When Khadgar had been growing up in Dalaran, he had heard the stories that came with soulmates and the promise of color. More than once he had stared at himself shirtless in the mirror, tracing the tip of his finger over the delicate lines that made up the wolf on his chest and mused over what sort of person they would be.
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
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.