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For the most part, Wyll had the adventuring thing sorted. Maybe more than sorted, if he let himself have a moment of pride.
It wasn’t like he had much else to be proud about. He was a disowned, disgraced son and a literal devil these days- so forgive him if he enjoyed diving headfirst into trouble if it meant some poor wretch had a marginally better day. Having said that, Moonrise Towers had been a struggle, even by his standards. And the standards of everyone else in their travelling party.
After a couple weeks on the road, they’d found something of a rhythm. Gale and Halsin got on well, Lae’zel flitted between groups and threatened murder in a way that became strangely endearing, Shadowheart did her cleric-ing and existential crisis-ing, and Wyll had his own companions.
Karlach, who could break a brick over her knee without flinching, who was also the perfect tonic for a troubled soul.
It was a little difficult to sit in melancholy when a fiery tiefling was actively cheering you up. She wasn’t the only one who wished she could touch others- Wyll, (and likely Astarion,) were increasingly enamoured with her. These days, they shared tents more often than not, and company even more so.
Even Astarion was a little less sharp.
Well, he was still a razor wit, and as Karlach put it, ‘one hell of an over-coiffed bitch,’ but even his easy antagonism and endless complaining had a softer edge to them.
Not that he would ever admit that, of course.
Wyll loved the evenings they spent together- truthfully, it was the most at-ease he’d felt since childhood. And he had a tadpole in his brain. Whether it was a quiet night in or a rowdier affair with a few goblets of something strong, he could think of no-one else he’d rather have at his side.
Not that things weren’t dire, on occasion- a storm was brewing over soul coins, every last one of them had the threat of the Absolute poised at their throats like a blade, and none of them ever slept a full night.
At least they weren’t alone.
Being the Blade Of The Frontiers had many perks. He found a purpose for himself, and a reason to put one foot after the other when nothing in the world seemed righteous or golden anymore. For a desperate village or injured person, he could lay aside his hurt and take up a sword, and that, more than anything else, kept him going.
Karlach found his dedication to heroism adorable, and Astarion found it amusing. To a degree, at least. Even then, he suspected that it was yet another wall in front of a genuine feeling.
‘Really, darling, aren’t you taking this ‘dashing romantic hero’ thing a little far?’ Astarion said, pouring out another drink.
‘I find that a little theatrically adds rather a lot to an otherwise dull journey.’ Wyll replied.
Karlach scoffed. ‘Dull? Mate, we fought off goblins literally an hour ago.’
‘And they were rather gamey.’ Astarion rolled his eyes.
‘Take it from a weary traveller,’ Wyll put his hand on Astarion’s shoulder in a way that was equal parts comforting and patronising. ‘All the tent-pitching and battling can get very monotonous without a bit of cheer.’
As Wyll hoped, Astarion swatted his hand and grinned. ‘Only you could find a battle dreary.’
‘Yeah! Good way to get the blood pumping, y’know?’ Karlach added.
‘Our dear barbarian is right. And besides, we are merely a merry band of miscreants with no wider emotional attachment or personal stakes outside of survival. Well, I suppose you two are good for the occasional chat, if nothing else.’
‘How gracious of you.’ Wyll said as Karlach laughed.
‘It is, isn’t it?’
‘Aw, come on, Fangs, let the man have a little daydream.’ Karlach grinned.
‘Oh, alright. Though I bet you he still believes in soulmates and destiny and all that tosh.’
Wyll swirled his wine thoughtfully. ‘Hmm. Destiny, yes. Heroism and glory, yes. Soulmates, not so much.’
Astarion raised his eyebrows. ‘Colour me shocked.’
‘Yeah, I’m with Astarion, soulmates seem like something right up your alley.’
‘I’m all for romantic tales, but soulmates is pushing it. Out of all the people across the world, living or dead or something else, I’m supposed to believe that one is my true love? Seems a little far-fetched.’
‘So does having a tadpole living in your brain.’ Astarion took a sip.
Something occurred to Wyll. ‘You know, Astarion, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were for soulmates.’
He made a sound like an outraged peacock. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous.’
Karlach caught on and said, ‘You’re blushing.’
‘It’s the wine.’
She laughed. ‘If you wanted to be the damsel, mate, you need only ask. I can’t exactly scoop you up and waltz into the sunset- not unless you fancy being cooked alive- but I’m sure Wyll can make up for that.’
Wyll raised Astarion’s hand to his lips and gave it an exaggerated kiss. ‘Could such a thing be true? Our very own Astarion Ancunin is a dreamer? A romantic?’
Karlach feigned swooning. ‘Be still my beating furnace!’
‘I’m drinking both of you dry in your sleep.’ Astarion seethed, definitely blushing.
They dropped the subject, but saved that particular tidbit of information for later ribbing. They had to take whatever entertainment they could get in these trying times. And Astarion was hilarious when he was outraged.
Eventually, their travelling companions yelled at them from their own tents to go to bed instead of keeping the rest of them awake, and they settled in for the night.
It was familiar, now. The heat of Karlach and her snores, Astarion lying like a corpse in a casket until he wanted attention, and even the manoeuvring it required to sleep comfortably with a pair of horns growing out of his skull.
Wyll had always been a light sleeper. That was how he’d gotten the advantage over Astarion after their initial midnight snack incident, after all.
So it didn’t surprise him when he woke up to the sound of whispering. Judging by the darkness, it had barely been a few hours since he’d first drifted off, and judging by the voices, it was merely Karlach and Astarion instead of particularly inept enemies sneaking into camp.
‘I still say you’re a romantic, Fangs.’ Karlach said sleepily.
‘I will forever deny it.’
‘Oh, I know that, but I’ll never let you forget it. Speaking of which, I haven’t had to find a different place to kip because I heard some funny noises coming from the tent, if you get my meaning.’
Wyll was glad it was too dark for them to see him blush.
Clearly thinking Wyll was still asleep, Astarion said; ‘I did try. He’s too chivalrous. And, between you and me, a little shy.’
‘Maybe it’s better if you two don’t get too cosy. Wouldn’t want to be left on my own, would I?’ She replied.
‘Never. We would give you to Shadowheart and Lae’zel as a wedding present.’
If Wyll hadn’t already been awake, Karlach’s laugh would’ve woken him up. She didn’t really have much control over her volume. He found it endearing.
‘Hush!’ Astarion said through laughter of his own. ‘He needs his beauty sleep!’
‘Does he really, though? That fella’s too handsome for his own good.’
‘And I suppose I’m an ogre in comparison.’
‘You’re pretty and you know it, you insufferable leech.’
‘Oh well, if you insist, I suppose I am rather above average in the looks department.’
‘I’m going to get a few winks before I stay up all night talking to you. Again.’
‘Can I help it if you love my company?’
‘Goodnight, Astarion.’
‘Sweet dreams, darling.’
There was a whole thirty seconds of silence. Wyll thought they’d either dropped dead or fallen asleep. Then Astarion whispered;
‘He is handsome, isn’t he? If I’m being honest- don’t get used to it- he’s the sort of fairytale prince I would’ve dreamed of marrying-’
Wyll felt his heart skip a beat.
‘When I was about thirteen.’ He finished, because he was Astarion.
The man could never just admit that he experienced emotions outside of bloodlust and regular lust. Gods only knew why Wyll carried such a fondness for him. Well, he wasn’t alone in that. He imagined that Karlach would have invited him to make their own funny noises in the tent if she wasn’t literally on fire.
It was a strange arrangement they found themselves in.
But the three of them had a connection, he was sure of it. Beyond being drawn together by fate to fight a squid and sharing their thoughts via parasite, anyway.
Wyll sighed, and tried to fall back asleep.
They were meant to be checking out Moonrise Towers in the morning.