In Their Hands
Summary: After Weisshaupt, Wyll and Davrin discuss Wyll's feelings for Lucanis.
Note: Had this in my drafts for a bit and need to post before I forget to again. Decided to write this while playing through my Wyll!Rook run, in which I've been romancing everyone for the experience.
Pairing(s): Wyll/Davrin, Wyll/Lucanis
Word Count: 1,635
"I don't get what you see in him."
Here they go.
Wyll fought back a grimace as he tried to keep up with Davrin's whittling, schooling his face into a blank expression while he slid his knife against the piece of wood.
Taken aback, Wyll decided to play dumb.
"What I see in who?" he asked, but he should have known better than to go for that approach, especially when Davrin was so clearly in the mood for games.
Dark brown eyes rolled skyward before settling on him once more.
"The Maker," Davrin deadpanned, his frown deepening. "You know exactly who I mean."
Right. Lucanis.
In the aftermath of Weisshaupt, things between the three of them remained tense, to say the least.
Wyll sighed.
"Dav—"
"I see how you look at him." His next slice was sharp, cutting in deep. "He was the first one you told the truth to."
Seriously. Was he still stuck on that?
"Out of necessity," Wyll said, nice and slow. "It was impossible to keep the truth hidden from Lucanis when Spite could quite literally sense that I'm not from here."
"See, and there's that," Davrin retorted. "For a monster hunter, you're very lenient towards that demon of his."
Oh, so they were going there now? Great. Fantastic!
When he felt his grip on his blade tighten, Wyll set aside both the wood and the knife before he could hurt himself.
"Because at least his demon can be reasoned with, unlike the devil I was stuck with for years!" Frustated, Wyll got to his feet, pacing restlessly back and forth along the length of Davrin's room. His tail whipped from side to side. "At least Spite doesn't twist everything you say and do against you to back you into a corner. At least he doesn't—" At least he didn't get some sick, twisted sense of satisfaction out of making Lucanis suffer. If anyone was the true villain in Lucanis's story, it was Zara, not Spite, and Wyll would stand by that. He took a second to spare a look towards Davrin, then shook his head at him in a huff. "You just don't understand."
Before he could leave, Davrin followed his lead, setting aside his own work in order to grab Wyll by the arm on his way out the door. He tried to meet his eye, but Wyll refused to do so, his brow furrowed and lips pursed.
"Then make me understand," Davrin told him, but that push only caused Wyll to snap.
"How can I?!" he demanded to know, shaking free of his touch. "How can I possibly make you comprehend what it feels like to be put through the worst torture in your life, only to come out the other side of it, changed against your will, not only mentally and emotionally, but physically as well?"
Even for his friends back in Faerûn, more often than not, they seemed to forget that his devilish features had not been the entirety of his punishment for defying Mizora. No, they had simply been the cherry on top for her, a product of him being dragged through every layer of the Hells at her bidding, exposed to their pain, their torment. What had transpired in only a few minutes for them had been stretched out over a lifetime for Wyll.
"How can I put into words what it feels like when everyone bears witness to the manifestation of your darkest moments? What it feels like to have people treat you like a monster, to raise their nose up at you and act as if you are lesser than you ever were before."
Even now, when he was free of Mizora, even after he had learned to both accept and embrace this new look that she hadforced onto him, Wyll was not immune to the influence of those scars that sank deeper than the skin, down to the very depths of his soul.
He could hear the voices of all those who judged him before, every scathing remark from the Fist that denied him entry to his city to his own father, whose outlook had to be swayed with the use of an illithid tadpole, of all things.
So, yeah, Wyll gravitated towards Lucanis a lot, especially in their early days at the Lighthouse, because they both shared a bond that was built on seeing the man beyond the monster.
With a deep breath, Wyll went and flopped back down into his chair, massaging his fingers against his temple, right underneath his horn.
Davrin took the spot next to him again. And for a while, they stared silently out at the Fade.
Eventually, Davrin said, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
His caution was understandable, after all. In spite of their similarities, their lived experiences were still unique to them. It was only logical to assume that their perspectives would be shaped by that, and they were bound to be just as different at times.
"For what it's worth," Davrin continued, "I know what it feels like. To feel… inferior, in large part based on your appearance." Right, because, from Wyll's experience, elves in Thedas were treated quite differently compared to most elves in Faerûn. "Thing is, I got the opposite treatment. People only ever really showed me any kind of respect when I started slaying their monsters, even more so when I became a Warden. Other than that, what was I to them but another 'knife-ear'?"
Wyll grumbled.
"Well, they're all fools then," he said, "for not seeing what an incredible man you are."
"I know."
They both shared a laugh at that, followed by a small smile.
When Davrin reached out to brush a stray loc back behind Wyll's pointed ear, Wyll glanced down at his fingers, fidgeting with them while warmth rushed to his face.
"Look, you—you're not wrong. I do care about Lucanis," Wyll said, quick to go on before Davrin could get the wrong idea, "but I also care about you as well." Finally, he mustered up enough courage to make eye contact again, his head held high. "You're both important to me in different ways, and it might sound selfish on my part, but I don't want to lose either of you."
Never did he consider that he might have feelings for two people at once. All of the ideals of romance that he had cherished growing up centered on the concept of falling in love with the one, so where did he go from there when two people had his heart in their hands?
He didn't know if any of them were ready at that point to call it love quite yet, but he most certainly held a level of affection for both of them that went beyond mere friendship.
"You know," Wyll sighed, "I see how you treat him, and I can't help but wonder at times if that's how you would have treated me if I still had a devil whispering in my ear." Deep in thought, his face fell as his voice lowered into a soft whisper. "Or, had circumstances been different, if you would have taken one look at me and…"
And, what? Would have attacked him on the spot? Looked at him with disgust? Wyll didn't know which would have been worst.
At a loss for words, he trailed off, but Davrin refused to let him get too lost in his own head.
"I like to think that I would have given you a chance to prove yourself regardless, but who could say?" Davrin shrugged. "No point in stressing over hypotheticals that never have and never will happen, but what I can tell you for certain is this, Wyll Ravengard: No matter what comes next, you won't lose me. And believe it or not, I'm not going to make you choose between us." Dragging his hands down his face, Davrin chuckled bleakly under his breath. "Safe to say, there's enough grief to go around without forcing you to make a decision like that when faced with the end of the world."
Wyll sat back, allowing that to sink in. It was a practical approach, if nothing else, but—
"Do you think Lucanis will feel the same?"
"Truth be told, I don't know," Davrin said, peering over at him. "Only one way for you to find out, and that's to ask him yourself."
"Yeah," Wyll snorted, "easier said than done."
"Oh, please." Davrin shook his head at him with a playful grin. "That man would do anything you ask just to see you smile. Can't say I blame him."
"Okay, now you're exaggerating," Wyll muttered. When Davrin didn't immediately respond, he cocked his head to the side, curious as he narrowed his eye at him. "Right?"
Davrin hummed in amusement.
"What was it you told me that one time? That you wouldn't know a 'flirtation' if I whacked you alongside the head with it."
Wyll scratched idly at his beard.
"Huh, does sound like something I would say."
"Well, trust me when I say he's interested." While he talked, he went to gather their things. "Now, enough about Lucanis."
Once he returned to Wyll's side, he held Wyll's pitiful excuse for a wooden carving out to him, raising his brow at him.
"Come on, da'lath," Davrin encouraged. "Gotta sharpen those edges. It looks terrible."
Wyll grumbled but accepted his offering.
"Yeah, yeah, thanks for the support, I guess."
"What?" Davrin snickered. "You expect me to go easy on you?"
"No." Wyll ducked his head with a grin, focused on the task at hand. "I'd be upset if you did."
And as they set to work once more in a companionable silence, Wyll found peace in the fact that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay between the three of them.