The staging ground for Varian's return to the Stormwind had been meticulously prepared at the base of Jaina's tower. Standing at rigid attention, two dozen highly trained soldiers held formation, proudly showing off the standard sets of Theramore's plate armors stood on the ready. Behind them, a squad of high elven rangers were ready to be ranged support. These sixteen men and women were fugitives of a lost homeland now serving under the young sorceress of Theramore. Their bows, crafted from enchanted yew and strung with the finest silk-threaded sinew, lay in easy reach.
On the far side of the staging ground, Theramore's gryphons caretakers were making their final preparations, feeding the noble beasts. Heavy saddles were strapped in place, and thick leather fastenings double-checked and reinforced. The King's return needed to be swift and effective; hence, horses were ruled out as means of transportation. A direct assault was impossible by land as the commotion would warn Onyxia and give her a chance to flee. The only feasible way in was through teleportation, and even then, Stormwind mage tower was one of the few places not completely blocked against it. Every other inch of the city was protected by arcane barriers, ensuring that no one could just teleport in.
And so, Varian had borrowed one of the enchanted plate sets and a pair of swords from her treasury to be fully prepared to face the beast that had taken over his kingdom. The dark grey plate set with silver decorations made the already tall man even more imposing, giving him the rightful image of the warrior king he was. Jaina, by contrast, remained in her usual outfit as being ready for a battle had become second nature to her.
Varian tightened his grip around the twin swords she had provided, feeling their weight settle into his hands like an old promise. He was ready.
The Kirin Tor mages should arrive any minute.
Jaina was still technically a member of Kirin Tor as she had never formally left the organization and never intended to do so. There was always more to learn, more magic to understand, more power to wield. And a mage's journey for knowledge was never-ending.
Finally, seven mages teleported in one by one.
Jaina stepped forward, her expression composed, "Rhonin. Master Krasus. It's good to see you both." Jaina greeted the pair she knew personally among the group.
The leader of the Kirin Tor inclined his head. Rhonin was the elected leader of the Kirin Tor and a known hero. The man was clad in a well-worn purple robe, the fabric faded in places, with his red unruly locks partly covering his face. The most notable feature was his crooked nose, broken in his youth and left to regrow on its own. There was no doubt for anyone that Rhonin wasn't a mage who had spent most of his life hidden away in libraries even without knowing of his deeds.
And then there was Krasus. The enigmatic high elf joined Kirin Tor before the second war and was Rhonin's close friend and teacher, his skill in magic unrivaled and his past unknown. Very little was known about him save that he was married and from time to time disappeared to spend time with his family. He, same as his student, was a rugged man forged in the battlefield, not a scholarly sanctuary. He wore a red robe typical of a high elf sorcerer and had a sharp gaze.
During the second war Varian, Krasus, Vereesa Windrunner, youngest sister of the now infamous Sylvannas, and Falstad Wildhammer, a famous dwarven hero, were instrumental in freeing the dragon queen Alexstraza from the clutches of the demonic horde thus taking away dragons as their weapon against the Alliance. The final battle was also the last time anyone had seen Deathwing who was grievously wounded while battling the four other aspects.
"Jaina, Varian, good to see you both." Rhonin casually returned the greeting. Varian approached him and extended his hand without saying a word. Rhonin accepted the handshake and continued. "We have gathered as much information as we could, but there isn't much."
"She is a black dragon. They bleed and die just like anyone else." Varian spat.
Krasus chose this moment to step forward, his tone pleasant but carrying subtle, timeless authority, "Onyxia is the least of our problems, your Majesty. The real issue is her potential masters and how they would react if she were to be killed."
Jaina intervened before Varian's temper could ignite, "I think it's best if we let Master Krasus explain before we proceed." Jaina urged, knowing Varian's short temper and eagerness to retake his kingdom.
Varian exhaled sharply, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He did not like delays, "Very well. Please explain why we shouldn't just kill the beast on the spot and mount her head at the gates of Stormwind." he bit out.
Krasus met his gaze, "As I said, Onyxia, though a powerful dragon in her own right, is not the main issue. Recently, two powerful entities, Ainz Ooal Gown and Buku Ooal Gown, took control of the black dragons and the Dark Horde, creating the Nazarick Empire."
He let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing, "Our initial investigation revealed that Ainz Ooal Gown transformed the entirety of the Burning Steppes into a lush forest. This alone is a feat that should make us wary of his power. With such spells in his arsenal, he could render Stormwind nonfunctional with a single spell."
Varian's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
Krasus pressed on. "Additionally, we could not find any historical reference to what these beings are. They refer to themselves as Supreme Beings-which, given their power, may not be an exaggeration. The closest assumption we can make is that they are likely alien in origin. And while we have no direct confirmation that they control all black dragons-"
Jaina, arms crossed, interrupted. "They killed one in Orgrimmar."
"Indeed," Krasus acknowledged with a slight nod. "However, if our assumed timeline is correct, it happened before the Nazarick Empire was fully established. Meaning, there is a strong possibility that the black dragons weren't yet under their control at that time.
Varian's grip on his swords tightened. His patience was waning, "So you are suggesting I just let her go after everything that beast has done?"
Krasus, to his credit, remained unfazed, "No, not at all, your majesty. The lives of your people take precedence, I am merely suggesting that we approach the matter with a wider perspective-that we do not cause irreparable damage by hastily killing Onyxia. I suggest we attempt to capture her. If she is alive, she becomes a bargaining tool-leverage that allows you to open talks with Nazarick from a position of strength. To my knowledge, Onyxia is one of the oldest dragons alive, and she may have value to them beyond what we yet understand."
Jaina's brow furrowed as she considered the logistics of the plan, "Would we even be able to subdue a dragon? And in the very heart of Stormwind, no less?" she inquired.
Dragons were reclusive creatures, their motives as mysterious as the ancient magics that coursed through their veins. She had fought demons, undead, and horrors from beyond the veil, but never a dragon-not directly. The thought of taking one alive within the city's walls seemed reckless, if not outright suicidal.
Varian, however, seemed unbothered by such concerns. The man was war-forged, his solutions direct and pragmatic, "Cut off her wings, muzzle her, and chain her up. You mages, I assume, can make sure she doesn't use more of her tricks?"
Jaina's lips twitched, not in amusement but in wary curiosity. She had sensed some subtle power within the king. It was unlike anything she was familiar with. Some intangible force was aiding Varian and likely the reason why he survived and escaped captivity.
Rhonin ran a hand through his unruly red hair, considering the plan, "That could be possible, provided we somehow manage to cripple her wings first." he mused.
"I will cripple the beast, you do the rest. Let's go. I don't want my son or my kingdom in her clutches any longer than necessary." Varian urged and hopped on one of the gryphons.
"Agreed," Rhonin nodded, already climbing onto his own mount. He turned to Jaina. "Jaina, are you ready or do you require our assistance?"
Jaina rolled her eyes but smirked slightly. "I can open a portal on my own, thank you," she said as she swung herself onto her gryphon.
Once everyone was assembled, she cast a portal spell. One by one, the force poured through, stepping out onto the stone floor of Stormwind's mage tower.
The city guards barely had time to react before the sky thundered with the powerful wingbeats of the gryphons taking flight. The flying patrols reacted swiftly, though confusion was clear on their faces. Who could blame them? Their king, who had been presumed dead, was now leading an armed force straight for the palace. One of the patrolmen, a seasoned rider with sharp eyes and a firm jaw, swiftly broke formation and pulled alongside Varian. "Lieutenant Vollert, your majesty!" he saluted, shouting over the blazing winds. "Your orders?"
Varian barely spared him a glance as he replied, "Form a perimeter around the castle; be ready to lead people away or assist other units. We have a dragon on our hands."
"Understood, sir." The gryphon rider flew from man to man, issuing orders as they closed in.
The force landed in front of the entrance, boots striking stone with sharp finality. Varian wasted no time, storming forward through the ranks of saluting guards.
"Your majesty."
"Welcome back, your majesty."
"Thank the light; it's you, your majesty!"
The voices of his people rang out, some filled with joy, others with disbelief. Varian barely acknowledged them. His focus was singular, his every step echoing with purpose as he sprinted toward the throne room.
Jaina slowly getting out of breath, was already regretting her decision to keep pace on foot. She ran alongside him, barely able to keep up with the warrior. What made it worse was that neither Krasus nor Rhonin showed the same exertion as her, a reminder that lately she had spent all her time in statecraft and magical studies and neglected to keep her body in shape. She resisted the urge to glare at them. It was undignified.
The massive doors of the throne room came into view. Beyond them, the chamber was just as she remembered; ornate banners, marble pillars, and the looming seat of power itself.
But the throne was not empty. Anduin stood before it, his young face set with a mixture of worry and quiet resolve. Beside him, Katrana Prestor stood with her ever-present air of veiled condescension, flanked by Bolvar Fordragon.
A dwarven diplomat was rambling in the background about the urgent need for more patrols in Hilsbrad.
Katrana, or more precisely Onyxia, awaited them with a wide smile on her face and a hand over Anduin's shoulder.
"Look, Your Majesty." Her voice, warm and falsely sweet, filled the chamber. "Your father is alive. Isn't it wonderful?"
Her sharp gaze flickered briefly to Reginald Windsor before returning to Varian, her amusement barely contained.
"Father!" Anduin's voice cracked with raw emotion. He tried to move-tried to run to Varian, but Katrana held him in place.
"Remember proper protocol," she chided, her tone condescending, her fingers pressing ever so slightly against his shoulder. "You can be father and son in a private setting later."
The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Varian's hand shot to the hilt of his sword. His knuckles whitened as he ripped the blade free from its sheath in one fluid motion. The sword gleamed in the light of the throne room, its edge whispering death to those who would harm his own.
"Let him go!" he roared.
Bolvar wasted no time and lunged towards the noblewoman, hoping to tear the boy free from her grasp before she could react.
But, to everyone's surprise, Katrana swatted him away like a bug with one hand. A single stroke sent the towering warrior hurtling across the chamber like a ragdoll, his massive frame slamming against the stone wall. The impact sent cracks spiderwebbing through the ancient stone, and with a low, pained groan, Bolvar crumpled to the floor, motionless.
The guards barely had time to process what had just happened, their hands frozen on the hilts of their weapons.
Katrana sighed, almost bored, as she dusted off her glove with delicate fingers. "My my, you found out." Her pleasant mask slipped. "A shame. Let's not make sudden moves, shall we?"
Her hand drifted, one sharp nail pressing against the tender skin of Anduin's throat. The boy swallowed hard, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
Krasus took a single step forward. His voice remained measured, even in the face of disaster. "The ruse is up, Onyxia. You can surrender willingly, and your life will be spared."
Onyxia laughed, "How noble." She flicked her eyes toward the mage, "But I will have to pass upon this offer."
She tightened her grip on Anduin, and he let out a sharp hiss of pain. "You will let me leave and then-"
"Like hell I will, I will send your damn wings to your owners!" Varian roared with what sounded like a howl, his face twisted in a snarl.
Her golden, slitted eyes gleamed as she tilted her head ever so slightly, her fingers tightening around Anduin's shoulder. The boy trembled in her grasp, his face pale, but he did not cry out. Even now, he tried to act strong.
"My masters? Oh! of course, you know. But you misunderstand something, Your Majesty." She stepped forward, still dragging Anduin with her, as if presenting a bargaining chip at the table of kings. "I belong to them and we wouldn't want to anger the Supreme Beings, now would we?"
At that name 'Supreme Beings' a strange hush fell over the room. If anything Onyxia grew more amused as if thinking she was in complete control of the situation because she held the prince hostage.
Jaina had little time to contemplate as she caught the subtle motion of Varian's grip on his weapons. His knuckles whitened, his muscles tensed. He was about to pounce. She gave him a subtle nod, her hinges subtly moving as she prepared a short-range teleportation spell to remove Anduin out of the way.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
The cold, commanding weight of Onyxia's voice froze her mid-cast. The black dragon's slitted eyes snapped to Jaina, full of knowing malice. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she reached for Anduin's throat.
And yanked free the chain snapped with a sharp clink, and the second the stone left Anduin's skin, he screamed in pain.
"Anduin!" Varian moved without reason, his mannerisms resembling those of a cornered wolf.
"Now listen and listen well. I will take my leave and a proper diplomatic delegation will come in my place. Nazarick will enter talks with everyone willing to talk. Stormwind, Dalaran, Theramoor, and the aspects. I can smell the stench of the red one among you, so rely to the Queen what you heard. You will all stand here and wait and if you attack Nazarick's people our precious little prince might not come back in one piece." Onyxia spoke with a hissing tone.
The moment Onyxia stepped backward into the swirling vortex of her portal, dragging Anduin with her, time seemed to stretch into a cruel mockery of reality. Varian's blade swung through the air, a beautiful, deadly arc of steel meant to sever flesh and bone.
But it struck nothing.
The portal collapsed with a dull whoosh, its vanishing tendrils of shadow curling like smoke around the empty space where Anduin had stood just heartbeats before.
Varian's chest heaved.
"Red dragon?" Jaina murmured, her sharp mind latching onto Onyxia's words even through the lingering shock. Her gaze flickered toward Rhonin, who met her stare with a knowing look. 'So one of the mages is a red dragon?'
Her suspicions fell on Krasus. It made sense- his air of detached wisdom, his uncanny insight into draconic affairs, the way he never quite reacted the same way to news about dragonkind. But now was neither time nor place to address the revelation.
Her gaze returned to Varian, who remained standing in the middle of the round throne room, shaking in pure rage. The way his fingers flexed around the hilt of his blade, the way his jaw locked and twitched. Jaina swallowed.
"Varian," she started, carefully, "we will get Anduin back."
There was no response. Her voice took on a firmer edge. "We need to prepare for what is to come. Onyxia wasn't lying about the delegation coming. That gives us time to-"
"I will go there myself." Varian finally snarled, stabbing the sword into the stone tiles beneath his feet "And I will kill them all if as much as a strand of hair falls off my son's head!"
The words shook the air itself. A lesser man's fury might have burned hot but fleeting. Varian's rage, however, was something far more terrifying.
Onyxia was ready for his return. Someone had tipped her off, which meant there were traitors among either the strike party or his people who saw his approach. A thorough cleanup would be needed, that he knew for sure.
Editing by; NabeisWaifu
Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, fvvck
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