[Part of Anduin would like to protest that he is eighteen and therefore does that not make him grown by at least someone's standards? To be called a child. A boy. It irks him.

Because the truth of the matter is that Anduin had never really had a childhood. Not after losing his mother as an infant. Not with his father all but losing himself to grief and anger for the next ten years of Anduin's life. He had been forced from the start to learn to stand on his own two feet, but it wasn't until Varian's death that the weight of the kingdom had been settled upon his shoulders alone.

Alone. For all that he had clashed with his father, he would be lying if he did not say there is not a part of him that wishes that his father was still there to guide him, with his deep voice and strong, capable hands. Letting him choose his own path but being there to catch him, should he fall.

Anduin can feel the touch of Wangji's fingers on his sleeve, and recognizes it as the gesture of support that it is. He offers the other man a soft, sad smile in return, before shaking his head.]

I suppose I didn't, no. Everyone has always had their expectations of who I was to become. Of... what I was to do, when I did so.