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, wondering if it was normal to have two tattoos entwined across his breast bone. Atracing the tip of his finger over the delicate lines that made up the wild lion-like wolf on his chest and straight into the snout of the other regal - normal looking, compared to the other - wolf. They adorned him with no hint of shame and often mused over what sort of person both would be.
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.
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.