Anduin schools his face into the most neutral expression he can, as Wrathion kneels in front of him. How strange it feels, to watch him do so. Anduin's own pulse picks up slightly, a mixture of excitement and uncertainty racing through him at the sight of it.

In the back of his mind, Anduin recognizes that Wrathion is a dragon, and while this is not exactly a gesture of supplication, it's clearly... Well. It's more along those lines than it is otherwise.

Being a king, it is not the first time that Anduin has had men kneeling in front of him, and he cannot help but draw such parallels as well. On their knees as he lays his sword on their shoulders and takes him into the service of the Alliance. This... Is not the same. And yet...

Anduin regards Wrathion there on the ground in front of him for a long moment, before he steps forward and gently slips the silver chain over his neck, reaching to readjust his hair once it is in place. Unable to help himself from reaching to tuck a stray curl behind Wrathion's ear as he does.

"There," he says, softly, turning the coin so it rests lion-side out against his skin, before holding a hand out to help him back up.