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*
Wyll woke up alone in the morning. Maybe Astarion didn't want to be seen by the rest of the group leaving Wyll's tent, maybe he had some other reasons; Wyll tried not to let it get to him.
When he emerged into the daylight, he saw Shadowheart petting a fluffy white dog next to the campfire. The dog was wagging its tail and panting in pleasure.
"What's this now?" Wyll raised an eyebrow. The dog looked familiar. Didn't they see him a couple of days ago? Next to the dead courier. "Scratch?"
"He must have followed our scent," a rare smile lit up Shadowheart's face. She scratched the dog behind the ear. "We can keep him, right?"
"Sure. Probably safer with us than in the wild with owlbears and gnolls."
Shadowheart smiled again and nodded, pleased.
"My thoughts exactly."
Gale and Karlach were delighted by their new furry companion. Gale also took a turn giving the dog head pats and belly rubs, while Karlach sighed and lamented being unable to do the same without burning poor Scratch's fur off.
Astarion gave the dog one look, called it a mangy beast, and walked away. Wyll noticed him sneaking the dog a few pieces of unidentified bloodless meat later when they were packing up camp, though.
*
Their journey through the Underdark brought them to an abandoned wizard's tower. It was a sad place that reeked of loneliness, with the very air - dusty, stuffy, with a hint of mold - carrying the undercurrent of melancholy. They found some letters scattered around, one warning the owner of the tower to stop messing with dangerous pets and one noting the death of the first letter's author, as well as a diary mentioning the wizard Lenore planning to depart to Baldur's Gate.
"What do you think happened to her?" Karlach asked.
"Probably got eaten by her own pet," Astarion said cynically.
"We don't know that," Gale chimed in with his endless optimism. "She could be living her best life in Baldur's Gate! Right, Wyll?"
Wyll looked at the letter in his hands, the one reading about the silence stretching on, then looked through the broken window into the swirling darkness illuminated by the cold blue Sussur lights.
"These empty sheets are all that's left of you," Wyll murmured quietly, setting the yellowed letter back on the dusty table.
"Huh?" Gale blinked. "Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."
Wyll shook his head.
"Nothing. We'll never know, I suppose."
"I know," Astarion said. "The bulette ate her."
The silence, indeed, stretched on. Then Karlach cleared her throat.
"Oh hey, look what I've found! Wonder if this ring is magical..."
The path continued.
*
Gale refused to go anywhere near the Sussur tree.
"Is this about your orb problem?" Wyll asked.
Gale nodded grimly.
"I'd rather not find out what happens if I'm suddenly stripped of all arcane energy. It could help... or it could detonate the bomb I carry in my chest. So, I'll just wait over here by the lake, maybe pick some mushrooms for dinner. Someone's gotta take care of our rations, yes?"
"Good idea," Wyll said. "I'll be looking forward to tonight, then. You're one hell of a cook."
Gale grinned at him, clearly proud of his cooking.
Astarion sidled next to Wyll, his face sour.
"Are you quite done wasting time on idle chatter? Because I don't know about you, but I'm beyond ready to be done with this place."
Wyll smiled.
"Hey, don't be jealous. I only have eyes for you."
"I wasn't-- I'm not!" Astarion scoffed and pouted. "Keep your ego in check. Gods."
Still, he snaked a hand around Wyll's elbow possessively. Wyll smiled and let Astarion drag him away.
Later that night, when they camped by the lake and Gale started lecturing the group on proper mushroom preparation, Wyll looked up from peeling potatoes to see Astarion sulking on the far side of the camp, fiddling with his new Sussur dagger. Wyll didn't stick around for the rest of Gale's lecture, leaving Shadowheart and Karlach to finish helping the wizard.
Astarion glanced at Wyll exactly once when he approached, then looked away. He sat cross-legged on the ground, and his shoulders were tense.
"Not happy with your new toy?" Wyll asked.
"This thing?" Astarion lifted his hand with the dagger. The blade barely glinted in the dim light. "It's fine. Works wonders when you need to shut up an unwanted magic-user."
"Do you have a problem with Gale?"
"No."
"With me?"
Astarion looked up at him, silent for a long moment, then sighed.
"No. I'm just... tired, I suppose. And I don't mean physically. All our leads end up a bust. The druids, the goblins, the hag..."
Wyll sat down on the ground next to Astarion.
"Are you scared?" he asked.
"Yes," Astarion admitted. "Aren't you?"
"I am," Wyll agreed. "But we're not taking the devil's deal, if that's what you're suggesting."
"I wasn't. You have more experience on the subject, so if you say it's not worth it - I believe you. Besides..." Astarion stared at his dagger again. "I don't even know if I want to get rid of the tadpole. Without it, I'd still be bound by Cazador's will."
Wyll put his hand on Astarion's knee.
"We'll find a way to help you. I promise."
"Quite the rag-tag group of misfortunate souls, aren't we?" Astarion smiled, but there wasn't any mirth in it. "All of us need help, and not just with the tadpoles."
"Shadowheart seems to have it together."
"Absolutely not. I recognize abuse when I see it," Astarion glanced back at the others. They seemed occupied by fussing over the campfire, Shadowheart frowning in concentration as she peeled a large onion. "That girl has suffered more brainwashing than any of Cazador's victims. It almost makes me sad that she doesn't seem to recognize it."
Wyll raised an eyebrow.
"What's this? You, showing care for our companions?"
"Oh, shut up."
Astarion sheathed his dagger and made to get up. Wyll held him back.
"Wait. Why were you looking at your dagger? Is there some kind of flaw, was it not enchanted properly?"
"The dagger's fine. I... Look, it's silly. I was trying to see if, perhaps, I had a reflection again."
"And?"
"I don't. Not that I need a mirror to know this looks fabulous," Astarion flicked his wrist, brushing a lock of hair away from his face. "Still... it's been two hundred years since I've seen my own face. I can't even remember what color my eyes were before I got turned. I'm trying to picture myself and all I come up with... a blank white void that turns into a mindflayer."
"That's not going to happen." Wyll gripped Astarion's shoulder, then let go. "But if it's going to help you feel like a person, I know a spell that can help. It might come out a little blurry, but... want to try?"
Astarion blinked.
"Yes."
They stood up. In the oppressive quiet of the Underdark every movement echoed; but the campfire and the relaxed voices of their companions in the distance made the unnatural silence a little more bearable.
"Close your eyes," Wyll said.
Casting the spell on Astarion took some effort; it wasn't meant to be used on other people, but with a lot of concentration and the right twist of words Wyll managed. The air stirred like it would on a hot summer day, and from the blurry disturbance formed a copy of Astarion - just as pale, scrawny, and fidgety as the original.
"Look," Wyll breathed out.
Astarion opened his eyes. His mirrored image did the same. Astarion blinked, and the image did too.
"That's... me?" the vampire murmured, echoed by the illusion.
Wyll tried to respond while maintaining the spell, but the image of Astarion vanished in a poof of mist the moment his attention wavered.
"Sorry, it's really difficult on someone else," Wyll said. "But yes, that's what you look like. Handsome bugger, huh?"
Astarion touched his face absentmindedly.
"You think so?"
"Sure. What's not to like? Strong, piercing eyes. Sharp smile, and those cheekbones? Impeccable."
"Oh?" the lost, forlorn look drained from Astarion's features, replaced by a small grin. His eyes sparkled with interest. "Do go on."
"What more is there to say? You're beautiful. I like the way your hair curls behind your ears and the way you wrinkle your nose at anything that isn't up to your standards."
"Excuse me?" Astarion protested. "I'm not your doting grandmother! I do not 'wrinkle' anything."
Wyll laughed.
"Peace, peace! I am no bard - my lack of imagination fails me. But I assure you, you're as charming as they come."
Astarion wrinkled his nose, then sighed.
"I'll take it," he said. "It's just... odd... to see yourself again after so long. Let's stick with the shallow praise and skip the illusions next time, yes?"
"As you wish, my lord," Wyll gave him a joking bow, and Astarion let out a small laugh.
They were so caught up in each other that Wyll startled when Gale cleared his throat from behind.
"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," Gale said with a polite smile. "Just letting you know that dinner is ready."
It was the first time Astarion joined them as they ate. He only drank water and didn't participate in the conversation, but he sat next to Wyll and listened, and sometimes his hand brushed against Wyll's thigh.
*
The shadow-cursed lands of the Moonrise Towers surroundings met them with dead silence.
"And I thought the Underdark was quiet," Wyll said, lifting the torch higher as they trudged through the fog.
"Really? I thought it was surprisingly lively and vibrant," Gale said. "Especially the Myconid colony."
"And the forge!" Karlach agreed. "Man, that hammer was loud. My ears are still ringing."
"Well, I happen to like the dark and the quiet," Shadowheart said, tightening her grip on her light-enchanted mace. Scratch followed her closely, and she held her weapon above him to light the way for the both of them. "Lady Shar blessed these lands."
Wyll looked at the leafless twisted trees and the dead grass hiding rotten corpses, but didn't say anything.
"Some blessing," Astarion muttered under his breath, so quiet only Wyll heard him. Then he spoke louder, loud enough for Shadowheart to hear. "So this is what you want to happen to the rest of the world?"
Shadowheart stumbled in her step.
"I... I don't expect you to understand my faith, Astarion."
"I'm not questioning your faith, just the practical application of it. What did those crows and squirrels do to deserve their fate? Sentient races, I can understand, but plants and animals?"
"Since when are you such a nature lover?"
"You don't have to love something to recognize its value."
"Well, loss is not exclusive to people."
"Clearly." Astarion scoffed. "Watch your dog, unless you want him to honor your dark lady with a sacrifice."
Shadowheart bristled and scowled, but didn't say anything in response. Her hand twitched towards Scratch, who trotted alongside her, as if she wanted to shield him - for all the good that would do. Scratch wagged his tail, his shiny eyes big and earnest.
"We should all be careful," Wyll said. "Stay close to me, Astarion."
Astarion smirked at him, and Wyll could swear he heard Shadowheart snicker - or was it Karlach? But they kept their pace, and for now it was all that mattered.
*
They agreed to meet in the Shadowlands when the druid Halsin went with the tieflings. Wyll didn't expect to find him bleeding out on the side of the road.
"We were attacked... by shadow monsters," Halsin explained when they started treating his wounds. "At least I got the refugees to safety..."
The druid passed out from the blood loss right after sharing the directions to the Last Light inn.
Fortunately, at Last Light, there were better healers. Together, Shadowheart and Jaheira nursed Halsin back to consciousness.
"You'll need a lantern," Halsin said. "And I... need to find Thaniel."
"Who's Thaniel?" Wyll asked.
"The embodiment of these lands. A little boy... an ancient forest spirit. The curse is born of him."
"What you need is rest," Shadowheart said. "And so do we."
Wyll couldn't agree more. Even here, shielded from the curse by a magical barrier, he could feel it slowly siphoning his strength away.
*
With the pixie's blessing shielding them from the shadow curse, they could finally set up camp. After the night they'd spent in the cramped Last Light inn's basement, it felt almost luxurious.
With her newly upgraded engine stable, Karlach ran around the camp with Shadowheart on her shoulder. Shadowheart giggled like a schoolgirl, and Scratch chased them with a happy bark.
"I'm gonna braid a night orchid in your hair!" Karlach promised.
"Not the hair! Not the hair!" Shadowheart gasped, but she was laughing too.
Gale assumed the cooking duties. He was more quiet than usual, contemplative. Wyll sidled up to him.
"What are you making? Need a hand?"
"Just some stew," Gale shook his head. "I'll call you when it's ready."
"Everything alright?"
Gale chuckled.
"No, but what else is new?"
"Is this about..."
"Mystra? Yes. And I don't want to talk about it," Gale sighed. "I appreciate the concern, Wyll, but... I need to process it on my own first."
"Got it," Wyll nodded. "We'll be here for you when you're ready."
"Thanks."
Leaving Gale to his ruminations, Wyll walked towards Astarion's tent.
The vampire had his nose in a book, barely looking up when Wyll approached him. Wyll recognized the strange book they'd found back in a necromancer's basement a few days ago; they couldn't unlock it back then, but apparently Astarion managed somehow.
"Interesting reading?" Wyll asked.
"Riveting," Astarion made a face and closed the book with a loud thud. "I was hoping for something that would help me defeat Cazador, but this is just... nonsense. Gibberish."
"You can always ask Gale for help."
"Absolutely not."
"Alright." Wyll sat down next to Astarion. "I'm worried about my father. Hopefully, he's too important for the cultists to just toss him out into the thick of the curse..."
Astarion glanced at him askew.
"Must be nice, having someone to worry about."
"Did you have no one close to you? Before Cazador, in your old life."
"I don't remember much about my old life." Astarion sighed. "But that's not what you wanted to talk about, is it? You want to talk about your father."
Wyll laughed.
"Gods, no! He is a man I admire deeply, but far from my favorite subject. I just..." he reached for Astarion's hand and covered it with his own. "I wanted to talk to you. That's it."
Astarion laced his fingers with Wyll's. They were quiet for a long moment, listening to the rustle of dead grass in the wind.
"Wyll."
"Hm?"
"That night after we found Karlach..."
"Ah. I was wondering if you'd ever want to talk about it." Wyll turned to face Astarion. "Do you regret it?"
Shifting uncomfortably, Astarion retracted his hand from Wyll's.
"It's not that I regret it... entirely. But you have to understand, the things I did for him... it wasn't sincere. I still... it makes my skin crawl sometimes. And you deserve better. You deserve something real, not... this."
"You feel pretty real to me," Wyll smiled cautiously.
"You don't understand. It was an instinct - to seduce you, to... manipulate you into a tactical alliance. And I meant it when I said I didn't want to lose you, but... afterwards I still fell back into the old habit."
Wyll shrugged. His throat felt sore with the emotion he was holding back, but he couldn't blame Astarion for what happened. It wasn't Wyll's usual habit to fall in bed with someone he'd only met days ago, but with the tadpoles linking their minds it felt like they'd known each other for so much longer. He felt like he could trust Astarion... and if this conversation was anything, it was proof that Astarion cared, too.
So, maybe it wasn't a mistake after all.
"Old habits die hard," Wyll said. "Can't hold it against you."
They fell silent again, Astarion chewing at his lip and stealing glances at Wyll. Finally, he spoke up.
"So where does it leave us?"
"Depends on what you want. I care about you," Wyll said. "And I won't lie, you're an attractive man. If you don't want to be physically intimate with me, however, I'm not going to pursue you."
"I..." Astarion licked his lips nervously. "I just don't know how to be anything else."
Wyll looked at the wide expanse of dead land before them.
"I have an idea." He got up and offered Astarion his hand, smiling as charmingly as he could. "Would you like to dance?"
Astarion's eyebrows shot up.
"Dance? Without music?"
"I have a music box in my pack. Well?" Wyll did a short experimental two-step. "Come on! It doesn't have to be all doom and gloom."
Crossing his arms, Astarion huffed.
"I'm trying to be serious with you here, and you turn it into a mockery?"
"I'm dead serious," Wyll assured him. Then, dropping the smile, he looked Astarion in the eyes. "Let me show you another way to connect, and maybe we can find something that works for both of us. Unless... you do know how to dance, don't you?"
"Of course I know how to dance!" Astarion bolted to his feet immediately. "I'm not some kind of savage!"
"Great!" Wyll grinned. "I'll get the music box."
When the setup was complete and they assumed their positions, their eyes met. Astarion decidedly stuck up his nose at the whole affair, but Wyll's enthusiasm was infectious enough to make Astarion's eyes slowly start twinkling with mirth as the dance went on. Soon they moved from a simple ballroom dance to something more intimate; Wyll held Astarion in his arms, and Astarion leaned close, putting his forehead on Wyll's shoulder.
"You were right," the vampire whispered. "This is... nice."
Wyll finished the dance with a chaste, delicate kiss. Astarion let him, and when Wyll moved to part, Astarion's hand lingered on him.
"We'll find our own way through this," Wyll promised. "And this? This is real."
"I'll remember that," Astarion said.
They didn't share a tent that night, but Wyll felt the warmth from where he'd held Astarion for a long time.
*
Learning that Astarion's scars were an Infernal contract was a surprise.
"You're not bound by it," Wyll reassured him. "We can still change the outcome."
"If it wasn't for the tadpole, I'd be already dead," Astarion whispered, his eyes unseeing. "I would have never seen the sun again."
"Not a lot of sun around these parts," Gale noted, but Wyll shushed him.
"Not now, Gale."
Astarion didn't seem to hear them. Lost in thought, he stared down at his hands.
"Hey," Wyll gently took Astarion by the wrist. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."
Astarion still didn't say anything.
*
When "Zariel's asset" turned out to be Mizora herself, Wyll was tempted to just flush her down the drain and be done with it all. They had to fight so much through the darkness, the twisted, the disgusting, the heartbreaking, that for a tiny moment all Wyll wanted was an escape into the nothingness, to be turned into a pile of ash and never witness another horror again.
Then Astarion boldly hit the "unleash" button, and in that moment Wyll knew he loved him.
"I'll release you from the pact," Mizora promised. "In six months."
It was more of a claim to freedom than he had ever accomplished before, and it was all thanks to Astarion remembering some obscure folk tale and threatening Mizora when she laughed at his first attempt.
"Well, I'll be damned," Karlach patted Wyll on the back. "Never thought I'd see Mizora losing a bargain."
"She hasn't lost yet," Wyll said. "Six months is plenty of time to weasel out of a promise. But it's better than no hope at all."
Astarion flipped his hair.
"You're welcome."
Without thinking, without hesitation, Wyll grabbed and kissed the hapless vampire, forgetting their audience and their surroundings, and everything else. He just knew that he was in love, and Astarion was the best thing that happened to him.