Upon watching the gunship make its escape, Varian had not expected to ever see Stormwind again, and according to Khadgar, he wouldn't have had he not been allowed to escape that island. Why he'd been allowed to leave was as of yet still a mystery to him, and if the Archmage had any theories as to why he'd been allowed to live, he wasn't being forthcoming about them. Not outside the suggestion that whatever the reason might be, it was more than likely a devious and potentially lethal one. The warlock, it was suggested, would not be above using the father to take out the son.
The idea of causing his son harm made him more sick to his stomach than anything and thus despite the fact he hated being cooped up within the room, he agreed to remain within it without argument if it meant that Anduin would be safe.
It didn't help any that all he could remember of his departure from the Broken Shore were bits and pieces. He remembered pushing himself up to his knees, collecting both of his fallen swords and using them to aid in pushing himself up to his feet, despite the pain such an action caused due to the injuries inflicted previously by the felguard's spears impaling his his torso, one high and to the left, one low and to the right. He recalled persevering through that pain and turning toward the path he'd used to arrive. He couldn't recall the journey across the isle, nor how he'd arrived at the beach. Though he did remember the way the water rose about him as he moved off the beach and into the sea beyond. He recalled watching as the neighboring island drew slowly closer and his repetitive mantra that he would not die within the waters between those islands. That he would make it back to Stormwind. That he would see his son again.
It had been the thought of Anduin that kept him going until he'd finally reached the beaches of what he'd been later informed as belonging to Stormheim. He didn't remember being found, though he vaguely remembered the chill that had sunk into his bones being slowly chased away by a large form that felt feathery and comforting.
He had been told he'd tossed the medic they'd had tending to his injuries at one point though he had no memory of doing so. He did recall growling and tussling with Genn though, until the worgen king made a valid point that if he overtaxed himself upon leaving the bed he would only hurt himself and lengthen his recovery time and no doubt upset his son as well. That little incident merely reminded him just how strong the Gilnean king still was despite his age.
Of course, actually keeping himself to the bed was easier said than done, but fortunately while he wasn't sleeping, he was kept occupied by Graymane or a couple books that Khadgar offered to him after multiple complaints of boredom.
He'd been resting, quietly grateful for Genn removing the hovering presence of the Archmage, when the door opened and someone entered. He might have missed it if he'd been deeper asleep, but given he'd only just fell into a light sleep when Anduin entered, the noise had alerted him to the entry before his son spoke.
He turned his head at the words and nodded his acknowledgment before turning his attention to attempting to push himself into more of a proper seated position. Given usually either Genn or Khadgar tended to help him do it, he didn't realize just how much actually attempting it on his own would hurt the still mending muscles. He grimaced at the pain and how much it took out of him to get such a simple thing accomplished, but at least he was in more of a fitting position to enjoy his son's gift and company.
"Anduin. Did they--" He paused, cutting himself off because he could guess the answer to his question before he even finished it. They would have told him if the threat to his son had passed and that it was safe to have a visit from him. "As much as I am glad to see you, my son. You shouldn't be sneaking in to see me like this. Surely they warned you it wasn't safe?"
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The idea of causing his son harm made him more sick to his stomach than anything and thus despite the fact he hated being cooped up within the room, he agreed to remain within it without argument if it meant that Anduin would be safe.
It didn't help any that all he could remember of his departure from the Broken Shore were bits and pieces. He remembered pushing himself up to his knees, collecting both of his fallen swords and using them to aid in pushing himself up to his feet, despite the pain such an action caused due to the injuries inflicted previously by the felguard's spears impaling his his torso, one high and to the left, one low and to the right. He recalled persevering through that pain and turning toward the path he'd used to arrive. He couldn't recall the journey across the isle, nor how he'd arrived at the beach. Though he did remember the way the water rose about him as he moved off the beach and into the sea beyond. He recalled watching as the neighboring island drew slowly closer and his repetitive mantra that he would not die within the waters between those islands. That he would make it back to Stormwind. That he would see his son again.
It had been the thought of Anduin that kept him going until he'd finally reached the beaches of what he'd been later informed as belonging to Stormheim. He didn't remember being found, though he vaguely remembered the chill that had sunk into his bones being slowly chased away by a large form that felt feathery and comforting.
He had been told he'd tossed the medic they'd had tending to his injuries at one point though he had no memory of doing so. He did recall growling and tussling with Genn though, until the worgen king made a valid point that if he overtaxed himself upon leaving the bed he would only hurt himself and lengthen his recovery time and no doubt upset his son as well. That little incident merely reminded him just how strong the Gilnean king still was despite his age.
Of course, actually keeping himself to the bed was easier said than done, but fortunately while he wasn't sleeping, he was kept occupied by Graymane or a couple books that Khadgar offered to him after multiple complaints of boredom.
He'd been resting, quietly grateful for Genn removing the hovering presence of the Archmage, when the door opened and someone entered. He might have missed it if he'd been deeper asleep, but given he'd only just fell into a light sleep when Anduin entered, the noise had alerted him to the entry before his son spoke.
He turned his head at the words and nodded his acknowledgment before turning his attention to attempting to push himself into more of a proper seated position. Given usually either Genn or Khadgar tended to help him do it, he didn't realize just how much actually attempting it on his own would hurt the still mending muscles. He grimaced at the pain and how much it took out of him to get such a simple thing accomplished, but at least he was in more of a fitting position to enjoy his son's gift and company.
"Anduin. Did they--" He paused, cutting himself off because he could guess the answer to his question before he even finished it. They would have told him if the threat to his son had passed and that it was safe to have a visit from him. "As much as I am glad to see you, my son. You shouldn't be sneaking in to see me like this. Surely they warned you it wasn't safe?"