#(((Astarion was the only survivor)))

[ride-a-dromedary]

Just thinking about the implications of this, but Halsin's way of indicating that his family has long passed is: "save for [him], [his] line perished a long time ago".

Aside from it being a decidedly more old fashioned and more eloquent way of indicating what happened (as is shown in shades in Halsin's speaking patterns, which is likely trying to illustrate his age as well as push the "wise mentor" angle), by stating that his line has ended with him, practically, it means both sets of grandparents are gone, both parents are gone, and either Halsin is an only child (unlikely considering Wood Elves, but possible), or any and all of his siblings are gone, too. And if you stretch what you consider part of a line, rather than just keeping direct, that could extend to aunts and uncles and cousins as well (though it's hard to say concretely what Halsin includes in a familial line).

So it leaves me to wonder what happened to reduce an entire elven line to one elf, when Halsin himself is only just approaching middle-age and he pointedly says it happened a long time ago, so it wasn't a recent event, and the lot of them likely didn't die from old age/natural causes. Was his entire village wiped out at one point? Disease or a raid or orcs or a wildfire or what?

[bardnuts]

going as long as possible with Astarion as your only party member (and playing dark urge) is probably one of the funniest early-game experiences there is

Imagine: random chance frees you from 200 years of slavery and you team up with this random, extremely bad vibes stranger for "protection," except each of you is completely convinced the other might kill you in your sleep (one of you has horrifyingly worrying intrusive thoughts and the other has already pulled a knife at least once). You dont have 20 strength between you. You can barely protect each other but at least this random freak is SOMEONE and you need SOMEONE or Cazador will find you and grab you. So you attach yourself at the hip and try to ignore the way this strange amnesiac mutters "blood" to himself when he thinks you're not listening

and OK, you think, the other guy hasn't killed me yet and he definitely has had ample opportunity, but you're SO THIRSTY and neither of you have slept through the night yet because you're too busy keeping watch on one another, so maybe he's finally tired enough that you can just take a little bite while he's--oh shit

I spent three days like this. It was a delightful little interlude and everyone should try it

[itsafreetrialofdeath]

slayer durge and batstarion = marc anthony and pussyfoot

[romanticizingmurder]

"Survivors are allowed to be upset that people glorify ascended astarion" weird that you assume there's no overlap between survivors and ascended fans when literally every ascended fan I know is one

[kunstpause]

I am really tired of the discourse already, but there is one thing I need to get off my chest:

There is absolutely nothing wrong with anyone who finds catharsis in the darker Astarion ending, no matter what loud voices online want to make you believe.

You are not wrong or immoral or in any way a bad person for using this narrative in a game exactly the way it is meant to-as an outlet for things that are rarely an option or maybe even undesirable in real life. You are not wrong for finding peace in revenge. This is a story, it is supposed to evoke strong emotions, and the virtual reality of a video game is a wonderful outlet because it has no consequences for anyone else, ever.

And finding joy/healing/relief in the thought of turning the tables on your abuser does not make you a bad person, it makes you very human. And once more, there is nothing wrong with exploring that via media. In fact, that is probably one of the healthiest ways to engage with these feelings.

So embrace what you're feeling, and please know that it says nothing about your actual morals or what kind of person you are, no matter what others want to make you think. Everyone deals with trauma differently, and it's not always pretty, and that is completely ok!

[soldier-poet-king]

.

[boo-moved]

One thing I will give Astarion is that we have a similar eye structure

[deputyash]

I wanted to post a video of a wild battle I had last night but it's too large of a file for tumblr ahhh 😩😩

[autistichalsin]

As of patch 6, the companions have (mostly) kinder lines for when spawn!Astarion starts to burn in the sun on the docks after the Netherbrain fight

These aren't fully in the game yet- they are marked as Impossible- but they are voiced and in the text files as well, so likely will be fully implemented in the next patch! I am excited about this- before, the companions seemed oddly mirthful/apathetic about Astarion's fate, instead of nice like (most) of them have been rewritten to be here. (Minsc, however, keeps the same response as before, "We will find you, Astarion! AND BOO WILL BRING A SUNFLOWER!" Which is fine because his previous response was perfection!) This is very welcome!

Lae'zel: Call him man or call him monster, but Astarion was a force against the Grand Design. He deserves to bask in the sun, not to hide in darkness.

Shadowheart: Poor Astarion. How he loved the sun- if only the feeling was mutual. I hope that isn't the last we see of him.

Wyll: Astarion! Gods, what a horror, to feel the sun on your skin for so long, only to be forced back into the shadows.

Gale: Astarion! Cured of one affliction, only to be reclaimed by another. The sun is no longer a friend to him, but we must be- he'll need more solace than shadows can provide.

Halsin: A cruel blow- Astarion loved feeling the caress of the sun... only now it gouges him with its claws. Perhaps we shall meet again, beneath a shield of darkness.

Jaheira: Be well, Astarion. Hide while you must- but do not think your city is done with you just yet.

Minthara: Astarion is cursed to flee the sun as I am cursed to walk in it. Do not belittle him with pity- he is a survivor, and will thrive upon what bounty the darkness provides. There is life in him yet.

Karlach: Astarion. Burnt by the sun again. Godsdamn, that's fucking cruel.

[lassieposting]

Concept:

You are Bhaal, god of murder, and someone is praying to you.

And that's not necessarily unusual. Lots of people pray to you, usually for the untimely death of a rival, an ex-spouse, an overseer. The prayer itself is a small and broken thing, bloody and raw, whispered by a man whose vision is dulled by agony and the dark spectre of approaching death. The pathetic not-quite-survivor of some rather brutal torture, wishing murder upon his captor. You take a moment to enjoy the fear, the pain, the suffering - and then you tune him out. There are millions like him, and your favour is for those willing to do their killing themselves. Besides, that wretch will be nothing but a corpse all too soon.

Except...he doesn't die. You never feel that timid little spark of existence stutter and go out. Far beyond the breaking point of a mortal body, this one lingers on, clinging to being with fingers all but stripped back to bare bone.

It's intriguing enough to warrant a second look and - interesting. The prayer comes from a vampire, a pretty little corpse becoming an even prettier corpse under the skilled hand of a cruel master.

It is not in your nature to intervene. You favour the strong, not the weak. The master, not the slave. Your first instinct is to leave the wretched little thing to his fate.

But the thing is. Your child - your favourite child, shaped from your own flesh, coldest and most brutal of your progeny - has gone and got a boyfriend.

And you don't like him.

You don't like the effect he's having on your chosen, the way they're becoming distracted, attached, less devoted to their true purpose. And right now, your nature takes a back seat to your desire to get rid of that smug, arrogant little Baanite whelp, Enver Gortash. Your granddaughter's spiteful machinations have given you an opening, but you know they're bound to run into one another eventually, and it will all start over.

The vampire is beautiful. Well-trained. Accustomed to brutality. Already purged of sympathy and compassion, eaten up inside by hatred and bitterness and harm. And immortal; able to survive the worst of your son's inclinations. At this point, he'll do.

So you redirect a nautiloid. It's not that you're showing the creature any favour - it's just pragmatism, really. He is simply a tiny piece of a very large puzzle.

And then you watch.

You watch the vampire take the spectacular murder of a young bard in stride.

You watch him identify your memory-addled, sanity-challenged offspring as the most dangerous one in their sad little group of unwashed tragedies - the strongest protector, the solution to his fear of being discarded or returned to his master.

You watch him expertly lure your progeny into a pit trap of sex and lies and manipulation, dressed up with honeyed words and an exaggerated performance of desire.

Your child comes face to face with Enver Gortash and remembers nothing - feels nothing. They only have eyes for Astarion, and you are filled with satisfaction. The vampire is pathetic and fearful now, but already he plans to take over his master's ritual, and then he will be perfectly placed to feed your child's very worst impulses, to bring out the sharpest edge of the darkness inside.

You watch the vampire say, "I want us to be real."

You watch your child happily become a glorified comfort blanket, your masterwork living weapon reduced to little more than a prey animal, a do-gooder, a sacrifice.

Watch them vow, "I will be the person you see in me."

Watch them talk the blasted creature out of going through with the ritual at all.

Watch them start fighting their own nature for the pantomime love of someone else's broken toy.

Watch them turn on you.

And you decide, with the benefit of hindsight, that Enver Gortash was not that bad, actually.

[ascendedastarionapologist]

once again i am asking the bg3 fandom and specifically astarion enjoyers to stop treating ppl w sexual trauma like fragile little babies when it comes to expressing sexual desire. once again i am asking the bg3 fandom to stop treating sex like its evil and dirty and only ever traumatic for the survivor. you are not doing anything for us representation wise by doing that. you are infantalizing us in the name of "protecting" your blorbo

[baldursgat3]

so like a week ago I saw a post I can't find again about the idea of like an elf Tav who had grown up with Astarion before Cazador

so here's 4.5k words of that

lightly nsfw but the pants stay on (except in my half finished drafts that I gave up on)

A hog ran out of the bushes and you felt a blade against your neck as the man bodied you to the ground. He hovered over you, dagger pressed to your throat as he leaned in close with a soft smile. "Not another sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours." This was the first time you really managed to get a good look at him. Still, it took you a moment to recognize him. He looked so much older than you remembered and his eyes were blood red. "Astarion?" He was clearly not expecting that. His eyes widened in confusion and panic before he pressed the dagger firmer against your neck, the tip drawing a prick of blood. "How in the hells do you know that?" He hissed. "Who are you?

You stumbled along the beach away from the illithid ship. Your head was pounding and you just wanted to lay down but this was not nearly the time or place. You had to get away from the crash site and, preferably, find a few other survivors to watch your back. The cleric you picked up was fine and all, but you didn't entirely trust her. You were certain you'd need more help than that anyway.

Corpses littered the surrounding area, of humans and mind flayers alike. Not much survived the falling, flaming debris. It wasn't hard to make out a voice over the crackling fires.

You jogged towards the voice, quickly spotting it's owner. A slender elf with white curls that were surprisingly neat for surviving the nautiloid wreck. "Quick! I've got one of those brain things cornered."

That voice was… familiar? Still, you couldn't quite place it and it didn't really matter. If you helped him kill the thing, perhaps you could convince him to join you.

You followed where he was pointing, sword in hand. Really, you should've known better. Or perhaps Shadowheart could've been quicker to alert you?

A hog ran out of the bushes and you felt a blade against your neck as the man bodied you to the ground. He hovered over you, dagger pressed to your throat as he leaned in close with a soft smile. "Not another sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours."

This was the first time you really managed to get a good look at him. Still, it took you a moment to recognize him. He looked so much older than you remembered and his eyes were blood red. "Astarion?"

He was clearly not expecting that. His eyes widened in confusion and panic before he pressed the dagger firmer against your neck, the tip drawing a prick of blood. "How in the hells do you know that?" He hissed. "Who are you?

"You- you died…?" It didn't make sense. You saw them bury his body and everything.

His eyes flicked back and forth, studying your face. You wouldn't be upset if he didn't recognize you, but you weren't exactly sure how you would talk your way out of this in that case.

Fortunately, you wouldn't have to find out. You saw the moment it hit him as he jerked his dagger away from your neck, scrambling to get off of you. "It… can't be. Of all the people… you." He laughed bitterly, stowing the dagger.

Honestly, you weren't exactly sure how to respond to this situation. You couldn't even tell if he was happy to see you or not. So you decided to press on the most concerning issue still. "You died. I went to your funeral, Astarion. What… happened to you?"

You were nearly the same age, you'd grown up together in his family's estate. Your parents were hired hands and you served as a live-in friend for their reclusive son. He was only a few months older than you, so why did he look so much older? So much paler, more exhausted than someone your age ought to be.

On top of it he still looked fucking fantastic. Gods you hated how effortlessly beautiful he was.

His gaze darted between you and Shadowheart, anxiously weighing his options. "Ah, yes, well. You know how it goes, surrounded by adoration and opulence. It all gets to be too much, you fake your death, you flee the country. Standard business really."

That definitely wasn't the truth but clearly he wasn't about to share it in front of Shadowheart. It hurt, finding him like this, though. You were so close as children. It had gotten a little harder as you grew up but you always kept in contact. But he let you think he was dead for 200 years anyway? "Right. Of course. Well. Care to join us?"

~*~*~

It's not like you were still in mourning or anything. He had been a good friend for so long, at times even your best friend, but two hundred years was enough time for you to move on.

You had thought about him from time to time. Fondly remembering stories from your past that would turn into a quiet sadness for the life that was taken from him.

They never had an answer for what had happened to him. He had been murdered, you knew that much. No one ever said how or why, though. Magistrate's weren't exactly beloved and his family held a high enough title there was always the vague threat of assassinations but Astarion seemed like such a strange target.

It was compounded by the fact that nothing ever came of it. No one was ever caught, no political move was made on his grieving family. You would think maybe he'd been jumped, but nothing had been taken from him. Honestly, you never expected to get an answer. Certainly not from the dead man himself.

The two of you were sat in his tent, it had been a few days but what a wild few days they were. Tomorrow you would set out to level the goblin camp but tonight you were going to talk.

"I'm sorry." He started. It kind of surprised you, really. You had been learning over the past few days that the man you had once known was all but gone. The Astarion in front of you now was always bitter and irritated with half the things you did.

"Astarion I swear to Kelemvor, it is not naïve to rescue a twelve year old from a crazy lady with a snake for 'no reason.' The reason is rescuing the twelve year old from a snake."

"Where did you go? What happened to you?" The apology was nice but really, you just wanted answers. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He sighed, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. His eyes were fixed on the ground between the two of you and he looked so… sad. "I thought about it, about finding you. At first and, only for a moment."

Well that didn't really clear anything up, all right. You kept quiet though, you were smart enough to know when not to push.

"You want the truth? I was captured. Kidnapped by an evil man who turned me into a monster and forced me to do his bidding. I couldn't have told you. I- I didn't want to get anywhere near you. Not like this." 

A picture was beginning to come into focus. Honestly, there had been enough pieces that you had already begun to wonder. "You're a vampire."

"A spawn, yes." He practically spat the word out, scowling at the ground. "He turned me into his little pet. I was to go out and catch him the most beautiful souls I could find for him to feast on. All the while I was starved and tortured just for his amusement."

"Astarion…"

"I don't want your pity. I mean - I do, sort of but- ugh…" He rolled his eyes, leaning back. "You've made this all extremely complicated."

"Why didn't you ever try to find me? I would've helped, I could've tried to get you out of there."

"I… well I couldn't." He glanced up at you, a sad smile crossing his lips. "You would've tried, certainly. And I would've watched him kill you as punishment I'm sure. No, it's quite all right." He waved a hand dismissively, as a perfect, easy grin spread across his face.

You couldn't exactly argue. It's not like you had any idea what you would've been up against. Still, your blood boiled at the very idea of what he must've gone through in your centuries apart. "Well, you're safe right now, anyway."

His face softened at your words, seeming to relax into the very idea of your protection. "I am, aren't I? How strange." His head cocked to the side, an almost calculating look crossing his face. "Would you… care to stay the night?"

~*~*~

You had always had a sort of off and on crush on Astarion, growing up. When you were very small he had told your parents that the two of you were already married, obviously.

As you got older, you had been sidelined pretty hard as the best friend and you took it with grace. You had plenty of other people who caught your eye and it was nice to always have someone you trusted to be there.

There was that one time that he had drunkenly wept into your arms about being the only person he would ever truly love. It would've meant more had he not just gotten his heart broken hours prior, but it did rekindle an old spark in your heart for a solid year.

The two of you had drifted apart as your social circles moved in opposite directions. You never connected with the upper class, he wouldn't be seen with the rabble. You always kept in touch but, by the time he was murdered captured, you were struggling to keep up with your monthly nights out at the Elfsong.

Right now, though, in this moment? You felt as though you couldn't possibly be closer to another person if you'd wished for it.

Astarion had practically crawled on top of you in his effort to kiss you. One of his hands was tangled in your hair while the other rested firmly against the small of your back. He was colder than you were used to but that wasn't unwelcome. Instead it just sent shivers through your entire body with every touch.

You slowly lowered yourself down to your elbows as he leaned further into you, chasing this kiss like he needed it to survive. The hand in your hair held you firmly against him, not that you had any intention of going anywhere.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, pulling a pitiful little noise out of your throat. He let out a small breath of a laugh as his fingers began to slowly tug your shirt out of your pants. Every move was so delicate and effortless on his part. Gods he was flawless.

He freed your shirt from the prison that was your waistband, pulling back just far enough to whisper a soft "May I?" against your lips.

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face as you blinked up at him. "Only if you return the favor."

"Gladly." A devilish smile crossed his lips as he pulled back, taking your top with him. A moment later, he had his own pulled over his head and both were recklessly discarded.

One of his hands found it's way to your back again. You couldn't help the way you jumped as his icy fingers made contact with your bare skin. His other hand came up to cup your jaw, ever so gently applying just a bit of pressure. Just enough to encourage you to lay back underneath him as he pressed your lips together again.

You went so easily, he was so gentle and sweet and he tasted like vanilla and ever so slightly like copper. He was intoxicating.

Once he had you on your back, his hands began to wander. They trailed ever so delicately over your chest, lighting a fire inside of you as they went. Your own hands were so much more inexperienced. One helplessly pressed flat against his back, the other unwilling to pull away from his curls for even a moment.

He didn't seem to be bothered by how little you were really helping. His hands continued tenderly mapping your body as his kisses began to trail away from your mouth, along your jawline.

You let out a small gasp as his kiss trailed down to your neck and you felt him pull back, just a bit, just enough to look at you. "Now… it is just a thought… it's just that, well, some people are into biting."

"Are you asking if you can drink my blood?"

"Well, only if the answer is yes."

You gently brushed your hand through his mess of curls as you pondered this. "What would it… do?"

"To you? Not much. A bit of dizziness perhaps, nothing out of the ordinary for some good old fashioned blood loss. But for me? I've been living off rats and wild boar for decades. Just a sip from someone as decadent as yourself could probably give me the power of the sun."

You couldn't help but laugh at the blatant flirting, but damn if it wasn't working. "Maybe a bit exaggerated," he continued "But it would make me feel stronger. I could fight better, think clearer. You don't have to-"

"Go for it."

"Oh. Shit really? I still had a whole monologue about not feeling pressured."

"Getting less sexy by the second, Ancunín."

"Gods, shut up." He rolled his eyes, pressing his lips back to yours as you giggled.

You could feel his anticipation now, though. He kissed you just long enough to push you back into the right headspace before his attention turned back to your neck.

He lingered there longer than you expected, tenderly covering you with his kisses. Then, without warning, he pulled back and his gentle lips were replaced by an acute sting as his fangs sunk into one of your veins.

It was a unique feeling, you could say that. You'd been stabbed before but this was different. It was cold. Like the first snow of winter, dark and freezing but glittering like crystals in the moonlight. You heard yourself gasp and felt your body arch up into him as your head tipped back for him.

You could've easily lost yourself in the feeling, just basking in this closeness you had with someone who was so dear to you. You had just enough awareness to feel the dizzy, light headed bliss start to tip towards darkness.

Your grip on his hair tightened, gently trying to tug him back before he got carried away. "Astarion…"

He only let out a gentle moan before seeming to catch himself, quickly pulling away with a small gasp. "Gods…" he wiped away the small trickle of your blood that had escaped his lips, licking it from his fingers as you stared up at him, slack jawed.

"I couldn't have wished for a finer vintage." He crooned as he ducked his head back down to clean the blood from your neck.

Gods, he had your heart about bursting out of your chest. His hands started to wander again as his mouth continued it's assault on your neck. Every touch was so careful and perfect, each one sending sparks flying through you.

He cupped one hand around your neck, gently applying a bit of pressure to stop the bleeding as his mouth moved back to yours. "You're gorgeous, you know? I've always thought so."

You were obsessed already. He was intoxicating, the way his touch felt against your skin, the way his honey sweet words pierced your heart. There was an old version of you that had dreamed of just having him like this.

Here you were, pampered and loved by a man you had adored for so long. Gods, you really never thought you would ever see him again, let alone have his hand down your pants like this. In this moment, the world was nearly perfect. The only thing that mattered to you now was making this boy yours.

~*~*~

You woke up in the morning, a bit sore, a bit disoriented, and very alone. It took a moment to remember why you were in a strange tent. Another moment for you to realize Astarion was gone. You couldn't help the disappointment that bloomed in your chest at that thought. You couldn't blame him, exactly. It's not like the two of you were a thing. Still, it would've been nice to wake up beside him.

You sighed softly, quietly getting dressed in the still morning chill. It felt like early morning, the golden light filtering into the tent and lack of noise from your companions clued you in. Maybe Astarion had run off to feed before the rest of the camp woke up. Maybe he'd hoped to be back before you had gotten up?

No such luck. You pushed open the tent flap to find your vampire quietly staring at the dim embers of your campfire. You had to bite back another sigh as you stepped forward, apparently making enough noise to draw his attention.

His neck whipped around, though he relaxed instantly once he located the source of the sound he'd heard. "You're up early." He said, quietly, turning back to the fire.

"I could say the same."

"I'm always the first one awake." You could hear the eye roll in his voice.

You stepped forward, moving to sit beside him with a small, awkward smile. "And you just had to get away from me?" Don't freak him out, play it cool. You weren't disappointed at all.

He didn't seem to find it funny, though. He just drew his knees up closer to his chest. "I told you. You made things… complicated."

That was weird. Honestly, you had no idea what he meant. "I'm sorry?"

"Not your fault." His voice was flat and unreadable. He'd really changed so much since you last saw him. It made sense but that didn't stop it from hurting.

You missed the man you used to know. Snarky and a bit full of himself. But also shy and awkward and comforting. You recognized many of his old mannerisms but they'd changed. He was bitter, focused on how to protect himself above all else. It made him violent and trigger happy in a way you weren't used to. Quite frankly, it was a little scary sometimes, the amount of joy he took in violence.

"Can I help?" It was all you had really. You couldn't change what had happened to him. All you could do now was try to help.

"Can you help? Sure. If you could just… go back in time, stop yourself from finding me after the nautiloid and let me carry on my merry way, presumably to be murdered by the first person I annoy too much."

"Okay, well, I'm not sure I can do that." You couldn't read him, no matter how hard you tried. "Did I… do something wrong?"

"No, gods, no." He curled up tighter. He looked so… vulnerable. He never did vulnerable. Especially not now. "You're perfect. That's the problem. You made it complicated."

"Astarion, I don't understand."

He sighed, finally turning his head to throw you a small, tired look. "I know. Hells…" You could see the confliction writing itself across his face. "I want to tell you something but you have to swear that you won't hate me for it, I mean it. It's not good, but you cannot hate me."

"I've never hated you, Star." Maybe the nickname was a bad idea. You practically saw it stab him directly through the chest, forcing him to turn away for a moment to collect himself.

He couldn't look you in the eye again, he just stared off to the distance in any other direction. "I know. I mean it though, promise me, please."

"All right." What could he possibly tell you that was worse than 'I spent two hundred years forced to kidnap people to be killed by my master.' "I promise. I won't hate you, no matter what."

You saw him relax a bit, his shoulders loosening. He turned back, just enough to glance at you out of the corner of his eye. "I… Last night, that- it…" It was so rare that he struggled to find his words.

He took another breath, trying to collect himself before turning back to the fire. "I was just… using you. I wish I could say I didn't mean to but- gods, I did. I pushed it that way on purpose. Its all… part of the plan, you know? Seduce you, sleep with you, secure my safety and position in the group with you. It was… easy."

Oh. Well that wasn't exactly great to hear. He was still trying to collect himself, find the right words. You didn't want to interrupt and, honestly, you didn't really know what to say.

"I didn't think about it, I just… did it. Like I had to. I needed to. And by the time my head caught up it was too late. You were already into it, I couldn't just stop."

"What?"

"I mean," He continued quickly, seemingly trying to get ahead of your presumed anger. "It's not like it wasn't good, it's not like I don't… care about you. It's just, it was an instinct. I think."

"Astarion-"

"Please, you have to understand-"

"No, no, stop. Hold on." You saw the panic in his eyes as you interrupted. "Astarion did you not… want to do that?"

The look he gave you was, honestly, almost a little pitiful. "Like I said, you've made this complicated. I don't know. I don't know what I want."

You turned your attention away from him, towards the dying fire in front of you, pausing for a moment to collect your thoughts. "I wish you hadn't done that to yourself." He was right. This was complicated.

He wasn't the same person you had grown up with. Whatever had been done to him had clearly changed him fundamentally as a person.

But, still, you couldn't look at him without seeing your old friend. It was still the same laugh you had known. Still the same smile. You saw it, when you agreed to help the tieflings, the way he cocked his hip out and rolled his eyes. His little mannerisms that still lingered after all this time. He might not be the same man you had known, but you loved him anyway.

"I don't know what happened to you," you continued before he could get defensive. "I don't know what made you feel like you had to go to such extremes just to win affections you've had since we were children."

You saw some kind of spark in his eyes. It was so difficult to read him now, you wanted to get better at that. "I'm… sorry." He sounded so unsure. Honestly, you didn't care for it, he was always so confident. Now, though, he just looked… sad, maybe?

"You don't have to apologize. Astarion," You carefully reached a hand out to cover one of his. "The first thing you did when you saw me was put a dagger to my throat, and I still would've tossed Shadowheart into the ocean if you'd asked me to."

That pulled a startled laugh out of him that you briefly worried might've woken up your companions. Gods you really would do just about anything to see him smile. "You would not have. You're too much of a goody two shoes."

"Maybe." You grinned, giving his hand the smallest squeeze. "Still. I'm just sorry you felt like you had to go that far for my affection."

"I'm not the man you used to know, I'm not blind. I don't know who he was anymore. Up till now, I think I'd forgotten my own parents' faces. But you look at me like you expect me to be him and I don't know how. I can't be what you expect, at least if I could keep your bed warm you'd have reason to keep me around."

"Astarion…" Your hand tightened around his as you scooted just a bit closer. "I was sitting in the Elfsong, a long time ago. At 'our' table, you know? I was waiting for you to meet me and I grabbed a day old copy of the Gazette to read while I waited.

"I didn't even notice at first. There was a headline for one of the articles, 'Magistrate Murdered', but I didn't notice until I got closer to it. I saw your name and it was like the roof caved in over me. I was sitting there, waiting for you to show up, and a shitty, ale stained piece of parchment told me you never would."

You looked up at him with a sad smile before continuing quickly, trying to stay ahead of the guilt you were sure was creeping up in him. "I cried for months over you. And for years after when something reminded me too much of you. Star, neither of us are the same person we left behind, it's been two hundred years. I've been through plenty, and you've been through hell. That's not what matters though."

He looked so small right now. He was nervous and upset and vulnerable. You hated it, you didn't want him to be so anxious with you, gods you wanted him to trust you. "What matters is right now. We're here together. That's so much more than I ever could've dreamed just a month ago. You don't have to earn my trust and love again. And you certain don't have to force yourself to have sex with me to do it. I never stopped loving you, Astarion."

He was still for a moment, his eyes flicking over your face, scanning you for ill intent. You watched him cycle through a dozen emotions as he processed what you were saying. Then, almost like a switch flipped, he just melted.

With a choked out sob, he collapsed into you. You wrapped your arms around him as he curled into a ball, practically in your lap. His whole body shook as he quietly cried into your chest. You really did hate seeing him cry but you could feel the tension lifting from his shoulders as you held him tight.

You let a silent prayer fly to whichever god was keeping your friends asleep through this, asking them to keep up the good work. The last thing he needed right now was everyone else seeing him like this, you knew how much he wanted to keep up appearances.

Ever so gently, you lifted a hand to card your fingers through his curls. He curled up just a bit tighter, leaned into you just a bit more. It had been so, so long since the two of you had been this close. You really, truly never wanted it to end.

Eventually, though, he pulled back with an awkward laugh and a hasty scrub of his face. He didn't go far, just enough to sit back and look at you. "Gods… well. That was sexy."

You rolled your eyes, throwing him a soft grin. "You're ridiculous, Star. Come on, everyone'll be up soon. Big day, you know? Let's go kill some fucking goblins."

[zapshazam]

idk something really rubs me wrong about the way fandom treats Astarion's reactions to the Halsin poly romance and ESPECIALLY the Drow twins stuff. like yes. i get the kneejerk reaction to feel really uncomfortable once you get the line from the narrator about Astarion disassociating during sex with the twins - it's not fun to deal with! you want him to have enthusiastic fun the whole time and your character at that point is definitely in love with him and he's reciprocating, so i get it.

but..... like.... he's an adult man who is coming to terms with how he views himself his sexuality and his desires. he DOES enthusiastically want to try having a big fun sex party once you've completed his personal quest. healing from trauma, certainly SEXUAL TRAUMA, isn't a one-and-done thing. just because he's ready to initiate sex with you at his grave doesn't mean he's going to be 100% comfortable all the time forever going forward.

it happens sometimes. even at your best and most thriving-est sometimes something happens that triggers you and if that's your defense mechanism? boom, you're far away, you're going through the motions. he isn't having a ton of fun but again, he didn't know going in, it's an experiment.

but like. reloading as soon as you see that line about him disassociating because it makes you feel icky (which again, fair, I get the impulse) is kinda. idk. babying? like he's SO enthusiastic about doing it when asked. it doesn't end the best. for me that just means he and Tav/Durge have a conversation afterwards where he comes to a realization that yes, he's into the IDEA, but probably only with people he trusts and knows aren't only banging him because of how hot he is. all the dialogue during that scene, as sexy as it is, is EXTREMELY objectifying toward Astarion. it fits his story that it would make him uncomfortable once it becomes clear that that's The Vibe! let him come to that conclusion, he's a big boy! you don't have to treat him like he's made of glass - he's a survivor and he's his own person who gets to make these decisions and deal with the consequences. with a partner who loves him and can help him through it! that's that real good shit imo, that's the shit that makes this game's relationships and character moments feel so real even when they have to veer into headcanon territory.

[graveyardcuddles]

I'm thinking about Astarion again and how actually amazing it is that he managed to hold onto as much of himself as he did after having had everything about his identity and sense of self systematically stripped away from him. And how it's even more incredible he managed to do so without even getting to look at himself at all in all that time.

We know his trauma cut him off from his ability to trance and therefore his ability to recall memories from before he was turned. What must it be like to have nothing? Not even happy memories to look back on? A spawn. A dead thing to be used as his master sees fit. Tortured by Cazador and Godey. Starved to the point of constant hunger pain. Forced to use his body and sexuality to seduce people who sometimes not only disgusted him but who would sometimes even hurt him...AND through all of this, this whole nightmare, he can't even see his own face. Even his own perception of himself is stolen from him.

I've gone through some horribly low points in life. Points where I've felt like I was literally losing my mind or about to end it all. And sometimes in those moments, I just had to stare at myself in the mirror, look myself in the eye and literally talk myself down. There have been times where my mental state was so bad and my perception of reality so warped I HAD to look at my own reflection in the mirror to remind myself I was still real.

Astarion remembers so little of his face that he can't remember if he ever had a mole on his cheek or not. He can't remember the color of his own EYES. For as much as fans talk about the angst of him not being able to remember his own eyes I don't know if any of us could even imagine forgetting oneself so completely that such a defining physical characteristic is lost to memory. It's difficult to imagine as beings with limited lifespans. And imagine the added torment of being forced to use your looks to survive all while never being able to actually see yourself. (This is why I can't help but feel a bit annoyed when people say things like "Well it's a GOOD thing he can't see himself, can you imagine how annoying he would be?" Like sorry you find 'petty vanity' annoying, it still doesn't mean he deserved to have his sense of self-perception stripped away).

So much of him was killed in the process over those two hundred years of abuse and neglect in order to survive. I think it's fair to say Astarion likely wasn't a saint before he was turned by Cazador but we do know at one point there WAS a kind, sympathetic part of himself that took pity on that young man he spared. A part that I'm sure had to be killed in order for Astarion to survive and remain sane. And in ALL that time there was never once any moment where he could look at himself in the mirror and tell himself that he was still himself.

He lost everything, even the memory of his own eye color. But he wouldn't allow himself to be lost completely. He still talked back. Still screamed the loudest when tortured. Still held onto his anger, his rage his burning desire for revenge. And when he gets the opportunity to take his freedom he fucking LEAPS for it. He is so bound and determined to STAY free once he is free he would literally rather die than go back to Cazador. He's a survivor above all else and I love him so much.

[infernalurge]

idk why this fandom has such an issue with acknowledging abuse when it isn't Astarion but Gale was pretty obviously abused and groomed and I would rather people in denial of this unfollow me :|

grooming is also not a minor-specific act so trying to use his age as a reason he wasn't abused is pretty dumb and shows both your ignorance and that you don't take abuse on adults seriously. like suddenly cults and brainwashing and power imbalances and human trafficking doesn't exist because you just don't want to see Gale as a survivor of abuse himself lol?

it basically comes down to people being ignorant about what grooming is in wider terms. and even if you want to ignore the actual definition of grooming and how adult survivors are impacted, Mystra is still a GODDESS. if anyone is able to exact a power imbalance on someone equivalent to the traditional child-grooming that you think is the only type to exist, it would be a Goddess to her Chosen

this is also ignoring the fact that he started discovering his powers around 8 and Mystra would have been aware of him immediately?

also-also ignoring Minsc outright describing how magical boys in his village were hidden away from Mystra?

just how is this even an argument? you are simply wrong...

[bandersnatchers]

I think something that always makes me cry about Astarion is just his learning what he can be like when he actually has safety and a support system. (Warning: the admittedly overly long essay has some spoilers)

Like sure in his initial dealings with you, it might look like he disapproves of good deeds if you're not choosing sassy answers.

But the man's been mentally/sexually/physically abused for 200 years and he straight up believes people can't genuinely care. All he has is his survival instinct and the knowledge of what hell is like. You beat a dog enough and all it knows is violent anger, and you meet him after he has just been given a slice of freedom from those centuries of beatings. He's terrified it's going to be taken away from him. Of course hes not going to be wanting to do things that could risk this freedom. Of course he's going to fall back on the only way he knows to barely survive - manipulation and cruelty.

But as the story goes on, if you show him you actually care, that you're genuinely nice, he learns he actually has safety with your character, stability even. This doesn't even have to be romantic, like the scene where you just back him up and say "Astarion is his own person, he makes his own choices" is a literal shock to his system. He has not had simple autonomy in over 200 years, I can't even imagine what that does to your mindset. And if you do go down the romantic route and you're actually accepting of him wanting to slow down and that you still genuinely care about him... He learns that as a survivor he's still worth love even if he doesn't provide sexual gratification. That his companionship is all you need - that he's worth it. That he's more than it.

There was definitely hints of him caring before. I mean I was sitting at high approval with him for a while, and you can definitely see through his sassiness that he is starting to care about the party. After this though, he just genuinely sees your character as someone he can depend on, and he starts approving of good actions ie) giving food to kids, letting yenna stay with you. And he approves because he's not as terrified anymore. He's not frantically clutching at resources or power or safety, because for the first time, with these companions, he doesn't need to. For the first time he sees that people can be genuinely caring and that's okay and good. He sees that maybe even he can be genuinely caring. The bond with the group grows SO much, and he finally has people he can rely on and that rely on him.

And when you get to act 2/3 (depending on where you separate the acts) and you learn what Cazador wants, you see him start to get mean and defensive again and it's because he's terrified he's going to lose everything he just recently grasped. His instinct is to power grab - what he mainly knows is that power means people can't hurt you - means you can hurt them instead. He's up against his abuser of 200 years and while yea, the group is strong and by this point you've likely done some incredible feats, 200 years of abuse makes Cazador the most terrifying monster to him. Furthermore, as you progress towards Cazador, Astarion has to witness what 200 years of his slavery has done to others, has to look them in the eye when he didn't even know they were still alive. He has to contend with what he was forced to do, what this means for others, what this means for him.

Astarion is then given such a potential boon - he can make it all go away. He can make the 7000 spawn go away. He can make Cazador go away. He can make the last 200 years go away. He can be free in the sun. He can make it so no one can ever hurt him again, forever. All he has to do is follow through with what most of his life has taught him - that cruelty and power are the only things that matter. All he has to do is kill 7000 victims (and oh how easily he can spin this to be a good thing), and all he has to do is kill his damned master (this is a good thing I will admit).

But this isn't that story. This is a story about a survivor that finally had the support and love to learn that he is more than what was done to him, and what he was forced to do. This is a story about a person who looks at exactly what terrifies him the most, and decides I will break this cycle of abuse, I will look it dead on, while with my friends, my new family, and I will stop it. This is a story about a person who learns that yes, certainly, there are cruel things in this world, horrors that haunt you, but this is a world full of love and care and he can help it. He can love and care for it, or in the very least start with his companions.

I haven't progressed much past this part yet, but thinking about it always makes me tear up. I know the story going forward could have some devastating twists, but right now I'm just excited to see what Astarion is like with this chapter over. Im very thankful Larian gave us this story of survivorship and love.