Khadgar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
4896apexiscrystals) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
angryfistofgod2016-11-12 06:31 pm
4896apexiscrystals) wrote in angryfistofgod2016-11-12 06:31 pm
Entry tags:
SOULMATE MEME
▸ post your character ◂
▸ you're now in a universe where destined soul mates exist! ◂
▸ rng for the type of au and for the ~situation~ ◂
▸ tag around ♥ ◂
type of au;
1. tats, your character has a tattoo of the first words the love of their life will say to them
2. familiars, your character has an animal tattoo representing their soul mate on them
3. glow, the first time your character sees their soul mate, their chests glow!
4. world in color, life is literally black and white, until you see your soul mate for the first time
5. choose your own, i'm definitely missing a milly because i'm lazy, pick your own
situation;
1. first meeting, you've never met this person before.
2. childhood mates, you've always known this person -- but on one particular birthday, everything changes.
3. together, you've been in a relationship for awhile now! happily wed or not, you decide.
4. not together, you've known you're soul mates for a long time, and yet have avoided a relationship.
5. choose your own, self explanatory c:
Khadgar | World of Warcraft
2/4 + 4
Perhaps he should have put forth more effort toward seeking them out instead of allowing himself to be distracted by other issues that arose, he's fairly certain if he had told people he'd seen his soulmate and was working out just who it had been, he wouldn't have been bothered and perhaps he would have known who to mourn when the world ended up returning to monochrome before the year was out. How could he have known that he'd have such a limited time to work with?
It was nearly three decades later that the monochrome veil was abruptly and unexpectedly lifted once again. Only to shortly fall once more. It confused and irritated him and thus he shoved it from his mind until he was graced with the ability to see colors once more. It wasn't until his eyes settled upon the great-staff that Khadgar held during his meeting with Varian and him, that he began considering the bird that topped it as well as the man. It made him think of the bird that decorated his upper chest. Suddenly, a few things made a lot more sense than they previously had.
Yet...
What was he going to tell Mia? Though perhaps that was a moot point depending on if the man before him even wanted to acknowledge things between them. Would it just cause more pain in the end if they acknowledged things and then one of them perished in this new invasion? Or would it end up becoming yet another regret to add to his list if he didn't at least try to get to know the mage before him?
In the end it was indeed rather moot, given the invasion precluded any chances to acknowledge anything between them. Azeroth needed the archmage far more than he, so he refrained from making any overt moves or gestures that might end up distracting or causing a scene beyond the occasional accidental lingering looks during the meetings to discuss what should or needed to be done. He needed no one to tell him just when Khadgar departed to personally deal with the source of the invasion. The monochrome veil told him without words.
When color returned once more to the world for more than a brief period, that told him before word of mouth reached him of Khadgar's return. Unfortunately, their troubles had only grown and thus he continued to refrain from addressing the subject with the archmage, much to the apparent disapproval of both his wife and Stormwind's prince. He attempted to tell them that now was not the time to be distracting Khadgar, only to be told that now might be the only time they had. Because who knew whether or not one of them would end up dying to the demons.
In his mind, he suspected that acknowledging what they had would just make the other a prime target of their enemy. Not only that, but he had his doubts that the archmage even wanted anything to do with him. Not after the way he'd shown his ass during the second war and shortly after. He hadn't been around long enough to see that he'd changed from that man, so no doubt he saw him much like Varian had before. Thus he thought nothing of it when he agreed to go to Stormheim for Anduin. It would give him something to occupy himself with and would get him away from the well-meaning if annoying nudges that Mia or Anduin gave whenever he spent any length of personal time with them.
no subject
Every time the story of the person had been different, them being a kind-eyed warrior who was grizzled from the years of battles or a druid with a large heart ready to welcome him with open arms, perhaps a strong maiden with a wolfish smile so catching that no one could deny her. But they were all potentially his. The sky was his limit and his imagination ran with it, there were so many possibilities that could come to pass and the curious, eager mage that he was had always run with it,
At seventeen, he met Medivh. He had known nothing about him when he arrived, just that he was important – an honor that he had been sent to Karazhan to study under him. He had been perplexed by it, really. Medivh had shocked him, with his dark hair, piercing green gaze and the way he commanded his loyalty like it was his from the start. Khadgar had not fallen instantly, the mercurial moods had put him off at first, but the way the man had looked so concerned at his state after the orcs – how his hand had rested against him to keep him standing. He had only heard of the love he felt for the Guardian in stories of people meeting their soulmates, before then. But Medivh had taken over his thoughts and left him staring longingly after him whenever he left a room.
He hated that there was no color in his world, that Medivh was not the one who he had been matched too and he had wished more than once that he could change it and defy everything.
Lothar had told him something that had his heart aching, the day where his master had wasted too much energy and was in need of a 'nap'. There was no one in the world for Medivh, no mark over his heart and Khadgar knew he would stay there as long as he could. He would not abandon the Magus for any soulmate-- he would pick the dark haired mage over them.
Some nights, he dreamt of a world where the wolf inked delicately on his chest had morphed into a raven, it's swooping wings stretching over against the other breast bone. He always woke up guilty those nights, sweat dampening his temples and forcing him to shiver from the cooling liquid. It had been a truly selfish want for the wolf to disappear off his chest so he could love without the shame creeping up the nape of his neck. Would he love his soulmate as much as he had Medivh? Would he even be able to approach them when the Magus controlled so much of his heart already? Was it all moot because of that? He'd obviously find himself comparing them to him and undoubtedly find himself alone.
He had mulled it over for months after he and Lothar killed the demon in Medivh's body. Things moved so fast during the time afterward and he (tried) discarded the idea of a soulmate all together in favor of stopping the threat of the orcs. (His mind never stopped drifting to it in the lulls, thinking of who and what they were and how he would not be something anyone would want anymore, with his old looking body.)
When Khadgar saw color for the first time, it had been in a meeting on the funding on the much-needed outpost to watch the Dark Portal. It had shocked him for a few seconds, making his breath stop for a second before he reigned himself in. There was something more important at hand, so he did nothing more than scan the crowd. Looking for those he knew, to make the pool of suspects smaller and rule them out as the reason he could finally understand what the color blue was.
The young-old Archmage had spent the rest of the meeting with his heart thundering in his ears as he fought the excitement of meeting whoever made his world colored. He doubted that he would ever love them as much as he did his teacher, but they were still his and time would be the true indicator of it.
He had spent hours after the meeting staring at the sky and wondering if Medivh had known the deep blue littered with white pinpricks of light in the sky. He sat on a hill as the excitement of knowing who his soulmate could be died down and was replaced with realism. They would be so disappointed when they saw him, they would undoubtedly be vaguely concerned when he told them his age. He would be rejected for it, be concluded. He was only twenty-two and his body was of a man thrice his age. Who would truly want that? No one.
It didn't matter in the end. Before the year was out, Khadgar was trapped in Draenor and everything was in grey-tones once more. He had reacted badly to it. Dealing with a sharp pain beneath the wolf tattooed on his skin, while trying to muscle through the bitter feelings that had begun to form. It didn't help him that right before him there was a pair of soulmates, still seeing the color of the world and one refused to allow herself it.
Khadgar had snapped at Alleria, using biting words to tell her how much he hated watching the dance and the reason why he held such animosity for the view. He was trapped there, unknowing of who his soulmate was and where he had seen them. That he would never get a chance like the one she was so carelessly trying to throw away in fear.
They didn't talk about his explosive response ever again after Khadgar apologized and they found their place in the new world.
He found things to occupy him until the portal was reopened and there was a way to return to Azeroth. He didn't until he was called on by the Kirin Tor. Color exploded in his vision the moment he had set a foot down, he had to close his eyes and take a sharp breath to calm himself.
Later, he found himself trembling from the knowledge that they were still out there and would be seeing the colors like he had for the first time in thirty years. Slumping against a wall, he rubbed at his wet eyes and tried to ignore the hope that bubbled into his chest at the prospect of finding them finally.
Instead of taking the chance to find them, Khadgar returned to the Outland when he was finished with his business and pretended not to be bothered by the monochrome world he lived in once again.
He figures out who his soulmate is when he returns to Azeroth to aid in pushing back the Iron Horde, orcs for the second time in his life. Khadgar doesn't expect it when it happens, caught up in his visit of Stormwind. He enjoys everything he's shown – the tram and the remains of where the old park had been destroyed. He finds himself directing the heroes of the world - some he knew even from their visits to Shattrath, to how they could fight the new orcs invading their world.
In between these gleeful moments of reacquainting himself with Stormwind, he gleans information on who has died and who remained from that meeting so long ago, from that he narrows it down. He spends nights in the various Libraries all over Stormwind, his neck getting a crick that ached pleasantly in the reminder that he would at least know who he could've – and it will always be a could've – found himself with in another life. It wasn't a smart idea, he remembers Cordana telling him, putting a blanket over his shoulders as she woke him enough to drink some warmed milk before he could settle back down against the wet papers that had been beneath his cheek. It was opening him up to the idea that he could still have such a thing, that the thirty years and the rare spurts of time where color filled their world could have just made them bitter and unwilling to meet him. Khadgar doesn't particularly remember what he said, only that she sighed something about insufferable mages and left him to return to his study.
He doesn't actually fully figure it out until he is sidestepping a Horde rogue who danced their way into the keep to attempt murder upon the king of Stormwind. His gaze washes over the keep where a much different Wrynn sat than the one that filled his memories and he finds his eyes drawn to the stain glass window behind the throne and wishes he were there on better terms than to repeat an action he had done many years ago.
no subject
Genn Greymane is a tall, imposing figure directly to the right of the King and he catches his attention at last. His hair was much whiter and the lines on his face were deeper, and yet, he is the one to swat the intruder down. It had only been seconds before the Rogue fell to the floor, dead, but instead of the stern man Khadgar had seen moments before – he sees a Worgen. Taller, breaching eight feet instead of the six he had been before, if he were estimating, with white fur and the golden eyes that seemed to scrutinize the corpse he had left. The sharp claws of the man's left hand were stained red and his chest heaved with the faint exertion that he had put into the casual way he struck the intruder down. Genn sniffed the air with his snout, and the mage assumed he was scenting the air for any other intruders that could try sneaking into such a place, though seemed to find nothing and changed back, retreating to his place next to Varian as if nothing had happened and there was nobody lying feet in front of the throne.
Khadgar understood it then, things finally clicking in his mind. That was not a wolf, but a Worgen's head on his chest. The Gilnean had been there, even. He had been one of the first people he had locked eyes with that day if he remembered correctly. He had been faintly amused by the man's reaction to his suggestions and clear displeasure, exasperated, but still amused and glad that he was not Varian in those few moments. He stares dumbstruck at the other King, remembering him as a man who did not care for much else beyond his own people and could take or leave the rest of Azeroth on a regular basis.
Greymane was a complete and utter asshole, Khadgar thought to himself, but he was his soulmate. He wasn't sure how to feel about that, mentally cursing Cordana for being right that it was probably better that he hadn't known who it was. There was no time for him to even think of what the situation could mean for him – for the Worgen, even. The ache formed just behind his breastbone as he plays his shock off as never seeing a Worgen himself. Saying nothing to acknowledge the urge that was building in the base of his spine that screamed for him to go to his soulmate and throw everything else away.
That would be incredibly stupid, he rationed, stupid and selfish. So instead he threw himself back into the meeting and ignored the urge he had to openly stare at the white haired man.
He puts the thoughts of approaching the other are put away into a box in the corner of his mind and he threw himself wholeheartedly into the invasion of Draenor and back into a world of no color soon after. He hated it, loathed it and wished he could return to seeing the blues of his eyes or the multicolor shimmer of magic in the air.
The urges that spoke that he had to return to Azeroth and seek out the king were overwhelming, sometimes taking over his thoughts as he poured over calculations in the dead of a humid night.
More than once, Cordana had called him distracted when he found himself looking in the direction of Tanaan, of the Dark Portal – of Azeroth. She had pitied him sometimes when he did not snap out of it right away, simply setting a hand upon his shoulder and telling him that he should return inside instead of out in the open.
And when the need grew too great – unbearable and nothing else could fit in his mind but wanting to see things in color – see his soulmate once again? He made excuses for him to return to Azeroth, meetings in Dalaran that were followed by trips to Stormwind. As a raven he would take to the sky and fly towards the keep, just watch Genn stand next to Varian's throne for a short while and left, knowing his urge was abated for the moment.
After he was nearly assassinated by Garona, rather deserving of it in retrospect, as he had been very cocky when it was rather unwarranted - as Cordana helped him up and bandaged the stitches he had told her to put in, he briefly wondered if Genn would show up after hearing how he nearly got himself killed. Wishful thinking was what he found that to be and had a moment of thinking that perhaps it had been for the best. Cordana's furious gaze was more than enough for him at the moment, her words echoed in his ears as she lectured him, told him how stupid he was for not being healed properly and it made him wonder if his soulmate would do something like that to him. At his lost expression, her own softened and allowed herself to quiet down to return to her work of making sure he was once again in one piece.
(Her betrayal hit him in the gut, deeper than any blade could reach and with more damage than he could ever think of repairing. He mourned her like she was dead, thinking of her as just one more person he could add to the list of failing in his life.)
It's after Cordana leaves, after Gul'dan escapes and Khadgar lands in Stormwind Keep in front of King Varian as a raven and warns him the Legion had returned, that Khadgar finds the ache in his bones resonate for a different reason. The future of his world was in danger and he was helpless to stop it, that the blame that Gul'dan had even survived long enough to do such a thing – was his fault. He had dismissed the Orcish Warlock as the coward he remembered him to be, not another man whom's world had been shaped differently the moment Garrosh had gone to a time thirty years before. It was his fault, he felt, that Varian dies, saving the Champions and leaders while he stayed behind upon the Broken Shore and died valiantly, a hero, like Lothar had.
Perhaps he could have changed it if he had gone with them, he thinks standing before the empty casket moments before he leaves to move Dalaran a second time. If he had been there to use a portal to remove them all from the fight at hand. Thoughts of his soulmate are gone from his mind and he knows that it was now time that he accepted that his responsibility to Varian – to the son he left behind and the world that was endangered, was more important than any want he could have in the world beyond that.
Still, when he remembered that Genn had survived, he guiltily found relief in the fact the other had not gone diving off the airship to join Varian. It soothed a part of him to know that he would still be able to see in color and at least watch the other when he could manage the time.
Khadgar thrusts himself into the assault against the Legion's front, Dalaran is moved, he returns to Karazhan only briefly and he is busy, too busy to think of much else.
He stands tall in the Violet Citadel, flanked by his fellow members of the council – the council that he now lead in Jaina's departure and realizes something is seriously wrong with Genn when the colors in his world begin to fade. He finds his throat constricting and worry filling him to the brim, enough to cause him to cough for a second. It threatens to spill over when a Worgen from Greywatch arrives and tells the Six exactly what had transpired between the Warchief and the King of Gilneas. He feels like an overflowing teacup and hears nothing but static as his panic sets in. Before he realizes what he has done, Khadgar is putting himself into the air with flaps of strong black wings.
Khadgar knows he is pushing himself in his rush to Genn to do something, anything he can when he realizes he is on his way to Stormheim and curses when he realizes had not been in a sane enough mindset to grapple for any sort of healing items in Dalaran before he rushes off in his fear. He knows he cannot; so does not turn back, his body wouldn't let him even if he tried and instead only drives himself more to reach the outpost as fast as he could.
The moment he sets down, there are people – champions stopping what they were doing to stare at him. As if he were not supposed to be there – he supposed that was true as looks briefly around and takes stock in his surroundings. He begins heading towards the most logical place to keep a patient – the barracks, he thinks they are and pushes through the small crowd of worried heroes that had lingered just outside of the door. He must soothe them as they disperse quickly at his appearance – perhaps hoping that he would take control of the situation. Khadgar ignores the nurse's squawks of indigence when she notices him, another Worgen, taller than him and clearly stronger but he pays her no mind.
Blue eyes stare at the prone body of Genn and lurches when the color nearly completely fades from his vision. His hand fly to his chest, the ache growing from the dread that began to build in his stomach. He realizes must've made some sort of sound of distress, when the poor woman paused her work to stare at him in mild wonder. He thinks he sees her staring at the fallen man's chest and back to Khadgar and then seemed to understand what the Archmage had truly come for and instantly began to work on reviving Gilneas's king.
It takes hours for her to finish and he hovers nearby for the whole thing, helps her when the king is moved to a bed and drags a seat to the spot next to where his soulmate's head rested on the bed. Khadgar sits there, next to the bed that Genn is in. He is glad when it is confirmed that his condition had stabilized and stares at him with mild anxiousness. Would he take another nose dive? He hoped not. What was the poison the Banshee Queen used against the man, would it play with his condition forever? He finds himself glad his world is still in color as he sits there for hours, holding his breath as he waits for the other to awaken.
Panic had brought him there, worry kept him there, but he didn't know how the other would take his sudden appearance if he even knew what he was at all. He hoped there would be no issues, that the excuse he had come up with to tell everyone else would work on Greymane as well. It wasn't like there was any proof to Genn knowing who he was... Though as he eyeballed the sleeping man, he sees part of the tattoo that was symbolizing him and swore as the nurse had bandaged him, Khadgar had seen the Kirin Tor symbol upon the other's chest and supposes that he was not that stupid and probably did know.
Perhaps getting his hopes up was wrong, Khadgar knew he had avoided talking about what they were to the man, hell... if he had been told right, Genn had married and had two children. He had a life and there was no way the Archmage would intrude on that. It wasn't in his cards, no matter what was before him. His mind drew back to Medivh – laying in his bed, asleep, looking oh so beautiful and he supposed he understood the situation. There was no way he couldn't, it was rare for one to even find their soulmate, most settled for another anyways. There was no point in doing anything and he could continue to play dumb, just like he had 30 years ago.
Truly, he was a coward and he could vividly imagine how ashamed of him Lothar would undoubtedly be.
Carefully, he reaches out to brush his fingers over the tops of the other's brows, drawing a line to wipe away some sweat, before he then retreated and cursed himself for such a weakness. He puts his hands over his face and he closes his eyes. There is no room in his world for such selfishness, not with the Legion's growing power and how far its reach was becoming. He knew he should leave, but his body seemed to refuse to, so instead he sat there and waited. Hoping that he would not be questioned on why he was there by anyone, that was the last thing he wanted to be spoken to about.
no subject
If not for the unexpected feel of fingers over his face, he might have let himself sink back into sleep. Those fingers didn't feel anything like the nurse he could assume had tended to him and thus put him on alert that someone besides her was close to him. Close enough to touch him in such a fashion was also close enough to finish the business begun by the arrow if they so chose. Yet, there was something about the touch that had him discarding such ideas of the owner being a threat. At least to him.
Thus it was more curiosity than concern for his safety that had him opening his eyes and turning his head to look for the owner of the fingers that had done it. What he saw rather surprised him and he was torn between closing his eyes and pretending to sleep, so as to perhaps selfishly prolong their time together -- or acknowledging the other man and learning just what had brought him here.
It had to be to do with the war effort surely and the only reason the archmage beside him was here was to get his personal account. Though a small part of him wondered if his close call had been what pulled him here, and if so...would he acknowledge what was between them or would a lie be fabricated to avoid acknowledging it?
For that matter did he want the other man to acknowledge it? He knew Mia wouldn't mind if he did, she'd actually no doubt encourage him to do exactly that. She already told him that he should grasp this chance, that it would change nothing between them. So the only thing holding him back would be fear. Fear of rejection, fear of the greater amount of pain that would come upon losing him if he sought to get to know him and deepen their relationship beyond the casual.
Uncertainty robs him of his voice for the moment and thus he's left to merely watch the other man from where he lay, mind quietly turning over the various what ifs that surround the unknown reasons for Khadgar's presence here in Stormheim. Hopefully that would be one of the first things settled when the mage realized he was awake.
no subject
He fidgets in his seat, fingers kneading out his uncertainty in the blue fabric of his tunic and does not know what to say. Perhaps it was unlucky that he was already opening his mouth to whisper harshly. "It -- everything nearly went grey." It was fearful and when he realizes how scared he really was, his cheeks color faintly and lowers his gaze to the hands that could not stay still.
Khadgar felt sick, but he could breathe through it, knowing that like how he had flown to Stormheim in a panic automatically, his subconscious must be finished with the self denial and allowing his weakness. His stomach twists and he raises his blue eyes back to meet the man's, finding his standing and speaking of his own volition this time.
"What were you thinking?" The Archmage asks, tone holding a more annoyed quality to it. "Are you in such a rush to join Varian that you failed stopped to think of what your death could do to--" Me. He was glad he cut himself off before he could blurt that one word out.
Anger swelled again, brows creasing and he found himself speaking once more. "You are who the Alliance looks to while King Anduin settles his grief, while everyone settles it," he chides and knows what he's saying has more than one meaning, the unspoken one more important, "we do not have the time or resources for petty squabbles that could wait until after the world is not at stake of being destroyed. You could have died - you almost did die, more than once."
The Archmage was working himself into a fit, voice climbing in his distress at how stupid the other had acted. How mad he suddenly was that Genn had almost gotten himself killed before Khadgar could resolve things within himself and at least talk to the man.
"You are not the only one who feels responsible for the death of Varian," he adds, voice biting, "and I will remove you from the efforts here and return you to Stormwind if you ever dare attempt something like that again."
He was panting hard by the time he was finished, cheeks flushes and the relief that Greymane had not died and was even staring at him, listening to his passionate words, filled him and he sagged into his chair and closed his eyes. His anger was fading and all that was left behind was that ache and the want to crawl over the man and use his weight to press him against the bed, to protect him from whatever would come next.
no subject
He kept his silence, as there was truly nothing he could say that wouldn't dig him deeper in his current hole. He had no defenses that Khadgar wouldn't simply shred to pieces and no doubt decide it was best to remove him now while he was incapable of protesting such an action than to wait until he 'crossed the line' once again in Khadgar's opinion.
Instead he merely sighed softly and let his eyes close to block the other man from view, to seek sleep once more if he was to be allowed to do so.
A goblet clanking across a stone floor; Gilnean banners hanging proudly from a wall; his now-dead son, Liam, bleeding from his mouth and cradled in Genn's arms.
Gilneas city burned; Wine spilling on a stone floor, like blood; his own blood on his hands, skin throbbing and stinging; a group of Sentinels lying in a pool of gore at Keel Harbor in Gilneas.
The cool salty wash of ocean; the thumping, dull pain of head to wood and his body sliding backward before the drop. Time stood still; the two ships colliding into each other, wooden boards flying like splinters from a sawed tree.
His chest burned with the need for air, ached with the weight of the water pushing and pulling him down, refusing to let him reach the surface.
Stretching over the wooden railing, screaming Varian's name; Blightcaller's condemnation; Khadgar's blue gaze boring into him in judgement before the eyes closed; the mage abruptly shifting into a more avian form to leave him behind.
He woke then, a quiet noise of pained distress escaping him, more due to the unwanted dreams flowing like snapshot reminders of his failures and downfalls than any physical pain. The last simply reminded him that no matter if fate had deemed them soulmates, that had been prior to his actions landing him cursed. Who in their right mind would want to share their lives with someone like him? He was temperamental, monstrous even without taking into consideration of his cursed form.
Especially given the fact he'd been so utterly narrow minded and short sighted. It was no wonder really why the subject hadn't been brought up by the mage. Why should he want to acknowledge that his soul mate was a cankerous monster that was twice his age?
The only value he held for the mage was no doubt in his knowledge and ability to aid him in this time of war. Though he wondered silently if things wouldn't have been better for everyone if he had sought to haul Varian up into the ship and had launched himself off of it instead to take out the Reaver that kept it pinned.
no subject
After being dismissed by the other closing his eyes and returning to sleep, Khadgar had been left restless and unsettled. There had been no acknowledgement on the fact that they were indeed soulmates beyond his own worried comment over the world around him had began to lose its colors and he had no idea where to go forward from now.
He tilts his head back and allows himself some rest for the first time since he had seen his world returning to monochrome. Dozing was enough, allowing his mind to shift through itself and come up with a rationalized action plan - that even if it was better for them both to not acknowledge it, Khadgar's actions saw to it that at least one of them would drop everything to rush to the other and make damn sure they pulled through.
Khadgar could only hope it would be the same from the injured worgen before him.
It is a whimper that draws Khadgar's attention, at first he dismissed it as another injured worgen coming in and being unable to keep his pain quiet, but that thought is thrown out as another comes with the sound of shifting bedding right in front of him. It startles him, eyes snapping open as he finds Genn suffering from some sort of nightmare.
Who knew what it was about, but Khadgar had to control himself from switching his seat from next to the bed to being on top of the covers so he could soothe the other back into slumber. He... he could not do that, he knows that, now wasn't the time and the other was married. He had no want to break up a home, especially not one that had been established in his entrapment within the Outland and cowardice after he could return.
However, Khadgar leans forwards anyways, brushing grey hair away from a forehead when blue eyes snap open out of no where. Khadgar yelped in surprise, hand rocketing back to his lap and he took in a sharp breath to steady himself.
"You were having a nightmare," he murmured, stuttering over the sentence, "I wanted to soothe -"
Varian/Khadgar - miri
Every time the story of the person had been different, them both being a kind-eyed warrior who was grizzled from the years of battles or a druid with a large heart ready to welcome him with open arms and a strong maiden with a wolfish smile so catching that no one could deny her. They were not the truth as of yet, but they were all potentially his. The sky was his limit and his imagination ran with it, there were so many possibilities that could come to pass and the curious, eager mage that he was had always run with it. And why wouldn't he? He had not one person, but two.
The first time another person sees it, they gawk unabashed at his bare chest and then run off to apparently share it with all of Dalaran. Some regard him with jealousy for having what seemed to be a greedy soul and tell him that people like him are why some are born without ever knowing what the blue sky really looked like. Others regarded him like he was lucky, blessed by the Light to have twice the happiness waiting somewhere for him. He quickly turns himself towards his studies and sneaking through things to distance himself from the whispers. For the first time in his life, he found shame within the long, elegant sweeps of black on his chest and does not know what truly to do with it. He swallows it and wishes, not for the last time, that what was printed on his chest was something much different.
At seventeen, he met Medivh and given no true information about the man he was to learn from. He had learn nothing about him prior to when he arrived, all books about the man were either missing or gone. He just knew that he was important – an honor that he had been sent to Karazhan to study under him. He had been perplexed by it, really. Medivh had shocked him, with his dark hair, piercing green gaze and the way he commanded his loyalty like it was his due from the start. Khadgar had not fallen instantly, but he finds himself swiftly brisked into the deep waters with no way to truly gain any traction.
Perhaps he had been doomed from the start. With each and every little piece of information he gathers, is let in and even thrown across the extravagant library of Karazhan, it is just a little more damning. The mercurial moods had put him off at first, he now craved to see where each flash of delight or anger lead them. And then there the way the man had looked so concerned at his state after the orcs – how his hand had rested against him to keep him standing... there was nothing quite like the quiet worried tones for him to rest and take it easy.
Once he realized how far he had gone diving under those initial waves... it was overwhelming for him. He had only heard of the love he felt for the Guardian in stories of people meeting their soulmates, before then. But Medivh had taken over his thoughts and left him staring longingly after him whenever he left a room.
He hated that there was no color in his world, that Medivh was not the one who he had been matched too and he had wished more than once that he could change it and defy everything.
Lothar had told him something that had his heart aching, the day where his master had wasted too much energy and was in need of a 'nap'. There was no one in the world for Medivh, no mark over his heart and Khadgar knew he would stay there as long as he could. He would not abandon the Magus for any soulmate-- he would pick the dark haired mage over them.
Some nights, he dreamt of a world where the wolves inked delicately on his chest had morphed into a raven, it's swooping wings stretching over against the other breast bone. He always woke up guilty those nights, sweat dampening his temples and forcing him to shiver from the cooling liquid. It had been a truly selfish want for the wolves to disappear off his chest so he could love without the shame creeping up the nape of his neck. Would he love both of his soulmates as much as he had Medivh? Would he even be able to approach them when the Magus controlled so much of his heart already? Was it all moot because of that? He'd obviously find himself comparing them to him and undoubtedly find himself alone.
When Khadgar saw color (at least a partially desaturated version of it) for the first time, it had been in Stormwind, standing slightly behind and to the left of Lothar, mere days after the death of Medivh. He knows who it is almost immediately as he meets the blue eyes of the fourteen year old prince. Varian, only a few years younger than him, already showing signs that he would grow to be a bit taller than him. Khadgar rips his eyes off of the other and focuses instead on the floor, ignoring the prickling that told him tears were beginning to form.
Hadn't he only a few weeks ago wished he didn't have two? His chest hurt and allowed his eyes to close before he decided to simply flee from his place next to Anduin.
He is not fit for would-be king, he looked old enough to be his grandfather -- perhaps a stab from Sargeras. Who would want him now -- he couldn't even reach for the arcane to control at this point. He was... useless. Old and useless. Khadgar works his jaw and waits for Lothar to be done with King Llane before excusing himself to the inn room he had booked for himself.
The moment the door is shut Khadgar crumpled to the floor, joints protesting as he buried his face in his hands and forced himself to breathe in and out slowly. There wasn't anything particularly attractive on him, so he was sure to be a disappointment.
The next time Khadgar sees Varian is after Garona murders Llane and Stormwind falls. The young prince was near unresponsive and Khadgar could not but help during days of rest settle closer to the other and try to offer some silent support. He could allow it, he told himself, Varian had lost everything.
Perhaps that was a bad idea in the long run, Khadgar found as he found himself playing cat and mouse with Prince Varian in the whole of Lordaeron, whenever Khadgar managed to be there at least. The prince was relentless in his hunt, tracking him with the expertise of a hunter thrice his age. No matter where he hid, the younger teen found him and over the next few years - well, the prince had grown more bold with his age. More than once he found himself frozen in place and had the slightly taller teenager simply pressed close and others had the promise of lips and teeth dangled in front of him.
no subject
Khadgar could understand the need Varian probably felt, the last thing that could be considered hid and the need to make sure the orcs hadn't taken another thing away from him. Some days, he felt that weight, knew the want to simply return to a comfort.
That's why he stops hiding so hard from the newly minted seventeen year old and allows the prince to hold onto him with no excuses or much fuss, as long as he was not truly doing something that needed his attention. Yes, of course there were days where teeth would actually graze an ear or Khadgar would press a careful kiss to the others neck, days where when Khadgar was alone and regretting it, despite being the one who was very adamant on stopping before something more than that comfort happened. He was sure Varian cursed him just as much as Khadgar cursed himself for imposing such a thing.
It would be called Nethergarde Keep, Khadgar had quietly thought thought to himself in a meeting on the funding on the much-needed outpost to watch the Dark Portal.
However, the Archmage had not expected color to saturate even more as he scanned the men gathered. It had shocked him for a few seconds, making his breath stop for a second before he reigned himself in. There was something more important at hand, so he did nothing more than lock eyes with Varian and raise a brow at him. He received a nod back, which he assumed meant it happened for both of them. Looking for those he knew, to make the pool of suspects smaller and rule them out as the reason he could finally understand what the color blue truly was.
The young-old Archmage had spent the rest of the meeting with his heart thundering in his ears as he fought the urge to leave the meeting and drag the Prince out to be the one to push him up against a wall and inspect him in this brighter hue. He knew he couldn't, Varian would be busy and he would need to focus on the task he would have in hand.
He had spent hours after the meeting staring at the sky and wondering if Medivh had known the deep blue littered with white pinpricks of light in the sky. He sat on a hill as the excitement of knowing who his soulmate could be died down and was replaced with realism. They would be so disappointed when they saw him, they would undoubtedly be vaguely concerned when he told them his age. He would be rejected for it, be concluded. He was only twenty-two and his body was of a man thrice his age. Who would truly want that? Beyond the needing prince who sought him for comfort in the war, of course.
It didn't matter in the end. Before the year was out, Khadgar was trapped in Draenor and everything was in grey-tones once more, no saturation of any kind got him. He had reacted badly to it. Dealing with a sharp pain beneath the wolf tattooed on his skin, while trying to muscle through the bitter feelings that had begun to form. It didn't help him that right before him there was a pair of soulmates, still seeing the color of the world and one refused to allow herself it.
Khadgar had snapped at Alleria, using biting words to tell her how much he hated watching the dance and the reason why he held such animosity for the view. He was trapped there, unknowing of who his other soulmate was and left the one he knew behind to find a new way to cope. That he would never get a chance like the one she was so carelessly trying to throw away in fear.
They didn't talk about his explosive response ever again after Khadgar apologized and they found their place in the new world.
He found things to occupy him until the portal was reopened and there was a way to return to Azeroth. He didn't until he was called on by the Kirin Tor. Color exploded -- full color, true color in his vision the moment he had set a foot down, he had to close his eyes and take a sharp breath to calm himself.
Something had happened, he could tell as the colors previous to that had not been this intense and bright. He shook for a few seconds and forces himself to move on. Later, he found himself trembling from the knowledge that Varian and the other were still out there and would be seeing the colors like he had for the first time in their lives. Slumping against a wall, he rubbed at his wet eyes and tried to ignore the hope that bubbled into his chest at the prospect of return to Varian and whomever finally.
Instead of taking the chance to find them, Khadgar returned to the Outland when he was finished with his business and pretended that it was for the best. Only after he steps through the portal and see the scraps of land that were awaiting him, that he decides that he was wrong and needs to go back.
He doesn't hesitate any more.
He finds himself in an inn that looked somewhat familiar in style as the one he had last spent in Stormwind and wonders how long he had before there were guards searching for him and the humming buzz Atiesh gives in his hands makes him laugh gently. What's the worst that could happen?
That night, Khadgar looks himself in the mirror and wondered what Varian would think of him with such a white mass on his face. Without a second thought he shaves it, rubbing his thumb across the cut of a jaw he hadn't seen in years. He has a new set of robes sent for and when those are done, surprisingly fast - he was delighted that they took such a request from a raven even, as if it was not the weirdest thing they've seen in a long shot - and exactly to detail.
He enjoys everything he's shown – the tram and the remains of where the old park had been destroyed. He finds himself directing the heroes of the world - some he knew even from their visits to Shattrath, to how they could fight the new orcs invading their world.
In between these gleeful moments of reacquainting himself with Stormwind, he gleans information on who has died and who remained from that meeting so long ago, from that he narrows it down. He spends nights in the various Libraries all over Stormwind, his neck getting a crick that ached pleasantly in the reminder that he would at least know who he could've – and it will always be a could've – found himself with in another life. It wasn't a smart idea, he remembers Cordana telling him, putting a blanket over his shoulders as she woke him enough to drink some warmed milk before he could settle back down against the wet papers that had been beneath his cheek. It was opening him up to the idea that he could still have such a thing, that the thirty years and the rare spurts of time where color filled their world could have just made them bitter and unwilling to meet him. Khadgar doesn't particularly remember what he said, only that she sighed something about insufferable mages and left him to return to his study.
At one point, he sees Varian himself, strolling through the Dwarven District - closest to the keep and cannot help but wait to see if the now king would recognize him after the years apart. He has his back turned to Varian for only a few seconds before he feels the other's gaze on his back. Slowly, he turns, waving at the other and smiling cheekily as he moved to turn into an alley and turn into a raven. He doesn't stay to see if Varian ran after him, instead he returns back to the Inn in Old Town and moves instead to the one in Goldshire.
He figures out who his other soulmate is when he returns to Stormwind from Goldshire to offer his aid in pushing back the Iron Horde, orcs for the second time in his life.
He doesn't actually fully figure it out until he is sidestepping a Horde rogue who danced their way into the keep to attempt murder upon the king of Stormwind. He smiles gravely, a difference to the more jovial one he had when he fled from the king in a tease of how much harder it was to catch him, and holds the greatstaff in his grip tight.
To the right of Varian he finds a blond boy dressed in blues, purples and golds. The beginning of a pony tail tied back at the nape of his neck flickers as the young holds himself in a defiant way thst denoted who he was. Varian's son, a boy who showed his upbringing well and surmises very easily that the boy is not a warrior or a paladin, a caster - though of holy or arcane is beyond him. He glowed, almost and Khadgar felt the urge to protect that light for another reason completely.
That boy was to be the finest leader Azeroth has ever seen. He smiles a little honestly at the proud boy and it hurts to turn his eyes to the one standing directly to the left.
Though it had been a long time, Khadgar would never forget such an expression in all his life. He remembered the complaining and how his hair had been much less... grey the last time he had seen it. He takes stock in Genn Greymane, the dark left of the king to the brightest light Khadgar had ever seen. He was alive, which surprised him slightly. The King of Gilneas had been in his sixties, if he recalled correctly, he would be well into his eighties at this point. He caught the other's considering look and offered him a polite nod back.
It was then that the intruder took his chance to rush passed the Archmage and had him slightly off balance, when he caught himself Genn Greymane was gone and instead, there was a grey wolf-man wetting his claws with the rogues blood. It was not a pretty sight and when the wolf reared his head back... Khadgar paused. He raised his brow as the other scented the air for any others that may have followed him. When it was deemed fine... well, the wolf flicked droplets of blood back towards the corpse and returned to a more familiar sight.
A shrewd King, who had only been able to see the small picture at the time. His people were above everything else and any other time Khadgar would have found it admirable. But now he knew that the second wolf's head stood for the cursed king. Well, that made quite a bit of sense, he thought. The ache formed just behind his breastbone as he plays his blatant staring off as never seeing a Worgen himself, keeping keeping a straight face. Saying nothing to acknowledge the urge that was building in the base of his spine that screamed for him to go to his soulmates and throw everything else away.
However... it was a hard sell for him to bleep his face straight as Greymane was a complete and utter asshole, but he was his second soulmate.
He wasn't sure how to feel about that, mentally cursing Cordana for being right that it was probably better that he hadn't known who the second one was.
There was no time for him to even think of what the situation could mean for him – for the any of them, even. Not with the orcs knocking at Azeroth's door for a second time - and they were even more organized than previously.
Perhaps he dictated to the King of Stormwind that he would go into the portal to close the breech with others and remain there to offer his guidance and yes he could see the blatant displeasure with him mounting. But he smiled wryly at the king and promised to send for others when the heroes of Azeroth when he was able. The Archmage couldn't help it as he winked at the king and left the thrones room as a raven.
Of course, Khadgar was no stranger to the cost of peace (as he currently viewed being unable to see in color as one, except in short bursts of halt saturation. Though he never knew which half was visiting Draenor.) and could only sigh at what he found in Draenor. It was so different than the world he visited so many years ago - so lush, so green and there were no red skies. It was breath taking.
He makes his tower in Talador and begins to focus on the aid he promised he would provide to the forces of Azeroth to prevail.
More than once, Cordana had called him distracted when he found himself looking in the direction of Tanaan, of the Dark Portal – of Azeroth. She had pitied him sometimes when he did not snap out of it right away, simply setting a hand upon his shoulder and telling him that he should return inside instead of out in the open.
Many times, Khadgar made his mistakes - like asking the Champions for an obscene amount of Apexis crystals, assault at moving train and more than once almost killing them and expecting them to react well... but at least he had at plan. It would cone together, of course.
Eventually.
At least it was going fine up until he annoyed Gul'dan into doing exactly what he wanted. Sadly, it was at an inopportune time as his world was half saturated and Khadgar swore in every language he knew while he wheezed his pain and told Cordana to stitch him up fast and administer some form of antivemom - he had some alchemists do it just in case of an emergency.
He heard a crash from his tower, staring blankly at the unhappy Champion and the smashed vial laying directly in front of her. The woman sneered, scowling an, "oops," out before hearthing.
Astonished, he turned his head to Cordana who had paused her check over the wound to look at him from behind her armor expectantly, "really?" He sighed, closing his eyes once more and focusing on his breathing. "That was the last one."
"You're probably going to die from your own stupidity, Khadgar," Cordana tells him flatly as she sends Champions off alive, smacking Khadgar upside the back of his head when he reminded them to bring Garona back alive.
"If I were to die from anything less than my own stupidity, I would find myself disappointing my dead friends."
"You're going pale," she informed him bluntly before picking him up with little issue to her him at least inside the tower. "Where's your servant?"
"I had given him a vacation after he had delivered so many summons to the Champions and I believe I may not even be able to conjure anything else." Khadgar said, allowing his forehead to press against a shoulder pad as a dizziness took him.
The last thing he heard before passing out was Cordana swearing at him in Darnassian.
The next thing he knew, Khadgar was very aware that he was not in his tower any longer and he felt only mildly sick instead of half dead. Stitches, he recognizes, sliding his hand over the bandages and began to push himself up and off of the cot he was stuck on to find out exactly where he was taken.
Toni Branwen | World of Warcraft (OC)
Llane Wrynn | Warcraft (2016)