Archive of Our Own ^beta

Taran, truthfully, had no idea how he had survived.

One moment he was standing on a shoddy wooden bridge, determined and at peace, ready to give his life for all of Pandaria, the next he was bleeding out from being gouged in the stomach atop the spiked eye of Garrosh Hellscream’s battle-axe, Gorehowl. Force to his knees and could only helplessly watch as the Heart of Y’Shaarj tainted the sacred pools he had so desperately tried to protect. The resulting explosion of corruption blooming into the sky, polluting once clear skies into an ominous black and white, and that was not even getting started on the blight that soon befell the golden, eternal vale all around him.

A series of explosions erupted underneath the ground and the only thing Taran – completely shell-shocked – remembered was plummeting off the platform.

What ever happened between then and how he got to the final chamber were only brief flashes in his mind. Stumbling over unsteady terrain. Coughing up blood. Confronting Garrosh once more.

He must have blacked out again afterwards – or been knocked out - as he found himself laying in a pool of his own blood, which was seeping out from his leather armor, and a faint ringing in his hears. A pounding in his head.

He barely registered the fact the Sha of Pride was several feet away from him and it was helped by the fact the Sha seemed to care less for the pathetic Pandaren dying on the floor.

Because that is what was happening, Taran was going to die here.

It was not a noble death. He would die here as a failure.

He should have tried harder. He should have tried harder to stop Garrosh, he should have pushed himself to his upmost limits even if it costed him everything. He should have tried harder to convince Xuen not to allow the Alliance and Horde into the Vale. He should have – could have – done so, so much more and yet he had not.

For just the briefest moment, he allowed himself a moment of vulnerability and shed the tears that were brimming in his fading eyes.

He was not going to pass on to the next life in peace. Not when he had failed his people. His Celestials. His-

Cho…

His mate.

…

He was leaving his mate a widower.

Fresher, hot tears fell faster.

He had wanted to spend the rest of his life with his mate and now it was ending so soon. He was leaving Cho to go on with the rest of his life alone, with only the reminder his mate had died without peace and marked with failure.

And Cho had asked him to come back to him safe, the last they had talked when Taran saw to the evacuation of the Seat of Knowledge personally, just to make sure Cho would be far, far away from the conflict. He had promised him he’d return.

A broken promise now.

Maybe there was one bit of peace for him, however. Cho was far away from here by now and would not have been caught in the cross-fire of the corruption of the Vale. Taran would never forgive himself, in life or death, had Cho been a casualty.

He had promised to protect him in his vows.

Taran coughed harshly, the rattling of his ribs shooting pain throughout his body and he stared blankly at the blood that splattered onto the ground.

Well. This was it.

He just wished – even for a second - he could tell Cho one last time he loved him.

Cho was his sun. His warmth where he was cold and harsh like a blizzard.

He was so, so cold now…

He shut his eyes for what he knew was the last time and coughed and wheezed as blood caught in his throat. Such a pitiful noise from someone who was once larger than life.

Ready to see what waited for him on the other side, he was not prepared to faintly hear the great doors opening before him and a rush of feet passing by him, nor the sudden burst of life from the Sha of Pride, who welcomed the lambs to the slaughter.

He was not prepared to hear Cho cry his name.

When he opened his eyes, for a split second he had thought he was hallucinating in his final moments. That the image of his mate was some way to ease his mind as he passed on.

The moment Cho’s paw touched his own and squeezed it tightly made him realize he was all too real.

Why-…why was he here?

He was so confused.

He was in so much pain.

He was so tired.

“Cho?”

His body shuddered with repressed wheezes and coughs. He did not want to traumatize his mate more by hacking up even more blood. There was enough surrounding him already and the fact he was dying in front of him.

Tired golden eyes lingered to the enlaced paws. His heart ached seeing how Cho’s was shaking. He could not bare to look at his face.

“The-…the outsiders”. Taran’s voice crackled for a bit; it was taking so much energy to speak. “They did this…w-we should have never had l-let them in…”.

Taran could not muster any true ire towards the Alliance and Horde champions, who were currently engaging with the Sha of Pride not far from him. He barely had enough energy to speak, much less waste it on an emotional outburst.

He was tired. Defeated.

The faint press of lips to the bridge of his nose soothed the ache in his heart briefly, as did the gentle hush that was as light as breeze.

“Don’t speak…save your energy, I’ll get you to the healers”.

Had this been anywhere else, under different circumstances, Taran Zhu would have been greatly amused of his smaller mate attempting to carrying him anywhere. Cho only barely reached his chest and lacked any form of muscle as ‘knowledge was his armor and the quill was his sword’. Taran was now worried Cho would get injured trying to drag him out or make himself vulnerable to any lingering enemies who would easily pick him off given his sole protector was out of commission. Or he was just giving his mate false hope.

Taran had no time to tell Cho something cliché such as ‘I’ll only slow you down’ because the smaller male was wiggling himself underneath Taran’s left arm and heaving him up as best as he could. Cho was clever as well because he muttered a quiet yet determined “I’m not leaving you” that brooked no arguments whatsoever.

Mustering every last bit of strength he had left, Taran stumbled onto his feet to at least take some of the strain of his small mate. With one arm slung around Cho’s shoulders, his other hand was clutching the wound on his abdomen where a cloth had been-

When had that-…

It was Cho’s tabard.

When had he wrapped it around him?

It was already stained a deep red.

They took their first few steps. Taran gritting his fangs tightly. Locking his jaw as his body ached and screamed to rest yet he soldiered on for the sake of his mate, who was staring straight ahead. Repeatedly squeezing the paw Taran had around his shoulders every so often, whether that was to comfort Taran, or himself, or both…who knew.

It…was a long walk through the ruins and then out through the mine, all the while he battled between slipping into unconsciousness and trying in vain to stay alert. Not only for any left over sha but just to listen to the soft rambling coming from his mate.

If he died, he at least wanted to die hearing his mate for the final time.

His ears finally picked up on something else, commotion from the entrance to the mine which instantly had him on edge but Cho kept walking them forward.

“It’s the relief efforts”.

And he was right, outside the mine several first-aid stations had been quickly set up and healers of all factions, races and classes were banding together to tend to the wounded and paying respect to the deceased. Those who were not medically inclined worked in tandem to clear the area of any leftover sha or were scouting through wreckage and bodies, bringing survivors to the healers.

Something stirred within Taran’s chest as he was lead to a tent and slowly laid down, immediately being swarmed with healers and medics, all the while Cho was by his side.

“We made it, My Heart. Just stay awake with me now”.

Their paws never parted for a second even as the top half of his armor was stripped away, the blood-soaked tabard discarded, and his wounds were tended to.

“You are lucky you are pure muscle; you are going to pull through, Taran. You are going to be okay”.

Taran finally had the guts to look at his mate fully and his heart broke into many splintered pieces at seeing the tears in his eyes, in spite of the smile on his face. It was too forced. Cho was still shaking. He always hated seeing Cho cry, such gorgeous eyes and kind face should never have a hint of sorrow ever.

Achingly, he lifted his free paw to wipe away those dreadful tears with his thumb. Cho leaning into the palm of his paw with a mix of a sob and a laugh.

“’m…I’m so sorry…”

“What ever for, My Heart…you are here you came back to me like you promised”.

Taran squeezed his eyes shut.

“I failed…the Vale I-…I tried…I should have done more I’m so sorry”. He hated how his voice cracked. “So…so many good people died”.

Cho’s face contorted into worried horror.

“Taran…Taran, no…no nonono do not say such things you did everything you could have”. His own voice was breaking as tears were flowing even more freely. Purple eyes lingering on the wound to his abdomen before Taran firmly tilted his head back to look him in the eyes again.

(He was grateful the healers and medics were professional and focused on tending to him rather than actively eavesdropping in on a vulnerable conversation).

“I just want you here – alive – with me. The Vale can be restored. The dead can be put the rest. I cannot replace you…please, I cannot- I can’t I can’t I can’t…”

He was sobbing now. Gut wrenching sobbing and Taran was shaking now, squeezing Cho’s paw tightly.

“Don’t cry…I hate seeing you cry”.

Cho sniffled.

“I could say the same to you…”

With another sniffle, Cho laid down on the hard dirt and burrowed his face into Taran’s neck, who rested his chin atop his mate’s head. The healers and medics worked dutiful and ignored the howling cries and barely repressed sobs.

Soon their work was done. Wounds were stitched, bandaged. Blood lost was slowly being transferred back.

Taran and Cho still laid side by side. Exhausted and red-eyed and silent. Their clasped paws were held between them and at some point Taran had brought his other arm around Cho to cushion him off the uncomfortable ground. Cho was busy focused on his heartbeat.

There was movement at the tent’s entrance which Taran and Cho could only blankly glance over too, being greeted by one of the relief effort volunteers who looked reluctant for their sake.

“Lorewalker Cho, you are needed out here. Lady Proudmore and Lord Regent Theron require someone who has been into the chambers below and no one from the previous party has returned…”

Cho did not move for a moment before slowly sitting up. Even more slowly bringing the palms of his hands to rub at the corners of his eyes and sniffed.

“May I have a moment…I will be out shortly”.

“Of course”.

The volunteer turned and left quickly. Cho shakily sighed before straightening up, taking slow and measured breathes. Taran watched him undo his hair bun, fix his hair before redoing it up again, carding blunt claws through his sideburns and harshly rubbing at his cheeks to remove the feeling of tear stains. He reached to the side and slipped on a fresh, clean tabard – that one of the medics must have left for him earlier.

He did not look ready to face anyone but Taran admired how quickly he put on a fake mask to appear fine when things were not fine.

Cho looked at him and smiled (it did not reach his eyes).

“Seems they need a navigator”. He laughed humorlessly. “No idea why…getting down there is simple enough and the champions cleared everything out”.

The Lorewalker bent down and pressed a soft kiss to Taran’s forehead and made to stand up when Taran reflectively grabbed his wrist. Fur standing on end. Cho was briefly startled but his smile settled into something more genuine.

“Taran, I’ll be fine”.

The Lord stared at his paw around Cho’s wrist and slowly loosened it, not releasing it though. Mildly embarrassed but could you blame him for being on edge and not wanting his mate to go back down there.

But he could not delay Cho any longer.

“Come back to me, safe”, he begged. Quietly.

Cho’s features softened even more. This was the Cho he knew and loved. “I will, I promise”.

He bent down again and Taran leaned up, aiming for a kiss to the lips but Cho planted the kiss to his nose instead. Upon seeing the confused look on his mate’s face, Cho raised an eyebrow, amused.

“We can have a proper kiss once you wash the blood out of your mouth”.

Taran blinked and – for the first time that day – laughed, even if it was soft and short. His fingers slipped from Cho’s wrist and he let his mate stand and move to the tent’s flap. Cho paused and turned back to Taran. Face sincere and eyes captivating and Taran was reminded all over again how wonderfully, radiantly gorgeous Cho was.

“I love you, My Heart”.

His heart quickened.

“I love you too, My Flower”.

Cho closed his eyes, breathed in deep before composing himself. Set his shoulders and stepping out of the tent, leaving with a flutter of his cape.

It was silly how quickly Taran immediately missed his presence but there was not much he could do until he was given the clearance to leave. However long that was.

So instead he laid back down and tried to rest. Holding on tight to the promise Cho would be back and he would be fine and safe.

When a healer entered his tent and finished up some exams, they asked if he needed anything – food, something to drink, some painkillers?

He asked for mouthwash.