Chapter Text
Baldur’s Gate is about as busy and loud as Rana remembers it to be. She can feel the sun on her pink skin, smell the various food wafting from the vendors only a few feet away. But her attention isn’t on the mouth-watering aroma nor the warm sun- instead, her eyes are locked on the small tucked away shop just beside Beehive General Goods.
And her mind is already working.
Wyll stands a few feet away, seemingly occupied with a weapons vendor showcasing a few silver swords at his stand. He looks… rather tired in the sunlight, heavy eye bags resting below his soft, kind eyes. His shoulders, usually held high, have a slight slump to them, even in the city of his people.
It’s been a rough few days. Discovering the true identity of the Wyrm below the fortress, finding Wyll’s father, and severing his pack had taken their toll.
Like he’d said. It was a mixed mess of emotions and Rana hasn’t quite had the chance to sit down and talk about things.
They’d barely even gotten a decent night's rest since his world has crashed down around him.
“Ah, the Rose-Petal Day Spa,” Gale sounds out, only inches away with his arms crossed over his robes. “They have a sister location back in Waterdeep. Rather well versed when it comes to deep-tissue massages.”
Rana looks over at him with a frown. Despite all this time spent traveling, he still managed to surprise her. “You recommend?” she asks.
“Oh yes,” Gale responds, “honestly, if we weren’t in such a rush, I’d be first in line for––”
Rana cuts him off rather easily, shuffling for the pouch sitting on the hip of her leather armor. She pulls out a decent handful of coins, turning back to Gale with a shove of the pouch to his chest.
“Sorcerous Sundries,” Rana states firmly, “I don’t care what you buy or what you do, but don’t bother us for two hours.”
“Wh- Us?” Gale stammers, grabbing the pouch slowly.
“Wyll!” Rana calls, already turning her back to the wizard, careful to give him a gentle shove away. “A moment?”
The man in question, her love, walks over easily, his hands curled by his sides and a tilt of his head. Gale thankfully gets the hint, stepping back and away as Wyll furrows his brows.
“My love,” he starts, “where is Gale–”
“I have– no, no,” Rana cuts herself off with a shake of her head, her palm wrapping around Wyll’s as she opts to guide him closer to the building ahead, “just follow me.”
He stammers but abides all the same, wide mismatched eyes locked ahead at the sight of the building ahead. His confusion is rather adorable but Rana knows better than to try to force his hand into anything potential… upsetting.
It wasn’t like Wyll was very comfortable in his body quite yet.
“Rana?” he calls, brows still furrowed as they come to a stop just ahead of the wooden door. “Rose-Petal Day Spa? Even I haven’t stepped foot inside. What are we doing here?”
Rana manages a weak smile. “It’s um, it's a way to try and relax,” she answers slowly, “for you to relax.”
His confusion only seems to grow. “Relax?” he repeats, “my sun, I assure you––”
“You deserve this,” Rana cuts in, “just- just something small. You need this.”
Her argument isn’t very strong and Rana’s not too sure where her sudden insecurity sprouts from. She’s not exactly one to keep quiet and not voice her thoughts, yet here, standing beside Wyll in the sunlight, she finds herself second guessing herself.
“I don’t know about a massage,” Wyll mumbles quietly, looking back up at the sign, “that… I’d reserve for a more private evening.”
“Of course, they offer other things! I’m sure of it!” Rana replies, standing back upright and daring to slide her smaller hand into Wyll’s––– physical affection between them was a norm at this point, but the public element still left them both rather shy.
Wyll shifts the weight on his feet, turning to Rana. “Will you get something as well?” he asks.
Rana’s thoughts halt to a stop. “What?”
There’s a smile on Wyll’s lips. “The sign reads they offer horn treatments,” he states with a small grin. “What do you say?”
No.
Well, that’s Rana’s immediate, mental response. The thought of being so… vulnerable is nauseating to say the very least. But Wyll’s eyes are big and filled with a hope that she had sworn to never dim.
She sets her jaw, looking at the sign of the shop before caving in with a nod.
“Yes, sure, fine,” she whispers, clearing her throat. “I think… It'd be nice. You can have your first ever real treatment done on your horns.” Not that Rana had ever had her horns treated with anything more than the cheapest of greases and oils either.
Wyll’s smile falters ever so slightly. “Let’s hope they don't mind working with horns like mine,” he mumbles.
There’s a double meaning, an anxiety to his words, one Rana is all too familiar with. She knows the darker parts of his mind, his fears and insecurities, his anxieties regarding his appearance and changed shape.
There’s not much Rana can do to convince him of his beauty and his good-nature–– to remind him that despite all the trials and all the pain, he is and always would be nothing short of a hero to those who knew him.
Not as the Blade of Frontiers nor as the son of an arch-duke, but as Wyll.
“If they give us any trouble, I’ll kill them,” Rana answers with a squeeze of his hand, shooting him a sly smile before swinging open the door.
“Rana– Rana, no!” Wyll laughs out as she pulls him forward and through the doorway of the spa.
Rana hangs onto every note of his laugh.