free. They looked like they would
hurt, but they didn’t seem to bother him. His horns were long and sharp,
sweeping back around his pointed face; his tail was curled elegantly around his
waist, and his vibrant red wings were poised gracefully behind himself, helping
him keep his balance on clawed, digitigrade feet.
Despite his unusual appearance, Anduin looked down at Wrathion with a pleasant,
warm, and welcoming smile.
"Hello."
"Greetings," the dragon responded, his bearing regal. "Do you know why I am
here, Prince Anduin?"
"I do." He nodded his head slightly to Wrathion, then rose from the throne. His
coronet glistened some, as he moved - which struck Wrathion as only slightly
odd, as he couldn’t spot a source of the light in the room.  "You want to dig
deeper so you can find the remnants of this spell. I, for one, do not blame
you." He descended the stairs, his warm smile never faltering. "I also thank
you."
"Does the spell affect you here, or are we speaking freely?"
"We are speaking freely," he replied, letting his stance shift to a more
serious nature than kind smiles and gentle looks would allow. "Where do you
need to go?"
"Wherever Onyxia’s influence lingers," Wrathion said matter-of-factly, looking
to the doors.
Anduin actually snorted quietly at Wrathion's words. Where didn't her influence
linger?
Frowning, the dragon tapped a clawed foot on the stone floor. A pulse of deep
blood-red light spread out from it, going beyond the doors surrounding the
central room. Anduin watched idly as five-- no, seven reflections of sickly
black-purple danced back along the ground in response to the dragon’s call -
each one an indication of a spell he hadn’t even known existed. They fizzled
out before they touched either Anduin or Wrathion's feet.
"Which would be... there."
"Everywhere, then." Anduin sighed softly.
"It seems so. My apologies, Prince Wrynn. I had hoped this would be a short
visit, but I suppose I knew it would not be.”
He bowed his head a little. “May we begin?"
Anduin nodded lightly to him, and motioned around to the doors. “The Holy
Light, Meditation, Memory, Emotion, and Knowledge,” he began, as if reciting a
long-rehearsed speech. Despite that, he seemed apprehensive... but they both
knew he didn’t have much of a choice.
“We may begin wherever you’d like to visit, first.”
"Let's begin with what you're most comfortable showing me.”
Anduin glanced around. That was a bit of a revealing question, wasn't it? "As
you wish," he murmured - and strode toward his Meditation room.
***** The Meditation Room *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter is rated Teen. It contains no noncon and no underage. It
     does contain mentions of child abuse, and mild body horror.
The guards opened the doors for them; Anduin bid Wrathion enter before him,
then followed closely behind.
The room itself was quiet; peaceful. It looked to be another room in the keep,
and the ocean could be heard clearly in the distance. For a human, at least -
Wrathion didn’t agree - the temperature in the room was pleasantly warm.
Comfortable. A soft light filtered through the only window, onto a cushion in
the center of the room; it was a deep blue, textured with a filigreed pattern
and lined with gold string and tassels. There was nothing else in the room to
be seen - at first glance, at least.
Despite what was clearly intended to be a soothing atmosphere, Wrathion didn't
feel at ease here. He felt out of place. Perhaps he ought to have expected that
the thing which made this human creature most comfortable would instead
make him feel clumsy and messy and huge. But he caught himself drifting apart
before it caused any damage, pressing his spirit back together and refocusing
on his task.
One of these things was not the same as the rest of the room - just as he
didn’t belong here, neither did it. He looked for anything hauntingly familiar;
anything which seemed like he knew it, because everything else in this room was
as foreign to him as the taste of Anduin Wrynn's skin. He moved past Anduin -
who stood by, not particularly wanting to move anything around - to take a
closer look at the pillow.
And there, indeed, was a shadow that didn’t look like it was being cast by the
pillow itself. Where the pillow’s shadows were tranquil and soft, just like
everything else here, this was the kind of shadow which made your eyes twinkle
to look at. And as Wrathion scrutinised it, it even seemed to writhe - the
longer he looked, the more uncomfortable it made him to regard.
Anduin seemed to feel it too, because when Wrathion glanced back at him for a
moment, he had his arms wrapped around his middle. The two exchanged a glance;
Wrathion jerked his gaze back to the pillow, frightened suddenly that the
shadow might have taken off and moved somewhere else, but it seemed relatively
inert.
“I think it’s frightened,” Wrathion smirked. “Of what you’ve got in here.”
“What does it have to be frightened of?” Anduin asked, unthinking, as he
regarded the little shadow. “This room is nothing but healing.”
“That’s just it,” Wrathion said, grinning wider. “It’s designed to stop
anything like this from ever existing. Once it’s faced with it, it doesn’t know
what to do.”
“Why should it be frightened, then?” He stood up a bit straighter and moved his
arms, so he was resting his hands on his hips and squaring his shoulders,
rather than curling in on himself. “If it’s built to destroy this, shouldn’t it
be angry or vicious?”
“Clearly, it isn’t strong enough to stand up to the amount of Light in the
room.” Wrathion made a quick gesture with one hand, a far cry from his usual
grand, sweeping movements. “It’s a tiny speck of sand trying to stand up to a
tidal wave, Anduin Wrynn.” He hesitated. “And it knows it.”
Seeing no reason to stall further, Wrathion approached the shadow. "Come,
what’s mine," he spoke, clearly and - this time - with all the authority of a
king. It wasn’t hard to feel larger than a speck of sand, after all. "Your time
here is done. Return to my blood."
The spell fragment had no power to resist Wrathion’s calling - and yet the very
moment it touched his spectral palm, both Princes were overcome with a rush of
vision which seemed to surround them.
Anduin had been four years old. And in this moment both Princes saw themselves
in the position of this four-year-old Anduin; this Anduin crouched in one of
Stormwind Keep’s courtyards, peacefully tracing his chubby fingers through the
surface of the pond which made the centrepiece of this particular garden. Birds
sang in the oak tree which dominated the space; a butterfly floated past on a
spring breeze, settling onto a blade of grass by the edge of the pond. The
young Anduin’s heart had sung out at the peaceful tranquillity of the
situation.
And then all at once hands which felt like claws were grasping his waist;
pulling him away from the pond and the birdsong, and the butterfly so
gracefully spiralled on its way. A voice hissed in his ear. “There’s no time
for this nonsense,” Katrana Prestor had said. “Back inside.”
And then they were back in the meditation room.
To his credit, Anduin didn’t seem that shaken. When Wrathion looked back to
him, again, he noted that the young Prince's cape and coronet were gone -
lending his outfit a more casual air.
That was, until he realised that Wrathion seemed to have been shown the memory
as well. They made eye contact, Anduin’s expression one of nervous questioning;
Wrathion dropped his gaze. There was an awkward quiet between them as the
dragon struggled to decide whether to say anything about what he’d seen.
Mercifully, Anduin broke the silence with a change of subject. “So, uh… how
does that work?”
“What?” Wrathion blinked, still a little disorientated - both by the spell
fragment now rattling around in the repository over his chest; and the
brightness of the room, which somehow seemed greater to him now than it had
before.
“The…” Anduin gestured, vaguely, at the place in Wrathion’s chest where the
spell shard now lay dormant. It was visible through whatever membrane
surrounded Wrathion’s spirit in place of a skin - darkly malicious, but
mercifully dormant; somewhat shrouding the glow from the dragon’s beating
heart.
“Oh. Well. It’s taking advantage of the same mechanism that put us in this
awkward situation to begin with, really,” Wrathion said, clasping his fingers
together in front of himself. “The spell falls under my dominion, so I suppose
it oughtn’t to take much effort to recall it once we have it, ah. Pinned down.”
"It isn't..." Anduin glanced between the fragment and Wrathion's face a few
times, before settling on the latter. "...hurting you? Is it?"
The dragon blinked, taken aback by that question. "I'm unsure whether that's of
consequence, Anduin Wrynn. But for what it's worth, I don't believe it's
hurting me any more than it was hurting you while left to its own devices.
We'll dispose of it properly once we have the entire spell."
"Alright... good." The tips of Anduin's ears dusted the faintest pink, and he
turned away. "Well done. By the way."
"You needn't praise me." Perhaps in another context, the compliment might have
made him glow; but now, in this room filled with light and love, Wrathion could
only feel small and monstrous.
"Show me where you would like to look next."
End Notes
     This story was adapted from RP logs between:
     - Ao3 user p_3a/tumblr user alacritious-eidolon, as Wrathion and
     Right
     - Ao3 user luckofthedreads/tumblr user many-anduin-wrynns, as Anduin
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