#like he's fully willing to admit he's in the wrong to anduin

[cocolacola]

i know it's been THREE YEARS but i feel like we need an entire fandom socratic seminar about anduin saying "you deserve more than that, my father is dead because of you"

[theshaofpride]

Wranduin Week Day 1 (Firsts)

Hi everyone! Here is my fill for the first day of Wranduin week, for the prompt “firsts.” 

Title: First (Kiss)

Pairing: Wrathion/Anduin

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2,700 +/-

Ao3 Link: Here

If there was one thing Anduin Wrynn hadn’t expected when he reached out to the Black Prince Wrathion, it was to find him to be so normal.

Well, perhaps normal was the wrong word, he mused to himself after shooting a quick glance in Wrathion’s direction. The dragon leaned back against a boulder just beyond the rim of the outdoor bath, legs crossed and too-large crimson eyes studying Anduin’s face. When their gazes met, Wrathion’s slit pupils drew inward. Through the steam, Anduin caught the glint of his teeth.

From the scale pattern around his eyes to the way he ranted about Mogu empires when left alone with his champions, it was clear he was a dragon, perhaps even an untrustworthy one. But when they were alone, he became someone else: the kind of friend Anduin had always imagined having, someone to gossip with, to share stories.

The kind of person Anduin knew, as a teenager, he was supposed to have in his life, but had been never quite been able to find.

But finally, it seemed, he had found that kind of friend in Wrathion's persistent questions and the glint in his crimson eyes.

Clearly trying to sound as casual as possible, Wrathion chuckled. His musical voice echoed off the bamboo sides of the Tavern, like the soft ‘tnck’ of bells Anduin often heard when grummles passed through the Stair. Anduin sat up a bit straighter and watched him, the bath sloshing slightly as he readjusted his soaking leg.

Whatever Wrathion was on about this time, he was eager, and Anduin couldn’t help but grin in anticipation, “Well, what was your question?”

“I was simply wondering,” Wrathion paused, his gaze darting to the cluster of humans waiting just out of earshot.

Anduin followed his eyes to Harris and Reed, the two Lion’s Guard tasked with watching him during his stay. They kept their backs slightly turned from him, for once giving him some semblance of privacy. Sometimes it seemed the only place they were willing to leave him alone was at his morning bath.

The dragon, however, must have been uncertain about their discretion, because he scooted a few feet closer to Anduin before he continued, “I was simply wondering as I re-read Savage Passions last evening if Lord Marcus has taken Raven as his consort. After all, they did consummate their union rather…ah, spectacularly.”

In closer proximity, it was easier to see the glow on Wrathion’s dark cheeks, a blush Anduin suspected had very little to do with the steam rising from his bath. He arched his brow, clearing his throat before trying his best to answer, “It’s just a book, you know.” Surely your guards told you as much before handing it off to you, he wanted to add, but feared the jab would be a bit too pointed.

Wrathion, for his part, seemed undeterred, continuing his question as if Anduin hadn’t added anything, “Despite their wild ‘passions,’ as it were, I have been informed Lord Marcus has had many other adventures, sometimes with multiple women. This seems rather typical by dragon standards—”

Anduin opened his mouth again. His own cheeks warmed, and he tried to relieve himself by scooting back out of the water, not stopping until only his broken foot remained submerged. Shaking his head slightly, he toyed with the hem of his wet shorts, increasingly conscious of Wrathion’s gaze, the way he studied him even as he tried so desperately to look away.

After a few moments of silence—a kind of pause that hung like steam in the air—Wrathion prompted him to continue by insisting, again, “So, naturally, I understand it, but I have also been given to believe that humans take issue with such affairs. Is that so?”

Anduin realized there was no escaping the question now. After pursing his lips for a moment and trying his best to meet Wrathion’s gaze, he began with a slight hitch in his breath he desperately wished he could steady: “It’s just a book, Wrathion. People read that series to, well…”

He trailed off for a moment, his throat far too tight to reveal anything further to that effect. Swallowing, glancing once more at his guards and the mountain road rising behind them, he managed to continue in a whisper, “Anyways, I don’t even think those people are real. If you want to learn about human courting customs, maybe you should ask some of your champions.”

“Oh, but our relationship is strictly business,” Wrathion drawled with a wave of his hand. The claws on his glove clicked together and his armor rattled. Anduin felt awkwardly bare in comparison. “It wouldn’t be professional, and besides, I rather enjoy talking with you.”

It was enough to make Anduin fluster, but something about the way he said it was welcoming, almost. His relationship with his champions was ‘business,’ but with Anduin? Was he a confidant? Something even more significant than that? Caught up in that thought as he was, Anduin forgot to worry where this conversation might be heading until he heard the words leaving Wrathion’s lips:

“So tell me, my dear, have you ever courted anyone?”

Anduin came back to the moment with a quick splash of his foot. He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. “Excuse me?” He squeaked out, hoping he’d misunderstood.

“I said, do you have any firsthand experience with the mating habits of mortals? Courting, and the like?”

“I—” Anduin shook his head so hard his bangs, which had clung to his forehead in the steam, now swung free. “No!”

“Any boyfriends?”

“No.”

“Girlfriends?”

“No!” The prince sputtered, even more fervent that time. He shot a quick look at his guards, and then hissed out, or sputtered, really, “Light, no. Wrathion. I don’t even like girls that way.”

“Oh? So boyfriends only, then. Good, I will keep that in mind.”

‘In mind for what?’ Anduin might have asked if he were feeling more cogent. But as matters stood, he had to fight to string any sounds together into words. His tongue felt heavy, and his jaw clenched slightly as he felt Wrathion’s gaze move from his face to his bare chest, and then to his hands clenched together in his lap. There was something about the way the dragon took everything in so curiously that never failed to leave him unnerved.

Silently scolding himself for losing his composure, he finally managed to speak again, “No, I haven’t ‘courted’ anyone yet, but if I were, well, yes, I would hope for a boy.”

“I see. Yes, all right,” Wrathion nodded, and Anduin hoped the matter had been put to rest. Releasing his clenched hands, he brought them, instead, to rest by his sides, his fingers digging into the gravel lining the edge of the bath. His thumb found a stone with a crack down the middle, worrying over the curve of the line and a few pieces of dust caught in it. It was better than meeting Wrathion’s eyes and his lips pursed in a thoughtful line.

That reprieve didn’t last long, however. Once again, Wrathion prompted, “But I would have thought you in high demand, as a prince with many talents and appealing traits. Surely you haven’t had any lack of suitors?”

Again, Anduin’s shoulders tensed. He might have stopped to wonder over his ‘talents and appealing traits’ had it not been for his pulse racing in his ears. For now, though, all he could do was hurry through his response: “I-I mean, I’m sure there have been inquiries, but my father promised he wouldn’t do anything without my consent, and I’ve been traveling to Ironforge, to the Exodar, to Theramore, here. I haven’t been back home for a while.”

“Oh, excellent, so you haven’t yet been betrothed? I know that is a custom among your people.”

“It is,” Anduin admitted. Grateful for the slight change of topic, he managed to sit up a bit straighter and ease his shoulder blades back apart. When he spoke again, it was with a bit more confidence, though not enough to look Wrathion in the eye. “I’m sure father had proposals, but thankfully he doesn’t believe in it. That’s one thing he’s always promised me, that I’ll get to choose my own partner someday.”

“And what a relief that must be!” Wrathion’s response was just as loud as usual, but it had lost some of its boisterous edge. Abandoning his ministrations with the gravel, Anduin turned to catch the faintest hint of a genuine smile playing on the dragon’s features. His eyes widened slightly. He didn’t have to wonder over it for long, however, because Wrathion went on to explain:

“My guards warned me that might be the case, but I am pleased to hear they were wrong. Being a man of his word, I’m certain your father’s promise still stands.”

“Well, yes,” Anduin started to reply, but when he opened his mouth to go on, he found his tongue heavy and dry. Something dim and undefined had kicked up in the pit of his stomach, stealing his voice before he had time to fully wonder why.

His guards. He had asked his guards. His guards had warned him. Oh. Oh, Light.

Unvoiced though it was, Wrathion must have caught some hint of his realization, as he went uncharacteristically quiet.

Not knowing what else to do, Anduin took a moment to stare down into the steam-veiled water, trying to wiggle his toes and roll his ankle as he had been instructed to do. Even the tinge of pain he felt wasn’t enough to distract him from Wrathion’s soft breath beside him, however, or the way the tassels on his shoulder armor knocked together whenever he forced his back straight.

In the lull in their conversation, he tried to wonder over the smell of noodles wafting out from the Tavern and the echo of laughter from guests drinking in one of the upstairs windows. Unfortunately, neither proved sufficient enough to engage him away from Wrathion and his questions.

Especially, it turned out, the question Wrathion had readied next:

“In light of that, I have been wondering,” Wrathion murmured, “If I may be permitted to kiss you?”

Under different circumstances, or spoken in another tone, Anduin might have taken the offer as posturing. After all, Wrathion loved to draw attention to himself and prided himself in catching Anduin off guard. But from the pause to the serious drop in his voice, Anduin knew he had spoken the words in earnest.

No, there was no explaining this one away. The human prince opened his mouth, but his throat was far too tight to reply. He averted his gaze. Heat rose to his ears. When he trembled, he sent ripples across the steamy surface of the water and a splash against the edge of the tub. It was the only sound to fill the hush that set in: a silence that seemed to stretch from the valley below to the mountains bearing in overhead to watch.

Wrathion…was a dragon, he fought to remind himself, and a black dragon at that. He was a priest and a prince, and with those roles came certain decorum, certain expectations. And even if none of that mattered, it was still dangerous, right? Letting a dragon put him in such a vulnerable place was ill-advised at best, and downright dangerous at worst.

Not to mention they were in public, and anyone could catch them at any moment. His guards could approach, or one of Wrathion’s champions could exit the back door of the Tavern. There would be scandal and outrage. His father might make him come home! And yet, and yet—

When he glanced back over at Wrathion, he found him looking…rather normal. His red eyes still burned, and the scales around his eyes danced in the morning sun, but his lips parted slightly and fell to a frown. He shifted and, under Anduin’s stare, averted his gaze to the left. He was nervous, and Anduin felt his anxiety clench and tighten in his own chest, as well.

Sitting there on the edge of the bath, they weren’t two princes hedging their powers against one another, but friends, the kind of friends Anduin had always dreamed of.

Acting before he had a chance to reconsider, Anduin shot a look towards his guards, who, thankfully, seemed to be talking amongst themselves. Toying with the hem of his shorts, he lowered his voice, and forced himself to reply, “Yes, okay. If you want, I mean. All right.”

“Right now?”

“I—” Oh, Light, what was he doing? What kind of irrational thought had come over him? “Yes, right now. The guards won’t keep talking for long.”

His own words felt like they came from somewhere outside him. He flustered as he heard them linger in the gap between them, but knew, now, that there was no going back. If this were going to happen, it needed to happen before either of them lost their nerve or their privacy.

Of course, that didn’t stop his heart from pounding in his ears. Unable to do much else, he just licked his lips, making sure they weren’t too dry. He then forced himself to meet Wrathion’s widened gaze with a too-broad smile of his own.

Wrathion started to lean forward; Anduin's cheeks burned red.

He tried his best not to think too hard about where the dragon was headed, but much to his surprise, and chagrin, even, perhaps, nothing more happened after Wrathion shifted his weight. Instead he just lingered and stared at Anduin’s mouth; his slit pupils all but consumed the red of his eyes as he studied him, and Anduin felt every second of it, cowered under a gaze the Black Prince usually reserved for the artifacts and treasures champions passed off to gain his favor.

Needing to break from his stare, he leaned closer. Wrathion hurried to match his gesture but stopped again with his face mere inches from Anduin’s. His gloved hand waited, half-outstretched, an inch or so from the top of Anduin’s arm, and the exhale that followed brought a few curls of smoke on its heels, which caressed Anduin’s already too-hot cheeks.

Starting to lose his nerve, Anduin swallowed, licked his bottom lip once more, and tilted his head to make the first move. Not wanting to be upstaged, Wrathion, too, jerked forward, bumping against his nose, and then shifting, ever so slightly, until his full lower lip brushed against Anduin’s and his goatee tickled his chin.

And then, his gloved hand came to rest on the curve of Anduin’s cheek, and the red of his eyes disappeared beneath his thick lashes.

Anduin pressed in to stifle a gasp.

It wasn’t the kind of spark he had imagined reading romance novels back at the Keep. There was no flash of light or magic puff, even if he was kissing a dragon in some sacred, uncharted land at the ends of the earth. It wasn’t the stuff of stories, to be quite honest, but it was realer, more visceral, even, than his imagination could have conjured.

He was aware of everything, from the softness of Wrathion’s lips to the sharp tip of his claws at the ends of his satin glove. He smelled of ash, sandlewood, and even a bit like the tea they had sipped at the table a few hours earlier.

There was a faint wetness at the tip of his tongue, and even though Anduin tensed and pursed closed his lips, he could still feel it moving against him, teasing, drawing out a tremble that lasted even after Wrathion broke contact and sank back onto his heels.

Frozen, it took a moment for Anduin to gather his thoughts. His tight chest fought to breathe, and, even though steam had started to slip back between them, he could still feel Wrathion’s gaze piercing through to watch everything from his eyes to the part in his lips.

Unable to do much else, he offered a flustered smile. Wrathion seemed to gather what he wanted from Anduin’s face, because he reached back across the distance, this time touching not Anduin’s cheek but his hands clenched together in the lap of his bathing shorts. Spreading his claws out over them, seeming to care very little about getting wet, he gave him a squeeze, and then admitted, in much the same drawl Anduin had grown accustomed to, but with the slightest hitch in his breath:

“Well, then! That was an adventure, was it not?”

Even if Anduin had wanted to reply to such a strange declaration, he didn’t trust himself to let out more than a giggle.