A Deal That Couldn't Be Made

Before long, Wrathion led his guests to the most comfortable room in the Ravenholdt Manor. Inside were many items that didn't belong to the Alterac nobleman, such as a moonstone from Darnassus and a goblet from Gilneas ...

"I guess... the owner of this room is no longer here."

"Don't get me wrong, I didn't kill him." Wrathion said, turning around and giving Farad was standing at the door, a look that signaled him to close the door. "When I arrived here, I found that Jorach Ravenholdt had already left, and this manor has been abandoned for a long time."

Nathanos remained silent, and before and after Wrathion sat down at a magnificent ebony table, he also sat opposite the black dragon.

"Do you know? People outside usually call me the Black Prince."

"It suits you well." Nathanos said in a low voice, "I'm quite curious, since you were able to escape, did you ever consider that the Red Dragon might be searching for you all over the world?"

"Of course, I dealt with a Red Dragon before you arrived here."

"You killed him?"

The Black Prince laughed. "What's the point? I kicked him out of here, and incidentally... broke both his legs."

Nathanos tried to understand the sentence. What was Wrathion's attitude towards the Red Dragon? The Red Dragon had helped him escape the Old Gods's curse, but he clearly didn't see his savior as an ally, nor could he call him an enemy; otherwise, the unfortunate Red Dragon wouldn't have lost just two legs. "If you want to show your mercy, you can lock that dragon up. I must remind you, Black Prince, Red Dragon don't travel through mountains and rivers on two legs; perhaps more Red Dragon are on their way."

"Even if more of them come, at least the Lifebinder won't appear. She's probably in a precarious situation right now."

"She will not fail."

"Yes," Wrathion replied in a deep, all-knowing tone. "You've already made the arrangements, haven't you?"

His words struck right to the heart. They were like a dagger piercing the heart of the Witherer, precise and sharp.

"You have spies planted within the Forsaken?"

Wrathion casually rested his hands behind his head and teased, "Don't be silly, the Witherer. You've never told your people about your plans. You don't even intend to let them know your situation." The Black Prince's eyes were fixed on the empty sleeve on the left side of the Witherer's clothes.

"There are some things they don't need to know," Nathanos said, echoing his earlier response to Meryl. The operation against Deathwing was scheduled to begin soon.

"Truly admirable, the Witherer. Isn't the greatest happiness for the people of a kingdom to have a King who will only bring them victory and joy, while bearing all the suffering himself?"

Nathanos's body stiffened; he was almost provoked by Wrathion's words. The Forsaken were an organization, and only those who knew them even slightly would consider them a force, even Nathanos himself thought so. A kingdom? He had never considered that. But deep down, he was unwilling to correct Wrathion's erroneous description of the Forsaken.

"You still haven't explained why you know the Forsaken's top secrets," he said, changing the subject.

This made Wrathion laugh again, though Nathanos didn't know why he was laughing, but now he looked like a fool. "I don't know anything about your so-called top secrets, I'm just saying you've arranged everything."

"A black dragon even more cunning than Deathwing," Nathanos cursed inwardly, but in Wrathion, he seemed to see a reflection of his former self. He too was accustomed to using wordplay to extract secrets from his opponents.

"You've won, Black Dragon. Now tell me why you wanted to see me."

"Are you sure... you want me to explain the reason first?" Wrathion looked puzzled.

"Why not? Do you have some unspeakable reason?"

"I'm just worried that we won't be able to reach an agreement."

Ohan stood behind the Witherer, a fleeting look of disdain on his face. The Black Prince's words sounded like they came from the mouth of a Goblins.

"I didn't come here to discuss any deals. Speak your mind, Black Dragon," Nathanos said coldly.

Wrathion tapped the table, beginning to reveal his purpose. "As you can see, what you're looking for is no longer sleeping in its eggshell. I'm sitting right here, alive and well. I'm not some living testimonial for the Red Dragon's great deeds, and even if the Red Dragon is after me, I won't go back."

"In my opinion, you are the living proof that almost no Red Dragon has ever escaped the control of the Old Gods. You should thank them."

As the Witherer spoke, the Black Prince scoffed. "If they treated me as an equal, I would. But even inside the egg, I have my own consciousness. All I hear are conspiracies and schemes. I was born a prisoner." His words trailed off, as if recalling what he had heard inside the egg. Nathanos's intuition told him he wasn't lying.

"As someone who was not influenced by my father's madness, I want to keep my freedom."

"But Deathwing's minions might kill you," Nathanos said, but he quickly understood from Wrathion's eyes and the slight upturn of his lips that this was why the Black Prince wanted to see him, and no wonder he had just said they might not be able to reach an agreement.

"Yes, so I plan to take the initiative." Wrathion stood up and slowly walked to the window from which he could observe the surrounding area of the manor. "I have many of my kind, some of whom, although influenced by the Old Gods, do not agree with my father's actions of destroying the world. They want to rule more. So they have gone into hiding, hiding among mortals, secretly developing their own power. The most famous of them almost destroyed the entire Stormwind City."

"Onyxia," Nathanos said the name.

Wrathion walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do you think we can reach an agreement?"

"You are killing your own kind."

"They are not my people," Wrathion asserted. "They must die."

Almost at the same time, Nathanos slapped the black dragon's claw away, stood up, glared at him, and said, "Onyxia has provided the Forsaken with a lot of valuable information. Even if she is my prisoner, I will not kill her."

The atmosphere was unusually tense. At this point, Ohan had previously been completely unaware, understood why his master had come here. Wrathion was a black dragon who had broken free from the Old Gods' control. He must possess a method to escape that control, and coincidentally, there was a powerful, unpurified black dragon in the Forsaken's prison.