It was late into the audience hours when the royal Consort and his cousin unexpectedly turned up in line.
Anduin almost had to look twice when their names - sans title or any other fanfaire - were called, the surprise making him slow. They were both of them in travel clothes, leathers worn smooth and supple, ragged and stained, the sort of clothes for hunting, fishing, and sleeping out on the road. They had obviously been out somewhere; Elwynn forest, Anduin suspected, part of Hardwire's ongoing campaign to train Ren back into some semblance of fitness after the birth of the babes. There was dirt and what looked like fresh blood stains on their clothes, and there would probably be venison or roast boar on the dinner table.
Dirty and disheveled, and Ren, at least, was visibly tired, and both with small gift boxes in hand and the most shit-eating grins Anduin had ever seen. He didn't, in that moment, know whether to kiss them or box their ears.
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