Chapter Text
All his life, Wyll had always felt like he was missing something.
Not that he was ungrateful for all he had; it was more of a phantom limb feeling, really. As if there was someone he used to know and now they were no longer in his life. The thing with that was that he didn’t know who he used to know; he didn’t know if it was even real or if it was something he dreamt about and carried in his waking moments.
That was the other thing: Wyll had a lot of strange dreams. Sometimes, he dreamt that he was a monster hunter, chasing minotaurs, dragons, and devils along a medieval coastline. Sometimes, he dreamt of chasing his best friend Karlach through a fiery hellscape, though in those dreams she had red skin, a tail and one horn. Some nights, he dreamt of trying to find ways to go against a brain the size of a city.
Karlach didn’t have those dreams, even though she featured prominently in his. When they were younger, she said it was because he wanted to be a hero, so he daydreamed of a time when he could be one. As they got older, she started to suspect drugs, but as an aspiring MP, that was something he never touched.
“Could be all the stress of working to become an MP,” she said. “Maybe you should do drugs.”
His father used to say it was because he had an overactive imagination. But now that he was in his mid-20s, Wyll wasn’t sure it was still because of his overactive imagination. When he thought hard about it, the dreams almost felt like they were memories.
But when would he have had time to be a monster hunter? Unless, of course, this was another life. Which was quite impossible, really. Reincarnation couldn’t possibly be real, and a world where dragons roamed couldn’t possibly exist.
Yet the dreams kept coming. Amidst the dreams of monster hunting and slaying, he kept dreaming about a group of strangers who travelled with him. Among them was an elf with long brown hair and mismatched eyes: one brown, one blue. In those dreams, Wyll knew he loved him. This elf, more than anyone he had seen in these dreams, evoked in him the sense that he was missing something. Someone.
But elves weren’t real, and certainly not charming ones who knew all the ways to make Wyll smile.
--
In his dreams, he found the love of his life. He wondered if such a person existed for him now.
--
Now that he was working in the hallowed halls of Parliament, Wyll found himself so busy he couldn’t even find the time to really think. This was a good thing: it meant he couldn’t dwell on that feeling of missing someone he didn’t know. He was so busy and tired that he didn’t even dream these days. Another boon, really, because it meant not meeting the strange group of people in his dreams.
Wyll was set on becoming an MP one day; for now, he worked as chief of staff for one of them, but one day, he’ll have his own team. His own chief of staff. He was going to introduce the bills he knew would help the communities in this country. He was going to do better.
“Cas, I swear to god, if you turn down another wrong hallway I will fucking gut you,” Wyll heard someone say as he turned down the hall, eyes down at the stack of papers in his hands.
“It’s not my fault I’ve only ever been here two times.”
“Yes, it’s your fault for having a bad sense of direction.”
Wyll looked up in time to see two men hurrying past him. He squinted at their backs: they sounded familiar. Maybe he’d met them before. That was the thing about working in government: one met so many people that it felt like you knew everyone.
The tall one with silver grey curls - Wyll was certain he’d met him before. He must be a lawyer if he was heading towards the hearing hall. The shorter man had chestnut brown hair kept in a low bun. Wyll wasn’t sure if they’d met before.
--
Wyll wanted to laugh at the sheer impossibility of the moment he now found himself in.
As he walked into the hearing hall, the two men who passed by him turned toward him, freezing him in his tracks.
He knew them. He’d seen them in his dreams. They were the strangers he travelled with.
Wyll simply stood there, blinking at them. His boss chuckled to himself.
“Good morning, folks. This is my chief of staff Wyll Ravengard; you may have exchanged a few emails and calls,” MP Delaney said, gesturing toward him. Wyll cleared his throat.
“Oh yes, of course,” the taller man said. He held a hand out, which Wyll took to shake. “Yes, well it’s good to put a face to the name, hm? I’m Astarion Ancunín - here to speak on the grocery price increases.”
Astarion gestured to the younger man beside him. One blue eye, one brown. His ears weren’t the same elven ears: they were rounded like his, but he looked entirely the same as he did in Wyll’s dreams, even down to the last freckle.
“And this is my paralegal Castien Balston.”
Wyll shook his hand, and it felt like for the first time in his life, everything was right in the world.