Chapter Text
“You.”
Sabellian’s sudden address had Anduin out of his seat in a second, hand going to his sword. He bit back the memories as they swarmed him, and looked up at the dragon’s mortal form.
“Yes, Lord?” He kept his tone mild, but dragons had far sharper senses and his heart was hammering in his chest. He was found out, he was alone, Sabellian was going to kill him-
Sabellian seemed strangely uncomfortable.
“You are a priest, yes? I’ve seen you using both the Light and Shadow with ease.”
Anduin nodded, starting to become curious. “Yes, I am.”
“Are my people safe?” Sabellian blurted out. “I brought them home at the call, the Old Gods are gone, but sometimes I feel a… whisper of a whisper.” He looked away, staring out into the smoky sky. “Can you sense these things?”
This, Anduin could handle by himself. And it brought him a bit of warmth to know that at least Sabellian cared for some of Wrathion's family.
“I can, and…” He frowned as he planned his sentences carefully. “Your people are… safer than before. By far.” His throat began to protest but he ploughed on. “But… I sense it too. There is still-” He had to cut himself off to cough, holding up one hand to stall the dragon as he coughed hoarsely into a handkerchief. No blood yet, at least.
“Are you ill?” Sabellian asked, visibly alarmed.
Anduin heard the whoosh of wings, and felt a blast of air that signaled a dragon landing as he shook his head. He wasn't surprised when, a second later, Wrathion’s visage hand appeared on his shoulder.
“There you are!” Wrathion tugged him away from Sabellian, placing himself firmly between the two. Azshra’kamas hung from his shoulders, setting Anduin at ease. At least that was one less thing to worry about. “I have been looking, did you over-exert your voice?” Anduin nodded, switching to signing with his hands. He’d picked up Pandaren sign a long time ago, and found that it worked just fine when his voice was not up to the task.
‘He was asking about corruption and if the Flight is safe.’ He signed quickly. The chance of Sabellian or any of the dragons knowing Pandaren finger-sign was very slim, but not impossible; Pandaria hadn’t always been shrouded in mist. ‘Tell him I have an old wound, and my voice wears out quickly, but I am happy to advise him further.’
Wrathion repeated his words to Sabellian, adding, “But do not tax him, dear brother. He works hard enough for me as is.” A possessive arm settled around Anduin’s shoulders and he carefully did not lean too far into it, knowing that it would be spotted by Sabellian’s sharp eyes. This position was repeated often with Left and Right, so it was safe, but he still had to be mindful.
Where was he? ‘Despite the death of the Old Gods-’
“-The final one of which I led the campaign against.” Anduin glanced at Wrathion at the comment and saw a faint, uneasy smile.
‘And the cure created by the Blacktalon, there is still a risk of corruption. Whether there is a fifth, dormant Old God waiting for us to find it, or simply remnants of them, the point remains that the Flight is vulnerable. Do you understand?’
Anduin met Sabellian’s eyes and saw the seriousness reflected in the dragon’s expression.
“I do. What can we do to remain safe? Azeroth is our home, but we have been away for a long time. We are not used to fighting it.”
That was understandable, but unhelpful. ‘You must learn to identify it, and let it pass over you. The void is ever-tempting, we all know this. To wield it, I must know it. When the void approaches and you have no need of its power, you have to breathe, ground yourself, and let it pass you by. Recruit priests and Paladins and Lightforged into your mortal ranks, ask them for help in identifying it- it isn’t really something that I can just teach, it feels different for each person.’
He wasn’t trying to be rude, but he did not want Sabellian to think he could come to Anduin for anything. No, he was Wrathion’s and the other dragon had to remember this.
Sabellian seemed to get the message, but if that was from Anduin’s words or the way Wrathion’s arm tightened around his shoulders, he was unsure.
“My thanks, priest.” The dragon nodded his head respectfully. “I will take my leave, brother.” His short farewell was simple, but then, he stiffened. “I am needed.” And shifted into his dragon form.
Wrathion pulled Anduin backward hastily, and the pair pressed themselves against the cliffside as Sabellian took off, speeding back down to where the Djaradin and the dragon forces fought endlessly.
As they watched, one of those awful ‘dragonkiller’ bolts was loosed, shooting through the air, and Sabellian-
It punched through his wing near the joint and the older dragon roared in agony, flapping desperately, sinking in the air as a spray of gore splattered his scales.
Two other dragons reached Sabellian, performing what seemed to be a practiced maneuver and guiding Sabellian down behind the Oathstone. Out of sight, but Anduin could still hear the dragon howling.
A terrible cheer could be heard from the djaradin.
Wrathion's face was slack in shock, and he yanked Anduin in for a tight hug before he could articulate even a word, curling around him as he would in his dragon form. Anduin did his best to comfort his love, but his mind was fixed on Sabellian. He was a healer, he could probably help, but Wrathion was in no state to fly him down there. “Breathe,” he whispered, hoping that there was another healer nearby.
A long, tense minute passed before Wrathion pulled back with purpose. “You need to heal him, please, can you?” His eyes were wilder than usual, a desperate edge to his voice.
Anduin nodded. “Fly me down?” He put a hand on Wrathion’s cheek, feeling the tremors beneath his fingers. “Can you?” His love was shaken. Even after all the death and destruction Wrathion had seen - Sabellian was functionally (if not literally) his brother. He was probably imagining Ebyssian in his place.
The dragon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then another. Anduin let him calm himself down, just breathing. Waiting patiently for Wrathion, he began reaching for the Light in preparation for some heavy-duty casting.
Wrathion pulled back. “I’m okay,” He said, voice hoarser than usual. “Just a shock. Let’s go.”
Moving back against the cliff again, Anduin let his lover go so that he had space to shift. Luckily, Wrathion was a great deal smaller than Sabellian so there was no real danger of him being knocked down. Wrathion shifted in a flash of light, and the priest quickly climbed aboard.
One thing he had adjusted to quickly on their time together was wearing trousers with heavy padding on the insides of his legs. There wasn’t always time to apply a saddle, but the scales on Wrathion’s back were harsh against Anduin’s soft flesh. They’d only made that mistake one time.
Wrathion had to fly more carefully without the saddle, as it was more difficult for him to hold on. But for a dive like this, Anduin just had to fling his arms around his lover’s neck and duck in close, careful not to spear himself on the horns as Wrathion pushed off and dropped into a dive instantly. Wind buffeted the pair, but it didn’t take more than thirty seconds before Wrathion pulled out of the dive and was carefully landing.
Blinking the tears from his eyes, Anduin slid off Wrathion’s back in a practiced motion and set off at a jog toward the downed dragon. Three other dragons and several dragonkin were crowded around, and Anduin heard Wrathion shifting to follow him. “Let him through!” his lover called out. “He’s a priest!”
The crowd parted, letting Anduin close enough to see the blood and flesh, to hear the stifled groans from a dragon trying desperately to stay strong.
“My Light can heal him,” Wrathion’s voice came from somewhere behind him as Anduin raised his hand above the injury, steadying his breathing as he began to call upon the Light.
Some priests and paladins preferred to chant or sing, but Anduin couldn’t sustain that anymore, so he simply breathed, and lifted his other hand into the sky just in time to catch the beam of Light falling toward him.
The air seemed to still, and cool. Even as Sabellian quietened, Anduin focused on the injury, letting the chilling energy of the Light flow from one hand, through his body, and out of the other. He felt the flesh begin to knit together, the shattered bone shards moving in his mind’s eye, the Light filling the gaps and taking his own mana to do so.
He kept channelling.
The wound was large. Devastating. There were several major arteries actively trying to bleed Sabellian out. Two tendons were disconnected - he pulled them back into place.
He was panting, but he kept channelling. Dimly, he felt Wrathion’s hand on his shoulder, grounding him and reminding him he was safe.
This was going to wipe him out for days and they both knew it, but Sabellian’s life was at stake.
Hot blood was dripping all over Anduin’s legs and feet, but he kept going, moving his hand closer to the wound until he was almost touching it.
Someone shouted something, but he did not hear it because he was reconnecting the arteries with the Light.
His vision blacked out for a moment, but he pressed on, now pulling the skin back together. Scales could… regrow…
That was his last thought before he fainted.