#im feeling spawn astarion man

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Kidnapped Astarion

I have a very specific thing I can't stop thinking about. That involves Astarion getting kidnapped by Cazador for the ritual and him taunting him over the lie that Tav gave him away. Sold him even.

Tw: Lies, manipulation, mentions of torture, bad times had all around, it's long as fuck, betrayal (or at least the lie of it). Like Cazador is involved so all bad. Very bad. This also has VIOLENCE. Like canon game violence but it is BLOODY. You've been warned. Also happy ending :)

So now let's get to that angst:

It had all happened so fast.

One moment Astarion was laid back in the tent you share, reading a mediocre book as he impatiently waited for your return. He loathed when you went out without him, even if it was for good reason. He wasn't exactly welcome company when it came to solving Gale's problems, especially when it came to the bomb nestled in chest. You both knew his inability to keep his sarcastic quips to himself would not be an asset while exploring a sacred library. Besides, he didn't have much room to complain, not when he accompanied you on ninety-nine percent of your outings.

But that didn't mean he had to like it. Even if it was shaping up to be a nice, uneventful evening. He had set your tent a little farther away from the others, considering the complaints that some....well most had made about the volume of your nightly activities. It was quiet, peaceful even. The atmosphere tranquil enough for him to fully relax.

What a mistake that had been.

When the flap of the tent opened he didn't even look up, fully expecting it to be Shadowheart or Lae'zel coming round to dig about in his darling's things. It made sense, considering how it was one of the few times they wouldn't be risking walking in on something. You had such a bad habit with that "open door" policy of yours. One that had exposed nearly every party member to quite the show. Though in Astarion's view, they were just unreasonable. When you were both loud they complained. When you were quiet and they walked in on it they would whine even more. How could you win with people like that?

Perhaps a sign on the door would have done the trick, but Astarion would be lying if he didn't enjoy the others being fully aware of who could make you cry and moan. The risk was just more thrilling, if not the slightest bit annoying.

But the intruder was staying still at the opening, quiet as could be. It was odd enough to have Astarion glancing upward, his heart stopping in his chest at what he saw.

It was a man, frantically muttering something under his breath. A man that he recognized. The idiotic Petras, trying to cast some kind of incantation. It had Astarion scrambling upward, reaching for his dagger. But it was already too late. The spell was finished and Astarion could feel his senses start to fade away, one by one.

He had gotten sloppy, relying on the safety of camp that had never existed. And now he was paying the price, and what a price to pay. Even as he fell to the magic, one feeling managed to stay in place until the bitter end.

Terror.

And then, he felt nothing at all.

The next thing Astarion knew he was being awakened by a slap of cold water to his face, blinking up into horrifyingly familiar light. He immediately recognized where he was. The torture room, his arms hanging from the ceiling, his toes barely scraping the floor. It hurt to be suspended like this, a pain he was still so familiar with despite going months without. And in front of him was the cause of it all, sneering at him like the maniac he was.

Cazador.

"You're finally awake," He grinned, dropping the bucket that was in his hands, "You've been a very bad boy Astarion. Just what am I to do with you?"

Astarion wanted to answer, to curse at him, maybe even beg to just be left alone, but nothing came out. He was too stunned, too stupefied that he ended up here after everything he'd gone through. Everything you'd gone through. How could it end like this?

"I don't fully know what you were up to with all that time away from your family," Cazador continued, stepping close enough for Astarion to feel his disgusting breath on his skin, "But I think I may have the gist. Galivanting around with your merry-band of degenerates. Seems fitting."

Astarion gave a full-bodied flinch when Cazador started to graze along his collarbones with a gentle finger, his touch freezing and revolting. The gentleness wouldn't last, Astarion was surprised it was even there to begin with.

He should have realized there was a reason for it.

He trailed up his neck, stopping to trace a bruise you had left the night before. If only he had known that it was almost certainly the last time he would get to touch you. The realization was nearly enough to bring tears to Astarion's eyes, but he refused to cry in front of this creature, not if he could help it.

"Seems like you may have even found yourself a favorite amongst them. Tell me pet, who was it?"

"Fuck you." Astarion spat out, his fury managing to shine through his despair.

Astarion expected a hard slap for the insolence, but instead Cazador just laughed, loud and full-bellied, "You've gotten quite the temper since you've been away, haven't you? I wonder where that came about?"

It was a false question, Astarion could tell from the way his eyes were crinkled. Like a child excited to reveal a surprise. Cazador answered it for himself, "Is it that lovely little thing that you've been following around. Gods, what's their name again...Tav, is it?"

"Don't you dare say her name," Astarion growled, his righteous fury overcoming the ever-growing terror and dread, "They have nothing to do with this!"

"Oh but they do," Cazador grinned, stepping back to do one of his famous gloating sessions, "Just how do you think I found you? Luck? No my dear, you were given."

Astarion's answer was as immediate as it was hateful, "You're lying! You know nothing of them. Nothing of us."

He won't believe it, he has no reason to. You...you loved him. And you were probably looking for him as they spoke. You would never betray anyone like this, least of all him.

But Cazador remained unphased. If anything he was looking at him with pity, "Oh you poor thing. You think she cares? You think she loves you? I'm disappointed Astarion, it seems you've learned nothing from our time together. What is there to love, hm? Nothing that I can see. Though...they sure did seem to love the gold. You fetch quite the high price my dear. But it will be worth it."

Lies. It was all lies. It had to be. Astarion shoved his uncertainty back down, bellowing out, "Liar!"

It was forceful enough to even make Cazador falter for the briefest of moments, a split second that anyone else would have missed. But he pressed on, shaking his head, "Darling, don't you find it strange that you were all alone that day? That no one came to your aid? Where do you think you're love was, hm? Wait, don't tell me. I can remember...ah yes! With Gale, correct?"

Astarion swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. How...how did he know that?

"It was a fabulous excuse, was it not?" Cazador continued with a laugh, "We came up with that one together. After a little fun that is. I can see why you fell for their treachery Astarion, they are quite lovely, aren't they?"

No. No, no, no.

"Stop it," Astarion hissed, "Shut your mouth. I-It's not true."

"Oh but it is. I'm not sure if you're aware but you're quite the headache darling, not many can handle it. Not including myself. She even told me of that hilarious speech you gave. About wanting something real. It was just as funny to her as it was to me."

Astarion stared at him, at a complete loss for words. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. But...how else would he know that? In a camp full of people why did no one come to his aid? But the cruelty of it all...it was exactly the type of thing Cazador was versed in.

Setting up the same type of trap that he'd trained Astarion for, that he had used on others countless times. And he fell for it, he lost the game he thought he'd mastered.

His faith was slipping, hard and fast when he asked the horrible question, "How do you know that?"

"Because I sent them to you," He said with that disgusting grin, "It was no coincidence that you met. You were kidnapped, I needed you back, so I hired some help. It's a pity that they were captured as well. The pause to our plans was quite inconvenient. Our Tav just can't help but get distracted, can she?"

"No..." The word slipped out of Astarion without his consent, his mind racing. That couldn't be true. It didn't make sense. T-There had to be another explanation. If he could just think he'd find it. But...what point was there? He was already captured, taken. If anything, all of this being a grand scheme from Cazador was more logical than someone loving him.

He had gone through many, many tortures during his time here. Unspeakable, horrible things that he would never wish on anyone, excluding the man in front of him. But this...this was the worst thing he'd ever done to him. He had tricked him, you had tricked him, and he whole-heartedly fell for it, like the fool he was. The fool he would die as.

He didn't know it was possible, but this would be the greatest pain he ever knew. He was sure of that. Cazador had managed to do it. He had broken him, finally.

His tears were falling on their own accord, plentiful and pathetic. Cazador cooed at him, tracing his cheek with his horrid hand, "It hurts, doesn't it? I missed that expression on you my boy. You were always at you're prettiest when you had given up."

He wiped Astarion's tears away, gently holding his face as he spoke, "If only this was enough. The things I want to do to you for running away... I want to make you scream, make you beg for death. Just like how things used to be. If only we had the time."

Cazador let go, stepping back with a sigh, "How I wish that they had gotten you to me earlier. Though it's too late to pout about it now, the preparations are almost complete. But don't fret my boy, your end will have the meaning that your life failed to posses. Come along now."

Astarion hung there, limp as Cazador unhooked him from above. This was it. He was going to die here, as nothing but a pawn. He didn't even try to fight it when he was led down, deep into the palace to a place he'd never known existed. He kept his eyes closed for most of the journey, simply for the fact that he didn't have the strength to keep them open.

It was...a horrendous feeling to be incased in that red energy, floating in the air with all of his brothers and sisters as Cazador finished his preparations. It forced his eyes open against his will, making him see the hell that had been hiding beneath his feet all these years. He had been wrong about the sacrifice it seemed, it wasn't just them. There were thousands of bodies, barely alive in hanging cages, strewn throughout the place.

It was horrible, but fitting. Where else would something like him die? All he wished was that Cazador would hurry, so he could be done with it all. He has to much time to think in these last moments, too much time to examine your betrayal.

He...hates you. For it all. He hates you more than anything, enough for that same fury to come bubbling back to the surface. How dare you do this to him, after everything you'd been through. He should have killed you while you slept, while you let him drink from your throat. He should have killed them all, the vile sacks of shit.

If his soul ever found it's way back from the hell it was about to be damned too, he'd find you. His revenge was no longer reserved for Cazador, but for the wretched bitch hat tortured him in ways he didn't even think were possible. He'd do worse to you than anyone could imagine.

You were the cruelest thing to ever exist, as heartless and horrid as the monster before him.

So why was he still crying over it?

It didn't matter anyway. Not now. Now, all he could do was wait for the bitter end.

But then...he felt something. A familiar presence tickling the back of his mind. A barely there whisper, no words that he could make out. But it was getting stronger. Clearer.

It...it was you. Calling out to him with your illithid connection, begging for an answer.

My love, where are you? Astarion please, please tell me your there. Help me find you.

He can scarcely believe it. But he wasn't going to wait for his emotions to catch up to what could be an escape. He was screaming in his brain, trying to send out any signal that he could.

I'm here. I'm here. Don't let him take me. Please.

He could hear you in his head, the sheer relief from your mind nearly overwhelming, I'm coming. Hold on, I'm coming.

Astarion didn't even have the time to doubt. Because the next moment you were bursting through the ornate doors, nearly your entire team in tow.

Astarion had never seen you look the way you did then. He was so used to your kindness, the warmth and light that you tried to spread everywhere you went. You were always smiling, always laughing, always trying to share the same with others.

But now you were breathing hard, near feral in your posture as your eyes darted around, landing straight to the shocked Cazador. You looked murderous, vicious enough to send a shiver down Astarion's spine. Your teeth were bared, your whole body trembling with rage as you started to advance, weapons already drawn.

And in that moment Astarion was sure that you were the most gorgeous, perfect thing he had ever seen. Or ever would.

It was brutal, bloody battle. One that ended with you slitting Cazador's throat as Astarion watched in awe. You let the body fall to the ground, blasé before you finally ran to him, releasing him from his prison.

Then he was being pulled into the most crushing hug of his entire life. One that he was helpless to return. He clung to you, uncaring for their rather large audience.

He was too busy burying his face into your hair, breathing you in as you whispered into his shoulder, "Thank the Gods that you're still here."

The pain in your voice was so raw, so real. Astarion needed no other evidence to be sure that every word from the dead man's lips had been a lie. He was also positive that he had never cried this much in his life, but now it was a different kind of sob he was trying to choke back. The flood of relief was crushing, the truth that your love was real was nearly enough to destroy him all over again. Not for cruelties sake, but to make something new. To kill every last doubt he had that he was nothing, worthless. How could he be when you were here? When you came for him?

He pulled back reluctantly, smiling down at you with tear tracks on his face. He kissed your forehead, covered in sweat and blood, and gods knows what else.

It was all finally over. You both turned to the rest of the group, your hands clasped together as you made your way to where Cazador lay dead. It was satisfying to see, but such a shame that Astation wasn't the one to do the deed. A regret he'd have for the rest of his days.

Or so he thought.

But then you were turning to Shadowheart, your sweet face curling back into the disgust from earlier when you ordered, "Revive him."

Astarion watched, wide-eyed as she did what she was told. Cazador came back into consciousness, in what looked to be an extremely unpleasant experience. He was coughing blood, the spell doing just enough to mend his mortal wounds, but not nearly powerful enough to give him a fraction of his strength back. He stared upwards, his eyes wide at the sight of you lording over him.

And for the first time in two hundred years, Astarion saw fear in the other man's eyes. Wonderfully delicious fear.

He felt you squeeze his hand as he stared at him, speaking quietly, "He's yours. To do with what you please. Do...do you want us here for this?"

He could hear the hidden meaning in your words. This wasn't just a choice of what to do with him. It was a choice of what to do with them all. He had taken notice that he was the only one that you had freed, his brethren still suspended in air.

He turned to you, his voice strong for the first time since he'd come back to this pit, "I want you here for this."

You nodded before looking back to the others to tell them to wait outside. They did so reluctantly, obviously without confidence in his decision making abilities. He ignored the especially worried look Karlach sent his way, too focused on the piece of vampiric trash in front of him.

Cazador was still coughing, his mouth forming more vile words, "Y-You don't have to do this. I can-"

"Silence," Astation seethed, partly surprised when it worked to shut him up. But then again, he had never been placed in a position to see his master be the one without an escape, "Your life is in my hands now. Tell me the truth. How did you find me?"

Astarion could see the fury behind his eyes, the humiliation of being ordered around by his own spawn. But his desire for life won out in the end.

"Luck," he spat out, "Sheer luck. Yomen saw you in the city, at Shar's Caress with this one. He followed you, found your camp and reported back. I sent Dalyria and Petras to fetch you, gave them a powerful sleeping scroll to knock out your allies. And then you were mine again."

Astarion shouldn't have been surprised that he had the audacity to glare at Tav, seething, "Or at least you would have been."

"And my memories?" Astarion pressed, "How did you know of us?"

"The tadpole squirming behind your eyes doesn't change the fact that I am your master," Cazador said, "Your mind is mine to shape, to understand. It was more difficult than before, yes. But I had enough to know what to say."

Of course. He should have known, "So that was your last torture then?"

"Yes," Cazador said simply, a sneer managing to appear on his bloodied face, "And you have to admit, it worked wonderfully."

"You can kill him now if you'd like," You piped up from his side, staring down at the vampire like the trash he was, "Or...you can take his place."

You hesitated for a brief moment before steeling yourself, looking Astarion in the eye, "Whatever you choose, I'll be here for you. I promise."

Astarion nodded, weighing his options. It was so very difficult to not just kill him where he laid, like the pathetic dog he was. But then again...the ritual would mean endless power. Power that he could use to protect himself, to protect you. So nothing like this could ever happen again.

Astarion looked up, his eyes searching every last one of his brothers and sisters faces. They looked scared, perhaps even resigned to their fate. Just at the hands of another. Astarion hadn't expected the image to make him feel ill, yet it did.

Could he do it? Sacrifice them all, along with everyone else trapped in the bowels of their personal hell? He could. He knows he could. Yet...

He looked back at you, the only thing he had ever loved. The one person to show him a different way to live, who was giving him the freedom to be his own person. But... he wanted that person to be someone worthy of you. Someone who would make you proud.

And there was only one way to do that. Astarion let go of your hand, reaching for the dagger you kept at your belt before striding over to Cazador. He stabbed him with little fanfare, no warning, no chances to beg. And then he did it again, and again, and again. Until he lost count, until the body of his former master was mutilated, his chest nothing but unrecognizable gore.

He wasn't quite sure when he started crying again. He only realized it when he could barely breath through his own screams, every bit of rage, hurt, and humiliation that had been beaten into him coming straight to the surface. He sunk to his knees as he sobbed, tossing the knife to the side.

The whirlwind inside of him was too much, so overwhelming that he was afraid he'd be lost to it. But then he could feel it, you wrapping your arms around him, kneeling next to him as he broke down.

He clung to you, burying his face into your neck as he cried, desperate for your comfort, your touch. You were crying too he realized, your voice breaking as you gently spoke to him, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have been there to protect you. I love you, you did the right thing. I'm sorry."

You had nothing to apologize for, but that didn't stop your words from acting like a soothing balm to all of his internal wounds. But he would get through this. Because for the first time Astarion knew, without a shadow of a doubt he wouldn't have to get through it alone. With you by his side, he would never be alone again.

He wasn't sure how long you both spent there, kneeling in a pool of his tormentors blood. But he knew he felt different when he pulled away, changed.

Free.

He cupped your face, wiping away your tears while only managing to smear the mess about. But it didn't matter that you were both covered in blood and viscera, not when he had you.

"I love you too," Astarion whispered, finally allowing himself to unload the burden of hiding away from you. No more of that. He was yours, fully and completely, "I love you so much. I-I thought that this was it. That I'd never see you again. That you betrayed me-"

"Never," You interrupted, your voice fierce despite how it was breaking, "I never will. You're all I want, all I need. I should have been there, I'm so sorry-"

"No more apologies," Astarion murmered, pressing a quick kiss to your bloody mouth, "No more. We're here. That's all that matters."

You nodded, kissing him again, so sweet despite everything that should have made it sour. Despite his own words, Astarion couldn't help the white hot shame that passed through him. How could he have doubted you, even for a moment? Doubted this, the most beautiful that ever happened to him. Never again would he question what you had together, to let his mind be poisoned by others.

But there would be more time for the two of you later. The rest of your lives if he had anything to say about it. But for now...you freed him. And it was his turn to do the same.

Astarion pulled back, sighing as he looked around the room at his brethren. They were still hanging in the air, all privy to quite the show. He freed them, forgave them even, despite every horrid thing they'd done to eachother over the years.

But that didn't stop him from clocking Petras squarely in the face the second his feet touched the floor. The other man took it well enough, fully knowing that Astarion was capable of much, much worse. Though he was well aware that Petras had been compelled to kidnap him, it didn't change the fact that the punch was very satisfying.

As for the rest of the spawn, the thousands trapped here, he let them go as well. Down to the Underdark, where they could at least have a chance of controlling their feral nature before associating with mortals again.

Then it was time to leave this wretched place, forever. He would never be hurt here again, never controlled. He was free, finally. And with you by his side, what else could he ever ask for?

[what-is-it-to-be-pk-esque]

Ok I know I'm heavily biased here but like I kinda love that Astarion's romance is one of the few in this type of video game where you basically end up canonically unmarried and childfree in his "good" ending? Just travelling the world??

Like it's honestly the millennial dream lmfaoo cannot believe i chose what would undoubtedly be my favorite option, first try

[quinttyz]

the first time

[yuniex07]

People negating that Ascendand Astarion is not the monster they thought it would be after seeing how civilized, mature, funny and dorky he behaves on the epilogue...

Is everything alright at home?

[fabric-shower-curtain]

i need people to see the appeal of astarion just being weird™ during sex he has after his spawn ending. i’m not talking kinky, we have gale and halsin for that, im talking off-putting. not moaning, laughing a lot, breaking a scene randomly cause he’s not feeling it anymore (that’s not weird but isn’t represented enough in smut). enough with this “astarion sex god perfect 24/7” (like yeah i get that because he was an elven prostitute for 200 years) but let my man have goofy sex.

[prettyboykatsuki]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SHARPEN YOUR TEETH (AND BITE AS HARD AS YOU WANT) | WYLL RAVENGARD

☾ tags ; SPOILERS FOR ACT ONE AND TWO OF BG3, gn + afab!reader, werewolf!reader, selunite cleric!reader developing relationship, canon typical violence, mild gore / blood, mutual pining, heat cycles, scent kink, oral (f + m!recieving), unprotected sex, praise kink, petnames (starlight, my love, my heart), lots of referring to reader as a dog / mutt / puppy, messy sex, reader has body hair / pubic hair, soft top wyll, a single pregnancy joke, 18+ MDNI

☾ wc ; 21.8k (????)

☾ a/n ; h...hello wyll nation. local deranged man here to offer this politely and run away. i dont really know what happened here. this was really just meant to be porn about a scent kink and uhm. well

i dont know if i wrote this fic as much as it used my physical vessel as a way to escape. it just sort of occured. im rarely nervous to post fic for a character but this is my first time doing a real wyll fic and bg3 fandom as many people i respect. so please be kind.

anyways. the embracing of monstrosity vs the rejection of it. so on and so forth. hope u enjoy. also banner is from slime isekai anime.

☾ synopsis ; there's a werewolf at camp. nothing new. wyll is growing increasingly fond of them. very new.

ao3 link for reading | spotify playlist.

The violent tearing sounds of teeth ripping through the flesh pulse and echo through the night air. 

Blood sprays onto the furred creature responsible for it. All else grinds to a halt, the gnats and fireflies silent in awe as sharp claws crush through bone. Wyll can hear the sound of his own blood pumping as his eyes watch the massacre, hand drawn on his rapier. He looks over through the rest of his party 

They remain just as awestruck. Astarion stands breathlessly. Shadowheart slinks into her namesake, eyes closed and trembling in the dark. 

But Wyll watches, eyes fixed on the bloodshed. On the violence. The realization dawns on him too late that one of his party members is missing. You’re missing. He stares back at the creature, underneath the moon - silently slaughtering every last of their opposition until the battle field is left in a field of crimson. Death plagues every inch of dirt to the naked eye. 

A whimper sounds. Followed by the sound of skin and bones retracting and moving back into place. 

Where a werewolf once was is your naked form. Sat on your knees and bent over your body with tears at the corners of your eyes. Just your ears and tail remain, your mouth and hands covered in a thick layer of blood. You sniffle, the only light left to illuminate you ritual candles and moon as you turn your head back to your party. 

“Uhm,” Your voice is coarse, thick with exhaustion and tears. Wyll stares at you in awestruck silence “We should probably talk.” 

_ 

“So,” Gale’s voice and the obvious exasperation in it is enough to make Wyll feel sorry for you. You’re sitting at the campfire, finally clothed - with a blanket around your shoulder and Astarion tending to your wounds. “We have a Sharran, a vampire spawn, a werewolf, and a githyanki. Anything else we need to check off before we apply for a tent at the circus?” 

Karlach takes the empty seat next to you, wanting to wrap her hand around the fluffy base of your tail and frowning when she realizes she can’t. Your ears are folded down, the corners of your eyes still wet with tears. You lean into Karlach’s heat, just enough to feel it. 

 The air is cool, thick with the scent of dirt and smoke. The campfire licks with light flames, surrounded by half cut logs for extra seating. You, Astarion, and Karlach crowd on a single half - draped with an extra bedroll for cushion. 

“Don’t be so harsh on them, Gale,” Karlach says, glancing over at you “It’s hardly like they’re a threat to us. I mean.. look at them.” 

Your frown deepens as you hang your head in shame. 

“I thought we were past this, no? I mean we’ve all already been honest with each other so far. It’s a little late to be keeping something like this a secret is it not?” 

“That’s true,” Wyll interjects, standing next to Gale across from the three of you - staring at your curled up form with sympathy. “I really don’t understand why you hid it for this long. Surely, you could’ve told us earlier?” 

Your voice is weak and unusually frail. “The opportunity never presented itself.” 

“You could have mentioned it when Astarion told us he was a vampire?” Wyll suggests. 

“I didn’t want to steal his thunder, you know? Felt a bit rude, really.” 

Astarion laughs, clearly wanting to laugh himself into hysterics but having enough tact not to do so. “Not a thing in that head of yours aside from our parasite, is there darling? But you know, I’m quite delighted by this revelation.

“Really?” 

“Now we’ve got two monsters at our camp as opposed to just one! Evens out the playing field, in case things go south.” 

“I’m not a monster,” You murmur, pouting. “And I don’t think you are either, for the record. I’m just a shifter. And my goddess is kind.”

“Oh? And who would that be?” Gale asks somewhat bitterly.

“Selune,” Shadowheart pipes up this time, for the first time since your arrival back to camp. Emerges from her own tent in the corner like a ghost. Her arms are crossed, brows pinched into a tight face of displeasure “She has a network of werewolves in her ranks. You’re one of them, aren’t you?” 

You look up at her saddened, like a kicked puppy for lack of a better word, casting your gaze away from hers. Shadowheart looks ferocious, her appearance locked onto your pitiful form with a familiar angry smolder. Wyll can’t decide if you’ve done anything so grand as to earn her ire, even if you’re a Selunite werewolf. Though, given all that Wyll knows about her, that may as well be the greatest sin of all.

Your voice is tiny and high-pitched as you play with your hands in your lap “I didn’t intend to hide it from you but y-yes. I don’t bear any hatred towards you or other Shar followers, but uhm, well, I didn’t think you’d be very happy about it. A-and then, well you know, back in the grove you mentioned you hated wolves so, I just… planned on never shifting.” 

“You have control over something like that?” Wyll inquires. You nod, not looking up at him. 

“I was born as a werewolf, not turned. So the moon doesn’t affect me in the same way it would someone who was turned and I have more control over when it happens. I can shift in and out. Usually no problem but when I’m caught off guard like that,” You lift your tail and swing it from side to side as if to emphasize the point “Sometimes I mess it up.” 

“Chk. What a waste of ability. Think of how many we would’ve slaughtered had we known from the start.”

Wyll looks around. Everyone has gathered now, standing around the fire. 

“A werewolf… I know little of them. Wild shape magic is vastly different. I hope your condition does not cause you too much trouble. Or us, for that matter.” Halsin adds apologetically. 

“I didn’t intend for it to come out this way,,” You mumble pitifully. Shit, he really can’t help but feel bad. “I really did fully plan on keeping it to myself until the end. But, well, we were desperate. And I didn’t want to see anyone die,” 

“Given our circumstances, I think it would be amiss to scold you for your bravery,” Wyll supplements, trying to ease your worries. He does mean it. Regardless of what happened, you did save everyone. “Plus, we’ve all kept secrets here.” 

“Exactly right, soldier. Don’t beat yourself up about it,” 

“Wow, what sort of double standard is this? When I came out as a vampire, you people couldn’t stop talking about how afraid you were I was going to bite you!” Astarion says with an exaggerated frown. You smile at him weakly. 

Wyll gives him a disbelieving look. “Well you’re not exactly subtle about wanting to suck our blood, are you Astarion?” 

Astarion huffs. “Everyone here is so unfair.” 

Wyll laughs goodnaturedly, his eyes turning back onto you. He examines you in silent thought, his mind sifting over your last few months together. 

After Gale gets over his initial frustration, his curiosity gets the better of him. He rejoins everyone—across from you on an empty log and Wyll joins along with them. Shadowheart and Lae-zel come too, as does Halsin. 

Around the campfire, Gale pulls a book and quill from his tent before making himself comfortable. 

“Well since we’ve all made up, I am a little curious about your condition.” He admits. A very Gale thing to do, Wyll thinks. 

“I don’t mind any questions.” You reply gently. “It’s the least I can do.” 

The whole camp softens at your display. Surprisingly, Shadowheart is the first to ask a question.

“Is it more comfortable for you…in your wolf form?” 

You seem taken aback.. Though it dawns on you quickly why she would be asking that specifically. 

“Ah, kind of? My humanoid form is also me but it feels… limiting at times.” 

“Limiting?” 

“Eating meat without my  canines is a pain in my ass. Same with not being able to express myself with my ears or tail. I like traveling on my paws depending on the terrain.” You say, shaking your head. “It doesn’t bother me though mostly,” 

Gale’s quill hitting the paper makes a loud scratching sound. Astarion has a snarky comment about it that Wyll misses. He’s too preoccupied with other things. 

Hoping that you don't feel too badly about all this, for example. 

“Does it affect your daily life in any way?”  

“I don’t think so? I don’t know. It’s always been like this, so there’s nothing that different to me. I do notice how different I am around humans maybe,” You say, before perking up. You’ve just remembered something important. “Oh, but there is one thing.” 

“What is it?” Wyll asks. 

“My senses are much much sharper than other peoples. My sense of smell, especially.”

___ 

You remain together. Despite the mess.  Somehow. 

With this parasite in mind, and nothing left to lose - it’s better to stay together. Now that there are no important secrets kept hidden, the vibe is much more relaxed. The impending doom adds a layer of familiarity too. Wyll has often traveled with bands of strangers, but never for so long and with so many. 

It gives him a sense of familiarity. Home. What a foreign word. 

He thinks a lot of it is your contribution. They’re your pack, as you say so often. A special one with lots of different sorts of people. And you - you’re loyal to a fault. It helps. You and Karlach are a lot alike, but Wyll would venture to call you a little more tender. It helps fill in the gaps. 

Wyll knows you’re a werewolf but it’s hard not to think of you as a dog in that sense. A different dog to Scratch, maybe. But a dog all the same - with folded ears and a softail and propensity for drooling depending on the way you sleep. 

He’s only really reminded of the fact that you’re part wolf when you use your abilities in battles. It’s your failsafe. You only do it when you think it’s dire, and before that you air on the side of diplomacy. You’re a hunter should the need arise though. Sometimes you don’t transform completely. Where your usual canines are meant to linger in your mouth are a set of teeth too big for it. Instead of hands, sometimes there are soft paws with sharpened nails. 

There are three ways you can transform for that matter. Human, werewolf, or just wolf. Wyll finds these little distinctions fascinating, and more fascinating that you tend to opt for one end of the spectrum or the other. 

Wyll quickly learns some of your physical attributes are the same irregardless of what you look like. The fact you are agile and quick and strong, or the fact you can travel fast on all fours. The fact you like meat, and the fact you whine rather loudly when you’re upset. 

When you’re using your abilities, many would think you a ruthless killer. 

But after everyones cleared from harm, you’ll transform back into your usual human self - naked and covered in blood and frowning. You spit up meat that tastes bad and whine loudly if no one tells you good job.

(That job often falls on Wyll or Shadowheart. Gale or Karlach if they’re traveling with you. Astarion is only kind enough to do it in a semi-mocking way, but Wyll is keenly aware of how sincere his praise can be.) 

In moments like that, you’re just a dog again. A puppy, sometimes. Loyal. And novel, and interesting for many reasons. 

Wyll should expect your loyalty by now. He sees it so often, how unyielding and faithful you always are. To your goddess and to your pack and to whatever else you’ve deemed important to you. 

He should’ve known that you’d probably try to seek him out tonight, after everything that’s happened among all of you. 

He did watch you for a bit at the start. You worked clockwise through all of your companions, stopped in between for stories and gossip. Some of the tiefling kids wanted to see your tail and you’re too good a spirit to tell them no.

Wyll wouldn’t dare hope for you finding him, but he is a little relieved when you do. 

“Wyll! There you are,” 

 Wyll’s eyes snap up.

“Ah, Hells. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice I was gone,” He says regretfully. 

“Of course I noticed! How could I not notice our very own warlock disappear? It was no party without you.” 

Wyll wonders if you’re being sincere. He hopes you are. The night air is cool as the two of you share space. Away from the party, only sand and rubble between your feet. And a body of water that looks like it could go on forever. 

It’s a full moon tonight. 

“Really? I’m honored,” He peers out into the lake. Suddenly aware of his body, Wyll recoils into himself. The movement is subtle enough to be overlooked. The horns on the top of his head feel especially heavy. The skin pulled around the base of them throbs. It’s not painful, but it is unpleasant. “In truth, I don’t feel a festive mood and I didn’t want to cast a gray cloud over the night.” 

“Is it too intrusive for me to ask?” 

“Not at all,” Wyll assures. Your words are comfortable and soft, concerned without being pitiful. “I’m a devil. I love the people of the grove, but I unsettle them deep down. As I seem to unsettle everyone nowadays.” 

Wyll can hear his own somber. He doesn’t wince, but it's impossible to ignore. Even explaining himself only adds to his melancholy. He’s quiet for a while, his voice touched with a destitution and irony. And bitterness, maybe. 

You remain still and steady beside him. He can’t tear his gaze away from the endless water, comforted by its vastness. How it generally disregards him and distorts his reflection.

“You don’t want a devil at your party. Horns this sharp will pop the balloons you see. And the guests won’t take kindly to scars quite so monstrous.” He jokes, trying to keep his voice light. 

He doesn’t think he succeeds at it. 

Silence once more. Wyll can see you, but your expression is unchanged. Your eyes are clear underneath the ever changing moon. 

“You don’t unsettle me. You never have.” There’s conviction behind your words. They comfort him.

“If only half the world had half the heart you do.” Wyll tells you, and means every word. He tries to brighten up, waving you off. “Don’t let my introspection spoil your night. Off with you. This is your day! Have a dance. Enjoy the music.” 

He hopes it’s enough to get you to forget about him for tonight. 

When you walk off, Wyll is expecting you to disappear. It’s enough that you’ve checked on him. He would’ve been content with it, left to reflect on his troubles alone. You’ve done something significant with your reassurance. He isn’t so tactless to keep you from celebrating. even when he would maybe want more time with you. 

You return to him though. With a bottle of wine, and a bedroll you spread in the empty sand next to him. You give him an unreadable look followed by a cheeky smile, making yourself comfortable on the ground. 

“Come on. Sit.”

Confused, Wyll sits. You open the bottle of wine with your teeth as a cork and drink from the top before passing it over to him. He takes it from you and stares at the place you’ve just drank from. You start to talk while he debates mimicking you.

“You don’t have to pretend it’s less difficult than it is,” You say almost thoughtlessly. Almost. “You’ve lost your body. Yourself. That must be hard.” 

Wyll looks at you, then back at the colored glass of the bottle. He clears his throat. “It is. More than I imagined it to be.” 

“You know, I was born a werewolf. And I had just about the best circumstances a person could have with that in mind. Selune accepts me and my clergy was mostly kind. Still, I heard the word monster a lot from people outside my circle. I could feel the distrust that I incited in outsiders. So, I won’t pretend to know exactly what you’re going through,” You say, your legs stretched out far into the sand, past the confinement of a tiny square bedroll “But I do know what it’s like to feel accused when you’ve done nothing wrong. You especially, Blade of Frontiers. I think you’re allowed to grieve the trust it feels like you’ve lost, or might lose. If it’s worth anything, though, I know you’re not a monster.” 

Wyll barely gets a chance to process the words as they come. He wonders if this is what people mean by feeling seen by someone else. “You know?” 

“Damn right I know,” Your response comes without hesitation. The night air blows along his skin, a soft and tender caress. Wyll frowns when you don't elaborate.

“How could you know something like that?” He asks.

“Lotsa reasons. You’re still nice and thoughtful and caring and charming. But, hm, well the most obvious reason is a little more primitive.” You take a deep inhale. “Your scent,” 

“...I’m sorry?” 

Your laugh is bright, and bubbly. 

“Your scent,” You repeat calmly, taking a deep sigh after saying it. “Everyone at camp has a scent. It’s a little abstract, but they change when people change. Shadowheart smells the leaves of black currant and uh, Halsin smells like sequoia wood. Lae’zel smells like black tea and metal. Gale smells like licorice. Astarion smells a lot like applemint. Karlach smells like smoke and star anise,” 

Wyll finds himself both awestruck and amused.

“These are all rather specific,” 

“I’ve always been a bit of a bloodhound so I’ve developed a talent at identifying specifics. It was shitty when I was a runt. Even a trip outside could give me the worst fuckin’ headache, but it got better the more I got used to it.” You give Wyll a glance “Anyways. Scent changes. When someone changes, their scent does too. Moods and days and everything affect it too.” 

“And mine hasn’t changed, is what you’re saying?” 

“No. Not in the way that’d make you different. It’s stronger, but it hasn’t changed. You haven’t changed.” You say quietly, and take a deep breath. “Not to me at least.” 

“You’ve conveniently left out my scent from your description.” Wyll says with fond amusement. He feels reassured. It’s absurd, yet Wyll is so inclined to believe you. “Is it something so awful?” 

You flush, suddenly becoming timid. 

“Yours is… good,” You say simply, and softly. You seem embarrassed to continue. He can’t help but find it so incredibly endearing. “It’s just harder for me to describe. But it’s good. It’s personally my favorite. “ 

You add the last part a little quieter. 

“And it hasn’t changed,” Wyll says more than asks this time. 

“No. Stronger, but the same.” You curl in on yourself, crossing your legs as you turn your head to face him, head tilted towards one side with a smile. “You’re not a devil to me. Just Wyll. And I like just Wyll.”

Wyll feels his chest tight as you lean your head on your shoulder contentedly. He tries not to read it into, hoping you can’t hear how loudly his heart is pounding. He takes a drink from the wine bottle straight, the same place your lips touched moments ago. 

He likes you, too. The words don’t come out right. 

“Yes…I’m,” He’s speechless, hands folded in his lap as he stares at you. “Me too. Our journey together has proved important to me. Thank you.” 

You smile but don’t say anything more.

___

With the goblin camp clear, the journey towards the Shadowfell lands becomes increasingly pervasive. You’ve done more traveling and less resting in the last few weeks than you have thus far in your journey. 

Smoke clouds in the horizon are what draw you to Waukeens rest. 

On your way to the mountain pass, for easy access to the city, lay a massacre of bodies and fire. The distress has far from subsided. The thick smog continues to build, folds into itself like massive heaps of wool - suffocating everything on every path in its surroundings. The smell of ash is invasive, even from a fair distance away. 

Blood trails from one end of the path towards the main entrance. As your party’s distance begins to close in, Wyll feels his lungs fill up with a familiar tightness. The burning air makes his eyes and lungs sting.

“Shit, the fire is still burning. There must still be people in need of aid. We should,” You cough hard as you look at what's in front of you. Eyes squinted trying to make out the horizon. “We should get there and see if we can aid them,” 

Astarion groans “For just one day, could we rest? Leave this nonsense up to the other wandering travelers desperate for recognition? Is that asking so much?” 

“As long as I’m pinning down bodies for you to feed off, you’ve got to listen to me, you know? You laugh warmly at his sarcasm. “Now, If you don’t stop complaining you’ll fall behind, pretty boy, and there’ll be not a thing left for you to suck dry.” 

“I should report you for that, you know. Threats of starvation against the imprisoned violate the law,” 

You laugh a little as you start to make your way forward. The four of you jog towards the entrance of Waukeens rest with urgency, more yours and Wyll’s than Astarion’s and Shadowheart’s.

Among the scenery at the front entrance of Waukeens rest - what concerns Wyll most is not the death. Not the bodies ashen among flame or the flames themselves that continue to widen and encompass. It is that, among those bodies, are members of the Flaming Fist. Past the sour memory of his life comes the worry, the fear. 

What in the Hells are the Flaming Fist doing around this area?

Away from the woman praying over a body, are a small number of Fist’s pushing on the doorway of a locked and burning building. You’re quick to run to it. Wyll barely keeps up. 

Before you can ask about the situation at hand, a Flaming Fist member addresses you and your party. 

“Grand Duke Ravengard could be inside, don’t just stand there - push!” 

Wyll’s voice betrays him, speaking before he has a minute to think. “Ravengard? He’s here?” 

“Yes, now make yourself useful- push, damn it, push!”

Wordlessly from next to him, you gear yourself up and push kick the door in. Strong enough that the wood crumbles to nothing, Wyll watches the doors open wide and the flames that lick at the inside of the building. A cloud of smoke billows out as the Flaming Fist pour in, your party quick to follow in alongside them. 

Through the thickets of smoke and up stairs half-broken, sounds Counselor Florrick's voice from behind the broken door. Maneuvering through ember and broken floorboard, you proceed the same as you did before. Pushing through the crowd of people surrounding the door - you use your foot and kick the door in again, causing it to break nearly instantly. 

Counselor Florrick coughs as she makes her way outside.

“Come. I’m afraid proper thanks must wait,” She says with a heaved breath. It’s too clouded with smoke for Wyll to make anything of her face and Wyll can only assume that is the case both ways. 

Back down through the way you came, you take a deep inhale of smoke and cough. The scent must be nauseating, far too much for you - but you don’t let it show through your face. 

Once everyone has been accounted for outside, Counselor Florrick approaches your party in the broad daylight of the courtyard. It’s there she recognizes Wyll. 

“Hold on,” Wyll says, reaching into his pack. He hands you a sachet of herbs he’d purchased alongside you from a merchant in the goblin camp. “For your nose,” 

You give him a look of surprise, your ears perking up and tails swishing as you take it from him gratefully, holding it up to your nose for a deep breath. 

“Fuck, thank you.” You reply gratefully. Wyll nods in reply.

“Counsellor Florrick - are you alright?” Wyll says first, concern pouring through. Regardless of all else. 

It’s clear right away, the horror in his face once she’s seen what’s become of him. Wyll lets it roll off of his back, the momentary sting not enough to make him flinch. It’s a reminder to start adjusting to what will be one of many. 

Her sympathy is tangible, though it doesn’t make Wyll feel better. 

“Wyll - by the Maimed God, what’s become of you?” 

He shakes his head to dismiss the thought.  “A story best left for calmer days. Now breathe deeply, are you in pain?”

“A scorched throat, a few hairs singed off. Nothing a bit of time and fresh air can’t cure.” 

Wyll’s shoulder sag with relief.  She turns to address the Flaming Fist accompanying her. 

“Gauntlet, a new duty calls. Drow have taken Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard - westward if my eyes and ears can be believed.” She pauses, thinking before giving further instruction “Report to the manip and send for reinforcements. We must find the Grand Duke.” 

“On your command, Counsellor.” The head of the Gauntlet affirms, bowing their head before taking off. 

It’s there that Wyll feels panic. Uncertainty like nothing he’s felt in the last seven years. Maybe longer. No longer a passing thought or a sour memory, concern for his father washes out what might’ve been grief.

“No. It can’t be. You mean, they’ve taken -” 

Counselor Florrick's expression darkens. “Yes, Wyll. The drow have your father.” 

“Shit, what? Wyll, you’re a noble?” You interject for the first time in the conversation. When Wyll turns to you, above all else is concern. He shakes his head.

“The circumstances of my birth are no matter of pride for neither me nor my father. But pride is no reason to refuse help to my own flesh and blood. How can we help?.” 

“Rescue Ravengard from his drow captors. Baldur's Gate needs him, now more than ever,” She says, addressing you primarily and Wyll after. She pauses to examine Wyll a second time, like now that she’s out of the smoke she is really looking. 

A passing glance of her brings back memories of a childhood long forgotten. Days spent in courtyards training the sword and waiting for father to finish his duties. An ache starts to form in the cavity of his chest, but Wyll swallows it. 

Where duty calls, it is only common sense the Blade will answer. He holds a fist over his heart and bows. 

“Trust us to see it through, Counsellor.” 

“Who is this Duke Ravengard?” You ask, finally - though it’s not to him. Rather it’s to the Counselor. Wyll wonders if that’s a choice you’ve made on purpose. 

“The invisible force holding Baldur’s Gate together. Without him, the city’s collapse is certain.” She pauses, looking troubled “I fear that may have been the intention of those who abducted him.” 

“Shit. Then, not to be rude, but why entrust this to me? You have others at your command. More well equipped, I’d imagine,” You ask, bearing no hostility. A fair enough question for you, head of pack, with concerns for everyone else. 

“Isn’t it clear? You travel with the Blade of Frontiers. Who might I trust, if not a legend? Who might rise to the moment, if not Ravengard’s own son?”

You pause to mull over her reply. Your brow is furrowed in concentration, before your focus returns to the Counselor.

“I don’t think the drow have taken him back to Menzoberranzan. More likely they’ve taken the Duke to Moonrise Towers.”  You say tentatively. “Though Hells, I can’t be sure. Goblin’s bein’ here is weird and their affairs are tied together somehow. Plus, the drow we’ve met in this area so far have relations to other cultist bullshit,” 

“I was thinking the same,” Wyll adds. 

“Moonrise Towers? Along the old road? That place is cursed, few could survive there…unless darker forces are at work,” She pauses, taking a moment to assess the situation “This was no random attack, then. The Grand Duke was their target.” 

After more deliberating, you look firmly at the Counselor and nod - a serious promise. 

“Moonmaiden guide us - we’ll head to Moonrise towers and find Duke Ravengard. Though for now, I won’t promise  anything.” 

“Thank you. When the Grand Duke returns to the city, he’ll hail his only son a hero.” She says with a deep breath “Approach the towers with care. The land itself has been swallowed in shadow.”

She turns to address him this time “Remember Wyll. ‘Courage is found in the battle against fear, not in the defeat of it.’”

“So father said. I won’t soon forget it.”

“We’ll be heading off now, towards the towers. Take care of yourself.” 

“You too, Counselor Florrick.” 

With that, the Florrick disappears back out into the smoke and open road. Left in the aftermath is the rest of the party, not barring you - and Wyll with nothing but worry. 

Your eyes find Wyll’s with ease, filled to the brim with concern. Wyll casts his gaze away instinctively. 

“Shit,” Wyll swears, unsure of what the reaction from you will be.

“Wyll,” Your voice calls and soothes. Before his response forms in his mouth, he feels a hand on the nape of his neck. In a sudden movement, you lean into him. Even amongst the swallowing heat of fire and ember - Wyll is conscious of your skin. The scrapes and cuts on your fingers raised press against his own. You inhale a long breath and Wyll realizes what you’re doing. It’s confirmation when you pull away and glance at him seriously. “Can I trust you to tell me what’s going on?” 

The question itself is exposing. It’s a raw nerve, split open, tender and unhealed. There’s no shame in it. Or maybe there is, always has been - and Wyll has spent nearly seven years outrunning it. This much he knows - he never intended to show you this part of himself.

And he knows that this is not the first time he’s betrayed your trust. You ask Wyll to trust you, and Wyll wants to explain he always has. 

There is no betrayal in your face, no disappointment.

You come to him ready to receive anything. Crystal clear eyes and a sincerity in your heart - there is so much said in so little. 

“I’m sorry. It was never,” He’s struck by grief in a sudden moment. You’re kind, but it goes well beyond just that. “I had no intent to hide it.” 

“But you had no intent to share it either,” You say, your voice soft-spoken and tender. Forgiving, though you don’t make Wyll feel like there’s something he needs forgiveness for. “It’s okay. We’re damn similar sometimes aren't we?” 

When you let go of Wyll, he stares at you. Wide-mouthed and unsure of himself. For a brief moment, his surroundings become blurry. There’s no one else in the party. There’s no smoke. There’s no fire. No ash. For a brief moment, there’s just you - and you’re smiling.  You feel like forgiveness. 

“Florrick spoke true,” Wyll affirms, unsure of what to do with himself. “I am a Grand Duke’s son.” 

“Not just a grand duke - Ravengard has more power and influence than anyone.” Astarion adds. 

“My father and I were close. Once upon a time. Until he disowned me and cast me out of Baldur’s Gate,” Wyll says with a hardened heart. He’s forgiven his father. He’s spent years rationalizing the choice he made. But he’s reminded in an instant that the wound is still tender. “I can’t tell you more - the pact forbids it. My lips are quite literally sealed.” 

“Okay,” You give Wyll a look, clear and bright. “Then, Wyll - do you want to save your father?” 

He wasn’t expecting that to be your only question. It must show that he’s taken aback, but you remain where you are unflinching. 

“Yes, I—yes. Regardless of our relationship, he remains my flesh and blood.” You press your lips together, an encouraging half smile, prompting him. “And I don’t want him to fall into the hands of Absolutists for any reason. He made me an exile, but I’m not about to let him suffer at the hands of his captors.”

“Alright. Then we’ll save him,” You brush over the weight of that sentence, addressing your other companions. “The only lead we’ve got so far is Moonrise towers, so we’ll stick to our original plans. Visiting the creche and then traveling through the Underdark.” 

Wyll stares at you as you continue to talk, the words feeling like little more than noise. Lost in thought, you let him remain undisturbed. When your eyes meet, you don’t do anything more than grin - fang poking out form underneath your lip. 

And it’s the second time in his life, Wyll feels like you’re seeing something he can’t. Himself, maybe.

__ 

A confrontation with the githyanki and a red dragon later, you return to camp the night of visiting Waukeen’s rest.

When night falls, you join Wyll in his tent. The gesture is innocent. You ask about having a sleepover. Wyll tries to remember there’s nothing but friendship between you. Eventually helets you into the cramped space of his tent. There’s barely enough space for you both, but you manage.

Before bed, you ask Wyll to tell you about himself. Anything he can afford to tell you. For a long while, he talks about being the Blade of Frontiers. But then, when it’s late enough and the gap between you continues to shrink - he talks about his life in the city. It doesn’t happen on purpose. Wyll is hardly so ungentlemanly. It’s unlike him to cluelessly go on and on about himself. 

You just happen to know exactly the right questions. Before Wyll knows it, he’s telling you about all of his escapades. His life as a nobleman's son and escaping to fraternize with lower city youth.

Wyll can’t disclose his pact to you, but he can tell you about the kiss he had at fifteen. He can tell you about the first time he lost a tooth, or describe the well-worn picture of his late mother in his fathers wallet. For a while, Wyll recounts tales of a life he’d thought he’d abandoned. When the words come out, they don’t feel like violence. Don’t coat his mouth with the bitter taste of iron. Instead they taste light like memories, and come out just as soft. 

He doesn’t remember when either of you drift off to sleep. 

When morning comes and Wyll finds you still in his tent, he feels the ability to claim plausible deniability drift away from him. 

You mean more to him than he thought. The moment passes to tell you. 

___ 

The journey to the Underdark is never an easy one. 

Underneath the desecrated Selune temple was the beaten path. A long ladder down through a broken Selunite outpost. Not only have you all fought a spectator, a bullete, several hook horrors and an entire beach of duegars - you’ve just slaughtered an Absolutist leader with your bare hands. 

The remaining duegar have fled the scene after a night to recover, leaving Nere’s body for the lot of you to loot. The gnomes have gone too. Wyll tries to hold confidence all of them will make it in one piece. 

The Sovereign had made his request clear, slaughter Nere and bring his head. Wyll has watched you kill and devour several bodies in your time together, but there’s something novel about watching you do it now. A knife, pulled out from your sheath - sharp as it cuts and saws through the flesh. It’s a clean, precise slice. Nothing like you, Wyll thinks fondly. 

He can surmise that it’s because you’re rather fond of the myconid colony. They’re kind to you and you are always fond of those who are kind. In that way you’re easy to appease. But he didn’t know you were capable of this level of care. You tend to be matted and ruddy. Generally messy. 

Wyll likes you that way. 

The head comes off the body unceremoniously. You wrap a cloth underneath the bottom, and tuck it in your pack along some cubes of ice you had Gale make you with magic that morning. 

Wyll only sees the outline of your back. He watches as you stretch your palms out and examine them for blood. When you find none, you turn around with a little tired sigh.

Promptly, you prop yourself onto Shadowheart. Your ear and tails have made a reappearance, your chin resting on her shoulder. 

“I'm tiiiiiiiiired,” You whine, long and drawn out. Your teeth stick out from your lips when you pout, Wyll notices. The heat of the forge and all of the surrounding lava have your skin sticky with sweat. The deep purple of the destroyed Sharran enclave feels out of place among the fires “I don’t want to go to the Shadowfell lands. I won’t. You can’t make me,” 

You’ve picked up a habit of being touchy. You tend to cling to Shadowheart, which Wyll finds ironic. Even with her cold exterior, the half-elf doesn’t push you off when you hug or pester her. You make promises to Karlach you’ll join her for it once her engines all fixed. Lae’zel finds it pointless. Halsin doesn’t mind, and likes to turn into a bear so all the furry creatures at camp can turn into big pile. 

Gale also doesn’t mind, but the wizard usually airs on the side of embarrassment - a faint blush crawling over him whenever you wrap yourself thoughtlessly about him. Astarion pretends to reject it, but willingly pets and scratches you when he feels less combative. Something you happily recieve.

And Wyll… well, it doesn’t bother him. You approach him often enough, and he’d be hard-pressed on a reason to reject you. 

(He ignores the way your touch seems to linger, unsure if he’s seeing things that don’t belong. Wyll is fond of you. Your heart is good - he thinks of you often  but he isn’t so sure that means something. Well it means plenty to him, but what of you? 

You like the sensation of physical affection, he reminds himself Nevermind the times you’ve fallen asleep as a wolf in his lap. Nevermind the occasional naps in his tent, or whines when he’s too busy to pay you mind.)

“You’re not ferocious at all, do you know? More like a drooling mutt than a werewolf,” Shadowheart huffs sarcastically. 

“What I lack in ferocity I make up for in vigor.” You reply with a hum, rubbing your cheek against Shadowheart’s shoulder. “And the situation doesn’t spark any vigor in me. We’ve already been underground this long and next we’re going somewhere even darker.” 

Astarion pipes up, sitting criss-cross onto the marbled floor in one of the few spots free of blood, sorting through his varied belongings and trinkets. “I would figure werewolves and vampires share their love for the darkness, no?” 

“We can’t see the moon well from either place. I need to see the moon to track some things related to my form. I count the phases in my head but if I don’t see it for too long - I start getting homesick like a man at sea.” You whine and huff again, this time peeling yourself off of Shadowheart and throwing yourself onto Wyll. 

He steadies himself enough not to topple over by your strength and weight as you drape yourself across his back. You nuzzle your cheek against him tenderly. It’s different to how you do it to Shadowheart or Astarion (when he’s not adamantly pushing you away.) It’s more tender, closer. Your nose brushes against the nape of his neck. Wyll doesn’t flinch, even at the warmth of your breath. You inhale again and Wyll can hear the swish of your tail.

He pretends to be ignorant of it and doesn’t push you away - instead laughing lightly. 

“Oh, Moonmaiden - let your moon be my light, and I shall let my sword be your shining symbol.” You  recite with a sigh. The words reverberate along his skin.  “Moon my love, you are terribly missed.” 

“Keep your Selunite prayer out of my ears, would you?” 

“Don’t be so moody, my cold blooded Sharran. Our Lady of SIlver is a kind and accepting goddess, so her blessing will extend even to you.” 

Shadowheart crinkles her nose. You laugh noisily next to Wyll’s ear. He smiles softly.

“After we’ve delivered the head to the Sovereign, we can travel back overhead before going into the Shadowfell. That way, you’ve had some time with the moon and we’re able to get in more rest before taking it on,” 

You pull away from him now, grabbing his shoulder to turn him around with a laugh. Wyll looks at you wide-eyed as you grin at him, knocking your foreheads together innocently.

“Ah, what a great idea! If everyone else is on board, then let’s make our way to the Sovereign now and recoup on the surface. We’ll return to Grymforge come mornin’ and head off that way. Is everyone on board with that?” 

You look around for affirmation before resting your gaze on Wyll with a smile. 

Wyll feels his heart tug slightly, returning your smile before averting his eyes. You scamper off to Astarion, attention easily pulled in every which way. Shadowheart saunters towards him. 

“You’re rather obvious, Blade of Frontiers. I thought a folk hero would have a little more suave about these matters.”

Wyll clears his throat. 

“...I don’t know what you’re referring too.” 

Shadowheart laughs good-naturedly. 

“Sure you don’t.” 

___

There are few times you take your proper werewolf form. 

It’s an accommodation thing from Wyll’s understanding. People are frightened less of full wolves or your humanoid forms. The hybridized version of yourself is what people find the most monstrous, and so - you’ve gotten used to putting on the shelf. 

The only time you take that form is when you hunt for meat. It’s easy enough to get ahold of other camp supplies - like liquor or vegetables if they’re lucky. But meat is hard to find, especially hard to find where it hasn’t got spoiled. Astarion hunts only out of necessity, so he’s not really any help. 

You hunt because it’s natural to you. A life of pilgrimage and spent in a Selunite enclave has gifted you the knowledge of preserving meats, too. When you’re camped out near enough forest - you’ll hunt. Most often before a long stretch of travel, you’ll go into the woods alone and disappear - returning with a feast. No one goes with you. In the forest, among fallen trees and soil - you’ll gut and skin the prey. You’ll bring back the final products, clean hides and things to turn to leather and meat ready for curing. It’s to prevent any more unusual bloodshed from occurring at camp. More sanitary, you always say. 

Wyll has no intention of following you tonight while he knows you’re hunting. His interest in the woods is to scope them out one last time before you leave this place for good, keep it in his memory and prepare for the road ahead. 

When he hears the sound of a faint growling, he thinks for a minute you’ve been injured or are in some kind of danger. 

The moon is shining just enough to cast light on your form. He figures out quickly you’re safe.

There’s nothing new to see. Thick, crimson blood makes a mess of your appearance - dripping down your fangs. It sticks and matts in your fur, covering your face in messy splatters. Your werewolf form is your most monstrous. Unnatural limbs and features - a form like a human but the face and ferocity of a wolf. 

In front of you are corpses of animals, bled out and laid in a pile. The scent of blood is so strong Wyll can smell it from a distance away. It’s a distance you’d usually be able to smell Wyll from, but it must be masked by the smell of copper and flesh. 

The moon has waned, nearly to its fullest. You turn yourself towards the black sky of midnight, towards the moon - and you howl. It is a loud, tremendous sound. 

Wyll has never heard you howl before. It’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard in his life. An elongated melody, deep from your chest - high and throaty. You howl to the sky. You howl to the moon. To your goddess, most certainly. You howl in the version of yourself everyone finds most disgusting. The monster in you is alive and bare-chested to the world. Stood on your two feet, all matted fur and eyes like beams of light - you howl towards the sky.

And Wyll watches. Listens. Commits the sound to memory. 

In the version of yourself that is so embraced by monstrosity, you howl like a song to the moon you so adore.

He’s never found you so beautiful. 

___

Time moves differently in the Shadowfell lands. 

Slower. In every other part of Fae’run, the nights and days don’t blur into each other. But here, in the abandoned and unyielding darkness - everything feels thick. Muddy. The soil that does not dampen, the trees that do not grow leaves. Instead of preserved amber, there is only shadow. It swallows everything, every place in the land. 

The upward battle of survival persists. The Harpers have (barely) welcomed you into the Last Light Inn. Flaming Fist Marcus is dead, and the Moon Maiden has given her her blessing. You’ve even been able to give Karlach her first upgrade. 

The air speaks for itself though, that you’re nearing something important. The beginning of something. Or the end, though Wyll sways towards hope and optimism. 

In the presence of darkness and solace, -Wyll finds that you remain yourself. Bright and clear and comforting, even in the face of impending doom. 

Your camp in the Shadowfell lands is brightened by artificial lights. It spans over more land now. The main area which hosts all of your companions lies at the foot of an abandoned building. An abandoned house, torn by vines of shadowfell and roots. The base of camp is spread over dusty ashen floors, everything colored gray. 

When it’s time to rest, most lights remain on. He finds it’s easier to sleep with Selune’s blessing. 

Tonight, Wyll can't get any rest at all. He’s still awake while his companions have fallen asleep. He opens his eyes to the skies. They lack the deep shades of purple of a normal night sky, unmistakably dark.

His eyes remain lidded as he takes a look at his surroundings. Shadowheart is asleep, and Astarion is deep enough in meditation that Wyll doubts he’d noticed if he walked off. Among his companions, you’re missing from your bedroll. 

Wyll sits up as quietly as he can. He looks towards your tent, to see if you’ve woken up to sleep inside - but doesn’t find you there either. His brow tightens, shoulders tense as he blinks rapidly trying to wake himself up. 

There aren’t many places in this camp to go, despite the terrain being wider. The other tent occupants remain in place. From where Wyll stands you’re not with anyone else like Karlach or Halsin. 

There’s only one more place that would leave you.

Through a curve and another straight path are wood stairs. At the top is a skeleton of an old house. One that stood long before the curse, and remains long after. 

Wyll has never gone there on his own. He only saw it once while they’d settled in for the first time. There’s nothing inside of it. A fireplace, a broken cupboard and cabinet. A table and chair, and two old beds that have gone rickety overtime. 

He ducks his head as he enters through what must’ve once been a door. 

It occurs to him he’s never really seen you pray. Not fully at least. Though you utter it on occasion, the words of your goddess - you tend to speak them lightly. Wyll gathers its out of respect for Shadowheart. 

He finds you on the edge of a large bed in the center of the room. You’re in your humanoid form, with only your ears and tail and teeth - your hands are clasped tightly around a necklace. The fireplace is burning, but it’s not what illuminates you.

All around you though is a pale blue glow, like the moon itself has surrounded you with all of its might. You’re quiet in incantation  - the warmth of a smile lighting up your features. You’re not in your usual nightwear of a loose shirt and pants. Instead you wear the silk of a slip and something like a Selunite robe, open. Wyll has seen so much of your skin before, everything past your knees barren. But its a new feeling. Your neck and shoulders are just the same, your hand on your chest ducking from view.

You breathe deeply, before your eyes flutter open and see him at the door. You smile at him.

“You’re awake,” You say first, letting go of the necklace chain. “Hope everything’s alright?” 

“Sorry. And yes, everything is fine - I had just woken up and couldn’t find you,” Wyll feels flush as he adds the rest to the conversation “And I uhm. Well I was worried something might have happened.” 

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry. I figured everyone would be asleep so I didn’t bother telling anyone,” You say apologetically “Our Silver Lady called to me so I felt I ought to answer.”

You pause before laughing. “Wait, sit first. Unless you’re going back to sleep right away.” 

Wyll shakes his head as your grin widens making his heart feel rather funny. 

He sits next to you, fond as you bring your leg up and face him. Your back rests on the broken wood at the foot of the bed. You’ve tidied the room a bit, and these sheets don’t have as much dust as they did when you first got here. 

Wyll mirrors your actions, sitting with a leg up - bent at the knee as he stares at you. 

“You said your goddess called to you?”

“Ah, yes,” Your voice is uncharacteristically shy. Wyll can’t help but stare at the bare crook of your knees. “Shadowheart had mentioned it. There’s something in these lands. And well,   wherever Shar goes, Selune will follow and all. Don’t really know what it means, though. Bit of mystery.” 

“You’re a cleric, right?” Wyll asks, taking a brief moment to assess and remember all the little details about yourself you’ve told him. 

When he thinks of it, there’s so much about you he doesn’t know. Though he feels you know everything there is to know about him. It’s not that you’re secretive, but it’s rare to get a moment alone. Harder to find a moment appropriate to air out your past. 

Alone with you in this shadowy, dimly lit room - Wyll hopes time will slow. Long enough to know something more about you, at least.  

“Right. I try not to crutch too much on my magic so I tend to stick to fighting,” You say with a laugh “I also had to learn physical combat and martial arts. It feels like a waste not to use.” 

“I see,” Wyll says with a thoughtful hum “But you are a cleric, all the same. Quite an impressive title to bestow on someone, I’d imagine.” 

“Ah, truthfully - I find it a bit difficult,” You reply sheepishly, surprising Wyll.“I’m sort of simple, all things considered. I thought I’d be my Lady’s sword or just part of her clergy, but I never imagined I’d do anything so important. Or have powers so great.” 

The sound of your voice feels especially pleasant to Wyll like this, murmurs just between you with no threat of doom. Like between these broken wooden planks, is a peace impenetrable. He likes being with you.

“Before your capture, were you? Set out to do something important, I mean,” 

“Importance is relative. But, it was a mission I was proud taking,” You reply thoughtfully. A confirmation of the sanctity in your character for you to make such a distinction. “I had been sent by my clergy to wander Faerun - to aid other lycanthropes and those touched by madness or ailment. 

“You alone had been sent?

You nod, staring down at your hands folded in your lap. 

“Aye, me alone. I’d wandered around for several years when I was sent away before the ship had captured me. I was on my way to Baldur’s Gate as part of it,” 

“Where do you hail from?” 

“Amn. There’s a few small Selunite enclaves there. Mama was a Silverstar, which is mostly a pretty word for a very powerful priestess. My fate was divined when I was seventeen and the rest is history.” 

“Seventeen is young. What was your final destination then? Or was it more of a wandering practice.” 

“After some years, I was hoping to get to Waterdeep actually. Big church for Selune over there, very beautiful.” Your voice teeters on wistful, blooming with longing and nostalgia. You peek at Wyll through your lashes. “In that way, we have a lot in common.” 

“A lot in common. Do you really think so?” 

“Mm, I do. Banished at seventeen, a monster inside us, some sort of tragic background. We make a fun pair.”

“I didn’t know there was a tragic story in yours. To the extent you could call it one,” Wyll says quietly. You give Wyll a look. Though he doesn’t pressure you to expand on it, you seem relaxed enough to talk about it. 

You close your eyes briefly, letting them flutter open. 

“It was a year into my pilgrimage, I think,” You explore, a soft sadness tender in your expression. Wyll sits up a little straighter, readying himself to receive whatever you wish to tell him. “A small village in the Dalelands. Young girl, about seven. Her village had ostracized her. By the time I arrived, she was emaciated. Clever little thing had survived on her own but barely,” 

Wyll waits patiently for you to continue, not wanting to interrupt you even briefly. He softens his gaze.  

“Anyway. When I go anywhere new, the basic practice is meeting locals. Depending on the circumstances, I won’t always disclose my wolven ways. Some people - they need guidance, others they need protection. In her case, she needed both,” You look far away somehow. Wyll feels empathy as much as he feels warmth. Your care for the human condition, he always finds, touches him. “She was much smarter than me, you know. Her lycanthropy was inherited like mine, but because she was so young - she had a difficult time controlling it.” 

You pause to take a long, deep, steadying breath. “She was my little genius. I cared for her  an awful lot. Still do. She beat me at lanceboard all the time, despite being seven and I wasn’t even letting her win you know.” 

“She must’ve been even more brilliant than I could imagine.” Wyll offers. You nod. 

“Despite my efforts, the relationship between her and her village wasn’t getting better. One day, I’d left her in my chambers for a while - to bring something back from a market nearby. Less than a few hours, and she’d been uhm,” Your voice starts to close. Wyll follows his instinct, squeezing your hand where it rests on your knee. It’s shaking when he reaches for it. He thinks briefly about kissing it. “She’d been killed,” 

Wyll pauses, lets you collect yourself. But he wants to know as much as you’ll tell him. 

“It was easy enough to figure out who’d done it. And in small villages like that, the hivemind bullshit and paranoia really gets to people,” Your voice intones on bitterness. Angry and heartbroken, you continue “Grown men raising an ax to kill a little girl. I almost lost my mind. I should’ve.” 

“But you didnt…? Or did you? In a situation like that, well,” Wyll looks at you sympathetically. “Any choice you made I wouldn’t hold it against you.” 

“I only punished the one who killed her. I didn’t kill him no matter how much I wanted to. I don’t think she would’ve wanted that. Not her or my goddess,” You say with a deep sigh. “I used my magic and blinded him. Made an example out of him and reprimanded the rest of those fucking idiots.” 

“And after?” 

You clear your throat, but smile at him. Like you’re grateful he hasn’t recoiled from it.

“After, I buried her body in the soft earth, in the place where the moon shone most brightly - and mourned. Her death was so severe I couldn’t revive or heal her, I just buried…her. I thought about doing plenty of other shit. To kill, to chase, to defend - but ultimately, it felt more…meaningful just to… bury her.” 

Wyll frowns, pausing. He squeezes your hand, eyes closed. Brows furrowed as he looks down. 

“I’m sorry,” 

You smile at him. Noticing the hand in yours finally, you even flush - though the moment passes quickly. Wyll stares at you in quiet, wondering if his eyes alone could tell you all he’s thinking. With you, his silver tongue is absent. His mouth is weighed too heavily with feelings sincere, with words meaningful. 

Wyll cannot offer you cleverness or comfort where he wishes to offer you honesty. 

“That night, the Moonmaiden had called to me. Just like today. It’s hard to explain what it feels like?  Like a cool hand on feverish skin. It was a revelation for me. I had suddenly felt so empty. And, after some sobbing, I’d realized something,” You say whimsically, drawing circles into the back of Wyll’s hand. 

“What did you realize?” He prompts. 

“Our Lady of Silver believes in the carving and following of our own path. But, what had I done but what was told of me? All my life I’d spent in the temple, in the monastery - among people of my own faith and beliefs. In the moment in which I felt so much anger, I didn’t know what to do. I was lost. I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel. Not on purpose, but that was the truth. I swore myself too soon to duty rather than the convictions of my heart—I’d lacked real purpose.”

Wyll smiles at you, brightened by the gusto in which you speak. He’s endeared by you all too easily. 

“And the convictions of your heart? Have you found them?” He asks, head tilted. 

“Not all of them. But you know I figured out one thing. I want to make the world a less lonely place. Her death will never not bear weight on my mind, but her tiny hand thanking me for staying with her. That was something, I’m damn sure. Maybe all of it,” 

He stares at you, speaking in quiet murmurs. You’re glowing, he thinks. You must be. 

“It’s a noble thing to want. At least to me.” 

“I’m glad you think so. My goddess has given me these divine powers, so my duty will always be to help people. But more than that - I want to guide the sick and afraid like the Moonmaiden guides me. I want to make it less difficult for people.” 

“You’re awfully wise at times like this.” 

“Wise?” You laugh lightly. “I’ve never heard that for me before. More used to hearing stuff like hard-headed, pack runt, cry baby. So on and so forth. But I’ll cherish it before you change your mind.” 

“Do you feel fulfilled here? Becoming a hero of a city, saving so many people - surely that too aligns with your convictions” 

“Asking an awful lot about me,” You tease finally. Wyll is hard-pressed to deny it. It’s so obvious. “But I do. I’d say managing to become Astarion’s friend is a high enough accomplishment with regards to you know, my convictions and all. It’s honestly like my life’s work. He even pets me now. Willingly!”

Wyll laughs loudly at the sudden excitement in your voice. You haven’t let go of his hand, he notices. 

He hopes you don’t.

“Quite an impressive feat, certainly. But I am a little hurt. Does our bond not incite a similar sense of accomplishments and vigor in you?” He teases.

You pretend to consider it. 

“The Blade of Frontiers, my most important companion.” You respond, with just as much cheekiness. “Calling it an accomplishment might be too egotistical.” 

“What else do you suppose you’d call it?” 

“Fate, maybe,” You say, though your voice is hardly above a murmur now.  “Somehow, the fact we’ve met feels more like a very lucky chance, I reckon.” 

“You feel so strongly about it?” Wyll says, more than asks. Because somehow it feels too much like a dream. 

“Of course. I feel strongly about you in general,” You respond, and still don’t let go of his hand. You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world “I feel strongly about us. And all we’ve seen, together. I feel strongly that regardless of all the darkness, the moon waits for me and that I’m very lucky to have met you.”

Wyll feels his heart jump into his throat. Hardly a confession, yet his heart pounds. The longing is ceaseless. 

In all the time you’ve spent together, Wyll has had all the time in the world to witness you. In your bravery and in your cowardice. At the best of yourself, and at the worst. Wyll has seen you lie when you’d rather be honest. He’s seen you cry countlessly for the deaths of people you’ve never known. He’s seen you tear through flesh and bone. He’s seen you as a furred creature laid on your back so Halsin would rub your stomach. He’s seen you as tenderly, achingly human. 

Wyll has seen so much of you. And perhaps more than that - you have seen so much of him. Parts of himself even he has no access to. A passing comment of how dashing his horns look, a pat on the shoulder when you pass a father and son. You see Wyll even when he forgets to see himself. 

Between you, there is no question that he is lucky. The luckiest man on Toril. 

“You know, when everything is through. Not if, but when,” Wyll says slowly and carefully. “I want to remain by your side. Wherever that road leads. I want us to be together or travel together. Though I don’t know what that would look like,” 

You give him a look of surprise, then a teasing smile - titling your head to one side. 

“I might go somewhere you don’t want to follow, Ravengard. I’m a wanderer at heart.” 

“Impossible. I’ve already followed you here, remember?” Wyll says with a smile, eyes meeting yours “As long as we’re together, no place is too dark nor too treacherous.” 

“I’ll hold you to that.” 

“There’d be no greater honor.” 

__ 

When Myrkul falls, the world is silent. 

For a first time, in a long time - the Shadowfell lands do not whisper the regrets of the dead. Instead, the remaining shadow swallowing the world begins to finally clear. In gradual steps, life returns to the land at Moonrise. 

And this is in no small part thanks to you. 

Though, Wyll watches you as you insist the glory is split between your party equally.  You’re all heroes, and you couldn’t have done it without them by your side. Wyll knows you mean that.

 It was you who took down the foes at Moonrise towers in slow increments, that planned and slaughtered until there was nothing left of it. It was you who destroyed the Thorms one by one. You who allowed Wyll to break Mizora’s pact. You who completed the gauntlet of Shar, who saved the Nightsong with your own two hands. That helped Astarion with the letters on his back, and that prevented Gale from using his orb - because you were so certain you all could win without it. 

It was your touch and kindness that gave Shadowheart grace enough to throw away her Sharran roots, to throw away her past and embrace her own convictions just like you had promised to embrace yours. 

The world has not been saved. The journey to the end has only become more perilous. But in the palm of your hand is the Netherstone of the fallen general - and an entire allegiance waiting to follow you into battle. The world has not been saved, and it is only bound to get more treacherous. 

But for now, you’ve accomplished something great - and Wyll is proud to be alongside you for all of the rest, as you move onto things even greater. 

For now, all of you remain at camp. A two day extended break before venturing towards the city. Among your camp now is the famed harper Jaehira and more importantly - Dame Aylin, the chosen of your goddess. And the cleric Isobel, her lover, of course.

Dame Aylin’s arrival at your camp has sparked plenty of interesting conversations. Revelations of Shadowheart’s identity aside (something you’ve been helping her through), Dame Aylin is not just a fellow Selunite - but the daughter of your beloved goddess. Not only have you just saved her life, you’ve freed her from thousands of years of torment. 

Wyll doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so utterly awe-struck in your adventure together, even once. You’re a hard person to shake in many ways, and you’re excitable - but nearly never truly awestruck like the way you have been for the last two days. 

Wyll is listening in on the interaction from afar, only taking small peeks at you as you, Shadowheart, Dame Aylin and Isobel crowd around in your tent. Your tail is swishing so helplessly behind you Wyll can’t help but laugh.

“God. You’ve been staring like a dumb puppy for two days now,” Shadowheart teases, rubbing your head with her hand “You’re going to catch flies with your jaw like that.” 

“Ah, I’m sorry,” You say, a little embarrassed. Wyll smiles to himself as he pretends to read, thankful to be in earshot “I’m sorry, I’m just… It was already nice meeting another Selunite but…I could live a thousand lives and not meet you Miss Aylin.” 

“Your formality is misplaced. Aylin is just fine. We are comrades in all regards, both in our faith and in arms. I’m thankful you’ve given us a place to stay for the time being,” 

“Camp welcomes all as policy. It helps to have allies and in lands like these, seems a little cruel to leave people to the wilds. Though soon that won’t be an issue,” 

“You’ve accomplished something incredible,” Isobel praises. Wyll glances at you, a warmth settling in his chest at the surprise you seem to feel. “Lifting the curse from these lands, it was no small task.” 

“It was all of our contribution! I’m just glad we’re a little bit closer to getting rid of these pests.” You lament with a dramatic sigh “And I’m excited to be in a place where I can feel the presence of the moon again.” 

“It must be hard on you,” Isobel says sympathetically. You smile. 

“I can hardly imagine,” Aylin adds, shaking her head. “There is perhaps some small blessing in the fact you’re gifted with control, but the effects that these lands must have on your body. May She ease your burden.” 

Shadowheart gives you a look of confusion. “You know, you’ve mentioned this to me before - but I don’t actually know how it affects your conditions,” Her frown deepens. “A little hypocritical given how much you know about me at this point, I think.” 

You look surprised then flattered. “It was never worth mentioning. My body has certain cycles that are affected by the moon. Similar to the tide. After 6 tendays, I go through something like.. a fever as a result of a full moon. Though I’ve been suppressing it with medication, my body at a certain point needs to expel it.” 

“A fever?”

This catches Wyll’s attention. You’ve mentioned your condition in passing and always left the details vague (something Wyll is extra aware of given your love of being open in most everything) so this is the most he’s ever heard about it. He stops turning pages and tunes in completely. 

“Sort of. The details aren’t important, really. I’ve gone through it for years, so I’m more than used to it. Especially on the road,” You explain, waving your hand. “Silver Lady bless me, I don’t think it’ll begin until we’re in the city at least. Near civilization and all.” 

“Do you need anything from us?” Shadowheart probes with obv. Lately when it comes to you, she doesn’t bother feigning indifference. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m used to it! I was going to mention it though soon, so I guess it’s a good thing it came up,” You lean back on your palms, legs crossed as you close your eyes. “I’ll be gone for about a tenday. I’ll leave my tent here and just pack some essentials and fuck off to the woods. Like I said, I’ve been doing it for years.” 

Shadowhearts frown deepens, as does Wylls. 

“That was then and this is now. You’re a rather wanted individual, will that be safe? A tenday of solo travel?” 

You give Shadowheart a delighted look before tackling her with a hug. She almost topples over but manages to keep herself upright as you hug and nuzzle her. She doesn’t push you off in any case. You laugh warmly, resting your chin on her shoulder. 

“You’re really worried about me? Little old me? Have you opened your heart to me after all?” You say through a giggle, earning a few laughs from Dame Aylin and Isobel. You finally pull away to look at her. “I promise I will be completely fine. My senses around that time are extremely heightened. I’m feverish but it’s very difficult to catch me off-guard enough for some kind of ambush. Worst case scenario, I shift and run away.” 

Shadowheart does not seem comforted by this. Wyll feels the same, thankful she’s being so adamant about it. 

“I don’t like those odds,” She says with her arms crossed. “Is there no one you can bring with you?” 

When she says that, you  turn to Wyll. Your eyes lock briefly. You look a little startled, but relax once you realize that it’s him. Wyll is a little startled too, embarrassed by his own staring. He can only hope you didn’t notice how obviously he was moments prior. You take a minute to consider him, your gaze raking over him. It’s a split second, barely noticeable - but afterwards you flush. It happens so quickly that Wyll wonders if he’s imagined the entire thing. 

You laugh and Wyll swears it sounds nervous. 

“I get a little…aggressive during that time.” You say dismissively. “It’s best to leave me to my own devices. I promise you I will be perfectly fine.” 

“I don’t know how much I believe that, but I’ll try to put my faith in you. Don’t make me worry while these damn parasites are still in our heads.”

You throw your head back and laugh brilliantly.

“I’ll make it back to you in one piece,” You say, holding your pinky out. Shadowheart hooks her own into yours with a blush. “I promise on the Moonmaiden herself.” 

Shadowheart sighs, resting her head on your shoulder. Your smile grows ten sizes. 

“You better.” 

__

The journey, of course, does not get any easier. 

You’ve barely made it to Rivington. Barely. Not only have you had to fight off a camp of hateful githyanki and earned the ire of an alien goddess - you’ve just found out the person protecting you is a mindflayer. 

After a tremendous amount of difficult information launched at the lot of you, you’ve managed to regain your bearings (some kind of miracle, Wyll thinks). You’ve made it to Rivington. Finally. 

Hells. What a troublesome situation. 

You’ve been in Rivington for a few days now, though you haven’t made it far. After being at the circus and a somewhat harrowing fight with a shapeshifting clown, you decide to put up for the night. Before nightfall, you announced to everyone at camp that you’d be disappearing for your supposed fever. You can feel it coming on, and by the time it starts - traveling will be difficult. 

Everyone has had their own way of fussing over you. Gale has given you some scrolls of his own curation. Astarion silently handed you one of his favorite daggers and a pack of expensive arrows. Lae’zel has given you some potions, testing your reflexes with you before your disappearance. Shadowheart gives you as many healing potions as she can, and her blessing with the help of Dame Aylin. Karlach has little to offer you in terms of things, instead knocking your heads together and telling you to scream as loud as you can if anything happens - and she’ll come running no matter what happens. Halsin has dried some food for you ahead of time, ever the planning kind. 

Wyll only gives you a long look of concern. Most of the conversation between you is had with eyes, a soft glance meeting a concerned one. With Wyll, you hold his hand and assure him that you’ll be fine - and to take care of them in your short absence. You hug him extra tight before you leave.Wyll is forced to let you disappear. 

It’s really not like Wyll to be so invasive on another person's business. He knows he can be a busybody when it comes to helping someone but for the most part - he’ll respect a person's wishes. If someone doesn’t want intervention, it’s not Wyll’s place to force it on them. He's learned from experience that sometimes it makes the situation worse. 

But shit, the worry has been eating Wyll alive. He could hardly sit still in the brief two hours you had disappeared. The rest of the party have regrouped in your absence. Gale, Astarion, Shadowheart and Lae’zel - while Karlach and Wyll planned to stay behind. Wyll had wanted to go but Astarion wouldn’t allow him. Said his pining would get in the way of everything. He’s off his game, and it’s best to wait till you return. 

It’s getting closer to evening, the sun beginning to set. Wyll just can’t sit still. There’s no way a tenday is going to pass like this without Wyll effectively losing his mind. 

Just as the sky begins to be painted orange, Wyll troubles Shadowheart in the middle of her meditations. 

One of her eyes opens as she breaks her concentration, an amused smile showing on her face. 

“That was quick,” She says first, looking up at Wyll from where she’s kneeled. “I thought you’d wait at least a day,” 

“Pardon?” 

Shadowheart laughs. “Oh, to chase them down I mean. I knew it was going to happen eventually, but this is a little fast even for you, Ravengard.” 

Wyll doesn’t know how to feel about that. 

“My apologies for being predictable,” Wyll says with a sigh. “But since you were anticipating it, I have to ask if you know anything. Where they’d be. Anything.” 

“This is exactly why they didn’t tell you, you know? Not that I’m not worried about them too,” Shadowheart says with a sigh. “But they were clear. They need a tenday alone.” 

Wyll looks at her. “I’ve never been like this before, either. I don’t understand it, but I haven’t been able to take my mind off it despite my efforts. Regardless of what you tell me, it seems like I’m going to follow them,” 

“Oh, please,” Shadowheart says, standing up and dusting herself off as she looks at him directly “You don’t know why? Don’t you think it’s time to be a little more honest with yourself, Wyll? I mean really.”

Wyll widens his eyes, a little taken aback by it. He flushes, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm. He scrunches his brow a bit, unsure of what to say to defend himself. 

“Well, I am aware of why, I suppose. But it’s,” He fumbles in the process of trying to say anything sensible. “It’s new.. I didn’t think I was this sort of person. Something along those lines. It’s not that I don’t have confidence in them, but this isn’t something they need to endure alone.” 

“Not when you’re there for them, I’m guessing,” 

Wyll smiles a little sheepishly. “Yes. I respect their privacy. I’ll turn back if they ask me too,” 

“Oh, don’t worry, that was easy enough to figure out.” Shadowheart teases. Wyll covers his face. Is he a schoolboy, being teased about his crush like this? How ridiculous. “At least you know.” 

He sighs.

“Will you at least tell me what you know?” 

“I’m still thinking about it.” Shadowheart says thoughtfully. She makes an exaggerated gesture of contemplating the situation before shrugging. “Hm. You know, I’ve entered a totally new chapter of my life - so, out of the kindness of my heart I’ll tell you what I know.” 

“Thank you.” Wyll says truly grateful. Shadowheart gives him what Wyll thinks of as a semi-fond smile. He hopes this means she approves of whatever is going on. You two are close as ever, so it does matter to Wyll how she feels about it. 

“They were rather vague about the situation,” Shadowheart says honestly. “But they did tell me the direction they were going to travel. There’ll be marks in the trees so they can make their way back if something happens. If you can find where they started, it should be easy enough to find where they end up. That’s all I know. Good luck.” 

“Thank you, Shadowheart.” 

“Oh and, go pack some things of your own before you go. Just in case you end up staying.” 

“Right. I’ll do that now.” 

“I’ll let everyone know so leave as soon as you can.” 

“It looks like I'll be owing you quite a few favors.” Wyll offers. Shadowheart smiles. 

“Of course. Nothing in life is free. But go, shoo. You should go before it gets too dark.” 

Wyll gives her one last look of gratitude before hurrying to prepare a pack. 

__ 

Wyll barely makes it before the darkness settles in. 

There’s enough moonlight to guide him through the tricky paths of the forest. Let the record show, Wyll has no idea how you’ve navigated through here. Like Shadowheart had promised him - the trees began to be marked once Wyll found your paw prints on the ground. On each tree was a the slashing of a sharp dagger. 

Despite the clear path you laid out, the terrain is utterly unforgiving for the longest time. Had the signs of you not been in front of him, Wyll would’ve given up on the affair. This is saying something, because his time as the Blade of Frontiers was far from a life of luxury. 

It’s difficult but the promise of Wyll’s good eye laying its gaze on you is enough to push him through to the end of the journey. 

Eventually, eventually - the path clears. The trees start to become sparse and the area starts to flatten to something walkable. The dirt hardens underneath his feet and his muscles no longer drag. 

Before Wyll lays eyes on you, he hears you. 

There’s a campfire, and the shelter of a borrowed tent. You’ve laid out plenty of old rags and bedsheets - layers and layers of dusty fabric and old pillows giving you a cushion from where you’re curled up on a tree. 

Before Wyll can see you in the faint glow of fire, the only thing his mind can pay attention to is the sound of your voice. 

A pained whimper, so loud and high pitched - Wyll is shocked he didn’t hear it some distance ago. You’re practically shaking, short snarls and desperate yowls between hard pants.You sound like you’re suffering something grave. It’s nothing he’s ever heard in your time together, despite the horrific injuries you’ve endured. Even at near death, Wyll has never heard more than labored breathing and groans. 

It’s pure distress, so broken it rings in his ears. His concern grows ten sizes. 

He decides then that no matter what you tell him, he won’t be able to go back to camp to leave you alone. 

He fights the urge with his body to run towards you, remembering the state you’re in. Prone to aggression and high-alert, Wyll forces himself to approach you slowly. 

As soon as he’s within range of you, your entire body lurches forward to sit up. Your eyes open, wide and nearly feral - searching erratically. Wyll pauses, no longer in a soft crouch. He stands to full attention. When you finally look at him, your chest shakes with an exhale. You lean back against the tree behind you where you’re curled, shaking. 

“Fuck,” You cover your nose first, pressing your arm against it as you curl away from him instinctively. Wyll feels a mix of guilt and worry. “Fuck, what in the Hells are you doing here? Was it Shadowheart? Even—even though I told her,” 

He moves in just a step closer. “I asked her. But I intended to find you even if you didn’t tell me. I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen,” 

“Shit, don’t get any closer. I-I’m already, shit,” You hold up a hand, though your entire body is fragile. Weak, even from this distance. “Don’t move. You,” Another labored breath “Go back.” 

Wyll stills, but doesn’t budge. His frown deepens. “You don’t have to endure this alone,” He steps closer. “I’m here for you,” 

“It’s not about—fuck,” You curl into yourself, turning your face away from him. “It’s n-not about that. Not personal. You need to get out of here, Wyll, please. Please listen to me and, and go.” 

Wyll wants to ask how he could leave you in this condition, but the desperation in your voice stops him. He feels uncertain, but his body - his mind, won’t listen to him.

“Tell me what’s happening to you,” Wyll pleads. He wants to run to you. He hates seeing you in this much pain. He wants to hold you, his heart is practically pounding. “Are you in pain?” 

Your expression strains, but you force your gaze towards him. Your eyes are wide. They shine with water and wetness, your tearstained expression landing on his face. 

“Fuck, Wyll, you - I’m in heat. So d-don’t come any closer. Go, go—please, I’m begging.”

Heat. Wyll knows little about the cycles of werewolves. But he knows about wolves, and other animals at least. Heat. A period of heightened sexual reception during mating season. Wyll pauses, then blinks. His stomach drops, heart quickening. 

Shit. Shit. 

“You’re in…heat.” 

“Y-yes. And it lasts for a tenday, so you need to listen to me and get out of here. Now.” 

Wyll doesn’t move. 

“Would,” Wyll swallows the thick feeling in his throat. “If someone else had come. Would you have,” 

He hardly knows what he’s asking. But it seems you do, because you open your eyes - in utter distress and shake your head. 

“No,” You shake your head and hold your breath, trying to calm yourself as you breathe. You focus on breathing only out of your mouth. “Just you.” You close your eyes again and continue to tremble. “Please. Please go, Wyll.” 

He comes closer. Your voice croaks as you try to shout at him, though the words are too faint to be called that. Nonthreatening and utterly desperate. 

“No, no, no—please,” Your words become a sob, and Wyll feels his heart start to crack a little. “You don’t understand. It h-hurts. If you get too close, if you—” 

“What is it?” He gets close enough to be within real range of you. There’s only a few feet of distance between you. Wyll kneels so he’s not looming over you, looking over you with concern. “What’s wrong?” 

You shake and shake and shake, closing your eyes - tearing your gaze away from him. Your lower lips waver, both hands covering your face as you cry. 

“Your s-scent,” You heave, trying to push back against the tree.  “It’ll make me want to t-touch you. And I can’t. I can’t and—I want too. So badly, you’re so close, please stay away. It’s cruel, so cruel to me,” 

Wyll feels his own voice almost give out. Seeing you like this. So desperate. Needy. The guilt is outweighed by another feeling he chooses not to name.

“You can touch me,” He assures. 

You sob. 

“Not just touch. Wyll, please, go.” 

“Hells,” He comes closer towards you and you flinch. “I’m not so clueless. I know what you meant. It’s alright.” 

Your eyes flicker open in disbelief. 

“You,” You look at him through teary eyes. “I-it’s important to you to... With someone you love. Not like this.” 

“Gods, who else but you? I love you,” Wyll says with his own voice nearly shot. Your eyes widen in disbelief. “Of course I love you. I want to be with you for the rest of our lives.” 

“Wyll,” You sob for a different reason this time. “I love you. I w-want you, I want you.” 

“Tell me. Can I touch you?”

“Please,” You’re so tender like this. Wyll has never seen it in his life. It’d be unimaginable, had he not witnessed. 

Strong and capable and brave and rowdy - reduced to a fragile, pleading mess. 

Wyll doesn’t know how to touch you. If he were more honest with himself in the moment - more sensible, he’d admit this to you in a quiet secret. He doesn’t have room for doubt now, so Wyll is gentle when he reaches for you. He pulls your wrists from where they’re glued to you, unfurls your form slowly and looks closely at your face. He guides your hands around his neck and brings you towards him. With slow, careful maneuvering - he sits down with you. 

Holding you in his embrace, he brings you into his lap  - sitting where you once were. Until you’re over his own, resting your full weight against his. Your knees rest on either side of his thighs, straddling him. You look at Wyll from above, your lower lip still quivering. 

“It’s alright,” He says, hands on your waist but not moving “Take what you need,” 

With a wordless whimper, you grab the fabric of Wyll’s clothing, light armor that he changed into before leaving - tight enough he can feel the tension in fabric. You lean in, your eyes shut tightly and press your nose along the side of his neck. Wyll can feel you bump against this jaw. He tilts his head back to give you more access to him. His body is hot with your sudden proximity, your own skin completely feverish from need. You inhale, so deeply and so wantonly Wyll doesn’t know what else to do other than sit and let you. 

The thought passes. Like a mutt. Like a puppy. You breathe Wyll in like it’s the only thing keeping you alive, grinding instinctively on his lap. Something that he overlooks for the sake of being the sane one between you. 

“You,” Your voice has calmed down a fair bit, though it's just as thick as it was before. “Shit, it’s so good.”  

Your grip on his clothes tighten. Wyll rubs a soothing hand on your waist, still over your clothes. You continue it, taking deep breaths of him like a life-line until your grip starts to loosen. You’re no longer shaking at least. You pull away from him with wet pleading eyes, butting your forehead with his. Wyll winces, but bites back a smile at you once he realizes you’re a tad bit more sobered up. 

“What in the hells are you doing here?” You interrogate.

“Are you alright?” Wyll says, ignoring your first question. “Has it gone down?” 

“It comes in waves. The first wave has passed, but the second one will hit soon enough. Five minutes if I had to guess,” You say, shaking your head. You fix your gaze on him. Wyll suddenly becomes aware of your proximity (or lack thereof). “Why are you here, Wyll?” 

“Why? A better question is how could I not be here?” Wyll says carefully, examining your every expression. “An ominous sickness, traveling alone for an entire tenday when we’ve all spent our entire journey together. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, but I couldn’t sit back quietly while I was so worried for your safety.” 

“Like I told you and everyone else, I’m fine. I’ve been handling heats alone since I started puberty. It’s not a very pretty sight,” You pout shyly. Wyll finds it utterly adorable. “And well, it’s not like I can announce to everyone I’m in literal heat. Fever is easier.” 

“I’m sorry if I’ve invaded your privacy. If I had known,” He clears his throat, looking away from you “If I had known it was something like this, I would’ve approached it more delicately.” 

“My brain is too heat-addled to be properly embarrassed, which is lucky - because I’m definitely going to be pissed when this is over.” You say, clutching the front of his shirt again. “Everything is all out of order now.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“You’re the one going on about keeping things old school, you know.” 

“Well yes. But it’s not for any reason so rigid,” Wyll reaches his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing underneath your eyes. “These sorts of affairs are more enchanting when the love is there. That’s the part that matters.” 

“You’re not disappointed that the first time we’re touching each other is because I’m this desperate to touch you?” 

“I just like being able to hold you. For any reason at all,” Wyll says honestly, then adds. “And well, if I were to be frank, seeing you in this state is… rousing. In its own right.” 

You flush, and mumble. “Pervert.” 

He forgives the comment just as you’ve forgiven him for his intrusion. He looks at you tenderly, heart swelling so much it’s almost overflowing. 

“Will you allow me to stay by your side?” 

“This goes on for a tenday. And it doesn’t get any easier. Do you really know what you’re asking? Do you have that kind of stamina?” 

Wyll smiles at you. He wants to kiss you. 

“Around something as enticing as you, stamina should pose no issue.” He flirts. 

“Gods, Wyll - where’d you learn to talk like that?” 

He smiles cheekily. “Esoteric erotica novels from my fathers chambers, mostly. Overhearing things at Sharesses Caress helped too.” 

You giggle a little bit. This time you’re the one leaning into him. 

“The waves will get longer and more intense. They peak around the fourth day and begin to mellow out at the start of the fifth,” You give him a look before looking away, profusely embarrassed. “Uhm. The only thing that soothes it is, well, you know. I mean I get really… I cry a lot.” 

Wyll doesn’t communicate to you the fact he knows. He did just see after all, and it’s not like he particularly enjoys seeing you suffer. He’s not that sort of man, but. He likes taking care of you, in all aspects. You’ve had to take care of yourself for so long. It feels good that he’s allowed into something that you’ve kept private all this time. 

It’s fair if he’s a little cocky about it, he thinks. 

“You can show me everything about yourself and I won’t turn my gaze away from you. Nothing could make me look away,” 

You pout again. Wyll notices you do it when you’re feeling especially embarrassed. He opts not to say anything, just smiles. 

You take a deep, shaky breath. “It’s going to start again soon. Everything is fine with me, just—stay close. Close enough that I can tuck into you.”

“Something to do with my scent, I suppose? I am curious to know what.” 

“Well I like you. And it’s comforting. But it turns me on, too. Especially like this.”

“And that’s why you were pushing me away earlier?” 

You nod, taking a deep breath. Your voice regains that sweet, thick quality that Wyll is beginning to recognize as desire.

“Mm. I’m a lot stronger than you a-and my heads not very clear,” You shake your head as you explain this to him. “It would’ve..haah..been painful. Really.” 

“So it has that kind of effect on you,” Wyll concludes. Your eyes are lidded. You’re overwhelmed. It’s an interesting position. As far as Wyll’s concerned, he probably only smells like forest right now. He looks at the way you’re shaking like a leaf, then continues “I have that kind of effect on you,” 

“Yes,” You huff, leaning against him again. Your head on his shoulder, nose brushing against his skin. He’s sweating from the journey up. He can’t really wrap his mind around what it could be that you like so much about him or how he smells. “Fuck, yes - you do.” 

It’s an odd position to be in. Wyll is a righteous man but the thoughts that swarm him now are anything but. There’s nothing foreign about being wanted. His time as the Blade of Frontiers has had him propositioned for such affairs more times than he can remember. 

No ones ever been desperate for him, though. You’ve never been desperate about anything. You’re emotional and light-hearted and wise and kind. Not desperate. Never that. 

Except right now, you’re looking up at him with your pupils blown wide and your lower lip shaking. There’s sweat dripping down the crown of your head. Your ears are perked up, your whole body tense with need. You’re practically intoxicated above him, and Wyll can’t help but feel something less than heroic about it. 

“I’m hardly half the man I claim to be,” Wyll says, a little dazed. “You make me forget myself. My virtue.” 

“What’s virtue to love, Ravengard?” You lean in closer to him, your noses brushing. It must be coming again, the next wave. “You’re just Wyll to me, remember? Not a paragon of decency.” Your face is close. Your lips are close. Tempting. “Touch me. Or make love to me, if you’d prefer to call it that.”

It feels like there’s no air in Wyll’s lungs. Not enough to take a breath. He cups the nape of your neck with his hand, and your skin is so hot it nearly burns. You’re feverish, and sweaty - when Wyll touches you, you react right away. He stares at you. Everything feels distant, far-away. How many times have the two of you been like this? How many times have you nearly crossed this threshold before retreating back into each other? 

Wyll can think of one hundred times he’s thought of kissing you. When you’re covered in blood and gore, when you smile, when the sun through the trees makes your fur look shiny and beautiful, when Astarion pets you, when you hug Karlach for the first time. He can compile every time the urge has come over him. 

It feels unreal to kiss you now, after all that. 

You open your mouth slightly, a choked moan passing through your lips as Wyll presses his own to yours. Yours are soft. The first thing he notices is the shape of your teeth, the sharp edge of your fangs - protruding and clumsy. None of it matters. Nothing matters except you and this. 

You’re huffy and eager when Wyll kisses you. A slow peck at first before he pulls away, delighted by the way you chase his mouth. Then again with your mouth open a little wider, panting hotly as you urge Wyll to give you a little more. Your hands are gripping his armor again, tight enough to rip the material. You’re too drunk on your own need, to notice anything about anything. 

It’s something about you - something about you Wyll has known since forever. You get lost in things, in fights or in books that Gale reads. Sometimes you just give up thinking entirely and let your instinct guide you. And it makes enough sense, you’re a werewolf - part hungry animal by blood. Of course your baser instinct feels more natural. 

It’s not very kind to think, but Wyll isn’t saying it to be unkind. He likes it. He likes that you think with your heart less than your head. He likes when you give into the most animal parts of you. 

Wyll is not in the same place as you. His head is meant to be clear. He’s seemingly sober for this affair. 

But his body betrays his mind so quickly it’s laughable. 

He doesn’t really know what to do with himself. All of the blood in his body is running hot, and all of it floods south more quickly than he can control it. Before he knows what he’s doing, his hands are clasping around your waist and he’s kissing you deeper. He lets his tongue brush yours, lets his teeth sink into the plush of your lower lips. He sucks and bites and licks as you breathe each other in.

You kiss Wyll until your lips are swollen, chest heaving as you pull away from each other. There’s something juvenile about the affair, enough to make you laugh even in the state you’re in. And Wyll laughs too, stares at your expression only illuminated by moonlight. 

“I love you,” Wyll repeats. You’re startled by it this time. “Gods, I love you.” 

Your voice is thick. “I love you too. Touch me, please.” 

“How should I touch you my love?” 

“However you want. As long as you touch me.” 

“However I want,” Wyll says contemplatively. He’s quick to maneuver you both to the ground when he says this. A little closer to the warmth of the fire, on the sheets and pillows you’ve set up underneath you both. You look up at him wide-eyed as your back touches the ground. “You should choose your words carefully. I may take you up on making love.” 

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him down to you.

“Do it before I lose my mind anymore,” 

Wyll laughs playfully against your skin.

The act of undressing each other is unceremonious. Wyll peels the padded armor off his body, leaving him in trousers. He helps you out of your own clothes. He’s seen you naked more than once, but never for this. For him. He studies the way your muscles fall, the hair on your skin. Various scars. Everything for him to gaze on. 

Your own hand reaches up to his neck, on his shoulder as your mouth falls open. “You’re so attractive. Do you know?” 

He laughs. “It doesn’t hurt to hear you tell me.” 

You seem eager to admire his body. Wyll doesn’t stop you. Your palms are much smoother than he’d think of them to be, as they plane over the expanse of his muscled chest. You let your fingers drift over raised scars on abdomen, over his nipples and down his abdomen. Wyll feels his cock twitch unhelpfully. You must notice the same because your eyes light up. Your hand reaches even further, even lower - cupping the hard outline of his length. He hisses through his teeth. 

“You’re…” You mumble, squeezing again. “For me,” 

“You’re beautiful,” Wyll says. You flush. 

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Your voice is almost petulant. 

“And I’ve longed for you since that very moment” 

Your pout deepens before you brush Wyll’s hand with yours. 

“You can do the same for me.”

Wyll stares at you before leaning back down to kiss you. He doesn’t linger at your mouth, chaste pecks that pave the path for Wyll to worship the rest of you. He wants to worship every inch. He lets his lips leave kisses all over your face. He kisses the scars along your skin, the corner of your mouth, your eyelids. 

His tongue laves down your jaw until he’s at your neck. You breathe unsteadily as he continues down to the column of your throat. Wyll is gentle. He doesn’t bite. He steadies his hands at your waist and only kisses. Presses his face to your skin and pricks you with his want. It’s slower than you want, he can tell from how your legs are wrapped helplessly around his waist. 

Your lower-half is grinding against him, against air - anything you can find. Little shameless mewls and so much squirming. Wyll knows you’re needy, and he is too - but this is your first time together. 

He couldn’t do anything but savor it no matter how much you whined. Right now you are his, hidden from the moon. From the camp. 

You are his and he will take you apart as he pleases. 

“Please,” You whine, taking a deep breath of him again. You inhale, nudging the parts of him available to him. “Please.” 

A little mercifully, he gives you a little more. He grabs your hips and positions you better over his cock. He moves his hands from your waist to squeeze the soft flesh of your breasts. He licks the salt of your skin, meeting your movements. 

“I know, I know. Endure it,” He says, pressing a kiss to your sternum. “Indulge me.” 

You bite back your complaint. You’re forgiving as always.

His mouth closes around your nipples, hard under his tongue. Your spine arches, but Wyll pushes you down and steadies you. His other hand squeezes the one he isn’t servicing, thumb drawing over your nipples. He gauges your breathing as he tries different motions until settling on rolling it with his thumb. The right thing to do, if your reaction is anything to go by. 

He feels something against the seam of his pants when he goes between them, pleasuring you. A wetness where his cock meets your clothed sex.  One that soaks underneath two layers of clothes. He looks up at you, wide-eyed. 

You’re unaware of anything. Too busy in the chase of pleasure. 

He wonders if it’s a result of your heat. He doesn’t know anything about them aside from the fact it happens and it makes you like this - but what it does to your body is still foreign to him. His cock is throbbing hard enough to make him light-headed. He tries to approach this with a light hand and patience. 

But shit, the way you’re searching for it is too arousing. You’re seeking an orgasm so desperately, all little rutting twitches and uneven movements. The first of the tears start to form on your lower lashes. Your eyelashes are wet. Fat tears drip down your cheeks, falling down the side of your face. Wyll is less concerned than you would be if you hadn’t told him that you would cry - but gods. 

“You’re a mess,” He says with an absent fondness. You whine and nod in agreement. Wyll is lucky to witness this, he realizes too late. “Is it painful?” 

Your voice is scratchy from crying. “Aches. Aches so much, need more, please. Trying to be patient but it aches.” 

He hums to himself, undoes the death grip your legs have on his waist before starting to kiss a path down to your navel. It’s clear you make an attempt to ask him what he’s doing, but the words cut off when you realize he’s getting closer to where you need. 

You’re holding your breath, your hands curled at your sides like you don’t know what to do with them. You’ve never been so uncertain in front of him. You help slide your bottoms off - everything in one go. Your knees are bent in the air, covering where Wyll is most keen to see you. He kisses your calves. 

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, remember?” 

You take a deep breath and lay your feet flat on the ground, spreading your legs enough to give Wyll a perfect view. He’s always tried not to look, but now he can’t stop staring. A thick layer of hair covers your cunt. His hands shake as he pulls you forward to look closer, and your own hands go to cover your face. 

“I can feel you breathe,” You whisper, and Wyll laughs. He’s still looking, examining you closely. He uses his fingers to pull you apart, awestruck by you. You’re so wet it’s dripping, pulsing helplessly without Wyll touching you at all. The sheet underneath you darkens with arousal. Your clit is throbbing with need, all fluttery. “Stop looking,” 

Wyll does what any gentleman would do. He pulls away, his hands settling on your thighs - and starts to kiss all the way up from the inside of your knee. He does it on both sides, before finally kissing your clit tucked away underneath everything. Your breath hitches, stomach tensing.

“Tell me where you feel it. Let me learn you.” 

“Hicc,” You nod soft and sweet. “Okay,” 

Wyll smiles against you. 

For as much as Wyll puts on a show, the first time he actually tastes you exceed all expectations. The loss of composure is nearly instant. His fingers dig into the plush of your thighs as he lets the weight of his tongue drag through your folds, arousal collecting on the tip. Your reaction comes just as quick. 

“Fuck,” You cry out. Wyll feels your hands reach for him, a pleasant noise escaping him as you grip onto his horns. He’s never thought to touch them before. A feeling of electricity creeps up his back as your hands hold tight around the base of them.“Wyll, fuck - there,” 

He gets the message quick enough, laying his tongue flat on the hardened bundle of nerves. Your clit pulses for him. You taste heady and sweet, coating his entire mouth as he continues to eat. You guide him here and there - soft whispers of lower and higher until he ends up in the place you need. 

“That,” Your grip on his horns gets tighter as you grind yourself down on his tongue. Wyll feels his cock stiff against his stomach from where he lays. “Like that,”

He gives you more pressure as he licks your clit, sorting out a rhythm as he focuses his attention on one part of you. He wants to make you cum like this. You’re sensitive enough to do it. Your clit thrums as your mind goes muddy. Your body movements change as he continues to push you closer and closer to your high. He’s starting to understand what makes you tick. 

Wyll is a quick learner after all, dexterous and clever. 

Muscles clenching, your mouth falls open - eyes barely open as you moan. “Oh, oh, oh,” 

Wyll laps you up like ambrosia. He pulls away when you start to get close, ignoring your complaints. He wants to savor it now that he knows how to get you to the edge, so he does. He buries himself deeper into you, his nose bumping against your mound with every pass he makes over your slit. Your body is unbelievably sensitive. He dips his tongue into your tight hole and you nearly lurch forward with need. 

He starts a back and forth, going from licking long stripes along your slit determined not to let anything go to waste - back to focusing on where you need him most. He doesn’t mean to put you on edge so many times, no longer thinking clearly. 

You beg Wyll to make you cum by the time he’s back to reality, grabbing his horns hard enough to make him look at you. 

“Make me cum, please - can’t take it anymore, Wyll, please, fuck,” 

He hums against your sex before refocusing his attention. One last time he takes your throbbing clit into his mouth, lets it slide against his tongue and sucks on it. This time he relents to your need, and doesn't stop for any reason. He lets it build and build and build until he hears your voice break. 

Your back starts to arch, body going taut like a bowstring. Wyll hums against you, he wants to praise you but his mouth is busy. 

Then the thought occurs to him. It takes a little focus to reach your mind, and this is by all means - a terrible reason to use your shared connection. 

‘You’re doing so well, starlight,’ Wyll praises. Your eyes widen as you realize just how he’s doing it, a debauched and shocked moan tearing itself from your mouth ‘Beautiful. Sorry for teasing you. Can you cum for me? I want you to feel good,’ 

You hiccup, another loud sob as Wyll keeps steady. 

“C-cumming,” You choke on the words, on your spit. “I’m—fuck!” 

Wyll lets you ride your orgasm out as you cum for the first time in the night. Your body goes arching, gripping on his horns hard trying to pull him away as you push through to the other side. You’re pulsing in his mouth, tightening around nothing as you cum for him. It feels like it goes on forever, long waves and tremors until the feeling dies down. 

He pulls away once you’ve finally laid back down, exhausted and out of breath. You stare at him a little blankly, an arm covering your face. 

“Up here,” You say tiredly, gesturing him up. “I need to kiss you.” 

Wyll laughs good naturedly as you wrap an arm around Wyll’s neck, dragging him down towards you and kissing him hard - drunk off pleasure. You kiss him in chaste pecks,  hugging him. Nudging your nose along his neck, you whisper in his ear. 

“Take your pants off, dammit.” 

Wyll can’t help his laughter.

“I suppose it’s only fair,” 

You hook your fingers into Wyll’s trousers, helping him pull them down until his cock springs free. Your eyes go lidded as soon as you see it, hands cupping the now bare skin. Wyll hisses slightly at the sudden touch, unused to the friction. You look up at him, a hand between your bodies - closing your fist around the base of his cock. 

“Bumps and prongs, huh,” 

Wyll flushes immediately, making you laugh. 

“I hope you’re not making fun of me.” 

“How could I when I’m this turned on?” You offer sincerely. He shudders at the touch. “I like it. Can I blow you?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

Your turn to laugh. “I’m good at it. And I want to. It’s a little sensitive for you to fuck me, anyway.” 

Wyll swallows thickly. “I guess I have no reason to deny you.” 

“No you don’t. Now come on and stand up,” 

He gives you a hesitant look before peeling himself off of you. He stands to his feet, his pants still rolled down just past his thighs. He slides them off so the two of you are naked, and laments a little in his mind about the fact you’re doing this deep in the outdoors. You’re quick to follow Wyll, walking on your knees towards him until you’re eye-level with his cock. 

He’s never gotten this far. He’s a romantic in all the ways it matters, so save for some grinding and kissing - it’s a new experience. You look like you know what you’re doing though. You kiss his hips, hands on his thighs and an expression that he finds remarkably innocent for what you’re about to do. All Wyll can do is watch, and feel increasingly fidgety about the sight in front of him. 

You crane your head down and place pecks from the base of his shaft all the way to the tip. You let his cock rest against your face, taking a sharp inhale of the skin - perverse and desperate.  Wyll groans, deep from his chest as you smile. You’re not unsettled by it at all, as reverent as you always are. 

His body has grown especially sensitive because of Mizora’s interference. He can feel the heat in his blood starting to swell as blood rushes to his cock, making him grow bigger. The way you’re looking at him isn’t helping. 

You poke your tongue out from your mouth and leave long licks along his cock - from base to tip. Like you sense he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, you guide them to hold your head. He feels a weird sense of guilt about it, but the pleasure outweighs the shame - he doesn’t force you down. Just keeps you painfully steady as you do all of the world. 

Fuck, he’s sensitive. Every little wet lick and stroke is enough to make his spine prick with need. The tip of his cock leaks pre-cum. You press it against your lips as your hand wraps around his shaft in full, your tongue dipping into the slit making Wyll hiss. 

“Shit,” He huffs, hands gripping tighter but not moving you “That feels good,” 

You give him a little smile that makes Wyll’s stomach flip. Like you know it’s going to catch him off guard, you finally open your mouth to take the tip of his cock into your mouth. It’s lighter and more sensitive than the rest of his cock. You wrap your tongue around it with expertise and Wyll finds himself nearly bedding on the knee, legs starting to feel weak.

You use one hand to steady yourself on his thigh, the other slipping between your legs. 

He can only watch on in awe, the impressive way you sink around the hot, hard length. Your tongue is soft, the cavern of your mouth wet and inviting. Wyll nearly breaks - almost fucks into your throat by bucking up. He restrains himself as you go lower and lower, eyes going increasingly wide as his cock disappears in the column of your throat. Just when he thinks you can’t get any further, you do. He can feel the tip disappear in the narrowness of your throat, awestruck as drool starts to drip from the sides of your mouth. 

You make a sound, muffled as you hit the base of Wyll’s cock like it’s nothing. You sink in further, nose pressing against his navel as you glance up at him. It’s too lewd, damn near -  seeing you deepthroat him with such ease. You inhale again, and Wyll flushes at the realization of what you’re doing exactly. 

You pull off in one go, saliva dripping down your chin and neck as you open your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks and wrapping a free hand around whatever your mouth can’t easily reach, you start to set a pace. It’s fast and slick and messy, pre-cum mixed with saliva making your face grow sticky - taking deep breaths of Wyll’s scent and musk every time you manage to swallow it all. It’s depraved seeing you suck his cock with such obvious lust and desire, eager to swallow him and show him pleasure. 

Wyll feels the pleasure. His entire body feels like it’s being wrapped in something slick and warm, little sparks of electricity traveling from his fingertips to his spine. His head feels especially light, filled with fluff and devoid of conscious consideration. 

“Your mouth feels incredible,” Wyll groans, shuddering, holding your head as you let his cock bottom out in your mouth again “Hells,”

You sound pleased, a pleasant reverb going through his body as you set a pace - bobbing your head and swallowing every inch of him without flinching. The sound of your throat constricting around him and your own hands fill the surroundings. He’s glad you’re so lost in the movements because his own voice is punched out of him each time you go down. He didn’t know he was capable of making this much noise, such deep groans and heavy breaths every time you so much as move.

You pull him out completely, letting spit and saliva rub against your mouth as you tap against your face. Wyll feels a restless embarrassment at the pit of his stomach as you make eye-contact with him. He feels his cock twitch hard, something starting to come undone in his gut as he pulls you away. 

“Stop,” He wheezes, and you do with a pleased laugh “Shit that’s dangerous. You’re…talented.” 

You pause before breaking out into more giggles, kissing his cock one last time. Wyll covers his face with his hands. 

“Is that a compliment?”

“...It’s meant to be one.” 

“Glad you’re impressed,” You say with a wicked little grin - all sharp teeth and delight. “I wanted to go longer.” 

“We have days together. Another time, my love.” 

Your smile grows a little. You are bad for his heart in more ways than one, Wyll thinks. 

“Mm. Okay. I can’t really wait much longer, anyway. Another wave is gonna hit soon and I feel antsy.” 

“Get comfortable and lay down. And, I hate to ask so late - but should I be worrying…? About protection?” 

You blink at him as you set up on the ground, moving around pillows for you to lay on. You shake your head. “Mm. Should be fine. Getting contraceptives should be easier since we’re closer to the city. Unless you don’t want to take that risk?” 

Your expression is uncharacteristically innocent. Wyll weighs his desire against reason, a feeling of guilt washing over him at the clear winner. His cock is throbbing to the extent it’s near painful.

(He doesn’t hate the thought of giving you a child, either. Though he thinks it’s much too early to say something like that, and he’d prefer to plan something so important. Still, it isn’t the worst outcome. It’d be a precious little thing, half-werewolf and beautiful. 

He brushes over the thought just as quickly as he has it, a little taken aback by his own desires. It’s like everything is being bled from him, no thought too precious to strike his mind. It’s too early to think about, no less mention.

He should marry you before that. The thought of it makes him harder.) 

“As I had suspected, I’m only half the man I consider myself to be.” 

“Are you reflecting on your failings?” You tease. Wyll lets out a breath of air. 

“On my hypocrisy, if I were to put a name to it. I didn’t realize desire could be so debilitating.” Wyll explains, joining you where you lay. You giggle lightly as Wyll positions himself between your legs, leaning in to kiss you shortly. “Seems you’ve uncovered something I wasn’t aware of.” 

“Really?” 

Wyll laughs against your lips as he kisses you again. “You often do.” 

He brushes it aside as he pulls back. You lock eyes with him. Wyll is mesmerized. Your features start to round out again, eyes becoming glassy with need in the same familiar way as before. Wyll knows it now. He reaches over to cup your face with his palm, smile breaking his composure as you instinctively rub your cheek against the rough skin. He lets his thumb press against your lips, indulging your desire for affection. 

“Are you still all there?” 

“Hf. Yes. Not for long,” You say, urging him down towards you. Once again the proximity between you disappears. This time bare skinned, chest to chest. Wyll can feel the erratic thump of your heart, the unsteady quality in your breathing. You sink back into the same heat drunk place, a slow descent. Your pupils open wide enough for him to lose his senses. “Don’t keep me waiting, please.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

You fall into a synchronicity this time around. Your legs spread wide, open and wanting. Wyll feels his throat start to close. His stomach flutters restlessly as he pushes his cock through your folds once, then twice - his head thrown back at the feeling of your bare skin. He reminds himself this isn’t something to get used to, but the pleasure is easy to indulge in. 

It’s worsened by the fact you’re beautiful. 

Wyll finds you so beautiful it’s ridiculous, even to him. The plush of your lips, the way your lashes fall along as your cheek, the shape of your eyes. All of you, bathed in moonlight and blessed by the higher powers. You’re a culmination, the very pinnacle of Wyll’s every last mad desire. If everything around him faded to nothing, Wyll would have no clue. No sense, no rational, no righteousness. With nothing but himself to offer you, he’s moonstruck. Hung up on your affection and the feeling of warmth of mutual love. 

The order is all out of sorts, and everything is complicated. But Gods. Gods. You’re more beautiful than every dream he’s ever seen you in. Even the magic of his mind couldn’t form something so perfect. 

“You’re really the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” 

Your eyes widen, blinking rapidly before breaking out into a flush. “What are you saying?” 

“When I was a boy, I often imagined getting married,” Wyll says, drawing little circles along your hip. Your mouth opens, but falls shut as you feel the head of his cock push against you. You shudder as Wyll moves so slowly, with no intent of pushing in. “I had high hopes for love. The magic of fairy tale romance always spoke to me. I was fond of beautiful sights too, to boot.” 

Your breath hitches. Wyll feels you start to stretch around the tip of his cock. He swears under his breath, slowing even more. You let out a soft mewl as Wyll breathes through the sensation. 

“But you know,” He presses deeper, just slightly. A suggestion of a thrust. Your hand shoots out to grab Wyll’s wrist where he’s gripping you at the waist. His vision strains as he moves slowly, another terrible inch. “You’ve, haah,  exceeded my every expectation. There was no need for daydreaming.” 

You make a choked sound as Wyll goes even deeper. Your hands grip tight, that same drunken look returning to you. The parts of you that are still there are teary eyed, sniffling. Your cunt pulses around him, sucking him deeper. You feel good, but Wyll is more focused on you. Imprinting you into his memory, like tonight is the last time he’d ever get to see you. 

“If I could go back, to any time - I think I’d go back to being seventeen,” Wyll says with a smile, dropping himself closer to you. He leans up on his arm, noses brushing tenderly as you hiccup “I would tell Wyll from then to be strong. Become a Blade that can defend for the one who will become your shield.” 

You look up at him teary and frustrated. Your arms wrap around his neck as you cry, and Wyll laughs a little. Everything is so warm. He loves you. 

“If you’re any kinder to me, I don’t know what’ll become of me. Ugh, my eyes sting.” 

Wyll can’t help his smile. “We’ll have to see it through, then.” 

“Stop being so romantic and fuck me.” 

He kisses your hairline. “As you wish.” 

Wyll puts his hands up under your knees, folding you underneath him as he finally bottoms out. You both moan as you feel Wyll fill you up. You kiss him in that position, all desperation - tongue and teeth. Wyll is startled but indulges, a grinding thrust making you mewl into his mouth. He swallows the noise. 

“Fuck me,” You huff, your eyes bleary. “I can—can feel you in my stomach,” 

Wyll groans. 

You feel incredible. Wyll has to stop moving to steady his mind. He wants to last a little longer than a few seconds if he can help it. Your cunt wraps around his cock like silk. Sticky walls clinging to him like a vice, pulsing with need at the slightest movement. Wyll is connected to you in such an intimate way, it makes him feel visceral. Almost possessive. You hold on like you want to milk him for all he’s worth.

He takes another long breath, steadying himself as he pulls out and slams himself back in. You cry out in response to the first thrust, but you don’t ask him to slow down. Wyll focuses on keeping his thrusts weighted and steady, something constant enough that your focus doesn’t break. He wants to make you cum again, and he knows better what you need now. He keeps you pinned underneath the weight of him as he finds a pace to move to. 

Once he finds it, Wyll fucks you without abandon. You hold onto him tight, nose nudged against his neck as you let out the tiniest whimpers he’s ever heard you make. The pleasure debases you completely, makes you all wild. Wyll likes seeing you fall apart with each movement. Every time he pistons the right spot your eyes go wide and flutter back closed as if it’s too much. 

The two of you make a mess. Wyll can hear his cock pull and push the arousal out of you - each thrust wet. It’s messy enough to make your skin stick together. 

“Wyll,” You say his name like it’s a prayer of your goddess. Something to save you. Some kind of sacrilege that Wyll feels no guilt for. “I love you, I love you. Fuck—fuck me,” 

“You’re my whole life,” Wyll grunts. “I’ll give you everything. Everything, my love.” 

“I’m close,” Your voice is hoarse as you say it. “I’m so close, just a little—” 

Wyll knows what you’re asking for. His hand sneaks between your bodies, palm resting on your tummy as his thumb messy circles on your puffy clit. You choke on your words, a broken thank you among the mess as Wyll keeps fucking you. Determined to make you cum one more time, he goes and goes and goes. 

Wyll can feel you cum before you can tell him. You try to announce it, but the words don’t come out. He can feel your hesitance, feeling something in you as your teeth graze his necks. 

“You can bite me. I can withstand it, love”  

A pained whine is followed by the sharp feeling of your teeth in Wyll’s shoulder, as your voice breaks out into a howl. When you cum, you cum hard. Harder than before like you’re trying to latch onto him, your whole body going rigid before the tension breaks. Your orgasm crashes into you. You gasp as Wyll fucks you through it. He keeps fucking you through it until he feels you’ve calmed down. 

“Cum, Wyll. For me, please.” 

It’s enough to drive Wyll to the very edge. His desire reaches an impressive high. His thrusts become shallow, sloppy - the wet sound of him fucking you open finally reaching his ears as he gives into his own needs.  Wyll cums hard. He bottoms out as he does, thick white ropes painting your insides as the two of you lay with each other. 

When Wyll finally catches his breath and starts to go soft, he pulls away to look at you. You’re frowning at him. 

“Is something—” 

“Being sweet to me like that in the middle of that is unfair. I’m going to hold it against you.” 

Wyll pauses before breaking out into a giggle. 

“I was worried for a minute.” 

“I love you.” You add, a little softer time. “Thank you for coming to find me.” 

“Always.” Wyll replies, hugging you to him. “I adore you, you know.” 

__ 

EPILOGUE: 

You return to camp together at the end of your tenday. 

Wyll is covered in all sorts of marks by the time you’ve arrived, and so are you. There’s not really anything to do to hide that. Or to hide the fact he’s utterly exhausted by the whole thing. He’s drained, though he thinks he could do it again if he timed it better. 

It was nice to spend an entire tenday together, though. In between having sex or Wyll meeting your needs - you ate and slept and bathed together. Despite your circumstances the entire situation was domestic - and Wyll enjoyed being with you. 

You are absolutely chipper and uncaring about the situation. Wyll wishes he could be a little more like you in this case. 

The first person to see you at camp is Karlach. 

“Well, look who it is!” Karlach chirps, absolutely delighted. “The lovebirds are back,” 

The whole camp stirs at the announcement. It’s early enough that everyone is still at camp. Wyll feels his skin prick with heat as you leave his side, prancing over to Karlach to chat with her. Back to your usual self, Wyll feels a specific fondness about having seen a new side of you and remaining so unchanged. 

“Oh, you’ve returned?” Astarion says. Wyll looks up, surprised. 

“Ah, uhm, yes.” 

Astarion stands next to Wyll with his arms crossed. 

“Have you finally done it or do I have to endure more of your incessant pining?” 

Wyll chokes on his spit. 

“You’re losing your touch Astarion,” Shadowheart says, shuffling into camp from behind Wyll with a towel that needs to be dried. “That one over there is chipper and this one can barely look at them. Shouldn’t that tell you all you need to know?” 

“Tsk. You’re right. Congratulations are in order, I suppose. Or some celebration. At least I won’t have to see you two eye-fucking each other every day. It was getting dire..” 

“I wouldn’t be so confident,” Shadowheart says. “He’s doing it right now even after they spent a tenday wrapped in each other's arms.” 

Astarion sighs. “Gods. Can’t have anything these days.” 

Wyll opts not to say anything, handling them with usual grace. 

“Thanks for the congratulations,” Wyll says, staring at you idly. “Hope it wasn’t too difficult without us.” 

“Hardly.” 

Wyll smiles at that. He watches you as you talk to Karlach animatedly, smiling a little harder. He can take as much teasing as they dish out. 

He could endure it ten times over, as long as he gets to be with you. 

☾ a/n ; whew… we've made it to the end. i wrote this fic in a whopping 12 days. it was a crazy experience especially since i havent written anything i'd personally consider substantial since like.. idk april 2023. i also mostly write for anime so its a little nervewracking specifically writing for bg3. THAT BEING SAID. i love wyll. i started playing the game for him and he has bewitched me mind body and soul. it is rather disheartening to see how much larian dgaf about him so i guess part of me writing this is also trying to convince people to see what i see in wyll. something something that joan didion quote about writing as a form of violence bc of imposing views something something.

wyll is a really moving character to me. i like characters who are categorically so righteous it drives them to the destruction of themselves.

but the specific dichotomy of wyll - a man who has lost every ounce of agency time and time again with this tav was especially consuming. tav too is considered a monster, but they embrace and love this part of themselves. i think witnessing that, and the reframing monstrosity in wylls case is really helpful for him. tav doesnt know what losing their agency is like, but they're able to restructure wylls belief of what this new body of his is worth. that he is worthy all the same, and that he exists outside of being the blade. these sorts of things haunted me during this. but also… i just wanted to see wyll bang a desperate heat addled werewolf shorty. lol.

ANYWAYS. sorry for this MASSIVE wall of text. i just really love wyll so much and i hope this iteration of him felt in line with who he is. and if you're not a wyll fan and just a fic consume well… i hope i was able to compel you towards him a bit. in any case, thanks for reading! and please do leave a comment if you liked it! all feedback appreciated.

also i dont normally ask but if you could rb this fic if you liked it'd be appreciated </3 im trying to find wyll likers ehdjksjf

[faerievampling]

Homecoming

Part 2 of A Vampire's Courage. Can be read as a stand alone!

Summary: The Dark Urge and Spawn!Astarion, after having decided to remain friends, have been traveling together after the defeat of the Netherbrain. After finally sleeping together, Durge and Astarion have unfinished business. Smut and feelings ensue.

Word count: 4.2k

Link to Ao3!

Pairing: Spawn!Astarion x Female Durge

Warning: 18+, explicit. Violence. Blood. PiV. Vaginal Fingering. Cunnilingus. Blow Jobs. Inexperienced reader. Sixty Nine ;). Durge x Astarion being deeply in love.

A/N: This Durge also goes by Tav! happy valentines day :) im foaming at the mouth for patch 6. I hope y'all enjoy.

Astarion holds you for a while, only leaving to lie in his own bed after you’ve drifted off. 

“That was the first time in ages you’ve slept through the night,” Astarion remarks once you wake. “We’ll have to do that more often, darling,” his tone was teasing. 

The two of you traveled in silence for a while. It was peaceful, under the stars and the full moon. You didn’t know what you wanted to say to him, so you said nothing. 

He had told you that you were special to him. But he could mean a million different things by that - couldn’t he? And of course you were special to him: you were the first person he ever trusted. 

And to be fair, he hadn’t said anything either. You can’t help but wonder if he regrets it, if your eyes and ears deceived you and he really had just been up to his old ways. 

Besides, you both had a job to do. You needed to focus.

“So, are you willing to sign?” The squat human asked; the contract lie in front of Astarion, who was still reading it over. “We are just quite ready for this little problem to be taken care of.”

Astarion did used to be a magistrate, but he hardly remembered his life before his undeath, so he was just pretending to read the contract. You both knew that if this man didn’t pay up, you would intimidate or charm him until he did. 

Astarion had just wanted him to beg a little. With a sloppy mark, Astarion signed his name before handing the pen over to you. You scribble something resembling ‘The Dark Urge’. 

“What an odd name,” the human remarks, giving you an awkward smile.

“A family name.” You smile back. 

“Well, let’s get on with it then, my dear,” Astarion says to you before turning to the human. “We never return empty handed. We’ll see you when the job is done,” The two of you leave the man’s office; he was an assistant to the Mayor, who you could tell he was rather eager to please.

You clear your throat, trying to make sure you sound as normal as you could after last night. “So, any ideas on how to kill a Chimera?” You ask Astarion, hoping that maybe he will surprise you. 

Astarion laughs. “Oh, Gods no, dear. Surely we should just cut off its heads, right?”

“As quickly as we can, I imagine.” You think you sound pretty normal. You sure hoped so, anyways. He sure did.

“So, you don’t really have a plan, is what I’m gathering.” 

You sigh. “Not in the slightest.”

The battle with the Chimera went about as good as could be expected: you and Astarion kicked ass, as usual, but not without injury. You had quite the gash on your shoulder, which Astarion was insistent on lapping up once you got to a decent spot to camp. 

Astarion had several protective camp items he could use to shield himself from the sun during the day: an enchanted tent and a music box that could hold constant concentration for casting a veil of Darkness. These were just some of your boons from adventuring as you searched for a permanent solution.

You felt the chill of his lips on your skin as he licked the wound clean. You wanted to tangle your fingers in his silver curls as he attended to you. The longer you two were in contact, the greater your heat was building up, and you could feel the slickness of your folds as the blood in your body rushed to your labia.

You could tell he was taking his time. The two of you had done this so many times before, but you couldn't help but feel how the pressure of his lips against your skin was softer, lighter, and he was moving his lips more than he usually did, like he was planting kisses on you.

This time, it undeniably felt more intimate, more erotic. Your heart was already racing from the contact, but gods was it fast now. You needed to say something.

“Alright, hurry up,” You say roughly, cursing at yourself for your choice of words; he relents, sticking a bandage on you and handing you a healing potion. You pop the cork of the bottle, drinking down the red liquid and instantly feeling warm all over. You would be fully healed by morning, thankfully; plus, the pain was already starting to subside, leaving you feeling greatly relieved.

But before Astarion says anything to you, he’s pulling you to your feet, his hand gripping yours with such strength it startles you.

“Someone’s coming,” Astarion whispers to you. “It’s several people. Smells like the villagers.” The two of you exchange looks of confusion before the picture comes into view.

There is a group of armored men approaching you; you and Astarion immediately go into a defensive stance. Typically, you would be in front and Astarion would be in the shadows, but this time he stands in front of you.

You realize you are only in your bra, since Astarion had been tending your wound. 

“Trying to protect my modesty?” You ask with a huff, but Astarion only growls at the men in response.

“One step closer, and I won’t hesitate to kill you,” Astarion sneers at the men, who stop in their tracks. You kind of wanted to see it, secretly.

“You’d really protect that monster? That Bhaalspawn,” A man spat the word from his mouth, and you knew why they were here. “I could never forget your face. I doubt you even remember mine. You killed so many at the Slaughter of East End, my family along with it.”

‘East End’. Didn’t ring a bell.

”I was able to run but you got to them!” The man was screaming at you now, but you can only blink at him over Astarion’s shoulder. 

“Maybe they should have run faster,” Astarion barks. He can’t see the mist in your eyes. 

“They are both monsters. Kill the elf and then the Bhaalspawn,” Someone bellowed from the crowd, causing the men to chant in agreement.

A mocking voice rang through the night air. ”Burn her!“

That’s all the group of men could say before Astarion tore the throat out of one in the faceless crowd. You had intended just to defend yourself if need be and knock them out, but when Astarion pounced first, the men were destined to die.

You’re plunging a sword through the chest of a man when you hear another start to beg. Astarion’s laugher rings out against the last few cries of battle before quiet settles amongst the camp. 

It takes a short while for the two of you to calm down. The blood of nearly a dozen men soaked the grounds of your campsite. The smell of copper overwhelmed an untapdoled (and thus less controlled) Astarion, and he had to get away from you for a while; he made sure you had your sending stone and your warding bond ring on, just in case. 

You felt numb for a while, and when you finally felt Astarion’s hand on your shoulder, you weren’t sure how long you had been sitting on your shins in the blood soaked earth. 

“He was right, you know. Even if I had seen his face, I wouldn’t have remembered it,” You say as Astarion helps you to your feet. He looks you over, scanning your body for injuries.

But your only injury is of the heart. Invisible, but maybe not to Astarion. 

“You’re not being fair to yourself,” Astarion says, “Maybe you caused ruin in your past. But you aren’t the same person you were.”

“But do I not still deserve punishment?” You say, exasperated. “I feel like I do. Like I should pay for what I’ve done. There are some days where I can’t stop thinking about Alfira -“ Your voice cracks, and Astarion grabs your forearms as if he’s trying to hold you together, to steady you from your wavering fortitude. 

“You’ve paid already, darling. You’ve saved the damn world! Isn’t that enough?” His eyes are pleading, because you know this isn’t just about you: Astarion’s own past was shrouded with victims. 

“I don’t know,” is all you can say.

“Those men deserved to die, Tav.” His eyes were narrowed, his face shrouded with convicted vengeance. And despite your anguish, your guilt, those feelings subside a bit when you look into Astarion’s ruby eyes. 

He’s nodding at you, further trying to affirm his words. You take a deep breath, nodding along with him. 

“Let’s set up elsewhere. If we hurry, we’ll have time to set up at least one of the tents,” Astarion squeezes your forearms before bringing you into an embrace.

It was a welcome surprise, and you melt into him, a warmth from within you starting to spread throughout your body. 

The two of you work hard to move the camp, setting up his sun-proof tent. You both make time to wash and put on fresh clothes; your wound from earlier is already healed, so you dress in fresh underclothes and camp wear. 

As you see the sun peak over the horizon, you look to Astarion, realizing neither your tent, nor the enchanted music box, was anywhere to be found. 

“I can’t find it, my tent or the music box,” You say, your tone more pleading than you would have liked. “You’re sure you grabbed them?”

“Yes, well, I think so, at least,”Astarion has a curious look on his face. “We don’t really need it though, do we?”

Oh. You knew what this meant; surely, surely, he is referencing his recent bedding of you.

“You want to share a tent?” 

“We already do share a lot of things: resources, often a room, and last night, a bed.” Astarion has turned on the charm a bit, but his smile his warm, his eyes open and rounded, wet with anticipation.

You feel the blood rise to your cheeks.

“You can cast Darkness yourself, can’t you? That would be enough for you to freely come and go from my tent so you can tend to your…living needs.” Astarion flirted. 

 “But you wouldn’t be able to leave the tent. I can only cast darkness for about thirty seconds at a time, and I have limited energy.” You were babbling now.

“I know how your magic works, darling. But I won’t be needing to leave the tent,” Astarion steps closer to you, putting his hand on your waist. 

You pause, getting lost in his ruby eyes. “So…you want me to keep you company?”

Astarion’s smirk softens, his eyes round and open to you. “Yes,” 

You swallow. “The sun will be up for a while,” 

Astarion chuckles lightly, so much softer than the last time you heard it. He brings a hand to cup your face, and now you finally understand what he may be asking of you. Astarion must see the realization in your eyes, and he brings his head down; you feel the sensation of his cool, soft lips as they press against your own.

His touch is so tender, you can’t help but melt into his palm. You feel like he’s holding you up now, carrying your weight. 

“Worried you’ll get bored, darling? I promise you won’t be,” Astarion’s salacious voice is low and raw in your ear; it sends an urgent shiver through your body. 

Astarion pulls you into his tent, and you are enveloped in him. His very presence lingered in the air, and you recognized the familiar smell of bergamot hanging in the romantic darkness. 

The tent was spacious and had been enchanted to look like the night sky. You had seen it before, of course, but not with Astarion’s urgent hands on you.

His lips are on you, his tongue easing between your parted lips as he drinks you in. Astarion was an excellent kisser, likely much better than you, and you did your best to follow his lead. But his tongue dominated yours, and he gradually deepened the kiss as his dexterous fingers began to unlace your shirt.  

You could sense Astarion’s desperation to see your breasts as he unhooked your brassiere. 

You don’t know if you’ve ever seen him like this before, so ravenous for you. His lips trailed over your neck, to your chest, where he focused on your sensitive nipples. 

You’re surprised when Astarion gets on his knees, his tongue circling the tip of your breasts while his pretty lips wrap around the swollen bud. 

You see the light of the enchanted full moon reflect off of Astarion’s eyelashes as he bats them at you, causing you to gasp at the sight. 

One of his hands is squeezing your other nipple, and the other is gripping the curve of your ass; Astarion groans against you, his fangs grazing your skin. You feel the pressure of the prick as they bite down, just enough to avoid breaking your skin. 

You’re focused on Astarion’s rapid breathing and whimpers as his arms snake around you, pulling you down to your knees to meet him at level. 

“Tav, I-“ Astarion begins, but he can’t seem to keep his lips off of you. 

“Astarion,” You say, but you trail off as his lips are on yours, tongue plunging into your mouth as he brings his hands to cup the sides of your jaw. 

I love you. It was on the tip of your tongue. You think it may have been on his, too. You didn’t even know if you really understood the meaning, but you knew how innately the words came to mind when you thought about Astarion.

Astarion eases you on your back, his lips never leaving yours. He makes quick work of unlacing your trousers. But before he can pull them off of you, his desperation overwhelms him and he moves to unlace his own pants, releasing his swollen cock.

“Take yours off, your panties too,” His words are firm, yearning, and Astarion watches you intently as you lift your hips to pull off the rest of your clothes, leaving you entirely naked in front of him.

Astarion groans, breaking your kisses as he moves to grab your shins, spreading your legs wide. His eyes sweep over you, pausing at your exposed core. You realize it’s rather bright in the tent with the light of the full moon, and surely he doesn’t sleep under this light.

You wonder if he adjusted the magic so that he could see you better. And the little smile on Astarion’s face as he drinks in the sight of you, naked and spread for him, confirms your theory.

“I thought about you like this all day,” He says to you in a raw voice. His hands roam your body, a hand tugging at a nipple while the other caresses your curves. 

He shifts closer to you now, bringing you pelvis to pelvis, and his cock rests along your mound, the tip of which reaching just below your belly button. 

“You have?” You whisper, your eyes wetting against your own protests. He begins to rub his cock between your folds, and you squirm at the pressure on your clit. 

He dips down to press his lips to yours again, hand moving between your legs to your slick folds as he begins teasing you. “You’re all I’ve thought about, Tav.”

“Tell me what you want, my sweet. I want to give it to you.” Astarion whispers eagerly, and you realize just how undone he’s come: his curls are disheveled, brows furrowed with pleasure, full lips parted. 

Astarion’s fingers explore you, his thumb circling your sensitive bundle of nerves as he eases a finger inside your entrance.

“I want to taste you,” You say, your eyes glued to his swollen cock. Astarion hums with approval, eager to please as he readjusts you both.

Astarion lies on his back, prompting you to get on your knees between his legs, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock.

You wanted to taste it, because you never have before; as you place your lips on his tip, gently kissing it, flickering your tongue as you do, you realize you don’t actually know what you’re doing.

Surely you’ve done this before. It seems familiar enough. Astarion looks through his lashes at you, watching as you tentatively handle his cock. 

He tastes amazing: clean, cool, and you take him in your mouth as deep as you can, causing him to gasp. 

“Sorry,” you murmur between your darling kisses. “I don’t really know what I’m doing,” 

“Oh,” Astarion breathes, pondering this just for a moment before his focus is back on you. “Start by putting your lips around me. Go on, lover.”

Astarion watches as you follow his command, putting your lips around the girth of his cock. You start to move your tongue, swirling it on his skin as you’re already sucking just a bit.

“Yes, my sweet, oh-“ Astarion moans, his hand moving to your chin just to caress you, to touch you, to know you are there and that it is you that engulfs him. 

Astarion starts to buck his hips into your mouth, his hand moving from your chin to the root of your hair, holding you firmly in place as he starts to fuck your mouth. After a moment, he’s breathing heavily, and he releases you, ruby eyes boring into you, clear as day under the light of the enchanted moon.

“I need to taste you,” Astarion speaks, his voice low. “You trust me to make you feel good, Tav?”

You’re confused about why he’s asking you this: his precum was still on your chin, the taste of his salty seed still lingering on your tongue. He was delicious, of course, and you only wanted more. 

“Yes,” you say as he brings himself up to kiss you again. 

“I want you to bring your legs over my face, so that I can fuck you with my tongue while I stuff that sweet mouth of yours.” Astarion’s words are sultry, low and sexy, as usual, but his voice is firm, his words chosen in such a way so that you know exactly what he means to do with you. 

Your eyes go wide at this. You’ve never heard of anything like that before, and you think it sounds complicated. But, you hadn’t lied when you told him you trusted him: so you nod.

“You’ll have to tell me what to do,” Your words are heavy on your throat, thick with anticipation. 

“I certainly have no problem telling you what to do, my darling,” Astarion purrs, causing you to quiver with anticipation. 

Your cunt, so slick and desperate for more, throbs with desire as Astarion puts his hands on you, guiding you to position his head between your thighs, exposing the heat of your core to him as you face his cock.

Astarion let’s out an audible sigh of relief as he wraps his arms around your waist, bringing your cunt straight to his mouth; the sensation is heavenly, the angle of the position has your clit and folds fully exposed, resting in his mouth as he takes worship in you. 

His tongue teases your folds before dipping between them, hungrily lapping at your entrance; you feel used as your juices begin to drip down your thigh.

The vibration of Astarion’s little moans tease you, causing you to settle into him further.

You bring him in your mouth, trying to bob your head to give him pleasure, but you’re overwhelmed by the feeling of his tongue spearing between your folds, your walls, tasting your depths before sweeping over your swollen clit. 

You can’t focus on your movements any longer, as Astarion’s motions send shockwaves of pleasure through your body. As his expert tongue focused solely on your swollen nub, you go totally lax.

Before you know it, you’re moaning with Astarion’s cock still in your mouth, despite your orgasmic paralysis. You feel your rumble of ecstasy rise up within you, and you’re hoping you aren’t gushing too much as you spasm around his tongue. 

Suddenly, Astarion grabs the back of your head, pushing you down on his cock, stroking your mouth. You’re still writhing in utter euphoria and creaming in his mouth as he takes you. 

Once you’ve come back down from your high, your body is still lax. You’re thankful Astarion is so strong and doesn’t have to breathe, because you’re dead weight atop him. 

You muster the strength to roll off of him, and he works to place himself on top of you, between your legs. Facing him now, you see the evidence of your orgasm in his eyes and on his face.

His nose, lips, chin, were soaked in your come, his pupils blown with lust at your scent. 

You feel your walls stretch as Astarion inserts two fingers inside you, prepping you for the girth of his cock. His intrusion only makes your cunt salivate more. 

When he’s satisfied with your stretch, he starts to sink into you.The pressure of his cock makes you gasp, and Astarion cups your jaw, guiding your eyes to him. 

He’s saying your name like a prayer. “Oh, Tav, Tav, my sweetest girl, my love.”

Once his mouth finds yours, his kisses are fervent, passionate, matching the slow pace of his strokes. His tongue is so soft, and he tastes so good with your come on his lips that you’re already primed to give him more. 

He pumps in and out of you, stretching your walls to his girth until you are perfect for him before his thrusts start to quicken. 

You feel him putting more strength behind his thrusts, inserting himself deeper within you until he’s bottomed out.

“Gods, Tav, you’re unbelievable,” Astarion purrs in your ear. Finally, he’s fully inside you, and he can’t help it anymore: he strokes you, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix, so deep you’re brought into a delirium of pleasure. 

You heave in his mouth as he eases his tongue between your parted lips. Your stretched walls start to contract around his cock, and you’re coming on him again before you even realize.

Your hands grab at his curls, trail lightly over his back: you’re careful not to be harsh with that sensitive part of him. But you needed to caress him, to feel his body beneath your palm.

As your body spasms beneath him, you feel entirely fucked out, your body going lax again in his hands. Astarion made you so…pliant. You wanted him to be yours so desperately. Your hazy brain is ready to do anything for him. 

Astarion’s thrusts become less calculated as he comes undone, and before you even realize, Astarion is moaning your name as his balls contract, spurting thick ropes of come deep inside you. 

It takes a moment for you both to come back to reality. Astarion rolls onto his side, gathering you in his arms as he adjusts to ensure your shared comfort. 

The coolness of him feels amazing against your skin, still hot from lovemaking. 

“I love the way you feel against me,” You hum into his chest. After just a few beats, Astarion pulls away, easing himself up on his elbow to look down at you.

“I want to kiss you,” Astarion says with a swallow. “And I want to do it whenever I’d like.” 

You pause, getting lost in his crimson eyes. “Y-yes, you may.” You stumble, but Astarion is smooth enough for the both of you.

He brings a finger to your chin, holding you in place as he presses a tender kiss to your lips. When he breaks away, he rests his forehead on yours, and you feel your heart thumping away in your chest. 

“I don’t want anything to change between us. I just want to be able to do this with you. To kiss you when I like, to touch you when I like,” Astarion pauses, trying to ensure he gets all of his thoughts out. “And I don’t want you to do these things with anyone else.” 

“I let you get away because I knew I wasn’t ready. I want to give you something real, but I couldn’t at the time,” Astarion kisses you again, so tenderly you feel a pang in your heart. And between your legs.

“But now, Tav,” He caresses your cheek, causing you to gasp a little. Astarion smiles a little before his face continues its serious, sincere expression. His eyes were wide, and he was bearing his soul to you.

His hand clasped yours. 

“I want you. I’ve wanted you to be mine since the clearing.” 

You’re speechless, heart fluttering at his words. You can only say what’s on your tender mind: “I think I love you, Astarion.” 

A hand smooths your hair back, delicately, as if you are a precious thing.

“I love you too. But I know that I do. I want every part of you.” Astarion’s voice rumbles through you.

Your chest swells, and you feel like you’re bursting from within: it’s something you’ve never really felt before, but it felt distinctly like home.

Masterlist

Link to Part 1

[scarlet-ancunin]

Omg i know Astarion is a Vampire and all but, can you do a headcanon or one-shot with Astarion denying he is sick but he is Tav see's it his companions see it and they do little things to make him feel better even if he denies it. Thank you so much

A/n: heh interesting I'll make it happen *cracks knuckles to regret it later*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

I'm A Vampire, Forever Healthy

Everyone in the group was sick.... in the head due to your undying fiend living in your brain.

But luck was on your side and your companions side since no one seem to get the symptoms of becoming a mindflayer. You learned that day to count your blessings.

You met some interesting people along the way to a one in particular caught your interest more. A pale elf who you found out was a vampire spawn, who also happened to greet you in a unique way. A knife to your throat.

You chuckle at the memories by the camp fire while everyone else talked about random things. But you notice one member missing from you little band of misfits the vampire spawn. 'Hm?' You thought to yourself.

Turned out Astarion was acting a little strange sitting inside his tent sipping some wine which looks more along the lines of blood but he looked slightly.... out of it.

"Astarion are you okay? You look a little pale" you said before realizing what you said doing a mental facepalm

"Obviously darling last i checked im a vampire spawn comes with the territory" he sneers.

You winced "i mean paler than normal hows that are you feeling well?" You asked and Astarion waves you off dismissively "im fine, no meed to worry thay pretty head of yours" he said smoothly.

You drop it but something in your gut tells you. The man is clearly lying.

Next time it happens you watched Gale dodge a stray lightning arrow that Astarion let out making him turn to scold Astarion but noticed the man was holding his head pain etched in his features.

Gale made it his business to hunt down two boars amd drained it perfectly into two jars and walked over to him in camp holding the two jars "i believe you need some nourishment my friend so i took the liberty of draining the boars i caught for dinner so enjoy"

Astarion looked up his elf ears twitching lightly surprised and he was going to respond with a snarky remark but it was a nice gesture. But he didn't need to be owing anyone favor but Gale spoke up "our deal is try to stay healthy so you wont shock me" he chuckles and walked away.

The next time was when they entered a cave Astarion was shivering and his body just felt awful he didn't think typical weather can effect him. What in the hells was going on. He was thinking until Karlach stood beside him "hey Fangs you okay? Shivering like a leaf over here" Astarion scowls "im fine just.. just saw something- um disgusting" Karlach rolled her eyes not beliving him but mentioned you was making camp soon

When everyone turned it Karlach saw Astarion was struggling to meditate because he felt awful still and cold. He didn't hear when Karlach came over and simply sat next to him her body heat was welcoming but Astarion still scowls "i said im fine-" "easy fangs im just sitting here because gale is snoring"

If Astarion wasn't feeling terrible he wouldn't have believed such a deception. But he did and huffs "fine"

After a few moments Karlach felt a weight on her shoulder before looking at down to see Astarion head was on her shoulder slipping into a light meditative state.

You had the last stray and glare at Astarion the team behind you "Astarion your sick and your going to rest and be taken care of understand"

Astarion was taken aback "sick what do you mean im sick, im a vampire forever Healthy" he sticks his head up in resentment, much to his protesting headache.

You frown "please let us help you its clear you feel aweful and i-.... um" you look away having a faint blush since you never really told Astarion how you felt since he probably wouldn't believe you.

Then Karlach steps in "you see Fangs, this one care about you alot more than you think. And they want to see you okay get it?"

Astarion looked over at You and gave you a blank stare before sighing in defeat. "Alright fine, but you better not mention this little group meeting to everyone else" he complained and their little band chuckles quietly agreeing.

Later that night you made it your business to remain in his tent tending to him and even stayed back to keep Astarion company until he was on his toes again and when he was fully healed he pulled you in for a timid kiss before smirking.

"This is a gift, i won't forget it" he said softly holding your hand

⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇

A/n: he got everyone sick later one oops.

Requests are open for our favorite vampire spawn 🥺💞 thank you everyone hope you liked it.

[angelicgaming1007]

Ascended Astarion Romance Epilogue All Answers | Baldur's Gate 3 Which I just want to highlight a comment I liked by Ka0_0nashi “This epilogue actually made me reinforce my love for Ascendant. If anything, it showed me how bloody complex the writing is, and those that bash Ascendant simply don't see these amazing nuances in writing. To them, it looks like "abuse" but I see it as a very unorthodox type of relationship that not everyone can like or see the appeal of. To those that see no shades of grey, this Astarion can indeed seem as abusive Cazador 2.0, but the fact that he says he missed others, that he wishes to give MC the best life shows that its not as simple as that. You can try to make an argument that "he manipulates here" but I can make the same argument that he puts on an OK mask as Spawn because he actually regrets not doing the ritual - both those are just interpretations and opinions which you can agree with or not. While he is possessive as Ascendant, you can understand WHY because he wants to look after you - because he loves MC and because they are a vampire now, who is also a target of monster hunters. His possessive born both out of love and personal reasons. While you turn him lawful evil, evil characters are still capable of feelings and emotions - it's just that their emotions are not as gentle and "vulnerable" as with good-aligned people. If this is the type of dynamics you love (and I do) then there is nothing to be ashamed about having a preference that  has nothing to do with others. Romance your pixelated man however you want.” Personally I am so glad that Larian didn’t go and make ascended Astarion some evil bastard in the ending. This felt more realistic than full send evil for him as a character. He doesn’t seem as..intense as before either so I’d think those 6 months was what he needed to adjust to his new power. hes still different but hes still the same man from act 1 and act 2 you can see it. Hes still our Astarion as much as spawn Astarion is and im so so happy. Gods I love this man

[thedomesticanthropologist]

Does anyone else over analyze the companions not just by their romance, but by what a life with them would really look like?

Not in context of the game, but just putting yourself in the fantasy of what a life with them would be.

Karlach for example, during the love test. If you say something like "ah she would love window shopping in the city" she gags. Shes a barbarian. She loves what she does. If you were her partner, even after the events of BG3 this woman would not be the settle down and go domestic type, nor should she be. (For the sake of this, I'm ignoring Avernus and Epiolgues it's just a fun character thing, so like assume her engine isn't a problem otherwise the only option is to fight in hell anyway)

But GALE! this man is already planning the wedding, he is housewife coded, he is cooking and cleaning and dreaming of dates with you out in the city. Surely he is also up for adventure, he says in Act 3 he has a taste for it now, and I think he'd honestly "make a home" out of *being with you* whether that is on the road cooking at camp or in his tower at Waterdeep. He's flexible.

Astarion (spawn) wants HIS freedom. Anyone who chooses Asty as a partner has to be willing to let him take the lead, and I firmly believe this. He's free for the first time, and now he's also free from all but the vampirism. It's hinted that pursuing a cure is likely his next step if Tav is with him, or that he'd follow on Tav's next adventure, (and like karlach im setting that hiccup aside for more personality based life choices instead of insurmountable hiccups) but I can see him eventually wanting to make choices like staying in fancy places, being in the upper cities, indulging. Insisting on stopping at the good taverns before going on adventures where "THIS TIME JUST FOR US, TAV. NOT SAVING THE WORLD FOR A GODS DAMN MINUTE" that's the vibe I get anyway

Wyll wants you by his side as Duke, so that could look like you settling into a life of nobility. Dances and functions, politics, schedules, meetings, large house. However he also could follow Karlach to Avernus, and he's always up for saving the world, so I feel like you guys COULD ditch at any moment to go do a Thing

Laezel... I don't know. I can't see her staying on Faerun. I think you'd have to follow her on her journey this time, and not the other way around. I haven't done her romance yet

Haven't done shadowhearts yet so I'll need ya'll to fill me in on your thoughts there too!

Halsin: nature. He can't do cities. If you are with him, visits to the city would be short together or you guys would spend time apart and then meet up later. He would be super chill with that. In fact, I feel like he'd support anything you choose to do and anywhere you choose to go and he'd just be thrilled to see you when you came back. He would not, however, change who or what he is to make himself fit into a life that doesn't suit him. He is too old for that stuff, he's got healthy boundaries, he knows what he likes and he's not ashamed to persue it. He is also polyamorous and if his heart stirs for another as it stirs for you which may or may not happen Tav would have to be prepared to recognize that polyamory goes both ways, but also he's a great communicator and would talk to you about it first and get your consent.

[anxiousheart7]

Cazador, Astarion and Generational Trauma

*SPOILER WARNING* - major story details

Astarion’s story is about trauma. His trauma. The loss of who he was and the power of retaining a sense of self and autonomy after several lifetime’s worth of abuse.

But I believe there’s another layer to his story that hasn’t been touched upon as much, and that’s around the idea of generational trauma.

I’ve taken a little bit of a deep dive into everyone’s least favourite vampire lord - Cazador Szarr.

Disclaimer: by no means is any of this intended to provide sympathy for Cazador. He’s a monster and I felt a great sense of satisfaction at the end of this quest. But I like to explore the machinations behind a story and dig deeper into what makes a monster.

Im also very keen to fill in any gaps on this subject. If anyone has found any other source material other than those mentioned, they’re very welcome :)

Video Content credited to YouTube Creators sourced and linked in this essay.

Cazador, Vellioth and the cycle of abuse

We don’t know a huge amount about Cazador before he became a true vampire, but what we do know we find out through two sources (that I know of) - through Speak with Dead on Cazador himself and through the last echoes of his old Master, Vellioth.

In his coffin, you can detect his thoughts before killing him (if Astarion isn’t with you). (Time stamp 4m47s)

“These deathless dreams hold memories of a mortal life once-forgotten. Of the boy I was, the man I became, the monster that will not end. I sleep but cannot rest. I live but cannot die. I am eternal and I grieve.”

This gives a couple of interesting insights into the mind of a true vampire. Although within his waking world, there appears to be a sense of permanent grief and emptiness that comes with the power and eternity of his condition. There seems to be an element of eternal suffering.

He seems to lament the state he’s in and I wonder if his desire to become the vampire ascendent is partially in a bid to end these feelings. Of course, we have a sense of what a super powered true vampire would look like if you ascend Astarion. His soul gone and any sense of humanity left within him stamped out and replaced by a sociopathic megalomaniac.

I can’t decide whether this suggests that there are still shreds of a soul within a true vampire compared to the ascended version. But the stronger takeaway I have from this conversation is that this internal struggle is so bad that he wants to perform the RoPA to overcome it. Of course, there’s also the hunger for power that, it seems, inflicts many a vampire regardless of whether they are spawn or true. Even Raphael describes it as ‘so vile it has never been performed’. So, there must be a story to why he covets this power so much and I believe this comes within the form of Cazador’s former master, Vellioth.

If you haven’t found him yet, he’s in Cazador’s bedroom within the lower dungeon. All that’s left of him now is a preserved skull.

One thing I’d like to note about this living space is that it’s quite modest, which surprised me. I wasn’t sure if this was the space Cazador sometimes retreated to when he was working on his plans, away from the spawn, or if this was his permanent residence.

I feel like there’s a story there - like if he did ‘inherit’ the palace from Vellioth, that this was his room. It’s basic with a simple desk and small bed and a cabinet where Vellioth’s skull sits with the profane right details wedged between his teeth. I do wonder if Cazador puts on this appearance of grandeur and wealth but in private he prefers the minimum, as though the show is what matters. It makes me think that he was either humbled and abused so badly by Vellioth as a spawn that he retained his humble surroundings once he had turned true vampire. Or perhaps before he was turned he was a peasant or modest wealth.

We can guess a few things about Vellioth from our conversation with him. He was cruel; as cruel or more than Cazador. He punishments appear severe and lasting.

Like Cazador’s commandments, Vellioth states three lessons that a vampire must live by:

Lesson one “…to dominate. Allow none to be your equal.”

Lesson two “Power comes from solitude. To share with others is to be weak and to be weak is to fail, and die.”

Lesson three “Act not in haste. A near-immortal has time to plan, time to act only when others will pay the price of action.”

With lesson three in mind, I would say that Cazador slept down there and only saw his spawn to punish, instruct or to collect their conquests.

Compared to Cazador’s commandments, Vellioth appears to frame his lessons around a code of which a vampire should live.

Cazador takes these and shapes them into his commandments when he comes into his own power. Those commandments revolve around obedience and domination, making sure his spawn know that they belong to him and must do as he says. It’s this doctrine that shapes his rule.

During the conversation, Vellioth talks about the mistakes that Cazador made and the punishments he suffered for them. First through the death of an old friend, for which he made Cazador watch. The second was by impaling him for ten years.

However, it seems that Cazador was a good pupil and successor to Vellioth as he finally projects a sense of pride when Cazador performed the Rite of Perfect Slaughter, killing him.

I found this quite interesting since the scroll and conversation implies that Vellioth was aware of and performed many of the Rites listed in the scroll and was perhaps a follower/worshipper of Mephistopheles.

He possessed the instructions for the Rite of Profane Ascension so it’s not a stretch to presume he was intending to perform it himself. Yet there’s a sense of pride in his defeat at the hands of his progeny.

So why is this? This attitude seems to fly in the face of his own rules and the idea that vampires don’t like to share power. Cazador must have done something to impress him to the point where he was ready to surrender his legacy to him. Was it the cunning and will to beat him? Did he demonstrate himself as worthy or did he simply seize the power?

There’s also an interesting point to note - Vellioth must have consented to turn Cazador into a full vampire before his death, which is interesting because that means that he eventually granted him the status of ‘equal’. Was he ready to die? Did he see Cazador of worthy or did the Rite mean he was required to surrender his blood willingly to his spawn to complete it?

One thing is for certain though; his lessons, his legacy and that of the vampires that came before him continue through Cazador.

Cazador Szarr - Family Man

So, Cazador we know became a true vampire over 200 years ago. Astarion says he was ‘one of the first’, but didn’t go into more detail. Was he the second or third?

We find out a few things exploring the house. We know that there was a room for the favoured spawn Leon (we meet him trying to abduct Astarion in Elfsong), the majority of the other spawn has a less fancy dorm and then there’s the Kennel, where we know Astarion spent a considerable amount of time.

Cazador treats his spawn with sadistic cruelty. We see his attitude towards Astarion during their confrontation and his tone as he speaks to him. He refers to them as his ‘family’ and takes the stance of a strict old-school father.

He’s very reminiscent of the likes of Tywin Lannister or similarly placed father/heads of household (reminds me a lot of Reginald Hargreaves from the Umbrella Academy). For all intents and purposes he presents himself as the master of his domain and his spawn as his ‘children’, calling Astarion ‘boy’ and taking an authoritarian position in the way he treats his spawn.

I wonder if this is a remnant of his time with Vellioth. The implication of Vellioth’s teachings was that he essentially groomed Cazador to be his successor, should the event arise.

The Cazador we learn about acts as master, not sharing his power. Even his favoured spawn is clear of his place within the ranks.

We learn that Leon, who we meet trying to take Astarion in his sleep, is the favoured spawn. I have tried to place the order of spawn from the ones we know of - Leon, Aurelia, Dalyria and Petras and I think either Leon or Dalyria were the first spawn. From their demeanour and the way they speak, they seem to have an air of experience and wisdom to them.

Cazador also seems to choose his spawn carefully. But I wonder if he chose them first, or some are ‘newer’ than others. And what makes these seven stand out compared to the 7000 others he made for the ritual. Why were they useful and the others locked away? Was it a condition of the ritual that 7 spawn collect 1000 souls each as a contribution to the Rite, or were they just useful for Cazador. From the perspective of control, it makes more sense for him to have a limited number of spawn he considers ‘children’ while the others become ‘cattle’ in his head.

Which makes me think that Cazador cherry-picked these people in advance to cultivate his family from the get-go.

Leon, as mentioned, I believe to be his progeny. He seems to resemble Cazador a little, although more handsome. He sports the same long, black hair and I feel that perhaps Cazador saw him as his legacy or true son.

Edit: it’s also worth noting here (thank you to the commenter who said this) that Leon was protecting his daughter who Cazador wanted to turn. The cursed child was supposed to be her but on speak with dead you learn she was replaced by a vagabond and his real daughter had been sneaked away. This also may imply that he was a younger spawn.

Leon, more than the others seems to take his role with calm obedience rather than outwardly fearful. And so, he earned favour from his master. Cazador got to see perhaps what he perceived he used to look like when he was alive, feeding his own petty vanity.

We know a little more about Dalyria. She was a doctor and was looking into potentially curing vampirism through blood transfusions. She would therefore be very clever and influential. Cazador will haven chosen her as a ‘quality’ candidate due to this, and perhaps her method of collection was to offer help to the sick and destitute, promising them immortality as the ‘cure’.

Aurelia and Petras feel a little more difficult to judge. Aurelia feels like an ambitious middle child, trying especially hard to please Cazador and show herself as valuable next to Leon. Petras seems younger to me. More naive. This may be because he appears to be a ‘himbo’ and reinforces Dalyria’s position as an older spawn since she seems to want to take care of him. The other two, we know next to nothing about.

And then we come to Astarion. Our favourite elf seems to have bore Cazador’s wrath worse than the others. But I feel for certain that Astarion was chosen for one key feature - his looks. I’m not sure if Astarion was as much of a flirt back in his days as a magistrate, but Cazador quickly saw his potential. With 10 charisma and a set of overly flowery chat up lines, Astarion wasn’t the most charming of people. But his beauty got him a lot of attention and that made those lines he liked to dish out more alluring.

And so, Cazador realised with that power behind him, he would achieve his goals. My personal headcanon is that Cazador orchestrated the attack that killed Astarion so that he could turn him, and probably took a similar strategy to ensnare the others. Remember lesson three - plan carefully and patiently!

I imagine the relationship between them often resembled the kind of dynamic between an old style English schoolmaster and his pupil. Astarion would have, no doubt, rubbed him up the wrong with with his sarcastic tone and it does make me sad to think that Cazador may have taken further glee in punishing him for this.

However, I also get the sense that Cazador may have wished for Astarion to be his favoured spawn, which is why he punished him more severely than the others.

Generational trauma and the breaking or continuing cycle

And this takes me to the idea of generational trauma.

Seen primarily through the trauma that Astarion experiences and overcomes throughout his story, the cycle of abuse that comes through the vampiric way of un-life. We learn that Cazador experiences abuse like this through Vellioth’s rule, which in turn makes him crueller and more sadistic through his actions and attitude. Where Vellioth eventually shares his power, Cazador appears to present the illusion of favour while remaining separate to his spawn. He calls them ‘family’ to project an illusion of nurturing and togetherness while dominating them through cruelty and authority. He projects terrifying dominion while haunted within by the loss of himself, the lasting scars of his own spawnhood and sorrow for the monster he has become. He’s self-aware and does care to an extent about his own suffering but carries on regardless.

I would say that Cazador is driven by his own trauma and desire to quell the pain and sadness within him. Astarion’s drive stems from a similar place, but his driving force is the overwhelming terror he feels from the years of abuse he’s suffered.

Astarion feels like someone who has tried to express his sorrow for years to deaf, uncaring ears until he meets Tav, who listens and acknowledges him. Where Cazador conceals and buries his trauma, masking it with cruelty and authority, Astarion is finally allowed to express it out loud and work through it.

If he follows this path, he is able to embrace true freedom and break the cycle of trauma perpetuated for generations. Without the spectre of his tormentor chasing him, he can let go of that fear. It’ll take him many more years to heal, and this will always leave its mark on him, but he is able to stop the cycle for good, and open up to new possibilities.

If he lets his trauma and fear dominate him and ascends, he essentially destroys his path to healing and traps himself in an eternal shell where those old wounds will fester forever and he will become a worse version of Cazador, perpetuating the abuse and passing it onto his new spawn Tav.

Whether that cycle of generational trauma truly ends is up for debate. The other spawn will have their own demons to contend with and how they choose to do that is a mystery.

But, in my game at least, Astarion gets to live free of this legacy and start his life anew.

[lagncx]

Bones and all

Astarion x reader Tw:….bones…and all. Cannibalism and gore. Cazador is a tw tw: Angst bad bad bad angst please please please do not read if you can’t handle gore,heartbreak, cazador abuse. FUCK IM CRYING this is based on the movie so yes I’m sorry if your disturbed

-///////////////-

Astarion followed you and the guest you held hands with leading them around the corner under the bridge to get into Baldurs gate he stood far away hiding in the grass and shadows. He saw you at the entrance next to sharess caress. He was almost gonna pass by you but he stopped when he heard you sniff right by his ear like you were smelling him…he turned ready to tell you off but you were gone stopping to talk to a baldurian, a elf handsome and saw the way he laughed and cracked jokes with you. But something was familiar about this interaction that seemed innocent. Your eyes you looked at him up and down not as just some one night companion but in hunger. Like he did when he was leading Cazadors own food to their demise So here he was watching you feeling like a perv seeing the way your hands moved down the boys body you kissed him. Astarion was ready to leave thinking he may have been wrong till his nose twitched it was metallic that filled his nose it made his body ache his stomach whined and he turned back you slit the boys throat. Astarion watched as you started to feast on the man drinking from his cut licking up the blood you were savage losing yourself in bliss Astarion watched in envy he only wondered what it was like…so fresh not just left overs from Cazador. You stood up taking a deep breath clothes stained you looked at the white haired elf “You! Why you lurking around?” You wiped blood on your arm Astarion swallowed “I noticed you had took him far. Away and I thought…” he was cut off “I was gonna eat him? Well I did so he’s all yours if you want. I knew you were like me when I passed you” You scratched your head looking at the way Astarion just stared at you his eyes all big but you saw the hunger you could smell it on him but he stood there planted you just laughed “you shy?” You sighed grabbing the dead corpse pulling it towards Astarion who backed up a bit stumbling on a rock you just kicked the body towards him “you look fucking parched. So go ahead. I don’t bite” Astarion barely laughed a little he got on his knees and looked at the elf…the smell flooded his senses but the poor man’s face Astarion closed his eyes “I don’t-…I don’t think I can do it.” He said standing back up you looked at him the way he avoided looking your way or at the corpse you just sighed “alright.” You looked at the man picking him up dragging him down towards the shipping water way laying him next to the water. Astarion followed keeping distance “But you know master wouldn’t want you to eat without his permission first” you stopped looking back at him “what?” You laughed “what master?” Astarion scoffed “Cazador. Obviously” you stood up walking towards him he pushed you back but you just grabbed him and he struggled hitting you “Sit still!” He did and you turned his head seeing the two faded scars. “Oh…shit. You’re a spawn. Of course.” You let him go “yea…so?” You scratched your head looking at the water covered with light from the moon “Uhm…do you want to go to grab a bite?” You looked at Astarion chewing on your lip. “no.”

————

You thanked the waiter taking your plate and you laid back “hm, I love a good steak.” You closed your eyes Astarion looked down at his cup still half full with water. You blinked. “So how long you’ve been a spawn?” Astarion shrugged “a while…” you sat up “so this master of yours…does he not feed you?” “He does, he does…just not enough and it’s usually leftovers or animals. He sends us out to lure him food, people.” You crossed your arms watching Astarions little pout. So he’s some baby bat “so you’ve never ate from someone?” He shook his head “w-what’s it like?” You stiffened at the question “sorry. I don’t want to make you uncomfy.” He looked down. Maybe this was a teaching moment “it’s uh-… it’s everything you think it is it’s a beautiful thing really the taste the smell…the bliss” Astarion looked at you like he was trying to experience through you. “And the pain.” Pain? “Every time i…feast on a person I feel guilt. Pain. I can’t control it. I can but when I’m starving when I’m so hungry I need to eat.” Astarion grabbed your hand “it’s okay.”

————

from then on Astarion would always visit you during the night making excuses to his siblings where he was going. He felt like a kid again sneaking out to go see you. You would eat off of people sometimes always asking if he wanted some but he just couldn’t do it you never forced him and you respected his boundaries. Astarion also started to realize how cruel Cazador really was watching his siblings be hit and carved into made him sick he would go to his siblings who would curse at him to leave but Astarion stitched their deep wounds and cleaned the blood off of them. He had no where to go if he did want to escape Cazador. ———

You yawned which made Astarion stop reading “there you go once again. Is my book boring you.” Star scoffed closing his book you grabbed for him. It was some stupid book you found in a store but Astarion loved it, it was about a girl who suffered an accident that left her face disfigured and her father was a surgeon who would take the faces off the other girls for his daughter. “No star continue it’s your voice it soothes me.” You closed your eyes laying down on his lap and he looked down at you watching the sun that you wanted to watch as it fell caused an orange hue on your face. Astarion continued “Her fingers slowly, gently ran over the unconscious woman’s features feeling the way her nose had a small dip and her jaw so clean and visible. The way her lips were cracked and dry but still just as beautiful as the rest of her.” Astarion flipped the page “is this an envious thing or?” You asked waving away the flies that landed on you “hm, I don’t think so, envy maybe but not pure jealousy. I think she just misses being able to see herself. Poor thing really.” Astarion sighed you just hummed “well beauty is always fading really what counts is on the inside. Astarion laughed “well I guess I won’t have to worry about the first part”

A few hours into the night you looked up at him pushing the book out the way of your view of his face he just looked down at you. “The moon maiden blessed you. I’ve never seen a star shine brighter than the moon.” You touched his cheek even though you both were cold as ice Astarion leaned into your hand feeling warmth and safety and so did you. He leaned down nerves rising and you blinked pulling away from him Astarion licked his lips “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” You shook your head “I’m sorry I know I initiated it but I- I don’t know Astarion.” You rubbed your face “where are you going?” You walked down the hill “I’m leaving” Astarion panicked

“Wait please! I love you! Don’t leave me alone. I want to spend more time with you before I go back home.” You turned around looking at him “go Home! You already belong to someone you can’t love me we can’t have a normal life we can’t Be! Normal.” Astarion frowned focusing on one part of what you were bullshitting about “excuse me? belong? I belong to no one.” Astarion chucked the book at your face You shook your head “I didn’t mean it that way it’s just.” You looked back at Astarion but he was gone. You looked down at the book picking it up.

————

Astarion wiped his tears and regulated his breathing. He was panicking how could you say that. He already didn’t feel like himself his identity was only really…him when he was with you. He entered Cazadors home Ignoring his sister that called his name “Astarion wait! Cazador wants you!” Astarion stopped and turned “what?” She just sighed “he wants you in his room.” She looked uneasy “for?” He questioned before feeling a hand on his shoulder which made a chill run up his spine his ears dropped “does it matter little star. If I call for you you come, no questions asked.” Cazador tightened his grip leading him down the dark hall the sun blocked by the red colored windows “I’m not sure if it’s just because I’ve been neglecting you but I’ve been seeing less and less of you Star. You’ve been behaving haven’t you?” Astarion nodded “yes master of course I’ve just been out looking for more people to bring to you.” Astarion smiled at Cazador who kept a straight face looking into his eyes then laughed “oh my your so good to me!” He led Astarion into his room “sit.” Astarion sat on the edge of the bed his stomach turning “you know I was deciding if I wanted to choose you or your sister. Gods knows your brother never shuts up” Cazador took shaving razor blade and astarion stood up “sit back down little star. It’ll be over quick” Astarion whimpered “no no, please don’t i don’t know what I did wrong please dont.” Cazador shushed him “you knew it would happen little star now lay down. I won’t tell you again” Astarion shook his head “no I won’t.” He stood his ground looking cazador in the eyes. Cazador laughed “are you puffing your chest up to me boy?” Cazador slapped Astarion and pushed him down “lay there and do as I say all you have to do is shut your mouth.” Cazador hummed over the sound of Astarions muffled screams

……

————

Astarion shook leaving the room snot and tears on his face he closed the door roaming the halls finding his room and closing the door behind him. He looked for a shirt there were some but would need some tweaking

Astarion stitched the holes in a night shirt of his groaning in frustration when his fingers shook trying to stick the thread through the sleeve fabric. He felt so much. Pain, burn, loss, sadness, and Rage. His brain was pounding like a painful melody. He whispered to himself cursing Cazador. His back was burning blood dripping down his back he felt it the way it trailed down into other cuts he sobbed sniffing and trying to focus. He heard his window open “Astarion…” He paused and turned to look at you standing up and backing against a wall “you shouldn’t be here.” You shook your head “I’m sorry okay? I didn’t mean what I said” you grabbed his hand feeling the way it shook “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You squeezed his hand trying to stop it from shaking. Astarion pushed you back gently then turned around his back exposed to you and he heard the way you yelled it being muffled with a hand on your mouth you were hyperventilating you sobbed and gently touched around the cuts making him flinch and whimper him gripping your wrist “..s-stop.” He ordered hand shaking as his grip tightened you whispered “oh Astarion…oh gods. What happened? Who…who did this?” You were met with silence but you had to be strong. For him. You took a deep breath why did you even let yourself get involved with this spawn. Now your heart was stolen from you he didn’t know it but he was holding it ever since the day you met your heart was his now. You took your hand and put it on his waist “let me help…please?” Astarion nodded “door…lock it please. Just incase” you did what he said before returning to him “You want a bath? I can wash you off but it’s gonna sting okay?” Astarion nodded his eyes still dropping tears you lead him to the bathroom (please idk if they have bathrooms…) when it was prepared you let him undress himself turning away from him. A small broken “ok” was said and immediately you went to his side sitting on the ground it didn’t take long for the blood to dye the water a bright red when you rinsed his wound the mess turning into a scripture “what in the hells. This isn’t just some beating. Astarion was it cazador? Your master?” Astarion shushed you his eyes in shock his pupils small “Don’t say his name!” You closed your mouth he was afraid and angry. He looked weak. And you could smell him the hunger but it was more savage. But you know he wouldn’t eat someone he needed a nudge. But not right now “okay…” you whispered wetting his hair and wiping the snot away from his face seeing his teeth marks on his bottom lip which was red and swollen he must’ve been biting into it the whole time. You paced around the room astarion was getting dressed you didn’t want to baby him with that but he called for you and you walked to him he was holding his shirt “help me…it hurts to lift my arms.” You nodded “of course” you stepped closer kneeling in front of him “let’s try an easier way, arms out.” You slipped his arms through the sleeves gently standing back up putting his head in the shirt water from his curls flicking on your cheek you leaned on him his hands held onto your sides for support face in your chest you put the shirt over his back not touching it at all letting it fall. You pulled away but Astarion held onto you sobbing into your chest you stood there knowing you couldn’t hug him. Your arms stung with the need to embrace him but you just stood there.

————

Astarion laid on top of you. He decided to get rid of the shirt so the air could cool down the burn of his scars you put some cream on them to avoid any infection you arm rested on the back of his neck. Astarion couldn’t sleep. Any candles had burned out in the room it was dark. Astarion looked up at you seeing you just as awake as him he stretched his neck out pecking your lips. You looked at him smiling “you need to rest…try and sleep” Astarion shook his head “can’t everything hurts.” He looked at the door. “If he comes in here he can’t see you…he will kill you im sure of it.” He whispered “I’m planning on it. He better get me out of the picture before I hang him on my wall.” Astarion shared the same image with you he wanted revenge too but he was too weak “Astarion you need to eat…eat something…alive” astarion shook his head “No I won’t I can’t do it.” You groaned “You’re not hearing me!” You yelled astarion slapped your cheek softly shushing you “Are you stupid what did I sa-“

“oh don’t worry I’ve been in here watching.” Astarion froze his throat got watery and he felt bile rise in his throat running into the bathroom throwing up. You got up looking at Cazador “Hello, we haven’t met” he said you scoffed “Uh huh, names y/n” You stood up keeping a hand in your pocket “Y/n! Just go.” Astarion walked to you pushing you towards the window but you stood there rooted to the floor “Y/n! Please” he begged Cazador grabbed Astarion by his hair but you kicked Cazadors leg in making him fall on the floor before he could pull Astarion to him you grabbed Astarion by his arm putting him behind you “Do Not Touch Him.” You said looking at Cazador as he kneeled down to you trying to get up taking a second to stable himself “I was simply going to tell him it’s rude to interrupt us.” You shook your head “He’s fine right where he’s at. But I got a problem with you. Who do you think you are taking a blade to him?” You got in Cazadors face pushing him back Astarion got in between you both “Y/n stop.” He begged. But it was for nothing Cazador was ready to push you to your limits and you were already ready to blow up on him. “Y/n is your name? Beautiful so tell me what does my sweet star have that drew you to him. Was it his charm or that body of his cause many many people have had the same experience.” You lunged at him knocking astarion on his back which made him yell out Feet could be heard rushing to the room Astarions siblings running in “Master? Astarion!” 2 or three ran to Astarions side pulling him safely away from the mob that started to break you from Cazador planting punches and attacking you Astarion felt dizzy the pain from his back made it hard to focus “Stop it!” Cazador looked at Astarion grabbing him and throwing him out the room locking the door. Astarion begged “Please Cazador don’t! I’ll do anything I’ll stop seeing them! Don’t hurt them.” Astarion heard breaking glass and your screams Pierce the quiet hall Cazador spoke through the door “I will forever take away everything from you. You will learn to obey me! You cause a lot of trouble now someone has to die. And unfortunately that someone is like me. Now listen to the sound of your lovers flesh being torn and feasted on by your brothers and sisters!” Astarion screamed in terror “NO! Don’t! Please! Someone stop them!” Astarion heard two of his sisters struggle to pull the rest off of you Cazador yelled at them but they continued to help you till one of them was attacked the other opening the door for astarion who saw his sister being feasted on by one of his brothers listening to her scream out. The other being pinned against a wall by cazador. Astarion saw three of the spawn chewing down on your flesh seeing you rip one of the spawn off made astarion get out of his paralysis and use a letter opener stabbing one in the throat. It was pure chaos but Cazador had called them off letting go of the sister and exiting the door but not before forcing Astarions head into one of your open wounds making you yell in pain “Say your goodbyes. Don’t make me have to go through this again.” Letting go he left slamming the door.

————

you and him laid there Astarion cried and apologized so many times for what happened you shushed him. “Stop…” you said “no it’s my fault I should’ve stayed away” he sobbed biting his hand muffling his sobs “no…no it’s fine…I would’ve…never met you.” You said “that’s the point. You would’ve been better off.” You pulled him up to your face and kissed him “ I need you to listen to me” astarion nodded keeping silent “you need to eat. Your so weak and hungry. Stop denying yourself.” Astarion looked over at his brother who laid there with the letter opener in his throat “N-no I can’t eat him I don’t want to.” You shook your head grabbing his hand placing it on an open wound “no not him. I’m not asking you to eat him I want you to eat me.” You sobbed Astarion scoffed shaking his head “no no…I’m not going to eat you y/n.” He held you close “you have to. Don’t make me die like this some corpse to be forgotten” astarion shook his head “I won’t do it. I can’t forget you. Your not going to die”

“My star. Please…I’ve never had someone to love and now…now I love you, you have my heart I want to be with you forever and I want you to grow strong. Eat me, love me and eat. I want you to eat me. Love me, please! please just love me!” You cried out in pain he saw the way your eyes looked around your vision blurring you were growing delirious and you smelled…so sweet. “Your siblings…they really were starving but they left me for you. Eat me please astarion Bones and All don’t leave me like this. Stop starving yourself. Just eat. I want you to feed I want you to be happy baby.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “No…no..I can’t…I can’t stop.” He smelled your wound licking up the blood sobbing “I’m sorry…I can’t I can’t stop.” He sunk his teeth into you you gasped laying your hand on the back of his head pushing him down into you. Astarions stomach was jumping with glee but his throat had a lump his tears falling out as your blood filled his stomach that hunger he never felt till now. He weeped crying as he sucked the life out of you “now I’ll be with you forever…just feed my star. And you’ll heal right up.” His sobs choked him up making him cough blood spilling over his mouth and his nose. You screamed when you felt him bite deeper Astarion held your hand tight and you returned the force you loved him. After 30 mins you stopped screaming after 10 your hand lost its grip fingers cracking under astarions pressure. Astarion pulled away not a drop left in you and he covered his mouth backing away from your corpse crying in his hands.

——-

But that was centuries ago. He closed the book you had gave him sticking it away under his bedroll in his tent. He stepped out the tent looking at all his companions group for dinner and Astarion looked down at the ground, ever since then he stayed from people letting people in cause last time he did they died because of him. By his hand. “Astarion. I brought you this.” Astarion looked up at Tav in front of him “this time Wyll wanted to contribute so you wouldn’t be so hungry and I could actually walk straight.” Tav handed him a cup full of blood “join us for a bite? Just for tonight?” Tav smiled kindly. Astarions stomach turned but he felt a nudge. His throat clenched he rubbed the back of his neck the chill leaving him “…yea okay.” that night he connected with everyone laughing and he felt that warmth he felt long ago, with you.

——

‘Make me feel like something powerful, it’s crawling deep inside of me…turn me into a poison tree

[oogalaboogalabich]

Having too much fun with this bloodweave outline.

Part 2: Orb Boy and The Angry talk about their masters and hunt.

(For context: Gale gets spawned by Lord Artor Morlin )

Gale tells the camp what up with him and his orb. But later in private he approaches Astarion and invites him to hunt.

Astarion gets on the defensive. But gale doesnt quite understand.

"Oh sorry. I didnt even consider that youd found time to feed on your own. My mistake.

"Wait. What? How do y- I dont know what you're talking about."'

"You-...can you not tell?"

"Tell what?"

"I suppose the most obvious tells are a bit overshadowed, arent they?" He gestures to the tattoo that covers his neck. A mix of runes and decorative beasts. His left eye simmered with a sickly dark violet and seemed to bleed magic down his cheek towards the brand on his chest.

"What in the hells are you on ab-oh...." he notices the scarring, and pays attention to the less impressive but just as unusual red eye. And finally he realizes he hears no heartbeat from the man. Nor does he breathe. "OH! well thats actually rather amusing isnt it. What are the odds?"

"You dont know the half of it. My master was about to bloody set me free when i was picked up. Rotten luck to be sure."

"Funnily enough I was freeing myself from mine when Iwas lifted. " gale could hear the deep seeded bitterness behind his light tone, and the seething jealousy and disgust. Oh he HATED him. Utterly despised him for having a master whod just go and free their spawn. He could feel that through the tadpole. Artor had often said that as cruel as he was, he was infamous and frankly looked down on for his leniency with his spawn.

"Is that why youve an old blanket with you."

"Its not a 'blanket' its my bur-...its a keepsake from my old life. You will do well to keep your hands off of it."

"So...hunting? I thought i spotted a few paladins heading north not an hour ago."

"Paladins? You...youre going after" thinking creatures. "People."

"Yes. Astarion. Im hungry." He spoke as if it was obvious, (because it was) but he could feel their irritation spike again. The fuck had he said to earn that? "Are you coming or not? I could certainly use the help. I doubt id be able to go after them alone. im sure i could pick off one of the tieflings ...but id honestly rather not. Id feel bloody awful."

"...alright....lead on then."

"Fannntastic. Glad to have you along, my friend."

--

"So...your master...who is he?"

"The bloody baron of waterdeep, artor morlin. Damned fascinating chap, if a bit lacking in basic empathy. Good man in general though, i would think. Not like that Kozakuran twat in baldurs gate."

"Where do you hail from?"

"...." astarion scowled.

"Ah...apologies for insulting your mast-

"Dont call him that. He isnt my master....not anymore. Never again."

"For bringing him up then. Ive heard things....and im sure none of it does him justice."

"Hes a godsdamned mon-."

"Shhshhshh hang on..." gale frowns and holds a hand up, indicating to be silent.

They both crouchedbin the bushes while a curly haired merc and one other male chat while they head back to their camp with game in tow.

Gale noted how nervous astarion is, and wonders just how long it had been since cazador allowed him a proper meal.

"Ill take the larger one down first, you can have him."

"I can hunt my own food!"

"Are you sure? Youre shaking."

"Soon to be remedied, darling."

Nonetheless, gale went after the smaller of the two for himself, not realizing that astarion had frozen in place.

He pulled up from his meal while the bigger one fled like a fucking coward.

"Gah- Astarion! Youre going to lose him." He all but barked, blood flying like spittle from his teeth.

Astarion nearly fumbled, hesitating long enough to get stabbed in the side before his victim passed out.

Gods but he barely felt it though. Groaning as the nectar of gods slid down his throat.

He was nearly finished when gale aproached, pocketing what looked like a tiny body.

"Need any help cleaning up?"

"Hm? "

"I could shrink it down for you. Easier than mauling or burying the body. A spawn as young as you, im guessing youre still squeamish about supping on other people, yes?"

"The hells are you on about? Im well past my second century."

"Well yes, i understand how elves work. Im talking about your time as a sp-"

"Yes i bloody well know what youre talking about. And im saying its been a fucking eternity!!"

"...you...then why are you so..."

He looks over astarions general state of having been stabbed, and wasting so much of the mans blood to the bedrock they stood on under the crumbling bridge. Messy, sloppy, uncoordinated.

"Unpracticed..."

"Well forgive me if my table manners are a bit lacking!" He sneers. "Im rather used to rats and insects. No thinking creatures. Cazador always said....i always wondered if hed made up those rules. Now i know why he did...."

Gale was tempted to dig deeper, but perhaps now was a good time to just let astarion enjoy himself.

"This is your first taste of blood." Real blood at least, he thought.

"Proper blood at least" gale tried not to smile at that.

[the-stage-manager]

IF I DONT TELL SOMEBODY ABOUT MY TAV IM GOING TO EXPLODE

Here he is, his name is Urzire. He is (was) a pirate.

(Look at how pretty he is in these blue robes. He's so tranquil UwU)

He is a tiefling charletan bard, college of swords, former pirate captain. He fell in love with Astarion while committing scams. Unfortunately he has a condition where he only gets the Brain CellTM during the full moon (dumb of ass)

He was actually born 150ish years before the events of BG3, in a small village. His parents were farmers and he has 8 siblings and is the second youngest. He was 5 when his younger brother was born, and made it his life's mission to protect him. His parents were farmers and, unfortunately, their village was razed when Urzire was 15. He lost his entire family, and was captured and sold as a slave.

For the next seven years, he labored deep beneath the surface of the earth mining for coal and rare minerals. At one point, he and a handful of others were trapped in a cave in, where they were stuck for over three weeks waiting for rescue. So... Yeah. He's not a big fan of the Underdark. Or the caves.

He secured his freedom after seven years and found work as a sailor. Though TBH he wasn't very good at the whole "honesty" and "not stealing" thing and he was a within like three months. It was a real quick turn around.

He met Astarion in a bar—Astarion, at this point, was only eighty years or so into his slavery, so he was, admittedly, in a different mindset. A little more desperate, a little less jaded, just starting to lose hope. They met at a ball Cazador dragged his spawn to; Astarion claimed to be a magistrate, Urzire claimed to also be a magistrate, and they then proceeded to seduce each other. Astarion wanted a victim for Cazador, and Urzire wanted a victim to hold as ransom. Unfortunately neither succeeded but, by sheer happenstance, they met up again in a bar months later.

Look, it's the perfect meet-cute: boy meets boy, boy1 confesses to being a vampire, boy2 confesses to having a hostage in the basement that needs to die so "I guess I wouldn't mind so terribly much if you happened to steal her away to eat..." Look, they both think they're manipulating each other, okay? Astarion thinks he's putting on a sob story to gain a powerful ally, Urzire thinks he's doing favors for a powerful vampire who will be in his debt. UNFORTUNATELY THEY BOTH CATCH FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER.

Honestly, who could have seen it coming?

The truth is revealed, they fall in love, Urzire makes plans to kill Cazador, he also reunites with his long-lost little brother (who is married and has. Tiny baby eee!) It's all very lovely and nice.

Except then it goes to shit.

His ship sinks, and he washes ashore on a tiny island in the Feywilds, because the fey who rules the island, Callipso, fell in love with him and wants to make him her husband. He resists as best he can, but Urzire is trapped with her, and she's a fey. She charms him, and takes what she wants, even though he doesn't want to give it. Every time they are intimate, he loses a piece of himself—literally. His skin turns grey, he loses his ability to play the violin, to sing, to do much of anything, and he's losing his memories. After 12 months, Callipso finally releases him and when he washes up on the shore back in the mortal plane, he barely remembers who he even is. All he knows is that he's in love with somebody, and they're suffering, and he has to find them.

He wanders aimlessly around the city, like a zombie, before a Nautoloid appears out of nowhere and BAHM! Tadpoled.

Except, here's the thing: time passes differently in the Feywilds. While only 12 months passed for Urzire, 120 years passed in the mortal plane.

And Urzire has no idea. In fact, when he meets Astarion, he doesn't recognize him, his memories are too fractured. But Astarion looks at Urzire and sees the ghost of a man who abandoned him, who betrayed him, who left him to rot for over a century. He doesn't believe it at first. But once he realizes... It's bad. He bites the Tiefling that night with 100% the intention to drink him dry. But Urzire seems completely in the dark and that throws him off.

They fall in love slowly. Urzire continues to show Astarion relentless compassion and, at first, the vampire wants none of it. But slowly, he warms up to it. He pieces the story together from the bits and pieces Urzire tells around the campfire—the Tiefling was just as trapped as he was, in many ways. He's still bitter... But it fades. He falls in love.

By the time they reach Baldur's Gate, Uzire still doesn't recognize him, but he's fallen in love, and he feels guilty about it—after all, he loves somebody back in the city, somebody who needs him.

Astarion tries to hint at the reality of the situation but doesn't have the courage to tell him outright. So when they reach the city and Urzire realizes how much time has passed... It's a doozy.

But it gets worse. Remember that bit where Urzire reunited with his long lost little brother, who is married and has a child? Well, when Urzire disappeared, Astarion didn't handle it well. He hoped for a long, long time but eventually gave up and his hope died and became rage. He took his anger out on Urzire's brother by stealing their young child in the dead of night (Astarion had been invited into the home, he had been Urzire's partner after all) and presenting him to Cazador to be eaten.

It's a secret that Astarion intended on taking with him to his grave. Until... They arrive in Cazador's palace and three guesses who's in that cell with the rest of the malnourished spawn? That's right. It's the little boy. Urzire doesn't actually recognize him, he'd only been a baby when he saw him last, as Calliope fried his memories pretty badly. In fact, Astarion doesn't even realize he's in there because he's too emotionally charged after the confrontation with Sebastian.

But after Cazador is dead, and they're climbing up the stairs to leave the palace, the realization hits Astarion in the chest like a fucking freight train. To his credit (perhaps he's only able to do it because he's already so emotionally numb), he tells Urzire and they go find the little boy, and Urzire insists on taking him back to camp.

He and Astarion do stay partners, even though their relationship is a little bit strained for a while after, understandably so. But they work it out, and Urzire goes on to adopt his nephew. Instead of living in the underground with the spawn after the game, he and Astarion and the boy immediately head to Waterdeep with Gale (because they are homeless lol) to start researchih cures for vampirism. Which they eventually find! Because it really isn't all that hard to cure vampirism in DnD.

So that's it. That's the story of my son.

[azem-ghale]

Wish Larian didnt do the whole preset head thing, you get like 6 heads to choose from 4 look around middle-aged white people (which would be fine if we had more options) 2 of them are the same face except one has freckles you get 1 face if you want black features and 1 face if you want Asian features.

The whole head preset thing is dumb and made even worse by the face npcs share these presets so whenever i see someones unmodded Tavs im just sad theres nothing much unique about them they look like a huge chunk of npcs.

What if my tav had muscles, what if they were a bit fat, what i wanted my tav to not look like they have several identical siblings, what if i want my female tav to have muscles or even big titties, i cant because every female tav is skinny, small boobs (it looks dangerously close to how they did elves in DAI) rightbup to the janky walk/run animations

Whilst I have zero interest in romancing anybody (I think it feels rushed with how quickly things rush by , and hate how Astarion getsnover his aversion to sex pretty quickly id of kept his aversion all the way through the end) why is it the only black companion gets almost zero content even been sidelined in his own damn quest and his abuser gets fans too meanwhile the racist Vampire spawn keeps getting content added.

(also there is no way Astarion died as a 39 year old elf, if he was human sure but an elf nah that mf lied about his age as an elf that man would still look 18/20

Unfortunately this game attracted the type of people who can't handle anybody saying anything bad about thier super favourite game even if its valid criticism

Another also ehy are the choices ruen into mindflayer or work with the shithead emperor we have a flayer friend and no excuses are going to make me believe he couldn't help

[limpfisted]

while wyll is a very well intentioned person part of the game is about subverting tropes, and to ME hes MY special princess. he is by no stretch of the imagination “perfect” n hes not SUPPOSED to be perfect, n he has glaring flaws present in the text in subtext that make him very interesting narratively

while wyll trying to fight monsters and devils to save people is objectively good

in dnd, monsters, devils, goblins, even animals in the context of this game. theyre still literally people. theyre capable of language and complex thoughts and motivations

while im not about to be like (fire emblem vc) DIMITRI. KILLS. WOMEN. wyll’s quest to be a generic lawful good human warrior male is not as black and white as he wants it to be

and he can be a hypocrite and a liar

and he can be dumb and needlessly vicious. he stands in the middle of the room with priestess guts and to her face goes “tav lets just kill her. lets kill everyone here lets blow this nasty wench to smithereens” and u have to go priestess guts i am so sorry my friend would fucking say that to you. while we are. trying. to be SNEAKY, WYLLIAM!!

he DOES try to kill karlach. he probs killed other innocent prisoners of zariel. he thought it was the right thing to do, its reasonable. but he still did it. n he never faces tbe consequences or even the guilt.in fact he only faces consequences n guilt when he does the RIGHT thing

wyll IS a very kind and tolerant person to a point but its interesting to see like. who deserves second chances to wyll. and why

like obviously being a generic goblin killer doesnt make u a bad person or anything. its good to kill momsters that are hurting ppl. but hes eventually going to hv to look back on the things hes done for mizora and the devils hes killed, and go “hm.” bc even tho he HAD to do it. he also justified it. and that makes it worse

its honestly kind of interesting he doesnt hv anything to say abt freeing 7000 hungry vampire spawn. n when ascended astarion mentions them, wyll asks how many ppl astarion has killed. “dozens, hundreds?” bro it was 7007 ppl, u know the exact number. he cant even wrap his head around it

like everything else in his life—i dont think he really knows how to weigh the burden of that decision bc he can really never let himself feel the full severity of anything without going “ok moving on” or “let my next action prove my worth.” (ie when he tells karlach hes been a beast but he still wants to prove himself, when u tell him hes a monster, he will still prove himself to the sword coast n be tbeir protector.)

its a very rich thing, hes going on his own little narrative journey here where hes realizing what kind of man and hero he wants to be, same as all the rest of them

n a part of that is coming to terms with things like balduran being a lie, n baldurs gate being so much less than he remembers

something i really enjoy abt the game as someone who considers themself an existentialist is. the burden of freedom. we are condemned to be free. despite the facticities and realities of the world n other ppls reactions to our decisions—we alone make our choices n deal with those consequences

wyll is always, always making the best of a bad situation, hes always doing the best he can, hes always doing what he thinks is right, he always tries to be kind and good and gentle to the people “who deserve it.”

but hes only human, and the road to hell is paved with good intentions

when it comes to morals and “goodness”—sometimes being guided by fairy tales and legends is…. lazy moralizing, that will lead to more pain for everyone, wyll included

wyll DID do good things for the people of the sword coast. and that matters. but u know what. everybodys got something to atone for, pobodys nerfect

again this is not a wyll hate post this is actually a WYLL IS AN INTERESTING CHARACTER AND INTERESTING CHARACTERS HAVE FLAWS post lol. hes really not as goody goody as people think. he loves murder and blood tbh, just u know, the murder and blood of evil doers