#grand duke wyll Ravengard

[moonselune]

You guys this takes a lot.

But it’s important that I admit when I am wrong. This may take a lot of you by shock, others will probably be yelling at their screens. And it’s a reaction I understand - deserve even.

There I was mourning my lack of Karlach act 3 romance scene, deciding to finish my romances ascended Astarion run. This is a run I did where I did the unthinkable and killed karlach to get that sick ass robe. Anyway, and as you do, I killed Ansur but haven’t saved Ulder from the iron throne yet, and of course Wyll is still human. And I had him sign away his dads life bcs I’ll save him later (my tav has a moral compass of a yo-yo)

WYLL’S DIALOGUE AFTER KILLING ANSUR HOLY FUCK

I have only ever sent him off to avernus but something about human wyll saying he can’t wait to become grand duke, to manipulate the citizens’ wills, to defeat enemies with a single threat, to watch them bend their knee for him.

No remorse for his father, not even a mention.

…

I was wrong guys Wyll belongs in the Dark AU.

[shewolfofvilnius]

I just discovered Wyll's post-proposal "What am I to you?" dialogues CHANGED compared to Act 2/most of Act 3. Since the dialogue box option hadn't changed I assume his reply hadn't changed BUT IT DID and oh my dear sweet gods I am FERAL for this man

ESPECIALLY the Blade version.

[beesxrated]

A Noble Exercise

Tav x Wyll wedding with some spice. 🪻

The wedding starts out with an orange sun just above the horizon. The house is buzzing with energy and excitement. You never get to catch a glimpse or hear anything about Wyll. As all of the preparations begin getting finished your palms start to sweat. After all your time fighting the cultists and your years in Avernus this is the most nervous you've been. All that time you had several friends and allies who knew exactly what you were going through and may have been going through the same. Now, however, it's just you and Wyll. Some of your friends are still by your side, but none of them are married, let alone in a long term relationship.

The long flowing sleeves of your dress begin to frustrate you as you try to keep your hands busy. You angrily throw the train over your shoulder and push the fabric up. You would be more comfortable getting married in your armor. Karlach bursts through the door at the perfect time. You were just about to change into your usual armor.

She grabs you with tears in her eyes, "You look so beautiful."

Her hug is extremely tight and you can't manage any words. When she finally releases you she sees how distraught you are. She immediately goes into Momma K mode. She brushes your hair and puts it out of your face. She tells you all the things she's heard about Wyll getting ready and how nervous everyone is saying he is. Hearing how Wyll is as nervous as you are, makes you feel a little less scared.

When the time comes you make your way down the aisle. Halsin agreed to marry the two of you. Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard agreed to walk you down to Wyll, seeing as you had no family left. Gale, Minsc, and Lae'zel stand next to Wyll. Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion stand on the other side.

When you pictured your wedding growing up, you never imagined a vampire or githyanki being your most important people, let alone marrying a well-known folk hero. You'd always pictured a comment that had smitten you, made you feel as though you were some sort of noble. Wyll thought writing vows to each other would be more personal and fit the life you have and will continue to lead. It's another thing you never thought about when you were younger.

When Halsin finally reaches the vows it's your turn first, "I promise to dream with you, to build a family with you and to encourage you. I admire you. Simply because of your kind soul, tender heart, and positive mindset. I especially appreciate your endearing sense of humor. I am ever so grateful for your love and selflessness. In return, I offer these promises. I promise to always be your perfect dancing partner."

"Love is a word that is much too soft and used far too often to ever describe the fierce, infinite and blazing passion that I have in my heart for you. Falling for you wasn't falling at all—it was walking into a house and knowing you're home. Everything in me recognizes your heart as my home and your arms, my shelter. Your youth may fade away, but your smile will always remind me of that time I first saw you in the moonlight at the teifling party." Wyll says it all so effortlessly. He somehow pours the love he has for you into every word.

The rest of the ceremony and kiss feels rushed and it begins to make your head spin. The party is about to begin and you have barely been able to sit down. The moment your lips parted everyone was pushed to the ballroom. You see the sun is just an hour above the horizon. Has the day really been that fast?

You and Wyll dance and meet all the guests, many of whom he knew growing up. The two of you barely have time to talk with lines waiting to congratulate you when you take a break from the dancing. Wyll's hand stays interlocked with yours and squeezes when he notices how tired you are.

When the party is finally over the moon is almost at its peak in the sky. You make your way to your room, Wyll follows close behind. You turn to him and he shuts the door quickly behind him. As he begins to strip you give him a pointed look. It's been a long day, you haven't been planning on any sort of extra curricular activity.

Once he gets down to his undergarments he sighs and flops onto the bed, "Do you need help with your dress?"

"Yes, I just..." You drop your arms to your side, "I don't have the energy to do... Anything..."

He jumps up and begins unlacing your dress, "I was not looking for sex if that's what you mean. It's been too long of a day. I just want to hold you, make you feel less stressed." He pulls the dress off your shoulders and falls to the floor, "I am happy to wait for morning, or however long it takes."

Wyll pulls you down to the bed and holds you close to his chest. With little effort the two of you fall asleep. In the morning you feel more refreshed and rested. Wyll is awake next to you, reading a book. You shuffle over and lay on his chest.

"Good morning, myn lykyng." Wyll smiles down at you.

You lean up and kiss him. As you try to pull away he follows you. His hand cups your face as he attempts to place the half read book on the table. But when you hear a loud thud you know he's missed. He follows you all the way onto your back. The tension between the two of you begins to grow as he kisses you deeply, placing his hips between your legs.

He pulls away quickly, "Is this okay?"

You nod before pulling his lips back to yours. The two of you agreed to doing nothing physical for three months before the wedding. It was hard, but it's not like you actually had sex with each other. You touched and that was about it. Not from lack of trying, but in the Hells simply touching was hot enough.

He pulls away and rips the remaining clothes you had on, off. His lips feel as hot as the Hells as they make their way down your stomach. His tongue pushes into you, his nose grazing your clit. He seems surprisingly good since he'd never done it before.

He begins to slow his movements and pulls away, "Is that good?"

"Yes." You laugh as he gets back to it.

You grip his horns to guide him to the right movements. He's a fast learner and soon you're holding on for your sanity. He pulls away for a few moments, kissing your thighs. His teeth graze your skin. He continues kissing your tights and up to your hips, causing you to beg.

"Wyll." You moan and try to redirect his head using his horns, "Please."

He smiles into your hip bone before plunging back between your legs. You see him moving more than he was before and he groans into you. You pull at his horns asking for more friction. Wyll pulls his face away and climbs you. He rubs against you, letting you feel how aroused he is through his underwear.

He drags a hand down his face quickly, places a kiss on your lips, and pulls off his underwear. You admire him kneeling in front of you before he pushes himself forward. It's slow and slightly painful as you get used to him. When you finally start taking pleasure from him he quickens his pace and strengthens his thrusts.

Wyll keeps his lips locked with yours as it all comes way too quickly to an end. He pulses inside you and you feel shaky under him. He holds himself above you, not wanting to collapse and hurt you, he slowly falls onto the bed next to you.

Wyll breaks the silence, "I like when you grab my horns."

"Oh?" You smile at him, never expecting him to enjoy that.

"I don't know how to explain it. It feels nice."

You reach over and stroke the smooth horn. He shivers at the touch. You wish you would've known before, it seems like a good way to tease him or even give him some sort of pleasure while he pleases you. You let your hand fall down and brush his hair from his face. He's let his hair grow out and curl. The curls extenuate his horns and for some reason you find it very attractive. In fact the aging he has done in the past few years has made him far more attractive to you. Nothing looks bad on him.

[box-dwelling]

Jaheira mentoring Grand Duke Wyll is actually so important to me actually.

[harpershigh-arch]

@faerunscursed

The shadows of Baldur’s Gate hung thick in the alleyways, the city rebuilt, but the scars ran deeper than stone. Jaheira moved like a ghost through the streets, her hood drawn low, blending with the darkness as she hunted the remaining Bhaalists that still defile the city. Three nobles already lay mauled in their beds. The dramatic flair of a ravaging beast tearing apart the ones who liked to carve people's flesh felt like a poetic retribution. Gruesome. Unceremonious. Savage. A fitting end for the willing followers of Bhaal. They had worn the masks of power and prestige, but underneath, they had been no better than the murder god they served. Tonight, her claws would find a fourth.

Suddenly, a foul stench reached her nostrils, sulfuric and hot. A deep growl reverberated from the shadows behind her, and Jaheira turned sharply, just in time to see three pairs of glowing red eyes.

Hellhounds.

Their forms were massive, fur black as night, tongues flicking with fire as they prowled forward. The first lunged without hesitation, snapping jaws coming far too close. Jaheira rolled, her body twisting just out of reach, her heart pounding. She cursed herself for wasting too much of her druidic magic in her last kills — if she hadn't, now she could simply turn into a crow and fly away. 

Without other choice, she darted into the narrow alleyways, hoping to lose them in the labyrinth of the city, but they were relentless, their snarls echoing closer and closer behind her. Her breath was becoming harsh, ragged. The city she once called home now felt like a cage. She knew these streets, had fought and bled for them. But now, she was being hunted in the very place she had sworn to protect.

Jaheira slid around a corner, only to find herself at a dead end where it shouldn't be one. The newly built buildings loomed high above, and the sounds of the hounds were growing closer, their claws scraping the cobblestones as they closed in.

Trapped.

She spun, her eyes darting for any escape route, but there was none. The hellhounds stalked forward, fire curling from their nostrils, cornering her like prey. Her hand tightened around her weapon, muscles coiled like a spring, ready for one last fight.

For a moment, she allowed herself to feel it — the weight of it all. The constant battle, the unending cycle of death. Three Bhaalists already dead by her hand. But for what? Another would rise. Always another.

She gritted her teeth, fury and exhaustion turning into one single thing inside her. She wouldn’t die here — not like this, cornered by some hell-spawned hounds. But the odds were grim, and she knew it.

"Come then," she hissed through clenched teeth, raising her blades. "Let’s see if your masters will miss you when you’re gone."

She barely had time to cast Barkskin before the first hound lunged. Her skin hardened like tree bark, and she sidestepped, bringing down her scimitar in a wide arc. The blade found its mark, cutting deep into the creature’s side, but the second one was already closing in.

Flames erupted from its maw as it snapped at her. Jaheira threw up her hand, casting Absorb Elements just in time to shield herself from the searing heat, but the force of it knocked her back. She staggered, feeling the burn on her arm despite the spell, but she couldn’t stop. The third hound was circling now, waiting for its chance to strike.

With a grunt, she raised her hand, roots and vines bursting from the ground and wrapping around the second hound’s legs, yanking it off balance, buying her precious seconds. The first hound charged again, but this time she was ready. Her scimitar fell with all her strength, and cleaved the beast’s head from its body.

A scream tore from her throat as fire ripped through her side — the third hound had bitten deep, its jaws locked on her. She slams her elbow into its head. It released its grip just long enough for her to call down another spell, and the sky roared as a bolt struck the creature, turning it to ash.

The second hound was on her now, the vines no longer holding it. She swung wildly, her scimitar clashing with its teeth. Every breath was agony, every move slower than the last. Blood ran down her side, mixing with the dirt beneath her feet. The hound’s claws raked her leg, its maw opened, ready to tear her neck. She gritted her teeth, summoning the last of her strength. With a desperate lunge, she plunged her blade deep into the creature’s throat.

It collapsed, twitching, its fire finally extinguished. Jaheira stood over the fallen beasts, panting, flesh painfully burnt and blood soaking her clothes. She staggered, barely able to stand, her vision swimming. The battle was over, but she was dangerously close to following the hounds into the darkness.

Jaheira slumped against the cold wall, each breath a ragged pull of pain. Her vision blurred as she stared down the darkened alley, where a figure appeared at the distance, its silhouette tall and unhurried, like death itself drawing near. Panic flared in her chest, but her body refused to move, exhaustion overtaking her limbs. She blinked, trying to focus, but her strength was fading fast. As the figure stepped closer, the world around her dimmed, the weight of her wounds pulling her until, with one final breath, everything went black.

[alisha-is-sorry-for-the-emperor]

I liked it. Though I also think Wyll deserved at least one quest to himself, he would always put his own needs last and delay his quest until everyone else had finished theirs and the Brain was defeated. I like the way the themes and motifs of Ansur and Balduran echo in Wyll. He's a hero corrupted, in much less important ways than Balduran and Ansur, but it foreshadows the wider corruption of one of the party having to become a mind flayer (unless you want to condemn the githyanki to everlasting tyranny. I want to save the Emperor but...). And the horror of that decision. It's also interesting considering the Grand Duke Wyll Ravengard ending. Which is a "good" ending, and there's nothing strictly wrong with it and I expect Wyll will be a conscientious and good ruler compared with any of the alternatives, but... do we think Wyll will really be happy? Knowing that Balduran got bored, fucked off and got turned into an abomination puts a twist on that. Anyway, mostly I think it's fertile grounds for fanfic.

Hey, so quick question

Please explain your opinion either in the replies or tags

[shadydruid]

✨️I still keep faith in the old tales of love, the once-upon-a-times and the happily-ever-afters.✨️

All of the Origin Characters' cards are done, but the Baldur's Gate 3 Oracle Deck is far from being finished! I have ideas for at least 4 more cards!

[fallen-goldfishcracker]

Still on my Ulder & Wyll bullshit but like

I keep thinking of Ulder Ravenguard, sending away his only son at seventeen, and years later hearing of a hero with a fine rapier and mismatched, kind eyes and manners from a storybook, and thinking, demanding surely not. that cannot be my son. my son is a devil's servant. it cannot be. i have no son.

and then after seven long years meeting Wyll again, at Wrym's Rock through a mindflayer's thrall, and feeling something like relief, not at seeing him but at this cold surety that this boy, this man, this hero of the frontiers could not be his son, because his son was not this tall and old and sure-footed, and did not have curling horns and a devil red eye, and the rumors must be wrong, and this Blade must be a stranger.

And then Wyll looks at him, with such kind eyes- his mother's eyes still, even devil-tainted- and calls him "father", and he knows, he knows, and his son is here, so much older and wearier and stronger, too, and he's a hero and a man and by gods he's a monster and by gods he's his son.

[carryoncastiel]

May I kiss you?

[hades-in-bloom]

I didn’t have a confirmation that it’s canon before, but there we go LOL

(In the meantime, Wyll seems to be oblivious…)

I am haunted by the thoughts of Grand Duke Wyll and Vampire Lord Astarion competing for the influence over Baldur’s Gate’s elites.

Until I can write a blurb about it, I’ll just keep whining.

[eluvianarts]

Endgame Wyll, a prince among men!

[moonselune]

Dark!BG3 | Grand Duke Wyll Catch up P.1

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Coercion, arson, murder, manipulation, mentions of blood, corruption

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Found you ! :

After hiding from Wyll due to what he's become, what happens when he finally finds you?

The Sword Coast's rugged beauty provided a stark contrast to the turmoil that churned within you. Having fled from Baldur's Gate, you had been traveling with desperate determination, evading the Flaming Fists and Wyll's forces with every resource and trick you could muster. The constant vigilance was wearing, but the thought of what you were leaving behind—the corruption, the cruelty, the betrayal—drove you forward.

Your journey took you through the winding roads and dense forests. It was in this desolate expanse that you came upon a scene that stopped you in your tracks: a house was ablaze, flames licking the night sky and sending sparks up like fiery stars. The frantic cries of a woman for help pierced through the crackling of the fire.

Despite knowing that Wyll was hot on your trail, the sight of the burning house and the woman's desperate pleas ignited something within you. You couldn't abandon her, not when you had the power to help. With a grim resolve, you dashed into the inferno, navigating through the smoke and searing heat. The oppressive heat seemed to claw at your skin, but you pushed through, finding the woman huddled in a corner, her face streaked with soot and tears.

With all your remaining strength, you lifted her and carried her out of the burning building. She was light, but the strain of the rescue was evident in your ragged breathing and trembling limbs. You made it outside, collapsing onto the grass as you set her down. Her relief was palpable, and she began to thank you profusely but her thanks were soon tinged with regret, and she crumpled at your feet.

"I'm so sorry," she cried, her voice trembling. "He made me do it, he said he’d send my husband off to war if I didn’t cooperate!"

Before you could fully process her words, she pulled out a small, glinting blade. With a swift motion, she nicked your arm, and a cold, numbing paralysis spread through your body. Your limbs became leaden, and despite your attempts to move, you found yourself completely immobilized, standing still like a statue.

The night’s tranquility was further shattered by the sound of horses approaching. Wyll appeared on horseback, his form silhouetted against the flames and moonlight. His expression was one of smug satisfaction, and his eyes gleamed with a cruel amusement as he surveyed the scene.

“Well done, my dear,” Wyll said, his voice smooth and mocking. “Such a wonderful performance. Truly admirable.”

The woman, now visibly shaking with fear, looked at Wyll with a mixture of hope and desperation.

“What about my house?” she asked, her voice cracking. “I have nowhere to live, you promised you would provide!”

Wyll smiled indulgently and gestured to a tall gentleman who stepped forward with a cold, detached demeanor.

“And I will,” Wyll said, his voice carrying an almost whimsical tone. “Worry not, dear citizen. This gentleman will ensure you find your way to your forever home.”

Before the woman could react, the gentleman drew his sword and struck her down with a swift, merciless motion. Her final scream was cut short, and she fell to the ground, her lifeless body now adding to the grim tableau of the burning house.

Wyll dismounted his horse, his gaze turning back to you with an almost tender smile. He approached, the firelight casting flickering shadows across his face, highlighting the cold satisfaction in his eyes. His fingers gently caressed your cheek, a chilling contrast to the warmth of the flames around you.

“Ah, my dearest,” Wyll said, his voice soft but laden with a sinister undertone. “How glad I am to finally have you back. You really shouldn’t have run, you know. It only made things more… exciting.”

You wanted to speak, to confront him with all the anger and betrayal you felt, but the paralysis rendered you mute. The horror of the woman’s death and the realization of your own helplessness weighed heavily on you. Wyll’s presence, so close and yet so far from the man you once loved, was both a comfort and a terror.

He smiled, the warmth of his gaze juxtaposed against the cruelty of his actions.

“It’s always been a game to me, you know,” he said, his fingers still tracing along your cheek. “A thrilling game of cat and mouse. And now, my love, the game is over.”

As his words sank in, you were overwhelmed by a sense of inevitability. The fight had left you, replaced by a resigned acceptance of your fate. Wyll’s power was absolute, and his twisted sense of justice had ensnared you in a web from which there was no escape.

With a final, lingering touch, Wyll pulled away and motioned for his men to assist. The paralysis left you unable to resist as they moved you, each step feeling like a cruel mockery of the freedom you had once sought.

As you were carried away, the light of the blazing house cast long shadows, and the realization that you were returning to Wyll’s domain settled over you like a heavy shroud. The night sky, once a symbol of your hope and escape, now felt oppressive and suffocating.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Found you (only just):

Wyll has you cornered, let him relish in these moments

Wyll Ravengard’s stallion stood still, its powerful frame casting a looming shadow over the desolate landscape as he surveyed the scene from a distance. The Grand Duke’s presence was imposing, his gaze sharp and unwavering as he watched you dart into the blazing house, as he had predicted. The firelight flickered and danced, casting an eerie glow across his face, illuminating his dark eyes with a predatory glint.

From his vantage point, Wyll had a clear view of your frantic movements. His mouth curled into a satisfied smirk as he took in the sight of you sprinting through the flames, driven by an instinctive compulsion to rescue the woman inside. It was a spectacle that brought a twisted thrill to him, one he watched with a mixture of amusement and dark delight.

The chase had invigorated him in ways he hadn't anticipated. When he had first discovered that you had fled from him, there had been an initial surge of frustration and despair. The reality that you had escaped, slipping through his fingers, had been an unwelcome blow to his otherwise meticulous control over his empire. His initial anger had simmered, but it was quickly replaced by a growing excitement. The pursuit, with all its dangers and uncertainties, had become an exhilarating game, a challenge that stirred a fierce competitiveness within him.

He leaned against the pommel of his saddle, his gloved hands gripping the reins with a relaxed confidence. The flickering light of the fire made his face appear both sinister and enthralling.

"How delightful," Wyll mused to himself, his voice a soft, velvety murmur carried away by the night air. “To think that you would be so impassioned, so driven to save someone even as you know you’re being hunted. It’s almost admirable, in a twisted sort of way.”

As you emerged from the house, the woman in your arms, Wyll’s smile widened. The scene was both dramatic and fitting—a perfect testament to the lengths you were willing to go to for others, and to his own mastery of manipulation. He took a deep breath, savoring the scent of the smoke and the heat from the fire, feeling the adrenaline of the hunt still coursing through him.

The sight of the woman’s desperate gratitude, followed by the cruel execution that followed, only heightened Wyll’s sense of satisfaction. He had orchestrated this with careful precision, knowing full well that you would be drawn into the scene.

With a flick of his reins, Wyll urged his horse forward, his eyes never leaving you. He could see the moment of realization dawning in your eyes, the paralysis rendering you powerless. The thrill of anticipation reached its peak as he approached, eager to finally confront you, to reclaim you from the brink of his carefully laid trap.

Wyll’s heart raced, but not from fear or exertion—his was the thrill of the predator on the verge of capturing its prey. He could almost feel the heat of the fire against his skin, the raw intensity of the moment heightening his senses. The thought of finally having you in his grasp, of experiencing your surrender and the tumultuous emotions that would follow, was almost intoxicating.

As he neared, Wyll’s expression softened into a cruel, yet affectionate smile. His eyes twinkled with a mixture of satisfaction and anticipation, eager for the final act of his twisted game. The night air seemed to thrum with the promise of what was to come, and he could hardly contain his eagerness to have you back, to relish every moment of the intricate power dynamic that had been so carefully constructed.

“I can hardly wait to have you back where you belong,” Wyll murmured to himself , his voice low and full of a darkly seductive promise. “The game has been exhilarating, but nothing compares to the satisfaction of having you right here, within my reach.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Back in my arms:

Now you have been found, Wyll enjoys having you back in his arms, even if you don't.

The carriage rattled along the cobblestone streets of Baldur's Gate, the rhythmic clatter a constant backdrop to your weariness. The day had been a marathon of public appearances: meetings with influential nobles, lavish balls, and extravagant banquets. Every smile you had forced, every polite word you had spoken, felt like a betrayal to your own heart. Each gesture had been meticulously practiced to maintain the illusion of a perfect, adoring spouse. It had been a punishment for your rebellion, a flex of control he had over you.

Wyll had promised that if you kept up appearances, doted on him like any loving spouse would he would cull his killing, be more fair, he promised. You couldn't risk lives on account of your disobedience.

Wyll sat beside you in the opulent carriage, his demeanor regal and composed, a stark contrast to the exhaustion etched on your face. His charm had dazzled throughout the day, but now, as the carriage made its way back to the palace, the veneer of public perfection was beginning to crack, revealing the toll it had taken on you.

You tried to maintain your composure, sitting upright and attempting to mask the fatigue that had begun to weigh heavily on you. The extravagant robes you wore felt like it was suffocating you, the layers of fabric adding to your discomfort. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy, the day's relentless schedule leaving you drained.

Wyll, ever observant, noticed your struggle. A faint, knowing smile played at the corners of his lips as he watched you fight to stay awake. His fingers absently stroked the plush seat of the carriage, a reflection of the casual ease he felt in his own surroundings.

“You look like you’ve had quite enough, my dear,” he murmured, his voice soft and velvety, tinged with a hint of amusement. “But I do so enjoy seeing you play your part so convincingly.”

Despite his teasing tone, there was a genuine warmth in his gaze. He reached out, his hand gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch tender and almost affectionate. The gesture was a reminder of the complex emotions that lurked beneath his authoritative exterior, a blend of possession and genuine care.

You tried to stifle a yawn, but it escaped despite your best efforts. The weight of the day's exertions was too much, and soon, your resistance faltered. With a final, weary sigh, you leaned against him, unable to fight the pull of sleep any longer. Your head found its way to his shoulder, and the moment you relaxed into his side, a deep, contented sigh escaped you.

Wyll’s smile softened as he felt the weight of your head on his shoulder. He adjusted his position slightly to make you more comfortable, his arm slipping around you in a protective embrace. He leaned his head closer to yours, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in a hushed tone.

“There it is,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. “This is how it’s meant to be. You, here beside me, where you were always meant to be. Perfectly in your place.”

His fingers gently stroked your arm, the touch tender and soothing. He watched with a mixture of satisfaction and tenderness as you slept, his heart swelling with a complicated blend of pride and affection. There was something deeply fulfilling about having you by his side, even if the circumstances were far from ideal.

Wyll’s eyes softened as he gazed at your peaceful expression. The public façade, the power plays and politics, seemed to fade into the background as he relished this private moment of closeness. The carriage’s swaying motion and the warmth of your body against his were reminders of the bond he had worked so hard to cultivate, even if it had required sacrifices.

“You see,” he continued, his voice low and intimate and as if you were paying attention to him, “despite everything, this—us—is exactly as it should be. I always knew you were meant to be mine. The world may change, and our roles may shift, but here, in this moment, we are exactly where we belong.”

He adjusted your position slightly, ensuring you were as comfortable as possible. As you slept soundly, Wyll’s gaze lingered on you, the satisfaction of having you close intertwining with a more profound sense of connection. The complexities of his rule and the sacrifices made were momentarily forgotten, replaced by the simple, tender reality of the moment.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Escape Attempt:

You try to escape - keyword, try.

The moonlight filtered through the heavy drapes of the palace’s chambers, casting long, haunting shadows on the walls. You had waited for the dead of night to make your move, seizing the moment when Wyll was occupied with his endless stream of duties. With the carriage parked safely away and the guards’ movements meticulously timed, you had slipped out of the palace with a mixture of hope and trepidation.

The streets were quieter at this hour, the usual bustle replaced by an eerie calm. You navigated through the shadows, your heart pounding with the anticipation of freedom. Every footstep felt like a victory, every turn away from the palace felt like a step toward reclaiming your autonomy. The city, which had once felt like a cage, now seemed like a maze you were desperate to escape.

But as you darted through the narrow alleyways, a chilling realization began to dawn on you. The streets, which had seemed so welcoming in their quietude, felt increasingly like a trap. The shadows seemed to move with a menacing purpose, and a disquieting silence hung heavy in the air. It was as though you were being watched, the sensation of being pursued more palpable than ever before.

Your breath quickened as you quickened your pace, but it was only a matter of moments before you were abruptly halted by the appearance of a figure emerging from the darkness. There, illuminated by the soft glow of a distant streetlamp, stood Wyll—composed, unruffled, and as impeccable as ever. He was mounted on a majestic steed, its dark coat gleaming under the moonlight, and his gaze was locked onto you with a mixture of amusement and something darker.

“You really should have stayed put,” Wyll said, his voice smooth and unhurried. “I do so hate having to chase you through the streets at this late hour, I would much prefer chasing you through the forest in the sunlight.”

Your heart sank, a mixture of resignation and anger flaring within you.

“How… how did you find me?” you demanded, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay composed.

Wyll’s smile widened, his eyes glinting with a mix of triumph and something that almost resembled affection.

“Oh, that’s the easiest part, my dearest. You see, I’ve been tracking you with a little help from my own personal magic. I did learn a thing or two from Mizora afterall.” He reached into the folds of his elegant cloak and produced a small vial, its contents glowing faintly with a dark crimson hue.

You stared at the vial, the sight of your own blood contained within it sending a shiver down your spine.

“Isn’t it just fantastic?” Wyll said, his tone dripping with mock enthusiasm. “A simple enchantment and this little vial are all I need to ensure you’re never too far out of my reach.”

The realization struck you like a cold wave. Wyll had been tracking you all along, his control over your every move a chilling testament to his power and obsession. You were nothing more than a pawn in his grand game, each escape attempt merely adding to his sense of superiority.

“You psychopath,” you spat out, your voice tinged with both anger and desperation. “You’re a monster.”

Wyll pouted dramatically, his eyes widening in faux hurt. “Oh, such cruel words spoken to your husband. I’m simply doing what’s necessary to keep things in order.”

He dismounted gracefully from his horse and took a step toward you, his presence imposing yet somehow still oddly charming. You tried to turn away, determined to escape him once more, but Wyll’s voice halted you.

“I wouldn’t turn your back on me if I were you,” he said smoothly, his tone a dangerous blend of charm and menace. “It would be such a shame if some dreadful illness were to spread through the prisons. You wouldn’t want to be the cause of so many innocent lives suffering, would you?”

You froze, the threat implicit in his words clear, Wyll’s veiled threat was enough to make you reconsider your escape. The thought of innocents suffering because of your actions weighed heavily on your conscience, the knowledge that you had inadvertently become a potential vector for disaster forcing you to rethink your resolve.

With a resigned sigh, you turned to face him, your eyes filled with a mixture of defeat and reluctant acceptance. Wyll’s smile was one of triumph, though he did his best to maintain an air of effortless charm.

“Good decision,” he said, his voice a blend of satisfaction and tenderness. “Come with me, and we’ll return to our home. After all, we wouldn’t want any unnecessary suffering, now would we?”

You moved towards him, the weight of his threat making every step feel like a reluctant surrender. As you walked beside him, Wyll’s demeanor shifted subtly, his gaze softening with a hint of genuine affection mingled with his usual possessiveness.

“Let’s not dwell on this unpleasantness,” he said, his hand lightly brushing against yours in a gesture that was both possessive and oddly comforting. “We have our lives, our roles, and our place in this world. All will be as it should be, and you will once again be by my side where you belong.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

There we go part one of the Dark!BG3 Wyll catch up, part two is on the way, let me know what you guys thing, I cherish every reblog and comment <3 - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[shewolfofvilnius]

Thinking abt writing a story about the day/night that Tav and Grand Duke Wyll wound up with their daughter Lily Aurora.

[dorindameddler]

this is the first time i've made wyll grand duke so i didn't know you could have him give the rousing speech at the high hall! also feat. astarion being a supportive boyfriend lol

[purplecatghostposts]

*Leans into mic* If Wyll never made a deal with Mizora and/or after he breaks his pact with her, I think he would make an excellent Bard and here’s why.

Wyll’s highest stat is Charisma, which Bards use to cast

Bards are full casters which means Wyll still gets to keep his spells AND get plenty of them!

Among the list of weapons a Bard is proficient with, a Rapier is among them

Bards are best known for their Bardic Inspiration and Wyll is the perfect companion to give this to because he’s already very encouraging and giving him a magical means of aiding people with said encouragement would be perfect

Wyll would get healing spells which means Shadowheart wouldn’t be the only Origin Companion with them on the team

Bards are a very supportive class and I just think Wyll would enjoy that, especially if this is after being a Fiend Warlock, a very self serving class. The change of pace would be something to get used to but probably welcomed

The Bard Subclasses Colleges of Valor and Swords would be extremely fitting for Wyll considering both deal with Bards being able to be more physical fighters so he could help out on the frontlines OR stay back and provide help from afar, making them very well rounded. (Personally I think he would make a great Valor Bard but Swords Bard is also great for him)

Wyll would get Vicious Mockery. He would be hilarious with it.

Bards don’t need to play instruments to be a Bard, they can both use their way with words to cast spells OR use other forms of art if they so wish. Not only is Wyll charismatic but he loves to dance. He could cast spells while he dances. It would look amazing

I just think Wyll would make for a good Bard. Look at him. He would enjoy the class immensely

Thank you for your time. All of this came to me after I was trying to figure out an AU in which Wyll never met/made a deal with Mizora and was trying to figure out his class. I know you could argue Paladin but they rely a lot on strength, which Wyll is not known for, and Bards are way better for Charisma and Dex! Plus Paladins are half casters and I think Wyll deserves MORE spells actually.

[robotbeetle]

Couldnt be bothered to take my drawing tablet out but i needed to scrawl my thoughts so have these rough sketches for an au where Wyll is an actual half-devil but Grand Duke Ravengard is still his father. I imagine the story behind that gets real messy and I’m so here for it.

At first it started off as a joke role-swap au where Wyll is the pact maker instead of the warlock but because Wyll isn’t Wyll without his good-nature, he’d be a chaotic good cambion who’d specifically pact with evil aligned characters to force them to do good as their patron. Then I stopped to think about the ramifications behind Wyll being a half-devil and realized how much that would solidify and expand his daddy issues. Also, Wyll with more devilish features would be hot.