#the right tag cause the font of the goddamn APOSTROPHE WAS DIFFERENT COMPARED TO PC

[sophiasharp]

Thinking more about my role swap au, particularly how much Wyll would probably fucking DESPISE Astarion at first.

Cause like, in this au, Wyll was the one turned into a spawn and forced through 200 years of awfulness, and I think that probably would give him a very different opinion of heroes than the Wyll we know and love in-game.

This Wyll felt a deep sense of betrayal at never having been found by his father or the Flaming Fist- at almost no one being able to suss out his master’s true nature, and those that can either being too prideful in their attacks and getting themselves killed or being in in on the cruelty and letting it continue unfettered.

This Wyll has a GREAT distaste for so-called heroes, convinced that the vast majority of them are self-aggrandizing louts that are just in it for the acclaim.

I say “the vast majority,” however, because I think that the idea of a true hero is still something he clings to at his darkest moments: that maybe there could come a day where someone good and just could do in his vampiric sire for good and finally end his reign of terror, and that maybe, just maybe, he could be recognized as more than the monster he’s been turned into.

This, however, only increases his contempt for those that fail to live up to that paragon status.

Enter this au’s Astarion: the most dramatic bastard to ever play hero.

Wyll’s attention goes STRAIGHT to Astarion once the group reaches the grove, probably having heard tell of the illustrious Blade of Frontiers in the taverns he frequented and being curious as to whether the legend held up in reality.

And oh. Oh it certainly does not.

Adventuring wasn’t really a choice for Astarion. It was either mope about his banishment and his eternal servitude to the Fae till something killed him OR use his newfound powers to earn some respect and get by that way.

Archfey pacts mostly deal in charming those around them, enhancing their presence beyond what a mortal alone could accomplish. As a result, a lot of how Astarion works is by having his reputation preceded him, letting the subsequent fear or adoration do a lot of the heavy lifting in his encounters.

In this way, the Blade of Frontiers is completely an act, one that Astarion profits from by keeping it up. Yes, he’s helping the people at the Grove because it’s the right thing to do, but he’s also totally doing it because he knows they’ll be willing to give him food and shelter despite not having much to go around in exchange for the protection he provides.

Astarion upholds the charade of the Righteous Defender in front of the Tiefling refugees but is quick to show his true, not entirely selfless nature with the other tad-fools since there’s no use in putting up a front when they can literally read his mind and they might all die in a few days time.

And ohohoho man will Wyll have PROBLEMS.

Wyll, in this au, is far from the fairy tail hero we know him to be in canon. He follows a lot of the same playbook that in-game Astarion does for most of the journey. He tries to manipulate those around him into protecting him, will always go for whatever option is more in his favor, and has a very dry, borderline gallows sense of humor that he uses to cope with his situation. In his eyes, though, he comes by his selfishness honestly. Astarion, meanwhile, seemingly shoves his hero status in everyone’s faces while, in Wyll’s eyes, not having truly earned it.

To Wyll, Astarion is a hypocrite of the highest order who works in his best interest and then would chastise him for doing the same.

It makes when Astarion’s fae ties are revealed and he’s punished for sparing Gale all the more satisfying. Wyll damn near revels in Astarion’s transformation into a faerie, watching him struggle to come to terms with the giant ram horns sticking out from his skull and his sudden change in eye color. Because that’s what you get for messing with powers beyond your control. That’s what you get for pretending to be a hero when all you are is a failed magistrate toying with those around you.

That’s what you get for thinking yourself so much better than the monsters you keep for company: you become one yourself.

Wyll finds it funny, a karmic justice for all the times the folk hero had looked down on him for voting for the less virtuous option or for joking about what flavor their companions might be.

It is so very, very funny.

…until it isn’t.

Because the transformation doesn’t force Astarion to drop the hero act like he thought it would. Oh no, if anything it has the only strengthened his resolve to do the right thing no matter the consequences. He wears the mantle of the Blade with more vigor than ever before, earnestly trying to live up to his own impossible legend now that it will never be within his reach.

It makes no damn sense to Wyll. Why bother? Why go to the trouble when you know the effort won’t be appreciated? When everywhere he goes, all anyone will see is a fae creature looking to cash in a favor?

He just doesn’t get it.

He doesn’t get it until they make it to Last Light Inn. It’s there, as he watches Astarion talk to Councilor Florrick, to the High Harper, to Isobel, Alphira, Rolan, Raphael, everyone they meet as the threat of the Absolute weighs heavy on them all, that Wyll hears something in Astarion’s words that he hadn’t before:

Fear. Desperation.

Astarion doubled down on his Blade persona for the same reason he made it in the first place.

It’s all he has left.

And if he doesn’t, then everything he’s done since his banishment will have meant nothing. He’ll have given up his life, his reputation, even his own body for nothing.

But if he can be a true hero, if he can use the power his pact grants to protect those who have none, if he can be the kind, just man that the Blade represented, maybe it would all be worth it somehow.

It truly sinks in for Wyll just how heavily it all weighed on Astarion the day after they first make it to Moonrise Towers. Wyll had gone out into the night searching for any living creature he might get a meal out of within the all-encompassing darkness of the Shadow Curse when he heard groans of pain nearby.

Keeping to the shadows, he followed the noise till he found a disheveled Astarion, pulling at his horns and knocking them against trees in some half considered attempt to pry them from his head. Looking at him closer, Wyll could see bags under his eyes from weeks of sleep made uneasy by the two additions. He watched as frustrated , pained tears gathered in the eyes of the same man that had brushed off any concern from their traveling companions about whether he was coping well with his sudden, agonizing transformation.

Wyll tried to grasp at that satisfaction he’s felt when that liaison of Astarion’s patron had bestowed the punishment for letting Gale live.

Instead, he found a profound sympathy he wanted to bury as soon as he’d found it.

Because he remembered his beginning days as a vampire spawn. How long it had taken him to be able to speak clearly around the new protrusions in his mouth. How he’d cut his tongue on them every other sentence. How he’d succeeded in ripping them out once only to regret it when their absence only left him starved and still expected to entertain and seduce victims anyways.

Wyll backed away before Astarion could notice him, but the sight of his seemingly unflappable companion buckling under the pressure stuck with him. Come the next day at camp, Astarion was back to his usual flamboyant self, all signs of his previous anguish carefully hidden out of sight and out of mind. Things were, as far as anyone else knew, as they’d always been.

And yet, if one knew to look, they might have seen Wyll covering for Astarion more often in fights, taking down enemies before they could get too close to their raucous hero. They might have seen him sneaking extra health potions in his pack when he wasn’t looking, or being the first to assist if he went down. They might have even noticed Wyll collecting bits and pieces of cloth, fabric, and other softer materials that whenever it was possible to scavenge.

About a week later, there finally comes a day where Astarion goes out and Wyll stays back, and after coming back from a long and concerning day exploring the Gauntlet of Shar, Astarion is shocked to find a new addition to his tent: a patchwork pillow resting on his bedroll, thick enough to give the extra support needed for someone with horns like his. When questioning the others left behind, Karlach eventually tells him that Wyll had been oddly absent for almost the entire day.

And when Astarion questions Wyll on whether or not he had anything to do with it, Wyll merely shrugs. “Us monsters need to look out for each other, don’t we?”