#Godey

[nottragic-stilltoothsome]

Everything I found in Szarr's palace, for all your fanfiction-writting needs. I haven't found any other post like this one, so i hope i m not copying anyone. Posting it here, because editing the official wiki feels intimidating. Feel welcome to add anything I missed.

Astarion's siblings (the other spawn):

Petras - one of the two you meet in the Flophouse.

Dalyria - the other one from the two you meet in the flophouse. Her diary can be found in the "guest room". Before Cazador turned her, she was a doctor, a "Physician General to the Parliament of Baldur's Gate". She thinks vampirism is a disease and plans on curing herself of it by drinking blood of someone young and healthy - other spawn's daughter, Victoria.

Leon Onufrio - before Cazador turned him, Leon was a sorcerer. He is the one whose daughter's (Victoria's) body is found, cursed, in the room where with the Kozakuran dictionary.

Leon put a protective counter-curse on her, to discourage other spawns from attacking her. Despite his efforts, Dalyria bit her, hoping it'd cure her vampirism. Needless to say, it didn't and Victoria died @easterlingwanderer found out that if you use "speak with the dead" on the body, it turns out that it was a random urchin and Leon did get Victoria out of the city on time. After removing the curse inflicting you with necrotic demage, you can loot a letter of her body from her father instructing Victoria to read said dictionary, so she can freely move around the castle.

In the favoured spawn room, you can learn that Leon was the one usualy occupying it (along with his daughter). His diary reveals that he put extra effort to be Cazador's best hunter, so he can keep Victoria away from others and that he came up with a plan with Figaro to disguise and sneak Victoria out of the palace.

He also notes that he doesnt like the way Violet looks at Victoria and Cazador's wicked smile, when Leon asked him what his master was planning to do with his daughter.

Violet - you can find her Diary in the Dormitory of Spawn. She notes that she put garlic in Yousen bed as a prank.

Aurelia - a tiefling

Yousen - @neophytepagan noticed he is a gnome

Other:

The chamberlain of Cazador was Antwun Dufay. In his diary, which can be found under his bed in his room after a successful passive perception check, it says that he had a lover Lurianna (a werewolf, who can be found dead by walking through fake north wall of chamberlain's office, or through another fake wall in Chamberlain's private room). He knew about Cazador's Black Mass enough to fake his death in order to avoid the threat of taking Astarion's place. Unfortunately for him, it seems he confused the actual death potion and fake death potion, and really died. His lover drank the other potion, which melted her guts. The actual fake-death elixir can be found in his desk, which puts the player in 10-turn coma. He ordered the elixir from Bonecloaks', where he also ordered most of the things the palace needed to function (like bloodstain remover, candles and food for "guests").

Godey - Cazador's right hand. Astarion says that while Cazador was the master of the palace, the kennels (the room where the spawn d be tortured, when they did something Cazador didnt approve of) was the domain of Godey. Godey tortured the spawn when Cazador didnt feel like it. Cazador trusted Godey with the key to the sealed ballroom for the duration of the ritual.

Through the palace, fanatic-servants cleaning the palace: Syrin - human, Greenfern - wood half-elf, Vilhelm - human, Varderola - also human. All of them are servants, who Astarion said are devoted to Cazador and came to the palace of their own will, beggining Cazador to turn them into vampires. Vilhelm is most noteable, as you can talk to him and he asks Astarion why isn't he downstairs, that he is late and the ballroom is already locked. If pressed, he informs that Godey has a key and that the Cazador is going to punish Astarion for missing the ritual (and from his expression, he seems to quite like the thought).

Chamberlain Dufay wrote a blooddonnors ledger, instructing the Spawn to favourite the lower class as prey, as too many missing patriars may drow too much attention.

The language Cazador uses is Kozakuran, from a distant land of Kara-Tur. Astarion notes that they were strictly forbidden from learning it. From Cazador's Journal you can learn that Astarion was not an unreliable narrator when he said Cazador liked torturing him the most: Cazador paid the most attention to him in the journal.

In the favoured spawn room, there is a ledger with the list of spawns who have been favoured (its only Leon and one time Violet).

Amanita Szarr - on her 13th birthsday, invited by her Uncle Cazador. She was invited to the ballroom. She became a vampire, but was not happy about it. She rejected her family name Szarr and named herself Lady Incognita. She claims she stays in the attic and writes stories. One of the books written by her can be found on Cazador's desk.

Mrel Alkam - vampire mastress from Athkatla that Cazador wrote a letter to.

[a2zillustration]

We had more important things to do at the moment

| First | | Previous | | Next |

[[ All Croissant Adventures (chronological, desktop) ]]

[[ All Croissant Adventures (app) ]]

[endlessnightarts]

"Coven means 'Family'. And Family means I am disappointed in all of you." ~ Cazador Szarr, probably, at some point

I feel very out of practice drawing so I'm not sweating this anymore.

I love vampire nonsense and I love how ridiculously big Astarion's family is (not even counting the ones Cazador People Under The Stairs'd), they are all awful, I want to adopt them. I played a little fast and loose with costumes and whatnot, highlights including Cazador gets a flowy coat bc I couldn't help myself and Leon is being forced to wear a shirt. They are in the order I vaguely headcanon from oldest to youngest excluding Godey of course, headcanons subject to change at a whim.

Also I think Sceleritas Fel and Godey should hang out, there it is that's my crackship. they trade torture tips and gush over their bloodthirsty masters

[rpgchoices]

Here is the video with all the options if Astarion gets kidnapped by the spawns. Timestamps in description.

Basically he gets snatched and then Godey tries to use Cazador's power to control him, to which Astarion can have three different reactions.

If Astarion is not in your party when the spawns attack, then he will not be kidnapped. If he is in your party, he will be taken away. This means you cannot sleep (as someone in your party is in danger).

The outcomes I tried:

- The party arrives at Cazador and finds Astarion and Godey fighting, they defeat Godey

- Astarion defeats Godey and escapes and meet the party in the city

- Astarion gets killed by Godey, the party arrives at Cazador (and resurrects him) Nothing gave any extra dialogue, and Astarion acted like nothing had happened, even after sleeping at camp.

[phoebus-cluster]

A sample/oneshot of some Astarion headcanon re: his release after the year in a tomb

Finally gaining some steam on my Astarion fic. Fleshed out a little flashback scene. Hope you think it's cool, I love my angst and exposition. --- “How I’ve missed you, little one!”

There was a sudden, loud crack against the coffin door, the rustle of chain mail. A single, impossible ray of light sprung forth into the coffin, somewhere at his waist’s height. Out of the corner of his eye, he detected the glint of an axehead in the fresh opening, wedged and wriggling now to pry the lid open. He tried to peer downwards to better watch, but couldn't–his eyes were too dry to swivel in their sockets. 

He blinked a few times to remove the film of dust from his eyeballs. It did nothing.

He could hardly hold a coherent thought, but felt that this must have been a dream. 

The coffin lid ripped open and he keeled forward, the door no longer propping him upright. He crumpled in a heap, reality dawning on him as his face smacked into the ground. He lay there and watched the shadows of crackling firelight dance across the stone tiles for a while.

He was free. 

He supposed he should have been happy. He gasped for fresh air weakly, as fresh as those musty catacombs could be.

A heavy boot dug into his gut and turned him onto his back. He now looked at a grinning skull looming over him, yellowed, shining and ugly, two black voids regarding him like eyes.

Death. Sweet release. Could it be? 

“Tsk, tsk, boy. Is this how you greet your gallant savior? Your dear, old friend Godey?”

But of course. 

Of course it wasn’t death. What had he expected?

Godey’s detestable laugh rang through the chamber around them.

“What a state, little one. Not so pretty now, are we? Not to worry. I think this look quite suits you.”

Godey seized him by his rags and hoisted him up with ease. He carried him now, up the stone steps of the catacombs and back into the palace.

Astarion's head hung limply, mouth agape, no energy, his muscles all but wasted away. The skeleton cackled again, adjusting and jostling the half-corpse in its arms–playing with him.

“Much easier than I recall,” he jested. “Why, you must be half the weight you were goin’ in.”

They clanked through the halls past velvet drapery, gaudy paintings, lacquered paneling, the luxe prison he remembered, same as ever.

“By the gods, Godey,” sneered a distant voice. “What is that smell? Fouler than any rat you’ve conjured for us before.”

“Shut it, Violet,” growled Godey. “Be a dear and call in your siblings, won’t you?”

She scoffed and whisked away.

They made their way to the spawn’s quarters as the other vamplings trickled in curiously, peering over Godey’s armor to better see the dust-blackened wretch he carried.

The skeleton unceremoniously flung him onto a bunk, the fellow spawn frozen in terror as they beheld a pathetically emaciated mummy with sunken eyes, taut skin, and dehydrated ligaments clinging to bone, grotesque as it pulsed and gasped for breath, struggling to writhe and smearing filth on the sheets.

A hush fell upon them all.

“...Brother?” whispered Aurelia.

“He lives!” cried a male voice, one Astarion did not recognize. “Gods above, it can not be. This is the lost brother you spoke of? I-I thought Master was perhaps bluffing!”

“Leave it to you, Petras, to fancy yourself more clever than Master,” chided Godey. “That’s right. Gather round, you lot, and gaze upon him. Yes, it is your beloved and terribly naughty big brother. Though he strikes a more uncanny resemblance to old Godey these days, don’t you think?”

He cackled and wrenched Astarion’s chin violently, turning his face for the others to see.

Dalyria stifled a revolted shriek, teary-eyed as she clapped her palm over her mouth.

"Let it be a reminder, then," continued Godey. "See what happens when you fail Master's orders? And still, it is Master's mercy that reunites him with us today."

Astarion finally found the will to speak.

He struggled, his lips shriveled back, his tongue desiccated and stuck to the roof of his mouth. Dust coated the insides of his throat. 

His teeth finally found the edge of his lower lip, shrunken and tough.

“Fff…” he trembled.

He drew in more air, his breath ragged and hoarse. It sounded like a death rattle.

“Fuck you,” he puffed at Godey.

There was an upsetting crack as the pommel of Godey's sword collided with the side of his head. A few of the vamplings gasped.

“Dalyria, tend to this ingrate. Godey doesn’t need a nose to tell he’s more fetid than carrion.” He turned on his heel and clanked away.

“Ilmater, help us all,” uttered Dal. “For the love of gods, draw a bath. Water, some blood, this instant!”

---

Hoping to get chapter 1 out in the next week or so.

[shatouto]

outtake from this

[noelcollection]

Happy Fashion Friday! This color plate represents the latest (as of May 1884) and greatest in summer fashion.

The outfit on the left is a “house dress made of plain and woven broche Arcadia velveteen; the underskirt is made of the woven broche, the polonaise of the plain goods, with vest of the woven broche.” 

The dress on the right is a “[v]isiting costume. The dress is composed of two shades of pigeon-gray surah and Arcadia velveteen; the skirt is kilted, the kilts being formed alternately of the surah and velveteen. The overskirt is of the surah. Wrap of woven broche Arcadia velveteen, trimmed with chenille fringe and ornaments. Gray straw bonnet trimmed with ribbon, and deep pink feathers.” 

Image from: 

Godey’s magazine. New York: Godey Co. Vol. 108, no. 647 (May 1884). Catalog record: https://bit.ly/3zaKfvh. 

[kaldurcalm]

In some ways I'm glad they didn't write it out, but at the same time I wish the book in Cazador's mansion was a little more detailed.

"Godey is ready with the pliers" haunts me.

[pheavampire]

How meeting Godey the skeleton looks like when the player’s character is Astarion.

Sometimes I wonder if characters like Godey and Cazador are consciously written as cynical abusers, who mock Astarion by saying he is "ungrateful brat" or they really think they did something good for him. It would make some sense if Cazador didn't know from the beginning his spawns are going to die anyway.

[lucrezianoin]

i tried to make dufay and godey kiss but i failed

tho if you need dufay description for astarion fics, here he is:

[youcantdateosmosisjones]

do you think kressa bonedaughter and godey are making out sloppy style in myrkul hell rn

[nameless-adept]

[curiouscatalog]

Lovely lace designs.

The Lady’s Book. New York [etc: Godey Co. [etc.]., 1830

Feb. 1839

Godey’s Lady’s Book (Philadelphia, Pa. : 1840). Philadelphia, Pa: L.A. Godey, 1840.

May, 1841

Oct. 1854

AP2 .G56

[nyrandrea]

Yo! Not sure if you are accepting requests for Astarion x Reader and what not but if you are, here me out; it's known that it is possible for Astarion to be kidnapped by Cazador when you are fighting at the Inn. So what about if this happened and, to try and further break him and just be a total twat, Cazador sets it up that it seems the reader/Tav has come to save Astarion only to reveal that it was all a charade to break him and drag him to the ritual (could be a shape changer of succubus, whatever you like). Astarion is utter broken, THEN the real Tav comes charging in, tearing apart everything in their way to save Astarion. We have utter angst followed by utter fluff!

Ooh I very much liked this prompt as I've never written from Astarion's POV before so I hope it comes across alright!

TW for kidnapping and slight emotional manipulation

Word Count - 2.5k

Enjoy!

xxx

Astarion shifted his shoulders side-to-side while splaying his fingers, both done in attempt to free himself of the rope binding his wrists. 

As he was ushered, his heavy breaths were muffled against the cloth that had been tied around his neck. As it obscured most of his vision, he couldn’t see a damn thing, but he knew exactly where his kidnappers—his so-called ‘brother’ and ‘sister’—were taking him. 

Back to his old master. 

Astarion had tried to fight the spawn – Gods know he did – despite knowing it was futile. His friends had tried to save him, you had tried so, so hard – he remembers the way you desperately crawled to him, weakly calling out his name before he was dragged away. 

When fighting was clearly no use, he tried to convince them just to discuss their options, that surely they could figure out a way to work together to defeat Cazador, but it was all for naught. They thought he deserved this, and, in a way, so did he. 

The longer they travelled, the more his struggles eased. 

Even with the bag over his head, Astarion could tell when they reached the Szarr palace. The air within was thick with the musty scent of centuries past, a haunting aroma that seemed to seep from the very walls themselves. 

Dimly flickering torches lined the uneven, moss-covered bricks, casting feeble, wavering shadows that danced with eerie grace. The stones, slick with moisture, whispered secrets to those who dared listen, their ancient whispers a chilling backdrop to the silence. The floor, uneven and cold, was a mosaic of cracked tiles, their patterns lost to centuries of neglect. Puddles of stagnant water collected in the lowest recesses, reflecting the dim torchlight like dark, unblinking eyes. 

“I’m... sorry that it had to come to this,” Leon said. His voice was monotone, making his words sound like a cheap, hollow excuse. 

“No, you’re not,” Astarion bluntly replied. “Whatever master wants, master gets. Just a shame we all must get slaughtered in the process, hm?” 

Silence was his answer.  

Astarion flinched as a door creaked open and a familiar stink filled his nostrils – Leon had brought him to the ‘Kennel’, where he had spent tendays being tortured by Cazador’s cruel and sadistic servant Godey – a vile creature that often haunted his nightmares. 

The cloth covering Astarion’s head was ripped off and he was forced to gaze at that familiar, hideous skull. 

“If it isn’t the nasty little runaway!” Godey all-too-cheerily announced. “Ah, but you always find your way back to Godey, hmm?” 

Astarion grimaced. 

“If I had my way, I’d saw off your legs - that’d put a stop to your wandering.” 

“As pleasant as that sounds, I’m guessing the master said no?” Astarion said with a little smirk; a mask to hide his fear. “After all, I’m sure he needs all of my blood on the inside for the Mass.” 

“But he needs you obedient too,” Godey growled. “And I should cut out that tongue of yours for a start.” 

The skeleton brushed his fingertips on the hilt of his dagger, as if he was considering it for a moment. 

“That means no barking, no biting, no struggling – a well-behaved little doggie.” 

“I’ll never do what he tells me again,” Astarion sneered. “I’d rather die.” 

“Oh, you’ll do both! You will do whatever he requires, and if you’re delusional enough to think any of your little friends will come and save you, well...” 

As if on cue, the doors swung open behind Godey to reveal... you.  

Astarion's eyes met yours, and a torrent of emotions surged through him. His lifeless heart almost fluttered as you bypassed Godey and approached him, a mix of apprehension and joy welling up inside. 

Your eyes brimmed with tears as you rushed towards him. 

“Astarion, my love...!” you whispered. “I’ve come to save you; I couldn’t bear to be apart from you any longer.” 

Astarion extended his arms to embrace you. Your touch felt warm and comforting, and it held him in an embrace that seemed so familiar. 

For a moment, he was overcome with joy, believing he had another chance at freedom, that both of you could take down Godey and escape from this wretched place. But as seconds passed, something felt amiss. Your eyes were colder, your words more hollow, and a chilling unease settled in his bones. 

“I missed you so much,” you continued, your voice wavering with a hint of deception. 

But Astarion noticed the subtle differences in your gestures and expressions, even the way you spoke was... off. He pushed you away and stared into your eyes, searching for the truth. 

“Who are you?” He demanded, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and heartbreak.  

‘Your’ facade began to crumble. In a flash of darkness, there was a revelation of a true, grotesque form. Its face twisted and contorted into a nightmarish amalgamation of shapes and shadows. 

 It was a shapeshifter, a creature of dark magic, cunningly disguised as you. 

Astarion recoiled, his heart shattering into a million pieces. He realised the cruel trick that had been played on him, his eyes glistening with tears.  

“A gift from the master,” Godey said all too smugly. “To remind you that you are not worth saving.” 

The shapeshifter, grinning wickedly, vanished into the night, leaving Astarion alone in the darkness, his heart aching with betrayal and sorrow.  

“Now,” Godey said, approaching him with a chain. “Be a good little mutt and tie this around your neck, it is time to accept the fate that has been chosen for you.” 

The chains felt so heavy in Astarion’s hands that he merely let them slip and pile onto the floor with a heavy clang. He just felt so tired. Of running away, of daring to have hope, of falling in love, only to have it ripped away. Existence was... nothing but a cruel joke. 

And Cazador was the one laughing at him. 

Godey snarled as he bent to pick the chains up and thrust them back into Astarion’s arms. “Do not disobey! Or do I have to get the knee-splitter out for old time’s sake?” 

The vampire wordlessly submitted and allowed himself to be led out of the Kennel and into the corridors of the dungeon. 

A heavy, suffocating atmosphere hung in the air, as if the crypt itself held its breath, waiting for something unseen to stir in the shadows. It was a place where the echoes of the past whispered of forgotten sorrows and ancient curses, a realm where the line between the living and the dead blurred into obscurity. 

"Astarion...!" a distant voice cried, slicing through the dungeon's oppressive silence. Determined footsteps reverberated against the cold, stone floor, the sound of clanking armour ringing in the eerie stillness. 

Godey paused, appearing confused. “What...? Can’t be the shapeshifter again...” 

The footsteps edged ever closer, and Godey turned to face these unexpected intruders, forcing Astarion to turn with him.  

Gale, Karlach, Shadowheart and... you were rushing down the hallway. As you approached them, the ancient stone walls seemed to tremble in anticipation. 

The groups’ menacing sneers faded into incredulous expressions at the scene before them, and an overwhelming shame punched Astarion in the gut at having them see him so... vulnerable. Humiliated. 

They reached for their weapons, but your eyes met Astarion’s with a fiery, unyielding gaze. Your face was bloodied, and lips curled as you snarled like a feral animal – a far cry from the innocent but fake show that the shapeshifter had put on only moments before. 

“Let him go!” you demand, your grip tightening on your sword, its blade gleaming with an ethereal light. 

Godey flinched back, obviously surprised. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, the master needs him,” the skeleton said. “Leave this place and he may grant you enough mercy to let you live.” 

“Afraid we can’t do that, bones,” Karlach snarled before turning to you. “Can we please just kill this thing and get our friend out of here?” 

“Friend?” Godey scoffed. “This dog doesn’t have friends. Now leave!” 

You meet Karlach’s furious gaze, and nod. 

"Get back, Astarion!" she hissed, and in a dazzling display of athletics and brute strength, brought down her mace upon Godey, his skull splitting with a sickening crack. 

Gale summoned bolts of lightning to dance around him. The damp air crackled with electricity, illuminating the dungeon in an otherworldly glow. All it took was one bolt to strike Godey down until he was nothing more than a pile of dust. 

Your eyes remained locked on Astarion as Shadowheart raised her hand, and the shackles that bound him burst apart with a resounding snap. He stumbled slightly; disbelief etched across his face. 

“Oh, thank Gods we found you in time,” you sigh in relief as you approach him. “Are you hurt?” 

He said nothing. Just... stared at you. 

“Can you walk?” you tried, holding out a hand to touch his shoulder. “We need to get you out of here.” 

“Don’t touch me!” he winced back, and you instantly retracted your hand. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, backing up to give him space. “What’s wrong? What can I do to help you?” 

Astarion’s scepticism waned a little; this version of you was a lot more... convincing than the last one. The way your eyes crinkled in distress, those little twitches your fingers did when you were nervous, even your scent was... almost enough to convince him you were the real deal. 

Yet, doubt clawed at the edges of his mind like a persistent, haunting whisper. 

"You can't be real," Astarion whispered, his voice laced with a soft tremor. 

Your eyes welled with frustration and hurt, but your voice remained gentle as you replied, "Astarion, I am as real as the air we’re breathing and the ground we stand on. I'm right here." 

Astarion shook his head, his disbelief lingering like a stubborn fog.  

"No, this isn't possible," he insisted, his voice rising. "This is another trick, isn’t it?” 

“Trick?” Karlach tilted her head. 

“Cazador sent you,” Astarion said, his shoulders shaking as he chuckled in disbelief, almost hysterically. “Not one shapeshifter, but five? I mean where... where did he even manage to find you all?” 

“Not how I would thank my rescuers, but each to their own, I suppose” Shadowheart said incredulously. “We need to leave, unless you fancy waiting for the cavalry to arrive.” 

Karlach bumped the cleric’s shoulder. “Just give him a moment, yeah? He’s obviously a bit... confused.” 

“Oh, it’s all as clear as day to me, darling,” the vampire spat, making her flinch. “Put on the act as much as you want, but I will not be going anywhere with you.” 

He glanced down at the dust pile beneath his feet and gave it a good kick. “Though I suppose I should thank you for getting rid of him, nasty little thing.” 

“That was... Godey, right?” you tentatively asked, and his red eyes flashed back up as you slowly edged forward. “I remember you telling me about him, that night we spent near the underground lake, do you remember? We stared up at the rocks and pretended to point out constellations.” 

“How on earth could you... know that?” 

When you were close enough, he reached out tentatively, his trembling fingers brushing against your cheek. The warmth he felt was real, but his mind refused to surrender. “You can’t be real,” he repeated, his voice a whisper and laden with desperation. 

Part of you wanted to use the tadpole to reach into his mind to convince him you were real, and it would have been the quicker option. But you couldn’t—wouldn't— invade his privacy like that. 

A whirlwind of emotions tore through Astarion—love, hope, fear, and an overwhelming sense of longing. He wanted desperately to believe you, to pull you into his arms and never let go. Yet, the scars of his master that etched deep into his soul held him back. 

You reached out and gently took Astarion's hands, placing them on your chest, your touch warm and reassuring. "I understand your fear, but you have to trust in us. Trust in the way my heart skips a beat when I look at you. I am real, Astarion. Our love is real." 

Tears welled up in his eyes as he finally allowed himself to believe. With a trembling hand, he cupped your face, his thumb wiping away a tear that had escaped your eye. “It’s really you,” he breathed, a mixture of awe and relief in his voice. 

You leaned into his hand. “It’s really me.” 

“As much as I would love to recite the perfect poem to encapsulate this heartwarming reunion,” Gale said, putting a hand on both your shoulder and Astarions. “I do believe we should make tracks.” 

Astarion didn’t even have it in him to make any quips or comebacks, so he merely nodded, allowing you to take his hand as you led the way. 

With renewed determination, the group made their escape, leaving a trail of chaos in their wake. Fire and lightning clashed with steel, and the dungeon's oppressive darkness was pierced by their resolute will. Together, they left a burning path of retribution in their wake, until they emerged into the moonlit courtyard and didn’t stop until they made it all the way back to camp. 

“Woo!” Karlach cheered, turning back momentarily to hold up her middle finger up to the Szarr Palace as it disappeared over the horizon. “Can’t believe we actually managed to pull that off.” 

“Neither can I,” Shadowheart deadpanned, her expression softening as she looked at Astarion. “But... I’m glad we did.” 

“So am I,” Gale smiled. “This team wouldn’t be the same without your... well, let’s say charm.” 

“You have such a way with words, Gale,” Astarion weakly joked. “But... know that I am grateful for you rescuing me, even if it didn’t seem like it at the time.” 

“Aw, that’s alright!” Karlach gave him a thumbs up. “You’re with us now, and that’s all that matters.” 

“I appreciate that, darling but...” his voice trembled slightly. “Cazador, he’ll... he needs me for the ritual. He will come after me again.” 

“I’d like to see him try,” you said, your confident smile betrayed by your eyes as you clutched onto his hand like a lifeline. “He may be a vampire lord, but he doesn’t even have a slither of Karlach’s strength, or Shadowheart’s resolve or Gale’s power. And if all else fails we’ll just throw Lae’zel at him.” 

You pause for a moment. 

“I know we fucked up tonight but... that won’t happen again, Astarion. We’ll do better. I’ll be better. He... that bastard won’t get you.” 

The corners of his lips twitched up into a smile as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze in kind. He felt the warmth of your love wrapping around his dead heart, like a protective cloak. In that moment, Astarion didn’t know what path lay ahead for him, but he knew that Cazador wouldn’t have any say in it, or anyone else for that matter. 

His future... belonged to him.  

xxx

eh... sorry the ending's a tad cheesy but hope you enjoyed anyhow!

Links to my other Astarion works

Everything's Fine

Restless

Request - Astarion kills everyone in his path to get to you

Request - Astarion tries to save you from kidnappers

Request - Astarion helps you to see that you're beautiful

[hamartia-grander]

Karlach really fucking wanted to leave??????

[vintagefashionplates]

Colour drawing of Godey's women's Fashion for August 1880 from Godey's Lady's Book and Magazine, 1880 Philadelphia, Louis A. Godey. (x)